Page 103 of A Queen's Match
This was goodbye, for good.
As he started toward the door, Alix realized belatedly that he had a long ride ahead. “Wait! Before you go, can I get you some water, or a glass of wine? And doesn’t your horse need to rest? You don’t need to leave just because I—”
“It’s all right, Alix. Give Ernie and Louis my best.” Maximilian cast her one last look, and then he was opening the front door, his steps echoing with a hollow finality.
Alix walked to the window. She watched as he called for his horse, remounted, rode off into the darkening streets of the city.
Only a few minutes later, Ernie and Johann reappeared, holding a bottle of claret. “I thought I heard you calling for wine, so I opened this,” Johann said, without an ounce of remorse for eavesdropping. “Looks like you need a glass.”
“I can’t believe Maximilian didn’t stay.” Alix accepted the glass, distracted, and took a sip. “He can’t mean to go back to Baden tonight?”
“Let him go, Alix,” Ernie said gently. “He’ll head to an inn, get himself some ale or perhaps a bourbon, ride back in the morning. A man needs some time to himself after a rejection like that.”
“So you were listening?” She tried to sound angry, but found that she was too weary, too sad, to be upset.
“No, we weren’t, but if you hadn’t rejected Maximilian, he would have stayed,” Ernie said evenly. “Besides, I can see the guilt on your face.”
Alix set down her wine and collapsed onto the sofa. “I do feel guilty. I know this was the right thing to do, but still, I wish…”
She trailed off, not knowing what she wished. That she loved Maximilian as much as he loved her? That she hadn’t spoken to Hélène? That she still had a chance with Nicholas?
“What will you do now?” Ernie asked.
Alix tried to sound flippant as she replied, “As much as I’d love to stay here forever, playing the eccentric aunt to your and Ducky’s children, I think I should leave once you’re married. You will want your own space.”
“No one would ever call you eccentric,” Johann said loyally. “You’re too beautiful.”
Alix laughed at his blatant attempt to cheer her up. He was wrong, of course; often beauties were labeled the most eccentric, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same.
“I was thinking that when we go back to England to see Grandmama next month, I would offer to be her secretary,” Alix said tentatively. “Aunt Beatrice is always begging for someone else to take on the role.”
Their aunt Beatrice, Queen Victoria’s youngest child, was in her early thirties. For years, Beatrice had served as the queen’s personal secretary; Victoria didn’t trust her correspondence with anyone outside the family. Beatrice was now married with three children, yet she still showed up each morning to read Grandmama’s letters and write out her responses.
“We all know you’d make an excellent secretary. You are painfully organized,” Ernie agreed. “But let’s not rush to take on Aunt Beatrice’s life, all right? You are always welcome here. You know that.”
Alix decided to change the subject. “Can we finish the tree? It’s looking quite lopsided with only a few branches done.”
Johann hurried to retrieve the ladder while Alix sorted through the candles.
The rest of the evening, as the three of them decorated the tree and sang Christmas songs woefully off-key, and ate so much salted toffee that they all claimed stomachaches, Alix thought how lucky she was to have a family like this: warm, accepting. Full of love.
She could survive any heartache, as long as she came home to this.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Hélène
“A carriage just pulled upthe drive.” Violette stood at the window of Hélène’s dressing room, lifting a corner of the drapes to peer out. “It has no crest. Who would come in an unmarked carriage?”
Hélène didn’t reply. She tilted her head back on the chaise longue and closed her eyes. Various satin-lined trunks were opened around her, gowns and stockings spilling out in frothy abandon.
She didn’t care about the carriage, or what Violette packed, as long as they left. Hélène couldn’t bear another day in England. The entire country felt saturated with memories of Eddy. Wherever she went—walking through Mayfair with her mother, on a ride through Richmond Park—she kept expecting him to appear, grinning mischievously. It was even worse at social gatherings, where all anyone talked about was Eddy and May, and how their brief engagement had ended so tragically. The only bright spot lately had been the night she and Alix sat up drinking brandy, speaking of Alix’s romantic affairs. For a brief moment, it had distracted Hélène from the howling storm of her grief.
Perhaps she would take Alix up on her invitation, and visit her in Darmstadt. She could attend Ernie and Ducky’swedding later this spring. Not that Hélène was in the mood for a wedding—but Alix had seemed so worried about her brother, and Hélène wanted to be there for her friend, just as Alix had been there for her.
Besides, it wouldn’t be all that difficult to travel to Darmstadt from Eu.
Eu. Hélène still couldn’t quite believe it, but miraculously—impossibly—the Third Republic had lifted the terms of exile for her and her mother. Her father and brother were still banned from the country, but the Orléans women had apparently been deemed nonthreatening enough to visit.
