Page 46 of The Christmas Mittens
Gilda made a grunt that was very similar to Anders’ but said nothing. “You shall address the crown prince, Prince Frode, as Your Highness and his wife, Karina, as well. Their sons, if you should meet them and that is quite likely, are also to be addressed as Your Highness, but their first names may be added. So, say you are introduced to Prince Frode and Princess Karina’s eldest son, Oliver, in an informal situation, you may use his first name followed by his royal title. Prince Ivar, the second oldest of the king and queen’s sons, is married to Lady Alva and that is how she is to be addressed as she is a member of the British peerage. Prince Harold, the third prince, is currently unwed.”
“And for the foreseeable future,” Anders muttered and got a flat look from Rani. “What? He’s a notorious rake.”
“A rake is a man who sleeps with lots of women,” Gilda informed me. I knew what that meant, but I nodded along in a foggy state as my jetlagged brain tried to keep all the titles and names straight.
“That’s Harold,” Anders said around a yawn.
“Yes, well, moving on.” Rani seemed to grow uncomfortable. “When you are introduced to the master of the household, you shall address him as—”
“Rani, please, this list is endless.” Anders flicked the paper I was holding. “Truly, just be polite to any member of the staff and use an acceptable term for any service person.”
“But remember to be gender neutral,” I added, which got a sleepy smile from Gilda.
“Obviously, so other than that long list of decrepit titles, we shall not worry about rigid rules, therefore you may put your notecards about formal place settings away.” Rani shoved the yellow notecards in his hand into the interior pocket of his coat. “Work from the outside in. I don’t plan on any formal dinners while we are here so you can both just be yourselves. That will charm my family just as deeply as you’ve charmed me.”
I gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. I’m quite nervous, to be honest.”
“It will be fine,” Anders said, but I detected a note of uncertainty in his voice. Rani, who had been shut down on which was the fish fork, opted to fill us in on the castle that the royal family called home as we drove through the dark countryside where only a few lights were seen into a more suburban area with small homes with soft yellow lights in the windows.
“Dragons Perch is the ancestral home of the Valdemar family. In total, it has sixty-six rooms, a dozen of which are open to the public for tours and the rest are private areas for theroyal family. There are two banquet halls, a trophy hall, three libraries, an armory, and the paper doll room, which was filled with the collection of Princess Astrid, King Magnus’ great-aunt, who lived with her twin sister, Queen Hulda, the king’s great-grandmother, on the grounds in the late-1930s. I suspect you may enjoy seeing that room, Miss Gilda,” Rani said with a tiny smile.
“I’ve never even heard of a paper doll,” Gilda confessed.
“They were quite the rage in the thirties and forties,” Rani said and went into a long story about Queen Hulda and her twin sister, paper dolls, and the stonework throughout the castle. Gilda dozed off during the masonry bit, and I was close to nodding off myself. The only thing that pulled me out of that twilight phase was the slowing of the car as we trundled over a wooden bridge. There on the left sat Dragons Perch, lit from the ground with spotlights. My mouth fell open as I gazed at the snow-coated late Gothic masterpiece. Two long buildings connected by a double wall greeted us, each window—and there had to be hundreds—held one flickering candle. The stones were a soft golden tan, and the one tower I could see looked to be covered with copper that now had that aged green patina. I wondered how many towers and turrets this sprawling estate boasted, and would we be able to climb into one? Gilda would love it.
“It’s hard to see now but to the left is the royal maze, which sits in the middle of the gardens. If it’s not too cold tomorrow and you’re feeling up to it, we can arrange a tour of the grounds and the various gardens. Sadly, most of the gardens are now dormant, but there is a fuchsia garden that is nearly as large as the one at the Egeskov Castle in Denmark, a water garden, an herb and English garden, as well as a vegetable garden that helps feed the castle. Oh, and there is a smaller peasant garden at the rear of the formal gardens. In the olden days, that plot wastended by peasants who lived nearby and worked at the castle. Now it’s an addendum to the main vegetable garden and is taken care of by the gardening staff.”
“Wow,” I whispered as we rolled over a bridge and parked on a gravel drive free of snow. A magnificent fountain with a rearing horse sat silent, filled with snow, but still just as beautiful as it would be with water flowing, I was sure. “This is amazing.”
Anders nodded softly, his sight leaving me to land on the huge wooden front doors that had been pulled open to allow muted light to fall on the stone steps. A tall man appeared in the doorway as we parked. Out of nowhere, two young men appeared to open the doors to the cars, each bowing as Anders exited.
“Merry Christmas and welcome home, Your Highness,” the servants said, one breaking free to gather our suitcases while the other held the door and aided me and Gilda out with a gloved hand.
“Thank you,” Anders replied, tiny white flakes falling to land on his dark curls as he gazed at his home with a look I couldn’t quite read. He glanced from the towers to me. “Let’s get inside. That willowy man with the ramrod spine is my mother’s private secretary, Johan, and is not one to take waiting well, for that means Mother is also waiting.”
“Oh crap, okay.” Gilda and I fell in line behind Anders with Rani behind us and the bodyguards on either side of Anders. “I’m as nervous as a mouse in a cattery,” I whispered to Gilda, who, for the first time, seemed wholly intimidated. A feeling I was swimming in as well.
“Johan, nice to see you again,” Anders said just as two women in black slacks and white shirts appeared, smiled, bowed, and took our outer garments before disappearing with them. Gilda and I shared a bemused look. “I take it Mother and Father are waiting up?”
“Yes, Your Highness, they’re resting in her sitting room. Your arrival has been passed on to their majesties, and the queen expressed a desire to see you before you are shown to your rooms.”
Ah, so no chance to splash some cold water on our faces to maybe revive. Great. Now I’d meet Anders’ parents with dark bags from our hopping through several time zones.
“Understood. You may retire, Johan. I’ll show my guests to the lilac room,” Anders replied with a tired smile. Johan nodded, bowed, and melted into a small room with a polished wooden door. The foyer we stood in was the size of the Grouse Falls High School gymnasium, possibly bigger, with a crystal chandelier that glowed dimly. Under the elegant light fixture was a massive fir tree bedecked with thousands of pure white lights, golden doves, and silver bows. It was breathtaking and stately. “I know we’re all exhausted, so we’ll do our best to say hello and then call it a night.”
“It’s fine. We’re looking forward to meeting the king and queen,” I replied as we walked up a grand curved staircase and took a right at the top. This corridor was long, lit with wall sconces that had been dampened down to a dim light. Oil portraits lined the carpeted hall, many of the people were from hundreds of years ago, and a few were landscapes. They all had small lights above them to illuminate each painting. Dark wooden tables with fresh flowers in white vases filled the hall with a delicate floral scent.
“I’ll make sure your rooms are ready,” Rani said, hustling off back down the hall, turning to the right and disappearing.
“You two may retire,” Anders said to his bodyguards. “I think we’re safe here.”
“We’ll alert the night watch that they’re to take over. Good night, Your Highness. Miss Gilda, Mr. Mitchell.”
Both bowed curtly, and they, too, moved off.
“My mother’s sitting room is just down here. She has two—one for official visits and one for more intimate visits. It’s probably one of my favorite rooms here. It’s just…” He searched for words as our footfalls were swallowed by thick runners of pale blue. “It’s her.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely then.” That made him smile softly. At the end of the hall, we paused at an oaken door with a fellow who could have been the long-lost twin of Arne and Alfred standing guard.
