Page 59 of The Heir Apparent
“You should invite your friends to visit. I like being in the company of young people,” she said. “As for the hospital, well…”
In the emergency department, chaos reigned, and it was up to me to restore order. I missed the stench of bleach, freshly opened packages of gauze and the iron scent of blood. I pestered Finn for photos of the injuries he was treating. I kept feeling the phantom shiver of my pager on my waist, even though it was no longer there.
“Before I became the heir, I dreamed of being a horsewoman,” Granny said. “When I was twelve years old, I watched the first woman compete in equestrian events at the Olympics, and I turned to my parents and informed them I would be a rider in the next Games. Of course, four years later, we were living in the palace. It always struck me as ironic that a horse killed Uncle Albert and changed our fates.”
The horse drawing our carriage was a black-brown mare named Lady Macbeth. She had a velvet muzzle and two white stars between her eyes. Before we had set off from the palace, Granny had fed her a sugar lump to thank her for her service.
“Do you ever wish it had worked out differently?” I asked.
“One can ride, and one can reign,” Granny said. “I was lucky in that regard. It’s more difficult to treat the sick from a throne, I admit.”
We both fell silent and waved to the crowd for a while.
“When it comes to our great ancestor, Barbara Villiers,” Granny went on, “most remember her beauty or her ambition. Many believe she wanted power for power’s sake, but she really did enjoy being queen regent, you know.”
Granny was a scholar of the family history. She knew Barbara so well, at times it felt like she had conjured her to sit at the table with us.
“She demanded religious tolerance at a time of great division,” Granny said. “And she was a lover of the arts. She reopened the theatres and the music halls that had been closed down by the puritans. Barbara left her mark.”
“Is it true her groom tried to assassinate her by spreading poison over the horn of her saddle?”
“Yes.” She laughed lightly. “But she caught him, and from then on, she made every groom lick her saddle and her boots before a ride.”
Through the trees, we could just glimpse the great marble statue of Barbara that stood outside the palace. Before it was the monarch’s official residence, the building was a grace-and-favour home bestowed on Barbara by her son. But the place was so grand, so beloved by the people, that when his mother died, King William moved in and made it the centre of British power. He commissioned the statue in her honour, surrounding her with carved cherubs, as well as the angels of truth, justice and motherhood.
“I think what made Barbara special for so many people was that no one ever doubted she wanted to be queen,” Granny said. “I’m not sure what people look for in their king, but in a queen, everyone wants a mother. And do you know what children want from their mother? Complete sacrifice, total devotion. Everysingle one of us, at one point, expected to be the centre of our mother’s world. People feel the same way about their queen.”
I focused on the twitch of Lady Macbeth’s ears, the sleek power of her muscles as she pulled us behind her.
“Does that ever make you feel… suffocated?” I asked quietly.
She looked at me and smiled. “A mother never feels suffocated by the love of her children.”
We were quiet while I contemplated this. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted my own children, let alone millions of them. It was hard to summon the bravery for parenthood when I knew how tragically it could end.
Granny gave another wave, and the crowd erupted. “I’ve been meaning to discuss something with you. In November, the palace holds a reception for a charity that isn’t one of our usual patronages. It’s a chance to lift up a worthy cause that otherwise struggles for the spotlight. This year was meant to be Louis’s turn, but I thought in his absence perhaps you would like to take it over.”
Since I’d been home, I had pledged to fulfil Papa’s and Louis’s calendars, honouring their commitments and making sure their patronages weren’t left in the lurch. I’d never been able to choose my own cause before.
“I’d love to.”
“Very good.”
“Which charity did Louis pick?”
“We never got that far,” she said. “But rather than doing what your brother would have wanted, I suggest you think about the things that matter to you. Have your office contact Stewart when you’ve decided.”
Once Lady Macbeth pulled us to a stop in the palace’s inner courtyard, we went up to the Central Room, where the rest of the family was assembled for our appearance on the balcony. Richard was standing before a gilt mirror in his crimson tunic, frowning at himself as he tried to fluff up his hair, which had been flattened by his bearskin. I gave him a wide berth, headingfor Amira at the other end of the room. She had already looped the length of The Mall in a carriage with Birdie and Demelza, and the three of them stood murmuring to each other, looking like hand-painted Easter eggs in their pastel suits and hats.
Amira smiled as I approached them. “How was it?”
“Apparently I wave too much.”
Birdie started rooting around in her clutch. “I have your phone. It didn’t fit in Amira’s bag, so I carried it for you.”
Granny forbade phones in her carriage, leaving me no choice but to toss mine to Amira before we set off. Birdie held it out to me and smiled.
“You get a lot of messages from boys,” she said admiringly. “You must teach me your ways.”
