Royally Endowed(55)
I have other plans—important plans—and I’m eager to get started.
Those plans are delayed when the Queen calls for wine. Albert, the butler, hands me a glass and I take it, join in the toast and drink—but it’s completely bizarre. To be drinking with this group of important people, like I’m one of them. Like I belong inside this room instead of outside, watching the door.
I push the thought aside when Ellie uses Olivia’s phone to call their father in New York. And there are more tears. Eric Hammond will be coming to visit in a few days’ time, but now that Ellie has been found, the mad, grieving rush to get to Olivia can be delayed.
After Ellie hangs up and the wineglasses are cleared, it seems like it’s time to disperse. Call it a night. Put my plans into motion.
But they’re delayed again.
And this, I’m not expecting. I don’t think anyone is.
“We want to get married,” Henry tells the Queen, holding Sarah’s hand.
Her Majesty nods. “Yes, of course you do. But the time will go by quickly and there is still much to be done.”
“No.” The light-haired prince shakes his head. “We want to get married tonight. Here. Now.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Queen look confused. I don’t think anyone has ever seen the Queen look confused—or surprised. But at the moment she’s both.
“What?”
“Ellie could have died,” Henry tells her in a clear, calm voice. He’s thought this out; he knows what he wants and he’s determined to have it. “Mum and Dad died young, and the only consolation was that they had all those years together. Life is so short, Granny. It goes by so quick.” Henry pulls Sarah closer against his side. “I don’t want to spend another minute longer than I have to, not being Sarah’s husband.”
“No one else has to know; it’ll just be for us. We’ll keep it a secret,” Lady Sarah offers. “We’ll still have the service and the reception as planned, of course.”
“That day will be difficult for her,” Henry explains. “She’ll do it because we both understand it’s expected, but there will be worry and anxiety. But here, now, there will only be joy.”
Sarah leans forward, eyes begging. “Please understand, Your Majesty.”
And Henry adds, “Please say yes.”
She could easily say no. Members of the royal family need the Queen’s permission to marry—it’s a law. An outdated one, but still a law.
But I’ve long suspected something about the Queen that no one else has: despite her steely exterior, Her Majesty, Queen Lenora of Wessco has a soft spot. It may be small and rarely used . . . but the bugger’s there.
Her eyes shift between Henry and Sarah, then she puts her hand on each of their shoulders. “It’s a fine idea. Very romantic.”
She folds her hands in front of her. “Christopher, tell the Archbishop his services are needed now. Do not tell him why.”
Christopher bows and scurries off to fulfill the command. The Queen returns her gaze to Lady Sarah. “You will need a dress.”
“I have one,” she assures the Queen excitedly. “It’s white and perfect, and I’ve never worn it.”
“Good.” Queen Lenora nods. “Then all you need is a tiara. Thankfully, I have a few to spare.”
And that is how the future King and Queen of Wessco end up getting married in a garden, beneath a clear sky after a rainstorm, at midnight.
Old Fergus, the cantankerous butler who first served Nicholas and now Henry at Guthrie House, plays the violin as Lady Sarah walks herself down the lantern-lit aisle. She’s holding a bouquet of wildflowers, her hair long and straight, her dress sleeveless and snug at the waist, with a short, puffy skirt.
She looks like a fairy princess who wandered out of a storybook.
And when the Archbishop asks her if she takes Henry as her husband, the answer sounds as if it bursts straight from her heart.
“I do . . . I do!”
Later, when Henry is told he may kiss his bride, and he takes her in his arms . . . I’ve never seen such a look on a man’s face. Like he’s holding a star, a cherished, sacred piece of heaven, in his very hands.
It’s in that moment that I realize and accept—when Ellie walks down the aisle to me, and we say our vows and trade our rings . . . I’ll be looking at her in exactly the same way.
I look at her that way now.
And I can’t remember what I was thinking—why I’ve been fighting so hard against it—why I thought any of it mattered. But that stops now. Tonight.
Ellie stands across the garden, watching the ceremony. I drift over to position myself behind her, close enough to breathe her in, but not so close that it seems out of place.