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  Relieved that Lady Motley’s good humour had been restored, Sir Hugo confessed, “I had hoped to speak with him today on a matter concerning Princess Clementine.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “A discussion that I hoped would lead to a happy announcement.”

  “Ah, I see.” Lady Motley busied herself brushing non-existent crumbs from her dress. “And have you made plans in the event of a happy outcome?”

  “A wedding, you mean?”

  “No, my dear Sir Hugo. I mean for life with the Princess. Clementine will have many special requirements which must be dealt with before the King will allow his daughter to leave the Palace.”

  “Of course.” The Duke nodded knowingly. “I have, indeed, considered the matter and I think I have a resolution that will please his Majesty. As I understand it, the curse was laid upon Queen Lavinia.”

  “That is correct. Lady Cassandra did not take well to being cast aside for Lavinia.”

  “And am I right in thinking the curse is thought to affect only the Queen and the child she carried at the time?”

  “Yes. My brother was unable to save his wife but he has committed himself all these years to finding a cure for his daughter.”

  “Then he need worry no longer for I have a plan in mind.”

  “How clever of you, Sir Hugo,” Lady Motley cooed. “Tell me of this plan.”

  “Well, Lady Motley: as you would expect, I have learned as much as I can about the curse which was laid upon the Princess while she was in her mother’s womb. I have also given a lot of thought as to how I might deal with it as her future husband,” he announced proudly. “As there is no danger to our future children, I need only keep Princess Clementine safe from harm. My plan is to have the entire south wing of my Buckley estate transformed into a safe haven. There will be no furniture on which she might catch herself, nor sharp implements with which to prick her delicate skin. There will be only soft furnishings and items that might be made safe with padding and such like so the Princess will come to no harm.”

  “And what of children, my Lord?”

  “One cannot expect children to endure being locked away in the same manner. They must have fresh air and enjoy normal, healthy pursuits. Therefore, any children we have will be brought up on my Ryeborn estate. Obviously, they will be permitted to visit their mother on occasions.”

  “I’m not sure my brother would agree to such provisions, Sir Hugo,” Lady Motley replied, somewhat taken aback. “He might see such a future for his daughter as being little better than being an exotic bird in a gilded cage.”

  A frown marred the Duke’s handsome face. “I hadn’t thought he might see it that way. Surely his main concern is his daughter’s safety? After all, he keeps her here.”

  “I agree, Sir Hugo, but my brother feels he has given Clementine as much freedom as he dares. He might consider your solution a little too restrictive.”

  “You think it wise to say nothing of my plans, Lady Motley?”

  “I think perhaps you should tell my brother only what he needs to hear. He is wont to over-react when it comes to Clementine’s happiness.” She smiled understandingly. “Once you are wed, then it is up to you how you and your bride conduct your lives.”

  “You make perfect sense, Lady Motley, and please have no doubt, I intend to make Princess Clementine very happy!”

  “I don’t doubt that, my Lord. Just remember the King can be a little overwrought when it comes to his precious daughter.”

  Laughing voices interrupted their tête-à-tête and the co-conspirators looked up as the girls approached.

  “What has you two looking so serious?” Clementine called merrily.

  “Nothing for you to concern yourself with on such a glorious day, my dear Princess!” the Duke returned congenially. There was nothing in his demeanour to give Clementine pause and, indeed, why would there be. As far as the Duke was concerned his solution to the problem at hand was sound.

  Clementine entered the breakfast room as Lady Motley was leaving.

  “Good morning, aunt!”

  “Good day, Clementine,” Lady Motley said. She sounded more cheerful than Clementine was used to. “I see you already have a letter from your father. I have left it next to your place setting.”

  “Oh. I do hope he isn’t writing to say he has been delayed!”

  “Well, perhaps you should read it and find out, my dear,” Lady Motley said brightly and wandered off. Clementine watched her leave. A frown creased her brow. Though she knew it was wicked of her, she simply did not trust her aunt’s good mood.

  “Are you going to break your fast with me, Clemmie?” Immediately, Clementine forgot all about her aunt and joined Evangeline in the breakfast room. Her cousin poured tea for them both.

  “That dress suits you well, cousin,” Evangeline said as she passed a cup to Clementine. “I think I might wear muslin too. It looks so much lighter and prettier than heavy silk in the summer.”

  “Doesn’t it!” Clementine leaned in and whispered, “It means I don’t have to wear the stays either,” she said, laughing at her cousin’s scandalised expression.

  “You have post: a package too!” Evangeline giggled. “Do you think it’s a gift from the Duke? Oh Clemmie, how lucky you are to have such a romantic and gallant suitor!”

  “I know! I just hope Papa agrees.”

  “I’m sure he will. Mama says Sir Hugo has thought of everything concerning … you know.”

  “He has?” Clementine chewed worriedly at her bottom lip. “He’s said nothing to me about it. He hasn’t yet mentioned marriage to me at all.”

  “Oh, I expect he wants to speak to Uncle Marcus first,” Evangeline reassured her. “After all, it would be presumptuous of him to discuss his plans without first speaking to the King.”

  “And yet he chose to discuss them with my aunt.”

  It bothered Clementine that he should do so. Her aunt was not someone she would choose to confide in and it did not sit well with her that Lady Motley now knew something about her future to which Clementine herself was not privy. Sir Hugo had been called away to one of his more remote estates and was not expected back for several days but she would have words with him upon his return.

  “Don’t fret now, Clemmie! ‘tis too fine a day!” Evangeline pushed the small pile of post towards Clementine. “Look! A letter from your Papa, too!”

  Clementine shrugged away her concerns. There was nothing to be done until both her father and the Duke had returned. She plucked the letter bearing her father’s seal from the small pile of post and broke the seal.

  “Papa will be home tomorrow!” she told Evangeline happily as she read the letter aloud. Clementine’s world invariably felt so much smaller when her father was away. Papa always made her feel that anything was possible: a cure; a life outside the Palace; the chance to spread her wings. All her life, he had told her that, one day, he would find a way to free her from her confinement and - when he was here with her - Clementine believed that with all her heart.

  The elderly footman entered the breakfast room with a rack of toast. “’Ere goes, Your Highness. Nice and ‘ot, just as you like it.”

  “Thank you, Meekers,” Clementine said, taking the toast from him and watching with amusement as he hobbled out.

  “It astonishes me that my uncle keeps him on,” Evangeline remarked.

  “Why on earth shouldn’t he, Evie?” Clementine asked, surprised by the coldness of her cousin’s tone. “The Palace wouldn’t be the same without dear old Meekers.”

  Evangeline blinked. “Of course,” she smiled. “I meant only that he’s getting on a bit and … well … his manner is hardly fitting for a servant is it?”

  “Good heavens, Meekers is exactly as I would wish him to be. He probably thought it wasn’t very fitting for a Princess to hang from his coat tails but he still allowed me to do so when I was young.” Clementine laughed at the memory of Meekers pretending he didn’t know she
was there and swinging around trying to find what was weighing him down. “Papa used to tell me to leave the poor man alone but Meekers never minded.”

  “My apologies, Clementine,” Evangeline said contritely. “I hadn’t realised he meant so much.”

  “Yes he does., Clementine replied and ended the discussion by pulling the package towards her. “I wonder what this is.”

  “Open it. I’m sure it’s going to be from, Sir Hugo!”

  Clementine popped a piece of buttery toast into her mouth and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Very well: we shall see.” Carefully, she untied the package and opened the lid of the box. “Oh how lovely” she cried. “Look! It’s a pure white rose!”

  “Is it safe?” Evangeline asked.

  “Yes. See - the stem has been trimmed of thorns.” And so saying, Clementine reached into the box, lifted out the exquisite flower and brought it up to her nose.

  “Heavenly!” she said - then gasped sharply. Evangeline stared at her in alarm. “What is it, Clemmie?”

  Clementine lifted her finger and the two young women watched with horror as a spot of blood dripped onto the white tablecloth.

  “A thorn.” Clementine said and tried to stand. The room spun away from her in a blaze of watery sunlight and pale blue walls. “Papa!” she croaked. She staggered to her feet. Her vision narrowed to a tiny pinpoint of light - and then that, too, disappeared.

  Chapter Four

  Clementine woke to a Palace in mourning.

  Her father was staring down at her, his dear face wreathed in despair. “I have failed you, Lemmie,” he told her brokenly.

  “Do not look so sad, Papa! See I am well again,” Clementine told him but the King paid no heed to his daughter’s words.

  “Your Majesty, I am at a loss as to what to try next.” The physician spoke tentatively, wary of the King’s volatile mood. “Perhaps if we sent out word that the Princess needs a cure there might be one who has more knowledge or expertise than I in such … unusual circumstances as these.”

  “We already know there is no cure, physician,” Lady Motley interjected. “My brother’s wife died from the same malady.”

  “I well remember,” he acknowledged. “It is just I feel we are beyond conventional medicines here. I think perhaps a more unorthodox approach is needed.”

  “Do it!” The King commanded without taking his eyes from his sleeping daughter.

  “There’s no need, Papa! I am here!” Clementine appealed directly to everyone who was gathered in her chamber. “See me! I am here!” No one turned towards her; no one saw.

  “How is it I see myself there when I am here?” Clementine wondered. The physik, who had been tasked with sending out word that the King sought a cure for his dying daughter, had already left to write his missive. Evangeline stood by to her uncle.

  “I am sure someone will have the answer, Uncle Marcus,” she said, laying a hand upon his sleeve.

  “God bless you, Evie. I pray you are right.”

  “Evie!” Clementine shouted, waving her hand in front of her cousin’s face, “Tell him I am here!”

  There was a knock on the Tower Room door. “Mr Thackeray,” the young footman announced, moving aide to allow Gilbert into the room.

  “I came as soon as I received word, your Majesty,” he stated and, without waiting for permission, crossed to where Clementine lay upon the bed, took her hand and felt for a pulse.

  “Mr Thackeray, can you see me?” Clementine beseeched her tutor. Gilbert turned slightly and Clementine was sure he had heard her. “Mr Thackeray! Do not ignore me!” she demanded but, rather than acknowledge her, he laid the Princess’ hand back upon the bed and turned to the King.

  “She lives, Your Majesty; and, while she does, there is hope.” He clapped the King’s shoulder, “I will do all I can, Marcus.”

  Lady Motley pursed her lips at the display of familiarity. “Really, Mr Thackeray! What is it you imagine you can do?”

  “I don’t know yet Lady Motley,” Gilbert replied, sparing her a brief glance, “but I will ascertain as much as I can about the condition.”

  “Condition?” Lady Motley trilled. “This is the result of a curse, not a condition!”

  The King turned to his niece. “Evangeline, please take your mother downstairs and call for some tea.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” Evangeline said meekly and escorted her furious mother from the room. When they had gone, King Marcus turned to Gilbert. “I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely open with you, Gilbert.”

  “It’s not an illness the Princess is suffering?”

  “No.” Marcus scraped a weary hand down his face. “When my wife was pregnant with my daughter, a curse was placed upon her.” The King laughed without humour. “I see from your face you think I am addled.”

  “Not at all, Your Majesty, though I am intrigued to know why you should believe it is the result of a curse.”

  Marcus nodded. “Before I met Lavinia, I had been betrothed to another. Her name was Cassandra. As is the way of things, we had never met. It was simply expected by all concerned that we would marry when the girl came of age. The problem was that I was ten years older than my betrothed; I was a man long before she was grown enough for marriage.”

  He looked at Gilbert and was satisfied to see understanding on the younger man’s face. “Lavinia’s family were exiled royals from a Kingdom in Franconia that had fallen to rebels. I knew she was the only woman I could ever love from the moment I laid eyes on her. I am sure a man of science, such as yourself, thinks such sentiments to be nonsensical but it is true nonetheless.”

  Gilbert shrugged, “I have no experience of such things, Your Majesty. Love is to me an abstract concept - but that is not to say I think it does not exist. Continue with your tale.”

  “I was fortunate that Lavinia felt the same way. We approached our respective parents and negotiations took place. My original betrothal was broken and another match was made for Cassandra. As we had never so much as met each other, it was considered appropriate for her parents to inform Cassandra of the new arrangement and that would be the end of that. Only … she did not see it that way.”

  The King moved restlessly around the small Tower Room. He had chosen to keep his daughter here because it was away from the prying eyes of all but the most trusted of his household. “I had five years with Lavinia. Five years filled with laughter and joy and then - to cap it all - Lavinia fell pregnant. She was just beginning to show when I had to go away.

  “I was gone for no more than a sennight but, upon my return, I found the Palace in chaos and my wife in tears. It transpired that, in my absence, Cassandra had paid a visit, with wild tales of the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her husband. She laid the blame for her woes at Lavinia’s feet, claiming that Lavinia had stolen her true husband from her.

  “She laid a curse upon my wife and our unborn child. The nature of the curse was obscure but my wife understood it would take but the merest prick of her skin for death to find her.”

  “Christ!” Gilbert exclaimed. “What a foul thing to do!”

  “Her actions were indeed foul,” the King agreed, his voice filled with sorrow. “In despair, I had every sharp item removed from the Palace so there was nothing that might cause my wife to prick her skin. I sent out messengers to scour the Kingdom for a cure, a spell - anything that might counter the curse laid upon her. I found none.

  “The birthing time was close and, at my wife’s request, I sent for a wise woman to stay on hand at the Palace. Morgana had gone into the woods to collect some herbs when my wife decided she would finish the last few stitches of the gown she was embroidering for the baby. She had hidden the gown in her dressing room, knowing that I would not allow her to finish it herself. She had stitched the final tiny flower when the needle slipped and she pricked her finger. I found her moments later; her finger was bleeding and her eyes were rolling up into her head.

  “Were it not for Mo
rgana, my wife would have died there and then but she fed my wife a potion to keep her alive so that at least the baby would survive.”

  Clementine couldn’t cry: she had no tears but a deep sorrow filled her soul. She had never heard the full tale of her mother’s death before and, hearing it now, she understood why.

  “My wife survived three more days - and then she was gone. Morgana stayed to organise the care of my daughter. She spent the rest of her life trying to find a way to rid my daughter of the curse. In the end, the best she could do was to modify it. The curse had already lost some of its potency because it had been laid upon Lavinia and Morgan brewed a potion that would keep my child alive until a cure could be found. She was convinced a cure was possible and that, if Clementine could only be kept alive long enough, she could be saved. The physician has administered the first dose. He estimates there is enough to keep her alive for no more than a few weeks.”