Princess Dottie

what being royal means, isn't it?”

“Being royal means doing what you have to, whether it's what you want or not. It means giving up what you love and settling for what you can get.”

“So you give up Sophie and settle for me? Do I congratulate you?”

He didn't know how to answer her in this mood. Dottie's eyes warned him to be careful. She was bitterly, wretchedly angry, in a way that was new to him. Where was the chuckling pixie who'd enchanted him? This woman looked as though she'd never laughed in her life.

While he stood there, dumb, she walked away to the window and stood looking out at the avenue of limes. After a moment he went up behind her, and spoke softly.

“Do you remember what you said to me that first evening by the Thames?”

“Don't,” she said huskily, putting a hand over her eyes. “Don't ever mention it again.”

“I must, because that night you opened your heart and spoke to me out of your true self. You said that you'd dreamed of being a children's nurse. Now I know why. It's in you, that instinct to care for those weaker than yourself. Now you have three million children looking to you. 'A true mother to her people,' they called you. Who will care for your children if you don't?”

“Oh, you know all the right things to say, don't you?” she cried in despair.

“No, it's you that says the right things. I merely remind you of them. That night you spoke of fate and destiny, and how there was a niche waiting for you somewhere in the world, that only you could fill. Those were your very words.”

She turned. He met her eyes, hoping to see in them understanding and acceptance, but there was only the dread of a trapped animal.

“Dottie,” he said gently, touching her.

But she sprang back at once as though his touch was hateful to her. “Keep away from me,” she said hoarsely. “I can't bear to look at you. Keep away.”

He put out his hand but he was too late to stop her. She evaded him and darted for the door, then outside, and he heard her footsteps along the corridor. After a moment she appeared on the ground, racing along the long drive where Mike's car had departed, as though she had some wild hope of calling him back. But then she turned aside. Randolph's last view of her was disappearing into the trees.

For an hour Dottie wandered beside the lake, her thoughts too jumbled to make any sense. Sometimes it seemed that she wasn't thinking at all, just feeling. But feeling hurt too much. Randolph was right. It was better to do without it.

She hoped he wouldn't send anyone after her. She needed the solitude of this place, to be away from him. She'd relied on Randolph every moment since she came here, and now she didn't know how she could ever rely on him again.

Looking around, she realized that she was in the place she'd seen from her window the night she came to Elluria. In this spot Randolph had wandered with the woman he loved, his arms around her, thinking himself hidden by the darkness.

It was a long time before she returned to her room. He was no longer there and she sat for a while, not allowing anyone in. Just now she needed solitude. After a while she rang the bell and summoned Aunt Liz.

She had much to keep her occupied for the rest of the day. Her dressmakers brought several half-finished outfits to be fitted and there were decisions to be made. What should she wear for this reception and that? What shoes went with what? She was meeting an ambassador and must wear the jewels that had been a gift from his country.

It was strange how rivetingly interesting new clothes could be one day, and how depressing another.

It was silly to quarrel, she thought, as her anger evaporated. This was what he'd meant when he'd talked about realpolitik. It was the real world of royalty.

She didn't like this world. It was a place where she was expected to marry Randolph and be satisfied with the outward show; a world where her heart and feelings had no place.

But she couldn't afford to be at odds with her chief advisor. She would smooth it over somehow. She called his room on the internal phone, and his valet answered.

“Prince Randolph isn't here,” he said. “He left the palace some hours ago to visit his estate. Do I understand that he left without informing Your Royal Highness? Oh dear.”

“No,” she said quickly. “He did mention it of course. I forgot.”

“Do you wish him to be notified that his presence is required?”

“No, that won't be necessary.”

As she went to bed that night Aunt Liz mentioned that she'd left her “a little light reading,” on her table. This proved to be a scholarly history of Elluria, and a reference book on the country's constitution.

She discovered that the sovereign's power was considerable. Elluria had an elected parliament from which most of the cabinet were drawn. But she could appoint anyone as a minister, elected or not. Also she could, at any time, declare a state of emergency and rule by decree. No wonder she scared them. She scared herself.

Now more than ever she needed Randolph here to explain everything and reassure her. But he was also the last person she would trust, because it all added up to a reason why she should marry him.

And pigs would fly first.

Next day Aunt Liz was bubbling over with excitement.

“Are the rumors really true? You're going to stay? Oh, that's wonderful!”

Dottie was touched by the older woman's obvious delight. But perhaps Liz was only pleased because she foresaw a marriage. A different candidate might have been a man, or already married, leaving Randolph out in the cold.

Was this what it meant to be a queen? To be suspicious of everyone who was nice to you? If so, it was a bleak prospect. And now there was nobody to help her. She was truly alone. The aloneness of royalty.

She soon realized that the news that she was staying had changed everything. Now she must appoint ladies in waiting, meet her cabinet and have in-depth discussions with her prime minister.

About what for heavens sake? Somebody tell me what I'm supposed to be doing.

“Of course you met your chief ministers when you arrived,” Aunt Liz reminded her. “But today it will be the full cabinet. I think your clothes should be slightly severe, your hair up, just one piece of jewelry, this brooch that bears the coat of arms of Elluria.”

As she dressed for her first cabinet meeting Dottie's thoughts swung about like a pendulum.

He's left me like this to show me that I can't manage without him. I didn't think he'd descend to that.

It seems I got him wrong. Well, he got me wrong too. Do I need him?

The meeting was in the parliament building, in the city. At noon Dottie was ready, pale but determined. She heard the faint knock at the outer door, but barely registered it until Bertha hurried in to say, “Prince Randolph asks leave to attend you, ma'am.”

She discovered that she could assume the royal mask, so that nobody could suspect the way her heart leapt. Nor did her voice quaver as she said, “Please ask him to enter,” although she was trembling inside.

Randolph looked like a man who'd spent a desperate, sleepless night. Dottie had meant to stay angry with him but she couldn't. In another moment she would have opened her arms, apologized for her angry words and asked him to be friends again. But before she could do so he bowed and said, “I am at Your Royal Highness's service.”

His cool politeness was more hurtful than a slap in the face. He was doing his duty. No more.

“I thought you would be away for several days,” she said quietly.

“Forgive me for leaving without first informing you,” he responded. “That was improper of me.”

She wanted to cry out, Don't talk to me like that. This is me, Dottie.

But it was too late. There was no going back to the old days: happy days, she understood, now that they were gone.

“Are you coming with me to the cabinet meeting?” she asked.

“If that is what you wish.”

“I can't manage it without you.”