“Don't tell me,” she said, holding up her hands at the sight of Randolph. “The future queen isn't supposed to make promises, but I've made it now and I have to keep it and that means-”
“Dottie-”
“-that it doesn't matter what Sternheim or anyone else says.”
“Dottie-”
“I don't even care what the rules say because-”
“
“Just as long as I've made myself clear.”
“Blindingly. Now will you please tell me what happened and how you managed to get Sternheim so rattled.”
“He's rattled? Great!” She told him the whole story. “Alicia says he's the local great man. Local pig if you ask me. Anyway, he's got them all by the short and curlies.” Randolph winced. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes I do, and I beg you not to use that expression to anyone but me.”
“Never mind that,” she told him impatiently. “Tell me what I can do. What about a decree?”
“No decrees,” he said at once. “A decree is a blunt instrument. Save it for a big occasion.”
“I only-”
“Button it, and listen. Sternheim will be here in a minute. He'll have heard you're back and he won't waste time.”
“Good. I want a word with him.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“Dottie, you can't accuse him. It would cause a scandal. He mustn't even suspect that you know of his involvement. There are other ways. I'll talk to him. You don't say a word.”
“Oh don't I?” she said, bristling.
“No, because if you do you'll ruin everything, and the people who will suffer will be the ones you've promised to help.”
That silenced her, he noticed with a touch of respect. “You leave it to me,” he said.
The last words were spoken in a tone that brooked no argument, and for a moment she could see Randolph as the king he should have been. But she couldn't say anything because Sternheim appeared at that moment, bristling with barely suppressed annoyance. But Randolph would put it right, Dottie thought with a surge of confidence.
When the civilities had been gotten out of the way Randolph said, in the smooth voice of a diplomat, “Chancellor, I'm sure you appreciate that our princess is young and unfamiliar with her new duties, and she was wholly unaware of the impropriety of her…”
He managed to make it last for five minutes, during which Dottie stared at him, sick with disillusion. How could he be doing this? Not to her, but to the innocent victims of fire and corruption.
Sternheim was relaxing visibly as the emollient words poured from Randolph. Gradually a smile spread over his smug features.
“I'm sure we can all consider the matter settled,” Randolph said at last, “once we've dealt with the small matter of presentation.”
“What's that?” Sternheim demanded.
“Her Royal Highness gave a promise in public. People will be watching to see what happens, so we must make it seem as if things are being done. I suggest a commission of inquiry, with full powers to investigate and summon witnesses. They'll speak to the unfortunate residents and everyone on the council, and the accounts department will explain exactly what's happened to the money, and the world will be satisfied.”
As he listened to this speech Sternheim's smile had faded and his skin turned an ugly gray. Watching him, Dottie realized that Randolph had pulled a masterstroke. Without uttering a single accusation he'd lured the minister into a trap from which there was only one escape.
“A commission of inquiry,” Sternheim said, almost stuttering. “But that'll take time.”
“Months,” Randolph confirmed. “Since every detail must be uncovered.”
“But where are these poor people supposed to live in the meantime?” Sternheim blustered.
“In the ruins, where they're living now,” Dottie couldn't resist saying.
“Shocking! Shocking!” Sternheim stammered hastily.
“Your concern does you credit,” Randolph told him, “but what else can we do?”
“I know a few people on that council,” Sternheim said. “I could put a rocket behind them.”
“And get rebuilding started quickly?”
“In a few days. And temporary accommodation for those poor unfortunates in the meantime. Much better than a lengthy commission. Leave it all to me.” Sternheim looked at Dottie who was giving him an alarming smile. “Happy to, er, be of service.”
“I'm sure Her Royal Highness won't object if you left now,” Randolph said. “You'll be wanting to get on with things.”
Sternheim mopped his brow and bowed himself out. Randolph turned to Dottie with an air of triumph, and their eyes met.
“You did it,” she crowed.
“No, we did it,” he said firmly. “I did the talking but you provided the substance.”
“Will it work?”
“I think we can look for the bulldozers to start clearing the site double quick, and the building work to proceed soon after. And when things are well under way, and it's too late to stop them-” he looked at her with almost a touch of mischief.
“What?” she breathed.
“Then we'll send in the commission.”
Her eyes widened. “But… Didn't you just make a deal with Sternheim?”
“No, but I let him think I did.”
“Oh, Randolph,” she breathed in awe, “you really know how to fight dirty.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” he said, correctly interpreting this as a compliment. “I think we've got him by the, er, short and curlies.”
She crowed with laughter, then sobered and admitted, “You do this better than me.”
“Let's just say we're a good team.”
“The best.”
She moved toward him, her hands outstretched. In another moment she would have thrown her arms about his neck, forgetting everything except that he was wonderful. But then it seemed to her that he flinched and took a half step back. His eyes were fond and smiling, but there was no doubt that he had avoided making contact with her. After their perfect communication it felt like a snub, and her happiness faded.
But not entirely. The moment might have been brief, but it had happened, and she could treasure it.
Even with a kind of truce things were never going to be smooth between them. He was naturally imperious and she was learning fast. Power, Dottie discovered, was the sweetest thing in the world. Better even than ice cream.
Her intervention about the rebuilding had been a triumph. The papers carried the story of, “I'm going to get this sorted,” and the sudden activity next day was proof, as though anybody needed it, that Princess Dottie kept her word.
Her success gave her an appetite for more intervention, with varied results. Sometimes she achieved something, more often she misread an unfamiliar situation and put her foot in it. Randolph always managed to smooth things over, but her ministers were beginning to regard her with alarm, and Randolph told her crisply that while she might think of herself as Joan of Arc she actually resembled a loose cannon, blundering across everyone's toes. After that the atmosphere became chilly again.
There was so much to be put right about this country, she decided. Increasing the numbers of female politicians was more complicated than she'd thought. It wasn't just the outdated parliamentary hours, but beyond them a whole raft of laws and social conditions that created pointless obstacles to women.
At least, Dottie thought they were pointless. Enderlin spoke of tradition and the need to move slowly. She
