The Wild Princess

Forty-seven



Louise peered out through the window at the top of the grand staircase overlooking the courtyard. Preparation for the Accession Day celebration had proceeded with all the energy of a military campaign. Servants had prepared elegant suites in the palace for distinguished guests. A steady stream of vendors delivered meats, fish, produce, grains, vegetables in abundance to the kitchens, hour after hour, day and night. Tonight the gala dinner would place immense pressure on the staff. Extra help had been hired, trained, liveried. Two footmen would attend each guest. The concert following the banquet included performances by scores of musicians and two famous composers.

Every person allowed entry into Buckingham Palace to work there was interviewed by the queen’s security detail. No guest would be allowed inside without identification.

But it was the procession by carriage to the church the following day that most concerned Louise, despite her support for her mother’s journey across London.

“I’m sure all will go smoothly,” Amanda said to Louise’s fretting.

Louise turned to her friend with a smile. “You’re probably right. Are you sure you and Henry and Eddie won’t join the parade? He’d love it, and I can arrange for a carriage.”

Amanda grimaced and pressed a hand to her immense stomach. Louise couldn’t believe only one child grew in there. “A bouncy carriage ride then sitting on a hard bench in church is not my idea of a pleasant day.”

Louise remembered her own baby’s ponderous weight and mysterious little kicks. His movements within her told her he was healthy, full of life, but also brought heartache every time she remembered he would not be allowed to stay with her. She looked down at little Edward now, entwined in Amanda’s skirts. He was small for his age. With his brown hair and eyes so much like her own, it was a wonder to her no one had guessed the truth. Even his mouth had the same gentle bow as hers.

Yet Victoria, well aware that he was her grandson, seemed immune to Eddie’s charms. Louise wondered if her mother actually had convinced herself the baby was Amanda’s, since she’d never seen Louise holding him as an infant. Her mother had a gift for pushing to the back of her mind anything she found unable to deal with on her own terms. Whereas Louise never seemed to stop worrying about every little detail. Only while she’d been with Stephen Byrne in the tiny servant’s room had all her worries flown away, like so many doves released in a carefree burst of flight, up and into the air. Such bliss.

She sighed, aloud apparently, for Amanda turned to her with a frown. “Something wrong?”

“No, my dear friend. I’m only concerned for you. Most women I know, with less than a month before their babies are due, take to their beds. Henry still encourages you to stay up and travel about?”

“As active as I feel able, he says. It’s the new way of dealing medically with pregnancy, he says. As long as I’m healthy and have the energy, he claims I’m less likely to suffer complications and will have an easier labor. We shall see if he’s right.” Amanda’s eyes sparkled with anticipation of the blessed event.

“I still think that working at the shop is far too great a strain on you,” Louise said.

“Well, you had better take advantage of my time now. After the baby is born, I will likely need all of my strength to nurse this brute.” She smiled, stroking her bulging belly.

Louise wasn’t sure she believed Henry’s rather revolutionary medical theories, but today Amanda seemed convincing proof. She glowed with inner health and joy.

“But you will come join us for the banquet and performance this evening?” Louise asked.

Amanda hugged her, as best she could in her current rotund form. “I wouldn’t miss it. The performance will take my mind off this child’s fierce kicks. Oh!” Amanda yipped, her face puckering with momentary pain.

“That must have been a hard one. Are you sure that baby won’t come earlier than Henry predicts?”

Amanda whispered, “As it’s my first, he says it’s more likely to arrive late rather than early.”

Louise nodded. Sometimes, for just a moment, she forgot the little boy with them had indeed once been hers. She closed her eyes to forestall a wash of tears.

“Let me see. Let me see!” Eddie shouted.

Louise bent down to the child’s level and peered over the windowsill to see what had caught his interest. He was only able to peer outside by clinging to the sill and jumping up and down on his toes. He ran to his mother and tugged on her dress, lifting his arms to her.

“Come to me, Eddie,” Louise said. “Your mother can’t pick you up these days, fat as she is.”

“Oh, I like that!” Amanda cried, laughing, and swatted her with her fan. The day was warm. Even within the cool stone walls of the castle, Louise felt the rising heat. So unusual for June. Rain, she thought, let it rain tonight to cool things off.

Eddie spotted another carriage rolling into the courtyard. He pointed frantically at the horse pulling it. He loved horses and delighted in naming them, as if they came from his personal stable.

“Oh yes,” Louise crooned, “that’s a lovely gray, isn’t it?”

“Smoky,” the little boy crowed. “I name him Smoky.”

“Whose carriage is that?” Amanda asked.

Louise looked more closely. It wasn’t one of theirs, with the royal crest on the door. A tall man with a graying beard stepped out; he carried a black leather bag. “Dr. Lister,” she said, surprised.

The famous surgeon had been summoned before to the palace by her mother’s personal physician, Dr. Edwards, a gentle soul with considerable ability. However he sometimes became nervous at being the sole physician responsible for the aging queen. When it had become necessary to cut and drain a painful abscess on the queen’s arm, he’d called in Lister to perform the operation.

Amanda whistled. “A surgeon—and Joseph Lister no less! Oh, dear, this does sound serious.”

“My mother has been complaining of not sleeping well nights, from discomfort in her foot.”

“You don’t suppose it’s a return of the terrible gout she had years ago?”

“I don’t know.” Louise set Eddie down. He continued trying to scramble up the wall to better see out the window. “I had better go and check on her.”

“You must. And we’ll be off. It’s time for Eddie’s nap, and his mother could use a rest as well. I’ll see you tonight at the banquet, my dear.” Amanda kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll walk ourselves out. Eddie has to play horsy along the way and annoy the servants.”

Louise rested a hand on the little boy’s head, and her heart swelled with affection. She’d come to terms with giving him up, hard as it had been. Amanda was a wonderful mother. Giving him over to her was the best thing she could have done for him, under the circumstances. How many other desperate mothers had sacrificed their babies—unable to afford to feed them or to face society’s scorn at their bringing a child into the world without a proper husband? The very thought made her feel ill.

Louise ran into her mother’s maid of honor on her way through the palace. “What’s happening? I saw Dr. Lister arrive.”

The woman shook her head, frowning. “Her Majesty’s foot is causing her excruciating pain. She’s been so very brave, not speaking of it for days. She’s worried he won’t let her leave her bed. She could barely walk on it this morning.”

“Oh dear,” Louise said. “Where is she now? With Lister, I assume.”

“In her privy chamber, Your Highness. She hasn’t left it all morning.”

Not a good sign, Louise thought. Her mother usually was a whirlwind of activity, tackling one task after another so long as her health held. But when she was in pain she might spend an entire day, or as long as a week, shut off in her room.

Louise arrived at her mother’s chamber, breathless. Her brother Alfred was already there, standing outside the closed door, pacing.

“What’s Lister saying, Affie?” she asked.

“Not a word yet.”

“She will be so disappointed if she can’t go to the church tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I think her own doctor has already advised her not to go.” He chuckled and brushed a hand over his dark beard. “At least I expect that was the reason for the outburst a moment ago. I heard her shout something quite rude at the man.” He gave her a bemused smile. “If she’s able to rally that much energy I can’t believe she’s as helpless as these physicians think.”

Louise couldn’t have agreed more.

Finally the door opened. Edwards and Lister stepped into the hallway, consulting in hushed voices, their faces drawn. Louise stepped forward to be seen, and the two men stopped and bowed.

“Your Royal Highness,” Joseph Lister said, “you, at least, look in good health.”

“I am, sir. And you? You are involved in experimental treatments I’ve heard.”

“Yes indeed, important studies of aseptic treatment of wounds, and I’m anxious to return to the work immediately. I must excuse myself. Dr. Edwards will fill you in on your mother’s condition and my recommendations.” He bowed again and took his leave.

Louise turned to her mother’s physician. “Is it the gout again?” She was aware of another figure joining them and glanced around to see the Prince of Wales step up beside her. Although still early in the day, Bertie was already decked out in full military uniform with epaulets, gold braid, and enough medals to sink a small ship.

“The gout,” Edwards repeated, “yes, as I feared it would be. The good news, according to Lister, is that it will be temporary and subside if she keeps off the foot.”

“Good luck with that,” Louise said.

Affie stepped forward. “But the Accession Day celebration, tomorrow?”

The doctor rolled his eyes. “Yes, we’ve both suggested a postponement might be in order. But I’m afraid your mother is having none of it. She will go to the church despite the cost in pain.”

Louise nearly smiled. So predictable her mother was. “What about treatment?”

“I’ve bandaged her foot, dosed her mildly with morphine for the pain, which is all she would allow. I’ve prescribed laudanum, and she can take that at any time. Whether or not she will take it, I cannot say. Her diet will be changed—less meat and rich foods, more vegetables. I’m on my way to her head chef to give my instructions.” He looked gravely at Louise. “Perhaps you can encourage her to make, at least, a few simple changes in the arrangements for the rest of today and tomorrow?”

“Anything. Just tell me what I’m to do.” She hadn’t forgotten the impossible situation her mother had put her in. Marrying her off to Lorne had been bad enough. Shipping them to the Canadian wilderness was a devious trick, and Louise would confront her mother and tell her so when the time was right. Eventually she’d need to decide whether or not she could ever forgive the woman for manipulating her life so. But Louise found no joy in seeing her mother suffer.

“Her Majesty’s spirits are low,” the doctor was saying. “She needs to be distracted from dwelling on the pain. If you can, get her out of that oppressive dark room when she wakes from the medicine. Wheel her around outside in her garden chair.”

“Of course.”

Bertie said, “And I? What can I be doing, doctor?”

Edwards thought for a moment. “Just spending time with her will be encouraging but—”

“Yes?”

“Tell me, do you know her actual arrangements for traveling to the church tomorrow?”

“She’ll use her coronation coach, of course. It’s partially open, allowing her to be seen by her subjects and wave to them as we pass. There will be six in her coach. Rather a tight fit if you ask me, but that’s her plan.”

“I see.” Edwards nodded and touched the knuckles of one hand to his lips in thought. “The thing is, she’ll be better off with the foot elevated. The garden chair can be adjusted to allow for that here. But she’ll need to be carried into the church. She won’t like it, but I’ve told her it’s the only way, as she’s to put no pressure at all on the foot. The other problem is the open carriage. With so many of you in it, she won’t be able to keep the foot supported without it being seen from the street. To make the trip easier on her, I suggest you arrange for a smaller, partially closed carriage. Let her take one other person with her for company. She can keep the foot elevated without feeling self-conscious.”

“I’ll go now and see the stable master about that,” Bertie said. He turned to Louise. “Perhaps that ornate lacquered sedan chair, the gift of the Mikado, might be employed to convey her in grand fashion from the carriage into the church? She might fight that less than being carried.”

“Perfect,” Louise agreed. “I’ll arrange for it to be brought up from the carriage house.” She gave her brother a cautionary look. “She won’t like any of this, you know.”

He laughed. “Oh, how well I know!”