Anna listened to her father discuss both Rose and Genevieve in silence. In truth, Anna spent little time with her youngest cousin as Rose was a much closer confidant that Anna would ever be. She had, however, noticed her father’s sudden interest in the youngest princess and, for the life of her, couldn’t imagine a reason behind it. Genevieve’s demeanor was the sort that tended to annoy her father, but Anna supposed her father’s actions may have some sort of familial reasons related to her late aunt.
Anna was hoping for a reprieve, in all honestly, as the family approached their carriages. Though the trip from their family home to the palace was short, she did enjoy what little time she managed to have alone with Charles and Rose in the second carriage. This was clearly not in the stars for her, however, as her father order Howard from his normal carriage. The eldest daughter suppressed a sigh as Howard, a sullen look upon his face, helped her into the carriage before joining Rose and Charles in the second carriage. She could only hope the result of the short ride to the palace would not result in any sort of argument between her three siblings, though it was always a strong possibility with Charles and Howard in close proximity.
Anna wished to point out to her father that it would be much easier to flirt and pay attentions to the King if she held even the smallest of affections for him, which she did not. She wanted to tell her father she she wished the King and his brother would pack and return home never to be seen in Valeria again. She wanted to tell her father that Margot was fine without a husband, and that she was sure whatever her father was planning was not to be in Margot’s best interests, whether it be to wed Alexander Lambton or something else entirely.
Anna, however, did not say these things. Rebellious phrases against her father’s wishes were better left to Rose and Charles. Instead she stared down at her hands, wrapped in perfectly white satin gloves. She knew she really had no choice beyond listening to her father, to do as he told her and all with a smile. A happy Clarence Calvert was what was best for the entire family.
“What do I think of the King?” Anna repeated the question quietly, finally speaking. She paused to collect her thoughts. In all honestly, she hadn’t imagined her father cared what her opinion of the King could be and, despite his question, she was unlikely to answer truthfully.
“He does not seem well suited for Margot,” she paused. “Or Valeria, for that matter… I, of course,” she brought a hand to her chest, indicating herself, “Know nothing of the customs of his foreign lands but his… demeanor,” she paused for a moment. “… is quite different, I think, than that of the royal family and the court here. But, nevertheless, I will, of course, be welcoming, as you ask of me. I suppose I should be flattered that he wishes to pay me any sort of attention when a great queen like cousin Margot is in the room.”
She was not flattered. Clarence did not need to know this, of course.
“And I can only imagine the more comfortable becomes with our customs and behaviors, the King’s demeanor may change in to one that is more closely aligned with that of the court here.”
She doubted this would ever be the case, however.
Clarence watched his daughter intently, watched her bow her head sullenly to examine her gloves in contemplative silence, raising neither objection nor agreement. So like her mother, he thought, listlessly, as he rapped the top of the carriage with his cane and felt it lurch forward. He watched surprise flicker in her eyes as slowly she lifted them to his own. Yes, there was that softest whisper in her which was of his own: that look that conveyed so much in a glance beneath her bright eyes. Yes, he’d felt that, too. Clarence had faced many distasteful deeds, himself. He knew the feeling well.
Inhaling sharply, Clarence cast his glance out the carriage window. He turned back when she spoken, listening intently to her words. He studied her visage as she spoke, reading the subtleties of her glance. He remembered the first she’d been laid in his arms, those same eyes, though then the most brilliant shade of blue from recent birth, peering up at him. He’d watched them change as she grew, and watched their changes in expression, too, all throughout her life. He knew well and good that she wished to recoil from his request. He could not blame her.
Clarence wetted his lips. Of all his children, he wanted most for Anna to be happy, but he wanted more for her than mere happiness. Always, from practically that first instant he’d held her, Clarence had meant to make a queen of his elder daughter. Looking at her now, he could picture so easily a royal coronet adorning her head. Nothing could suit her better. It was not Margot who would make a great queen, no. Of this he was certain: it was his own Anna.
In years gone by, he’d wished to unite her with her cousin, Nicholas, and see her crowned Queen of Valeria. Nicholas’ death had, quite obvious, dashed these precious plans, but Nicholas was not the only unmarried king and so it would be Alexander, who somehow deserved her even less than Nicholas had done, who would have the great honor of his daughter’s hand.
Yet, for all this, her happiness was also a necessity. He wished her to see that she could be; would be. What could afford her greater joy than the splendor of her future crown? Still, her feelings had always been of the more delicate nature and she must be guided more gently than her brother, Howard, towards that end. Clarence wetted his lips before he began.
“Did you know,” he started slowly, catching her eye. “I did not love your mother when first we were wed and she did not love me.” He paused, letting that fact sink in. “We grew to love one another, as you remember us, but it was not always so. Her father and I had been great enemies and she and I naturally assigned to one another those attributes before we knew any better. The mere fact that things do not begin beautifully does not necessarily signify a similar ending.”
Clarence inhaled deeply. “Your cousin’s future will be secured,” he assured. “She is too young to see it now, as your mother and I once were, but all that I do, all that we each do, is only to secure Valeria’s future. It must always be that sacred end which we set firmly in our minds in all that we do,” he said, earnestly. “The good of Valeria is the good of our House and there is no goal loftier than these.”
Inclining his head, Clarence chuckled softly. “His manners, I agree, are quite distasteful, but he can be managed. I will manage him,” he added, nodding. “But I need your help. Will you oblige me, for the good of us all?”
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