Chapter Nineteen

They found the Queen in much the same condition she was in when they had left her; pacing the sitting room of her chambers.

The Prince’s young betrothed, Renee, was straightening gowns out over the edge of the chaise, and both Charlotte and Thomas had their arms full of clothing as well as they entered the room.

The Queen seemed to pale at the sight of Julien’s favorite dress coat; the one he often wore to official functions—and, Charlotte believed, the one he wore the night of the ball.

“I hope one of these will suffice,” Renee said to Charlotte somewhat awkwardly; which was how the girl seemed to do everything, really. She carried herself with shyness that made her seem constantly ill at ease. Charlotte thought back to Julien’s description of her and found it to be absolutely correct. She had a difficult time picturing the two of them as a couple, not that she had any desire to.

“I will find a way to make it work. What say you to this one?” Charlotte picked a dress nearly the same dark shade of blue as her eyes, and she held it up before her. “Is it fitting, Your Majesty?”

“It would be most fitting to a woman in the post you are meant to play,” the Queen agreed. “And what about our friend Michel, did he find a suitable outfit among the Prince’s things?”

“The clothing may be a little tight, Your Majesty, but I will manage,” Thomas replied, mumbling, “Especially the shirt.” Working in the blacksmith’s shop had given Thomas considerable muscles, especially in his chest and arms. A figure Charlotte knew was of note to most of the women in St. Fleur, even if they only whispered about him as he walked past. He really had no idea how desirable he was to the local female population.

Neither did he seem to be aware that the young woman Renee had taken notice of him as well. “Such light hair you have, yet your beard glows copper in the candle light,” she murmured, staring at him and drawing startled looks from all in the room. “Forgive me, I was just noticing the difference.” She changed the subject. “I have a thought, but I fear it will offend the Queen.”

“Speak, child.”

“Well… it may draw more attention if the man is wearing ill-fitting clothing, given the position he is meant to hold… being of royal lineage… perhaps one of the King’s shirts would be a better—”

“Absolutely not!” the Queen replied. “He shall simply have to hide his ill-fitting shirt beneath a cloak. No one wears the clothing of the King.”

“I am sorry, Your Majesty.” Thomas spoke now, absolutely mortified that anyone would make such a suggestion. He himself certainly never would have. “Please, forgive us our youthful enthusiasm. We are anxious to begin, and the sooner we dress, the sooner we can start.”

“Then by all means, young man, make haste. I have woken Lady Agnes and she is making inquiries for us. We shall see if there is anyone available to assist you.”

Renee looked bewildered now, as she grasped the gown Charlotte had chosen and directed her behind a fabric screen. “This will do for you to change behind, Miss. I may need to assist you; these garments can be difficult to manage.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte said, wishing she could get by without such help. She was not in any hurry to spend a moment on her own with Renee, let alone how long it would likely take to get her into that complicated gown. Even though it was the simplest of the choices she’d had, it was still a work of art, a thing of intricate closures, buttons, and laces.

“Good thing I spent a lot of my life helping my sisters into their gowns,” Renee volunteered, taking Charlotte’s discarded dress and hanging it over the screen.

From the other side of the barrier, they heard the Queen excuse herself from the room so Thomas could also change in privacy. He hurried to do so, but couldn’t help but overhear the conversation taking place a few feet away.

He dressed in the Prince’s lean clothing, and noted the garments were not as tight as he had anticipated. Perhaps at the top of his form, Julien’s build would rival his own…

“You said before that the Prince will live,” Renee said now, beginning to lace up Charlotte’s gown, which was no small feat considering Charlotte’s full curves. “How badly hurt is he?”

“He has suffered wounds that will leave lifetime scars, My Lady,” Charlotte replied, gasping as the girl pulled tighter on the fabric and forced the air from her lungs. Charlotte looked down and suddenly felt very exposed; this dress certainly did accentuate her cleavage in a way she doubted it did for the old woman it rightfully belonged to.

“Scars?” Renee sounded as if she might faint again, and paused a moment. “But not to his face?”

“Yes, My Lady. I am sorry to tell you the left side of his face will never look the same, and what is more, he has lost the eye on that side as well as his leg, below the knee.”

Renee let out a slow, shuddering breath. “He is crippled?”

“By no means do I imagine him as being permanently crippled!” Charlotte objected, anger stirring within her. “When he returns to the palace surely he will be fitted for a fine false leg, and he will learn in time to walk with it, I am certain. He manages quite well already with a crutch and has been walking as much as he can around the house to increase his strength.”

“Oh.” The word was small, but it held a world of meaning that enraged Charlotte. Here was the woman meant to be Julien’s queen, his bride and the love of his life. The mother to his children. Yet she recoiled at the thought of his injuries instead of rejoicing over the fact that he lived. To Charlotte’s mind, there was no way she could deserve him.

“I suppose the marriage will take place, then,” Renee added at last, as she finished with the laces and began adjusting Charlotte’s skirts, just so. Then she added a cloak over Charlotte’s shoulders and began to try to force her hair up beneath a traditional headdress.

“Only if you wish it to,” Charlotte blurted, without realizing what she was saying.

A wry smile crossed Renee’s face. “Ah, it seems you have come to know His Highness well. We are not that closely acquainted. Yet given the choice between marrying him or Grand Duke Frederick…”

“A girl would take the only other option she had if not for the first.” Charlotte had an idea dawn upon her and she turned to Renee. “She would take her own life before it could happen.”

“What?” Renee recoiled, but Charlotte, now fully dressed, grasped her hand and pulled her out from behind the screen, where they stumbled upon Thomas lacing up his boots, his shirt still not fully buttoned.

“I beg your pardon, My Ladies,” he blushed, embarrassed, but the look on Renee’s face gave him pause. She really seemed to be looking at… well, all there was to see. That was, at the moment, the evidence showing his chest hair matched the hue of his beard.

“Thomas, the diversion we need,” Charlotte grasped hold of his hand with her other one now and held it. “I believe I know what it could be.”

“Then don’t keep me waiting, speak!”

“If we staged the Lady Renee’s suicide, spread rumor through the palace she was too distraught over the Prince’s death to go on, then we might have the time we need.”

“We’d have to take her back with us,” Thomas said, looking at Renee now and trying to ascertain why it would be she would most cherish a chance at freedom; to escape Frederick, or to reunite with Julien.

“I don’t see any other way at this point. What about the Queen?”

“The Queen will never leave the palace,” Renee warned. “Live or die here, this is her home and she will never abandon it.”

“Quite correctly spoken, girl,” The Queen said now, reentering the room holding several documents rolled into scrolls and sealed with wax. “But at least, at this point, there are those loyal enough still to me, and who were to my dear husband, than would see Frederick cause me any harm. To attempt it would be his undoing.”

“His undoing shall be his greed and lust for power,” Renee replied, clearly disgusted at the thought of the man. “Right now, he refuses to be disturbed because he is in his bedchamber with the woman of this evening from Court, whomever she may be. Every night, another. And he told me clearly this would not change after we wed.”

“Then why marry such a woman of virtue?” Thomas’s voice faded as he realized: Renee was just another of the Prince’s possessions Frederick claimed as one of the spoils of victory. He cared no more for her than he did anyone else in this world, save himself. The thought made an unfamiliar rage rise in Thomas, and he felt protective of the girl, determined to do what he could to help free her, whatever that meant for her future.

“I have brought the papers you asked for, and Agnes is making quiet inquiries among those at Court I believe can be trusted,” The Queen turned to Charlotte now. “You have the ring?”

“Is this it?” Charlotte asked, picking up the ring and holding it out toward the Queen. The woman gave it merely a cursory glance before looking away, obviously pained by the sight of it.

“Yes, that is it.” She paused only a moment. “You were speaking of creating a diversion, what would that plan be?”

“To make everyone believe Lady Renee ended her life,” Charlotte replied. “The proper dummy, perhaps a seamstress’s form, dressed in a gown is all that would be necessary. We simply have to push it from a window high enough into the moat and then, with heavy objects tied to its feet, make everyone believe she had drowned. Of course, Duke Frederick would call for the moat to be searched, but in the darkness what could be done tonight? They would be grasping at straws to try to find her there. By the time morning arrives, we must be well on our way back into the countryside, and we must hope that there, Julien has been able to get word out to enough of the men and even able bodied women in the village. We will need a force large enough to ensure that the Duke’s travel party would have no chance to retaliate once he discovers the truth.”

“Oh, the Duke will discover the truth.” A deep, resonating voice was heard from the back of the room and Renee hurried to hide behind Thomas. Charlotte needed no introduction: she remembered Frederick’s face from the night of the ball.

She had to think fast, had to say something, do something, in this instant to turn the tide of the situation.

She lunged for the sword Thomas had left leaning against the chaise as he changed clothes and held it to the Duke’s throat. Before she could speak, the Queen spoke first.

“How dare you, Frederick, entering my locked quarters without permission, and in the middle of the night!”

“I heard we had visitors in the castle. I wanted to be certain to make their acquaintance right away, since I was not properly notified upon their arrival.”

“You were not to be disturbed, Your Grace,” Renee replied, “If you recall, you left word with the guard that unless the palace was aflame, no one was to disturb you.”

Thomas shot a look at Charlotte that said, “Now what?”

Her eyes just urged him to be ready for anything.

“These are my personal guests, Frederick, and the palace is still my home. You have not even begun your reign over the kingdom yet by rights, and so I am under no obligation to tell you the comings and goings of my relatives.”

“Is that who these are? Your relatives?” He looked at Thomas. “Your name, sir?”

“Michel, second cousin to the Queen on her maternal side. Son of Eleanor. The woman still holding the sword is my sister, Isabel, newly installed Lady in Waiting for your… betrothed.” Thomas choked on the last words when referring to Renee as Frederick’s betrothed, but he had no choice. “Isabel, really, there is no need for this display. Put down the sword.”

Charlotte looked at him as if he were insane. Still, she slowly lowered the sword without letting go of it.

“We’ve brought a gift for you, Your Grace,” Charlotte growled, grasping the hilt of the sword until her fingers felt numb, and wishing she could finish him off right then and there. She knew how; Thomas had taught her to handle a weapon, and she was certain she could slit his throat before the Duke could get his own sword out of its sheath. But she thought of Julien and what he would want, and knew he wouldn’t want that. He wanted the Duke to stand trial, and that is what would happen.

“The point of your sword, Lady Isabel?” The Duke laughed, waving at her as if she were no threat at all.

“No, of course not, I apologize; it was just that you entered the room so suddenly, and we knew not at first who you were. My concern was to protect the Queen and My Lady.”

“More of a concern to you than to your brother, it seems, he was still buttoning his shirt when I came in the door. Tell me, Lord Michel, perhaps you have been keeping company this evening alone, with my future bride?” The Duke’s eyes flashed fire. Though it seemed clear he didn’t really want Renee for himself, he didn’t want any other man to dare have her, either.

“You impugn my honor, sir.”

“That was my intention.”

Thomas lunged at the Duke and grabbed him by the lapels. The Duke struggled to raise his sword but Thomas was too strong for him and quickly wrested it from his hand. Frederick opened his mouth to shriek but Thomas smacked him atop the head with the hilt of his own sword, rendering him unconscious.

With the Duke collapsed in his arms, Thomas turned to Charlotte. “This was NOT supposed to happen.”

“Not at all, but now we have choices. Options.” Charlotte turned to the Queen, who wrung her hands nervously and looked at them both. “Your Majesty, do you have instructions for us?”

“What of my son’s plans do you believe can be salvaged now?”

“I think most. If we act in haste and make sure the Duke is unaware for a while,” Charlotte turned to Renee, “Is there a medical kit nearby? Something that would contain the means to silence him for a longer time than Thomas’s method?”

“I believe there is one in my room,” the Queen interjected. “Beneath the bed. Go, girl, and fetch it.” She gestured toward Renee and she obeyed.

“We need something to tie him up with,” Thomas said, his eyes searching the room.

“Here,” Charlotte freed the cords holding back the draperies and brought them to Thomas. “These will have to do.”

Thomas began binding the Duke’s hands and feet with cord, and a moment later Charlotte was using the contents of the medical kit to assure Frederick would be asleep for some time. She wet a bandage with the required amount of liquid and held it to his nose until satisfied he’d inhaled a sufficient dose.

“Now what do we do?”

“We put him in your chambers, Lady Renee, if I’m thinking what Charlotte is thinking,” said Thomas.

“Agreed,” Charlotte replied. “Lady Renee, you are to take some paper from that desk, careful to choose plain and not that bearing the Queen’s seal, and write your suicide note. We will leave it in your bedchamber with the Duke in your bed, say something about not being able to face the future ahead of you, something brief. Then sign it and we will take the documents the Queen has provided so generously for us, and we shall act.”

“Who could have told the Duke we were here, though?” Thomas wondered aloud.

“No one but Lady Agnes, I fear,” The Queen said, shaking her head sadly. “My closest friend, I thought, for many years, taken in by a few sweet words from a handsome face. I will be sorry to see her punished for betraying me.”

“She betrayed us all,” Renee said, hurrying to finish writing out her note and sign it. “It is done.”

“Then we will take him back to your room. Is there a way through the rear corridors?”

“Yes, but first, there is someone else we must, I fear, worry about subduing for the time being.” The Queen turned as Lady Agnes entered the room, a look of surprise pasted upon her face that was not at all convincing.

“My Queen, what is all of this commotion?”

“You should know, Agnes, it is all your doing. Lord Michel, tie her up.”

“No, Your Majesty please, I only spoke one word out of turn… I…” But Thomas had already taken the Queen’s offered handkerchief and placed it in Agnes’s mouth so she could not scream. Then he bound her hands and feet with the rest of the curtain cord.

“Take her into the large closet in the next room,” the Queen instructed. “Lock the door. I cannot abide in this moment to look at her.”

Lady Agnes looked deeply ashamed as Thomas hoisted her over his shoulder and did the Queen’s bidding. Upon his return, he spoke again. “Now, do you think we can make it back to your room without being discovered?”

“I do, but I think it best if just the two of us go, sir. The more of us there are, the greater the risk.”

“I don’t like the idea of splitting up from you, Charlotte,” Thomas said, clearly torn as to how they should proceed.

“Where will I be safer than with the Queen?”

“Ah, but you will not wait here with the Queen. I know you too well. You will take the documents from the Queen to the jailer, and begin releasing those unjustly imprisoned. No matter the risk to you.”

“Wait,” the Queen said, holding her hand up. “That I can do myself, after you have left the castle. I am still the Queen. With Frederick subdued, I may go where I please. The commotion caused by the search of the moat will add to the general confusion all around, and it is my hope the prisoners will be able to battle their way free and follow not far behind you.”

Thomas and Charlotte exchanged a glance. They were hesitant to put the Queen at any risk, but knew they really had no other choice at this point but to accept her offer.

“You have friends at the gates, Your Majesty,” Thomas replied. “I believe your plan could work.”

“Then you three must ride upon the fastest horses in the stable, and make it back to the country with all due haste. When Frederick wakens, it will not take him long to analyze the sword that Thomas has brought and know that the Prince is alive. He will scour the kingdom to find him. Until the freed men reach you, you will have only those you and the Prince were able to convince to join your poor man’s army in order to defend him…”

“We will do our very best, Your Majesty.” Thomas vowed.

“Hurry, Thomas,” Charlotte warned. “We must be out of the castle and beyond the gates by far before he wakes up. Otherwise we are finished.”

“Indeed. Lady Renee, please lead the way,” Thomas picked up the Duke and struggled for only a moment to balance the weight of the man given his limp. The pair made their way out the back door and down the servants’ hallways through which Thomas and Charlotte had first entered.

“I only pray we have done the right thing,” the Queen whispered once she and Charlotte were alone. “We had our moment to finish the villain, and God as my witness, for murdering my husband, I would have been glad to execute the fatal blow myself.”

“As would I, Your Majesty, for all you and your son have suffered,” Charlotte replied. “But this is what Julien asked of me, and even if it means risking my life to do so, I shall follow his requests as closely as possible.”