Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.
24 October 1022, Margaret-Suzanne, The Abyss
My dearest cousin Armand,
I write to you from our stateroom aboard the good ship Margaret-Suzanne, in transit from Yorke to Toulouse. These are by far the poshest accommodations I have ever had while crossing The Abyss—though far less comfortable than your own Anne-Marie, which rather resembles a cozy flying house.
To cut to the chase, Maximilian has been appointed the deputy chief-of-mission at the Cumbrian Embassy in Toulouse.
“It’s a grand title,” Max told me on returning from Eburacum House last month, “but it simply means that I shall be Lord Ellesmere’s chief dogsbody and bottle washer.”
It is rather more than that (though not less, as Max assures me). He shall be Lord Ellesmere’s deputy, replacing Alex Gainsborough: second in command, and so responsible for the day-to-day running of the embassy. But he shall also be Lord Ellesmere’s chief advisor, which is no small thing.
“‘You’re young for the job,’ the Foreign Secretary told me,” said Max, “‘but Lord Ellesmere approves of you, and, well. Here we are.’ And then he harrumphed several times.”
“Do you think Sa Majesté pulled a string or two?” I asked, and Max harrumphed himself.
“This, combined with de Marigny’s visit a few days ago?” he said. “I am certain of it. Also, I happened to catch sight of the good Comte in passing, and he winked at me.”
We were given a month to make arrangements, and now, as you can see, are en route. I had expected we would travel to Toulouse by packet as in the past, but as official representatives of His Cumbrian Majesty we were informed that we were expected to travel with a certain degree of state, and that therefore a stateroom had been booked for us on the Margaret-Suzanne.
And so we embarked, disposed of our things in our stateroom, and were brought tea; and then Maximilian vanished for a brief time. On his return, he told me, in a rather sententious manner not at all like his usual, that “The view from the rail is quite striking, my dear. You simply must take advantage of it.” Then he gave me a sardonic look, and sitting down took out his journal.
When I ascended I found the deck deserted but for a slim but elegant form by the rail. I went and joined her, standing perhaps four feet to her right. She gave me a quick glance, then returned her eyes to the landscape below. Which was, indeed, stunning, stretching down the river to the edge of Cumbria and The Abyss. I took it in for a moment, and then told myself that I might as well begin as I would surely wish to go on.
“Good morning, Your Highness. Princess Beatrice, is it?”
She gave me a carefully hidden look of surprise, then turned back to the expanse below. “Is it that obvious?”
“Not in yourself, Your Highness. Your attire and carriage are of the finest, of course, though more severe than I would have expected for a royal princess. But it is more the surrounding circumstances.”
She raised an eyebrow—or possibly both, though I could only see the one out of the corner of my eye. “And what are those, Mrs. Archer?”
I noted her use of my name. “My husband is traveling to Toulouse to take up his position at the Cumbrian Embassy. Further, I have been informed that Sa Majesté Charles, Roi de Provençe is intending marriage, and indeed I have been invited to the wedding, whenever it should happen to occur, by one of Sa Majesté‘s cronies. Today I was told in no uncertain terms to take in the view; and coming on deck I find you here, completely unattended, without even a deckhand in sight.” I gave her a frank look. “I was plainly meant to make your acquaintance; but more than that, Your Highness, I know very well when I am being managed.”
The Princess pursed her lips slightly, trying not to laugh.
“Do you know,” she said, “I was given much the same instructions. Do we rebel, just to spite them, and shun each other forevermore, or do we give them the satisfaction of have managed us successfully?”
“I fear we must allow them the satisfaction, Your Highness. It would be beneath your dignity to take notice of a such a petty concern. Also, if we shun each other, how shall we find time to plot against them?”
Again she pursed her lips for a moment. “You are wise beyond your years, Mrs. Archer.” She paused, regarding the view, then turned to face me for the first time. She allowed a delicate small to cross her lips. “Since it seems we shall be thrown much together, you will oblige me by addressing me as Beatrice.”
I curtsied. “Why, thank you—Beatrice. And I am Amelia.”
Beatrice nodded graciously. “Now, shall we go below and get acquainted? For I am certain the captain wishes his crew to be about their duties.”
“I would be delighted,” I said.
And so, Armand, here we are. I am being managed, which I detest; but the Princess will require an ally and a friend, and it seems that I have been appointed to the position. I fear I shall have to let others pursue our survey of the Edges of the Old Lands.
Your unexpectedly exalted cousin,
Amelia
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Photo by David Brooke Martin on Unsplash
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