Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.

16 November 2022, Cumbrian Embassy, Toulouse

My dearest cousin Armand,

Another shoe has dropped, and I am afraid it was an enormous hobnailed boot of a thing.

I had become quite friendly with Princess Beatrice, or so I had thought; we’d become quite chummy on board the Margaret-Suzanne, and I have been invited to tea with her several times each week since our arrival. I had indeed thought we were on the way to becoming bosom friends. She is pleasant, no fool, and not at all haughty.

Or at least, she hadn’t been; and then this morning I received a most peremptory summons to attend her at her residence: “Mrs. Archer is to present herself at 2 Bois d’Alphonse at the hour of—” No explanation, no friendly words; just the bare command.

Naturally, I obeyed; and naturally I sought out Maximilian in his grand new office, where he was much engaged in taking slips of paper from one tray, annotating them, and dropping them in another tray. He looked up when I entered, and then stood.

“Amelia! What is the matter?”

“I do not know,” I said, handing him the note, “but please read this.”

His brow furrowed as he did so, and then he shook his head. “I do not understand. Have you done anything to upset Her Highness?”

“Evidently, but I cannot think what it would be.”

“You shall obey, of course.”

“Yes, but—well, I know you are busy but I should like you to come along.”

“I was not summoned, my dear.”

“Yes, but perhaps you could stay with the carriage? I am concerned that I might have need of you to talk me down after.”

Maximilian took my point immediately. “Yes, it does seem that might be quite the fraught interview. Very well.”

“If you find that you won’t need me, please send a servant,” he said as the footman helped me descend from the carriage. “I should then return to the Embassy and send the carriage back for you.”

I nodded, and then made my ascent to the Her Highness’ door, where I was met and escorted up to the drawing room.

Princess Beatrice was standing in the middle of the chamber; and she cast a frigid gaze upon me as I rose from my courtesy.

“At least you are prompt,” she said in icy tones, “whatever else you may be.”

I felt puzzled—and wounded, I may say—and I am sure it showed on my face.

“Your Highness,” I said, not daring to use her given name, “whatever do you mean?”

She studied me for a long moment, then sat, arranging her skirts neatly around her. She did not bid me to sit.

“You may tell me,” she said darkly, “just what relations you have had with my intended.”

I am afraid I flushed—with indignation, Armand, not embarrassment, for her tone made her meaning quite clear. I have always been prone to high color when angered, as you well know, and I fear it has grown worse since I came into my powers. Though I am proud to say that not a flicker of flame appeared within my eyes, for the princess did not recoil.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I said—I hope not too hotly.

“So you deny it, then!”

“Deny what, your highness?” I said. “For you have accused me of nothing. Perhaps you might speak plainly.”

“Plainly? Very well, I shall speak plainly. You are no longer welcome here.” She rose tugged on the bell pull; and when the footman came, she said, “Please escort Mrs. Archer to her carriage. She is not to be readmitted.”

“Yes, your highness.”

I was shaking when I left the room; and if the princess had seen no fire in my eyes, my Maximilian most certainly did when I entered the carriage, for he folded me in his arms as the coachman whipped up the horses, and held me until my trembling ceased.

“What happened?” he asked then. “I do not know what that—” I begin, and then stopped myself. “I do not know what Sa Majesté said to her, but she has come to believe that the King and I—that I—”

“Ah,” he said, stopping my mouth with one finger. “I thought as much. No, do not speak of it, you will only grow heated again.”

We were silent, then, as we rode along the cobbled streets of Toulouse; and at least he said, “You must tell Lady Ellesmere; and then, I believe, you might visit L’École. I shall speak with His Lordship; and then, I believe, I shall have a quiet word with de Marigny. You may leave it with me.”

And so I did, Armand, and spent several hours in the chapel there, praying and pondering.

It is of all things the most irritating, Armand, to be accused of a thing you have not done, and to be denied any reason for the accusation. But I must not think of that, or as Maximilian says, I shall grow heated again.

Your perplexed and unhappy cousin,

Amelia

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