The FitzOsbornes in Exile (4 page)

He leaned back in his chair, crossed one long leg over the other, and smiled. “Surely the question is not
Do I want to be King?
but
Who is entitled to be King?
I believe the honor usually goes to the late King’s eldest son.”

“It goes to the eldest
legitimate
male relative of the late King,” I said.

“My mother says she was married to the late King. She certainly ought to know.”

“So, she’s of sound mind, then?” I said. “Quite able to face a courtroom in order to answer charges of assault with a dangerous weapon?”

“I don’t know that
that
would be a good idea,” Simon said gently. “For her or for the FitzOsborne family.” It was as though he were playing chess with a beginner and was—regretfully—obliged to declare
Check
after half a dozen moves.

“So,” I said, “deciding not to press charges against your mother, paying for her to reside in an expensive clinic—is that enough to buy your silence? I assume
you
want something, too.”

“You ought to leave cynicism to your cousin, Sophia,” he said lightly. “It really doesn’t suit you.”

“You don’t know me at
all
, Simon.” I was proud of how steady my voice was. “You’ve never even noticed me. But I’ve studied you. And I know you won’t be satisfied being plain old Simon Chester, legal clerk, not anymore. I want to know what you’ll settle for—because you can be certain that Aunt Charlotte and Veronica won’t allow you to become King.”

He was nettled but determined not to show it. “They may be persuaded that I would do a better job of it—particularly as Toby is still at school. And I believe Toby will support me in this.”

“I don’t think he will,” I said. “Nor will the others, not when I tell them that
you
were the sole reason the Germans came to Montmaray.”

“What?”

“Don’t you recall?” I asked. “That dinner at Lord Bosworth’s where you pretended to be a diplomat? When you told the German Ambassador all about the shipwrecks and the sunken treasures of Montmaray? And quoted Edward de Quincy FitzOsborne’s ‘Voyage of King Bartholomew’? The bit about the Holy Grail, surely you remember that?”

“What on earth does that have to do with anything?” he said, but he’d gone white around the mouth.

“They came in search of the Grail. That was the only reason they were there. And it all went horribly wrong, for them and for us, and now Montmaray is in ruins.”

“You …” His fingers clenched on the armrests. “How could you
possibly
know what I did or said? Unless … Toby wrote to you, didn’t he? About the dinner party.”

“Yes,” I said. “And Herr Rahn told me about his Grail quest. And Veronica had a copy of a monograph Herr Rahn had written, about the Nazi-funded organization that employed him. And I put it all together—”

Simon leapt to his feet. “Even if you’re right! Even if they did … you can’t possibly blame me! I had no
idea
what the consequences would be!”

“No, and neither did my uncle when he tried to defend the castle against intruders. Neither did your mother, I suppose, when she attacked Veronica.”

Simon raised a shaking hand to his face. I watched, not as coolly as I would have liked. He was right. I couldn’t blame him. Not for that, anyway. I didn’t even blame poor Otto Rahn.

“Sophia, you have to believe me,” Simon said at last. “I never, ever wanted this to happen. Montmaray is my home, too. It broke my heart to see the castle in ruins that afternoon.”

“I know,” I said. “And you helped us escape.” I considered for a moment. “Of course, we helped you escape, too.”

“Yes,” he said, sinking back in his chair. He was pale, but his voice was even. “But this doesn’t change anything. Your aunt and cousin were never on my side. And Toby will support me—even when he knows about this. I’ll tell him myself.”

In fact, I’d mentioned it to Toby last year, but either he’d forgotten (understandably, given what was going on at the time) or he’d decided not to hold it against Simon. Still, I had to admire Simon’s resilience. Perhaps he
would
have made a good king. But he had a lean and hungry look, as Caesar (or Shakespeare) would have said. Such men are dangerous.

“All right,” I said. “And now we come to what I
really
wanted to discuss with you.”

He gave me an incredulous look. “Good God, there’s more?”

“I don’t trust you with Toby,” I said. “I think you’re a
very
bad influence on him.”

I folded my arms and waited for him to work it out. I held my breath, though, because I wasn’t
entirely
certain I’d guessed correctly about their relationship. It took about thirty seconds. Then he gave a short, unamused laugh.

“You have been studying me,” he said. “Because I know Toby didn’t tell you
that.
”

“I do make a habit of observing people,” I said. “Not just you. It’s simply that there weren’t many other people to observe at Montmaray.”

He shoved himself to his feet and stalked over to the window, staring out at the lengthening shadows. I examined my fingernails, which looked as though they’d been attacked by a cheese grater. Of course, I
had
recently spent quite a bit of time hanging off cliffs by my fingertips. Thank heavens for gloves, as Aunt Charlotte would say.

“I can’t believe I’m even discussing this with you,” Simon said abruptly, glancing over his shoulder. “But I don’t suppose you’d accept that Toby started it.”

“I might,” I said. (Actually, it seemed highly likely.) “But he’s a schoolboy and you’re not. Anyway, it’s illegal.”

“You’d be surprised how many gentlemen in the highest ranks of Society ignore that particular law,” he said. His voice had taken on a jagged edge. “Of course, the rules are quite different for the upstart sons of housekeepers.”

“I expect they are,” I said. “But could you sit down? You’re making my neck ache, trying to look at you from this angle.”

He sighed, then returned to his chair. “All right, Sophia. What do you want?”

“Well,” I said. “Firstly, I’m not sure that your job with Mr. Grenville is
quite
right for someone of your talents. I was thinking that, with your legal knowledge, you might consider becoming Montmaray’s new Lord Chancellor. Or perhaps our Ambassador—but I think Lord Chancellor has a nicer ring to it, don’t you?”

He nodded slowly, his dark gaze searching my face. “I think it does.”

“And Aunt Charlotte’s been complaining about how useless her secretary is, so perhaps you could do something about that,” I went on. “I’m sure you’d have no trouble making yourself indispensable to her. You could live here or at Montmaray House in London—we’ll be moving there ourselves for the Season.” I paused. “Does all this sound sensible to you?”

“Very,” he said. “Go on.”

“That’s about it,” I admitted. “Did you have some other ideas?”

“Aren’t you supposed to forbid me from ever being alone with your brother?”

“Would there be any point?”

“Not really,” he said. “I could try to stay away from Toby, but I can’t vouch for
his
actions. He’s very stubborn. It seems to be a FitzOsborne trait.”

We smiled at each other in a moment of perfect, mutual understanding.

“Anyway,” I added, “it would make Toby sad, and we’ve already got enough to be sad about. But I do wish you’d encourage him to study a bit more, Simon. And try to persuade him that Oxford is a good idea. It’ll make Aunt Charlotte happy.”

“And we do want to keep the Princess Royal happy,” he said.

“I think it would be wise,” I agreed. “I hate it when people quarrel, don’t you? Especially when they’re all family.” I stood and held out my hand for him to shake. He rose, captured my hand in his—and then lifted mine to his lips. I jerked my hand back, a couple of seconds too late, and gaped at him.

“It’s been a most … 
enlightening
conversation, Sophia,” he said with his half smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must have a word with Toby before dinner.”

I ought to have accompanied Simon, but instead, I fell back into my chair the moment he left the room. I found I was trembling. It had been a nerve-racking and exhausting confrontation—but also rather thrilling. And the back of my hand still felt the press of Simon’s lips, brief though it had been. Not that I gave any thought to
that
as I gathered myself together and went upstairs to dress for dinner.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Soph,” said Toby as he, Veronica, and I sat in the Velvet Drawing Room later that evening—Simon having been summoned to the library for a “little chat” with Aunt Charlotte. “When did you become so
scheming
?”

“It’s a fairly recent development,” I said.

“Simon called you ‘Machiavelli disguised as a debutante.’ ”

“Gosh,” I said, not sure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

“What
are
you talking about?” asked Veronica, glancing up from her newspaper. It was the first time she’d dined downstairs since we’d arrived, and she looked extremely elegant in her black jersey dress, with her hair piled on top of her head—although I noticed she’d acquired a smudge of newspaper ink along one high cheekbone. I leaned over and wiped it off with my thumb.

“Sophie has persuaded Simon to drop his claim to the throne,” Toby explained.

“Really?” said Veronica, astonished enough to let half of
The Times
flutter to the floor. “How did you manage
that
?”

“I simply reminded him of the importance of family loyalty,” I said.

“And offered him the Lord Chancellorship instead,” Toby added.

We braced ourselves for Veronica’s explosion, but she merely stared at me a moment, then returned to
The Times
. Toby raised his eyebrows at me, and I shrugged.

“Well then, it’s settled,” Toby said. “We ought to have an official gathering of the new Court in Exile. Or is it called an Assembly? Veronica?”

“Privy Council,” she said, not looking up from her newspaper.

“Right,” said Toby. “Because, firstly, we need to decide what I’m called. I mean, do I have to be the next King John, or can I be King Tobias, or—”

“You can call yourself whatever you want,” said Veronica, rustling her newspaper impatiently. “It’s a monarchy, not a socialist democracy.”

“ ‘When Caesar says, “Do this,” it is performed,’ ” I quoted.

“And look how
he
ended up—dead in the street with knives sticking out of his back,” said Toby. “No thank you.
I
shall be the very model of a modern major monarch—”

Simon strode into the room and threw himself into an armchair.

“That was quick,” said Toby.

“Wasn’t much to discuss, really,” Simon said. “I’ve always admired the Princess Royal. Remarkably
pragmatic
lady, when presented with the facts, and she was most appreciative of my offer to take over her appointment book. Her secretary seems to be making a terrible muddle of her charity luncheons and committee meetings and so forth.”

“Excellent work,” Toby said. “And you’re just in time for the first Privy Council meeting of the reign of King Tobias of Montmaray. First item on the agenda—appointment of the Lord Chancellor. That’s you, Simon.”

“Thank you very much,” said Simon, giving a little bow.

“Veronica, you can be Court Historian and Constitutional Expert,” said Toby. Veronica rolled her eyes. “And, Sophie, what would you like to be?”

“Me?” I said.

“I know you’re going to write all this down in that journal of yours,” said Toby. “So you’re already Court Scribe, but how about—”

“Ambassador?” suggested Simon blandly. “I happen to know she has excellent negotiating skills.”

“Perfect,” said Toby.

I gave Simon a narrow look. He smiled at me and leaned back in his chair.

“And Henry can be Commander of Defence,” Toby went on. “Next item! Finances. Simon? Any coins rolling around the bottom of the Privy Purse?”

“Well, it’s complicated,” said Simon. “I’ve barely started going through all the records in London, but my guess is that apart from the savings account, which has about sixty pounds in it, we’re entirely dependent on the Princess Royal’s private income.”

“Good old Uncle Arthur,” said Toby. “God rest his soul.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, a large proportion of his fortune is derived from coal mining. If a Labour government got in again and nationalized the mines—”

“They’d pay compensation,” said Veronica. “Besides, there’s property as well. Most of the village of Milford, a hunting lodge in Scotland, warehouses and factories in Manchester and London. Plenty of rent coming in from them.”

“
Naturally
, I’m aware of the Princess Royal’s extensive property holdings,” said Simon, scowling at Veronica. “I’m simply explaining that the Kingdom of Montmaray is essentially broke, and that if the Princess Royal were to, heaven forbid, pass away suddenly, her money wouldn’t necessarily go to Toby. She could leave it all to the Cats Protection League if she so desired.”

“Why would she do that?” asked Toby. “She doesn’t even like cats. She likes
me
.”

“She’d like you a damned sight more if you stopped getting expelled from schools,” said Simon.

“It was only
one
school,” said Toby. “Stop exaggerating.”

“I’m merely pointing out,” said Simon with studied patience, “that you ought to be as obliging as possible these next few months while I try to negotiate a permanent allowance for you and the girls. Do a bit of work for the entrance examinations, go up to Oxford, try not to get sent down in your first year—”

“Then marry an aristocratic young lady from a rich family and produce a couple of heirs,” finished Veronica.

Toby pulled a horrified face and turned to me. “Soph, don’t you
dare
fall in love with anyone with an income of less than a hundred thousand a year. And make sure you have sons, not daughters. Dozens of them, if you can manage it.” He turned back to Simon. “Also, how am I supposed to pass exams when I won’t be back at school for months?”