“You will.” Mishka took her hand. “Tomorrow.”
Meredith took a deep breath as they went down the stairs. Really, why should she be so nervous? Even if the queen kicked her out, she would have all of western Europe to tour. Yet…something in her wanted to meet the queen’s high expectations. Was that nuts?
“If you forget which one is the seafood fork, just watch me,” Kat said quietly.
“And put your napkin in your lap when Grandmama does,” Mishka added.
“You’ll be fine,” Kat assured her.
“Do you like your room?” Mishka asked with a furrowed brow.
“It’s perfectly fine,” she told him as they approached the royal dining room. “Really, it’s quite nice.” She had no intention of complaining.
Other than two servants busying themselves with the table, no one was in the dining room. Following Kat’s direction, Meredith took the seat next to Mishka. She hoped it was the right one. She smiled at Mishka and winked as Kat sat across from her, which made Kat smile. Shortly thereafter, Spencer entered the room with the queen on his arm. He escorted her to the head of the table, helped her into her chair, then took the chair at the other side.
The queen dipped her head to a server, and as he was about to serve, Mishka spoke up. “Meredith always asks a blessing first,” he said.
The queen’s dark brows arched.
He repeated himself. “She asks God to bless our food and the ones that prepared it.”
Meredith smiled, grateful that he’d actually gotten it.
“Miss Cardwell,” the queen said, tipping her head toward Meredith. “By all means, go ahead.”
Despite the frosty invitation, Meredith did her best. As dinner was served, she decided to relax and let the chips fall where they may. Really, what was the worst that could happen? But it was disheartening to see Spencer changing, catering to the queen’s whims and becoming less of a person than Meredith knew he could be. Why did he do that? Of course, the children were different too. More proper. In a way, it was nice. In another way, it was disturbing. She wanted them to be themselves. Just children!
Spencer’s attempt at small talk, which was admirable but sad, included him explaining how the children had enjoyed sports in Austria and how Meredith was good at helping them.
“Athletics are fine for some people, but I doubt they play a role in real life,” the queen stated.
“I disagree,” Meredith said, but seeing everyone staring at her, she wished she hadn’t.
“How so?” the queen asked in an icy tone.
Meredith silently prayed for help. “I think we learn a lot about life through sports. Whether it’s attaining self-confidence or learning to be a gracious loser, sports teach good lessons.”
The queen stared at her for a long moment. “Perhaps you have a point.”
Spencer took this an opening and began to sing Meredith’s praises with his children, explaining how Prince George had learned to swim, and Princess Katerina had become quite accomplished at tennis and football. “In such a short time too,” he finished, looking directly at Meredith which seem like affection. “She’s really been quite brilliant with the children.”
“She has,” Mishka chimed in. “And she likes hearing about animals and is good at bedtime too.”
“And she’s a good listener,” Kat added.
“Well.” Queen Katerina set down her fork. “It seems you are all enchanted by our American governess.” Her eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, at Meredith. “I am suitably impressed and anxious to hear more.” She pointed at Meredith’s dress. “Do I recognize that garment?”
Meredith looked down at the expensive dress that once belonged to Princess Anastasia. “It’s possible you do recall it.” She clumsily attempted to explain how Mrs. Warner had convinced her to use the princess’s wardrobe, which had been about to be donated, and how her own bags had been stolen in Vienna.
The queen looked skeptical as she waved for coffee and dessert. “How convenient for you.”
Meredith’s heart sank. The conversation was over. And although the strudel with cream was probably delicious, it tasted like cardboard to her. As soon as it was graciously possible, she excused herself from the table—after exchanging apologetic looks with the children. Really, this was out of her hands. And she was just plain tired.
She ran up the stairs, anxious to get into her small room, which was probably much nicer than the hostels she might’ve been staying in if she were touring Europe on her original plan. Mostly, she was thankful for the quietness…and privacy.
She got ready for bed, and after praying for mercy, she was almost asleep when a tapping sound on her door roused her. Imagining it was Mishka or Kat, she opened it. But it was Spencer. Embarrassed that she only had on a thin cotton nightgown, she grabbed a cardigan and asked if the children were okay.
“They’re fine. I helped them get to bed.” He smiled. “And it was rather nice.”
