“You have another tartan?” It struck May as unbelievably extravagant to have extras of a custom-made fabric that you only wore once a year.
“Yes. I have mine, and my mother’s. She designed the pattern, actually,” Alix added softly.
May drew in a breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s all right, Mama would have loved that her tartan was being used.”
Alix’s features were bright with heartache. Talking about her mother made her seem so childlike, so vulnerable; May was torn between a desire to protect her and another, equally strong urge to shake some sense into her.The world isn’t a fairy tale,she wanted to say.Stop thinking that it is!
They both swayed a little in their seats as the train curved along its track. May adjusted the cushion behind her, then asked, “What was she like? Your mother, I mean.”
“My biggest fear is that I will forget her. Already she is blurring with Ella in my mind—because after Mother died, Ella became like a mother to me, too. I’m terrified that one day I’ll wake up and have forgotten her face completely.”Alix’s voice broke, but after a moment she continued. “One thing that I do remember is how much she loved music. She was always singing, making up nonsense songs, or changing the lyrics to some popular song so that it was actually about us. ‘Those aren’t the words, Mama!’ I would protest, and she just swept me into her arms and laughed that it didn’t matter. She said that the words could be whatever we wanted them to be, that the song was ours for the writing.”
“She sounds very special.” May couldn’t imagine how it might feel, having a dreamy and imaginative mother like that. Her own mother could hardly be called practical, given how overdrawn their accounts were, but she had never been the type to make up words or games. The only stories she’d told May were real ones about their family history.
“I miss her so much,” Alix murmured. “But as hard as it was on me, my father took it the worst. He never really recovered from her death.”
“Really?” May didn’t know much about Louis of Hesse; he kept to himself in Darmstadt. Come to think of it, how had he managed to marry a princess of Great Britain? His duchy was nothing special by German standards, hardly better than her own father’s home of Württemberg.
“They were so in love, you know, that they married only six months after Grandpapa Albert’s death. Everyone was still in mourning,” Alix offered.
That didn’t sound like an auspicious start to May, but it did explain things. In the wild throes of her grief over Albert, Queen Victoria might have agreed to a marriage she would never have let her daughter make under normal circumstances.
Alix kicked off her slippers, then pulled one foot up ontothe upholstered cushion, tucking it behind her knee in utter defiance of etiquette. “For years people kept telling my father to remarry, but he always refused. He said that there was no one in the world like my mother.”
It was true: most men would have remarried within the year, simply for a pair of hands to raise their children and run their household.
“That’s the kind of love I’m looking for,” Alix added, almost in a whisper. “I know it’s foolish to think that I might find it, but I can’t help hoping.”
“Excuse me, Your Highnesses.” A maid emerged from the neighboring railcar and began lighting the oil lamps on the walls. May noted in surprise that the sun had set, its golden rays disappearing behind the distant hills.
“When shall I tell the conductor to halt the train for your supper?”
They both glanced at the figure of the elderly Miss Cochrane, who was still dozing in her armchair on the opposite side of the railcar.
“Perhaps we don’t need to pause,” Alix suggested, surprising May yet again.
The maid frowned. “Her Majesty always has the train come to a full stop before dining. She says that it is messy attempting to eat while in motion.”
“But Her Majesty isn’t here. Why don’t we attempt to eat while moving, and that way we can arrive at Balmoral a bit ahead of schedule?”
When the maidservant retreated with a nod, May lifted an eyebrow.
“Eating while the train is moving? A bit reckless, to be breaking Her Majesty’s rules before we even get there.”
“If I shatter a plate, promise me you’ll help me sweep it under the rug?” Alix asked lightly.
“Of course. We’re quite good at that in our family,” May heard herself reply.
Alix gave an appreciative smile. They were teasing each other, May noted in surprise, sharing jokes known only to the two of them. Acting the way thatfriendswould.
The realization made her think of Agnes, who was a very different sort of friend, cunning and defiant where Alix was soft-spoken. Yet May had shared hidden pieces of herself with each of them.
After all these years of being on her own, it was rather a nice sensation—letting people in.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hélène
