“Yes.”
“But he is far from perfect. Eddy has always been impulsive, easily distracted. He failed miserably at his studies with his tutor. The woman who marries him will need inner strength and conviction, in order to forge him into the king that England needs.”
“Eddy is smarter than you give him credit for!” Hélène knew she shouldn’t speak this way to Her Majesty, but she was tired of Eddy’s family undermining him. “He may not be intellectual the way George is, but he is thoughtful, and empathetic. If he only had the opportunity to take on some responsibilities, you would see that—”
The queen held up a hand and Hélène fell silent, chastened. Then she noted with surprise that Victoria was smiling.
“You are defending him; I am glad of it. The primary job of a queen consort is to assist the king in all things. To quietly magnify his greatness without detracting from it. Why do you think I wanted Eddy to marry Alix? I knew there was no affection there,” the queen admitted, with shocking frankness. “Alix is thoughtful, demure, soft-spoken. The qualities one should search for in a queen consort.”
Hélène could hardly claim to be soft-spoken or demure. “Perhaps those qualities should only be sought for a certainkind of king. Perhaps Eddy requires a different sort of partner to balance his personality.”
She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t overstepped.
Victoria looked out the window again, her profile stoic. “You may be right. I had such great hopes for Alexandra, when I selected her for Bertie—I thought her quiet patience was just what we needed, the perfect counterpoint to his lack of focus. Yet marriage never seemed to change him.”
Eddy is not his father,Hélène wished she could say.
“If you are serious about marrying my grandson, then you need to be prepared for everything that you must endure.”
“I know,” Hélène said quietly. Then she said again, in a firmer voice, “I love him.”
Victoria’s expression seemed to soften. “As a grandmother, I am not unsympathetic to your cause. But I am a sovereign, too, and must think in those terms. Our future king, allying himself with the daughter of a former royal house?”
“There are many countries where our sovereignty is officially recognized,” Hélène pointed out.Just not in England.And, most importantly, not in France.
The queen didn’t seem to have heard. “I remember when your great-grandfather Louis Philippe fled France under the alias of ‘Mr.Smith,’ with his mustache shaved! Your family has had safe haven in my country ever since, though you’ve gone back and forth to France as the tides of political opinion have turned.”
Didn’t Hélène know it. The Orléans had been exiled for two generations, then returned to France just after she was born, only to be exiled once more when she was fifteen. Francenever could make up its mind whether to welcome them or despise them.
“My country has a complicated history, but so does yours,” Hélène ventured. “We shouldn’t pretend that it never happened, but instead should recognize the ways we can learn from it. Isn’t that what monarchy is all about?”
“Learning from history?”
“Providing a living link between the nation’s past and its present, while also looking forward to its future.”
The queen’s eyes twinkled; she clearly liked that remark. “I am quite fond of you, and of your parents. But a match between a future king and the daughter of an exiled pretender…It poses a number of problems.”
Hélène knew what Victoria was trying to say. It was the very issue that had plagued Amélie during her marriage negotiations with Carlos—namely, that the family she married into could never quite be sure what they were getting, a princess or a nobody.
France had renounced its kings before, only to invite them to return on two different occasions. Hélène’s father might remain the Count of Paris his whole life, or he might sit on a throne again next year. The likelihood of each outcome depended on whom you asked.
“No matter which princess Eddy marries, you will inevitably offend those who weren’t chosen,” Hélène said carefully. “I would hazard a guess that all your choices come with complications of some kind. And since the Church of England only permitsonewife for each husband, you will be forced to make a decision as to which complications are leastobjectionable.”
“Albert would have liked you. He had the same habit of using logic against me.” Now Queen Victoria was definitely smiling. “You are right in claiming that none of the choices is without obstacle.”
“Perhaps they are all…How did His Royal Highness describe the swans? Insufferably dull.”
Queen Victoria snorted with suppressed laughter, and Hélène felt distinctly pleased with herself. Her guess had been right; shewasthe black swan. Ah well. There were worse things to be.
They passed a series of landscapes. The queen paused as if considering a painting of a shadowed forest, though Hélène could tell that she was thinking deeply.
Eventually, she looked back at Hélène with a sigh. “There remains the question of your religion.”
“I consent to raising my children in the Church of England,” Hélène said quickly.
Victoria’s expression didn’t change. “Surely you know that the Act of Settlement of 1701 forbids any Catholic, or person married to a Catholic, from ascending the throne. If Eddy were to wed a Catholic princess, he would be forced to give up his position in the line of succession.”
Hélène blinked. “I thought—”
