LONDON, 1973
It seemed as if Alexandra was always having to make it up to Belle for not seeing enough of her. Today they’d been to Harrods for high tea and a spot of shopping, and although it had been a welcome break from the hours she’d been spending practising these past months, she was exhausted. Belle always moved and spoke at a frantic pace, and she shopped with the same enthusiastic attitude, which meant Alexandra was ready to collapse.
‘Aren’t you supposed to find out by today?’ Belle asked as they walked up the steps to their front door. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned it all day.’
‘I’ve been trying not to think about it,’ Alex said. ‘Although to be fair, I’ve done nothingbutthink about it.’
‘Well, let’s see if anything has been delivered while we were out. Imagine if it’s good news!’
‘I think they only send a letter if you’re being invited to join, although that might just be a rumour.’ Her heart fluttered at the thought. She could just imagine the life she and Bernard would live, the countries they might be able to visit as they toured the world.
‘We’re home,’ Belle called out as they walked into the hall, her heels clicking on the wood floor. ‘Mother? Has something arrived for Alex? She’s—’
‘In here, girls.’
Belle gave her an excited look, her eyes wide as she hurried ahead of her. Alexandra followed, her breath coming in shallow pants as she prepared herself. Was that why Elizabeth had called to them? Had it arrived, and she was waiting to give it to her?
But her excitement turned to despair when she stepped into the room and saw that her aunt was seated across from a well-dressed man with a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. He gave her a smile as one might an acquaintance they hadn’t seen in a very long time.
It appeared, after all these years, that her father had returned. Her aunt and uncle had been right to be concerned, after all.
‘Hello, Father,’ she said, as Belle glanced at her and moved closer, almost protectively. Alexandra had her right hand hanging at her side, and she felt Belle’s little finger graze hers, as if to tell her she was there for her.
‘Alexandra, I wouldn’t have recognised you,’ he said, with a smile that took her by surprise. ‘You’ve blossomed into quite the young woman.’
As you would know if you’d been to visit. She wished to hurl an insult at him, but stayed quiet instead. She could rant and rave to Belle later, or to her aunt, who she knew would be most understanding and perhaps even join in.
‘What brings you to London?’ Alexandra asked politely.
‘Your father has expressed an interest in you going to live with him,’ her aunt said, before her father had the chance to answer. ‘I’ve been explaining to him how difficult it would be for a young lady to be uprooted from everything she knows.’
‘I—’ Alexandra faltered, as her father interrupted.
‘Regardless of your aunt’s protests, I believe it is time for you to return to your family, Alexandra. You’ve been here quite long enough.’
‘Alexandra is eighteen! She can’t be moved around as if she’s a child any longer; she’s an adult!’ Belle erupted, earning her a sharp stare from her aunt.
‘Belle, please leave us,’ Elizabeth said, her tone final as Belle touched Alexandra’s shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.
‘I’m sorry,’ Belle mouthed to her, before leaving the room.
‘She’s right,’ Alexandra said. ‘I am an adult, and you cannot arrive after being absent for almost seven years, expecting me to welcome you with open arms.’
Her father stroked his moustache and sat back in his chair. ‘You are aware of what has happened in Greece? Of the situation there?’
Alexandra nodded.
‘Then you should also be aware that everything I have dedicated my life to has changed. That we’re on the verge of losing everything.’ He had the audacity to smile, despite the news he was breaking. ‘But you, my dear, are the one thing of value I have left.’
‘I am not a horse to be traded for money,’ she retorted. ‘If that is what you are insinuating?’
‘Don’t be naïve enough to think that we are the wealthy family that we once were.’ His voice rumbled in his throat; she’d forgotten how intimidating he could be when he was angry. ‘There was only so much family silver, jewellery and Fabergé gifts to smuggle out of Greece, and they’re long gone.’
Alexandra lifted her chin slightly and levelled her gaze at her father—he was speaking of the gifts their family had received from the King and Queen over his years of service, and her mother’s years of friendship. ‘What of my mother’s personal jewellery collections? I should very much like to have those returned to me.’
Her father turned a deep shade of red, his entire cheeks stained as he looked at the ground.
‘Nicholas?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘Your daughter has asked you about my sister’s private collection. The collection that was passed to her from our parents, the collection that is her birthright.’
