Princess Dottie

Chapter Nine

Left alone with the letter in his hands Randolph clenched his fingers slowly so that the paper was scrunched and only Dottie, love was showing.

It wasn't too bad, he told himself. Mike might have written “My darling,” or something intense. On second thoughts, no. Intensity wasn't his style. For him, “Dottie, love” was the height of passionate abandon. And she would understand it that way.

If he gave it to her.

He shut off the thought at once. She'd already made it insultingly clear that she didn't trust him. This would simply prove her right, and if she didn't know it, he would.

Without further delay he went to her apartments, marching in without waiting to be announced. Dottie had been contentedly munching breakfast, wrapped in a large pink toweling robe. She choked over her coffee and drew the robe more firmly around her. Her movement was just fast enough to leave him in doubt whether she was wearing anything underneath.

Inwardly he cursed the bitter fate that had made her a sexy imp who could get under his skin without trying to. What was a man to do who'd had one glimpse of the loveliest body on earth, and then been haunted by it, day and night, ever since. The sight was there in his dreams, and with it a rich chuckle at some absurdity of life that he'd never noticed before, but would never forget now, because it reminded him of her. He would awaken to find himself trembling, aching in his loins with a deprivation that only one thing could ease. And that was something he couldn't have.

By day it was even worse, for he would be with her, always at a disadvantage, struggling not to let her suspect feelings that shocked him because he couldn't master them. A lifetime of discipline and control, all set at nothing because this exasperating creature had a smile of wine and honey and a wicked gleam in her eyes. But she hadn't overcome him yet, and he would make sure she didn't.

He coped by keeping their meetings brief, businesslike and sometimes harsh on his side. It frustrated him, but it was his only protection.

“Do you mind?” Dottie asked belligerently.

“I shan't disturb you for long. I merely wished to give you this,” he held out the letter, “and to apologize for the error which led to it being opened. It fell in with all the other official correspondence.”

“Oh yeah?” she said, looking at the postmark. “You saw Wenford and assumed it was 'official correspondence'?”

“It was an accident, ma'am, but one for which I wish to apologize.”

Dottie was examining the rest of the packet, which turned out to contain a piece of wedding cake, and some wedding photos.

“He didn't waste much time,” she murmured. “Nice of him to send me some cake.”

“May I suggest that letters from your ex-fiancé are inappropriate?” he said, putting as much frozen propriety into the words as he could manage.

She didn't answer at first. She was studying a picture of the bride and groom, happily lost in each other. Looking over her shoulder Randolph felt nauseated by Mike's gaze of foolish fondness for the commonplace creature he'd preferred to the magical Dottie. It made no difference that he himself had pushed them together. Mike should have treasured his enchanting fiancée, and never looked at another woman, no matter what the provocation.

Dottie's face bore a look of sadness. “They look very happy together,” she said wistfully.

“Would it have been that way with you and him?” Randolph couldn't stop himself asking.

“Oh no, you were right about that. And he was right, too. She suits him better. It's just, they're daft about each other, like people should be on their wedding day,” she added wistfully.

“You speak like someone who's given up on happiness.”

“On that kind, yes. You shouldn't be surprised. You brought me to a place where it doesn't happen anymore.”

He knew his next words were unwise but all the wisdom in the world couldn't have stopped him say ing them. “That's not true Dottie. This can be a happy place.”

“It'll never be happy for me,” she said quietly.

There was an ache in her voice that he couldn't bear. He would have given anything, if only she could smile again. But she was looking into the distance, murmuring, “A cozy little home and a cozy little husband. This place isn't cozy.”

“No, it's not. But as I told you before, you're meant for something bigger.”

“It's all right, I'm not fighting anymore. At least, I'm not fighting my destiny, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Then what?”

“You. I'll always fight you.”

“Because you don't trust me?”

“Because I thought I could trust you, before I discovered that I couldn't. That's worse than knowing from the start. But it doesn't matter, does it? Because feelings don't matter and people don't matter.”

“I never thought I'd hear you talking like this. I don't like it.”

“Well you did it,” she said with a little sigh. “I learned my lesson well, didn't I? But this-” she held up the letter and an edge returned to her voice, “this is out of order. Don't you ever dare read my private letters again.”

Her swift change from wistful to autocratic caused a revulsion of feeling in him. “I did not read your letter,” he said, tight-lipped.

“Oh yeah? You opened it and you didn't read it?”

“I didn't-” He stopped, realizing that the truth would lead to more trouble.

“Didn't what?” Light dawned. “You didn't open it? Then who did.”

“It was an accident.”

“Who opened it?”

“Sophie,” he said unwillingly. “She was trying to help. She didn't know-”

“You let Sophie read my correspondence?”

“I didn't mean it to happen.”

“Oh please!” she said bitterly. “Did I give the pair of you a good laugh?”

“Don't call me a liar,” he said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Don't ever do that.”

“You're saying that you haven't read one word of this letter?”

“Only the first two, which strike me as highly unsuitable for you to receive from your ex-lover and a married man. If that had fallen into the wrong hands-”

“As far as I'm concerned it already has.”

“She only saw the start, I'm sure of it.”

“Yes,” Dottie said in a strange voice, “Now I'm sure of it, too.” She was reading the letter. “I think you should hear this.”

“There's no need,” he said tensely. “I don't want to know what passes between you.” If only this were true!

“Oh, but I think you should hear every word,” Dottie said, with a light in her eye that troubled him. “Then you can tell me how 'unsuitable' it is for me to receive it.” She began to read. “Dottie love, thought you'd like to know the end of the story. Wedding went off great. Hope you like the cake. Garage is smashing. Am definitely pregnant. Love from 'all three' of us. Best, Brenda.”

When she'd finished there was silence. Randolph looked at her while his reactions warred in him. He felt foolish for having been so completely caught out, but greater still was the feeling of joy. She wasn't exchanging love letters with Mike.

But he couldn't read her. He knew Dottie's gift for “seeing the funny side,” but would it rise to this?

“I think perhaps I'll publish this in the court circular,” she said with grim hilarity, “so that everyone can see what an efficient secretary I have.”

He gave a small, formal bow. “That, of course, is Your Royal Highness's privilege.”

“Don't you dare talk to me like that!”

“Well, anything I say or do now is going to be wrong, isn't it?”

“And stop trying to cut the ground out from under my feet.”

“I had it cut out pretty comprehensively under mine. Let's face it, Dottie, the joke's on me. Why not just enjoy it?”

As the import of these words dawned on her she felt her anger drain away out of the soles of her feet. It was unbelievable, impossible. “Randolph, are you actually going to stand there and tell me that you've seen a joke against yourself? You?”

“I suppose I am. It must be your influence.” His lips twitched. “I'm sorry, Dottie. I really am.”

“So you should be. Oh heavens!” She finally yielded to her laughter, and he joined in. Laughing at himself was a new experience, but he found he got the hang of it fairly easily.

“That's better,” she said. “You see, you can do it.” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake, and the next moment he'd enfolded her in a bear hug.

“Dottie, Dottie…” He scarcely knew what he was saying, only that it was wonderful to hold her close in a moment of affectionate companionship.

If he tried hard he could believe that was all it was, but in no time he knew it had been a mistake to hold her against his body. The toweling robe was thick, but not thick enough to make him unaware of her nakedness beneath, or to stop him responding to it. He began the movement that would push her away, but it turned to a caress so light that he hoped she wouldn't feel it.

Dottie was so happy to have gotten rid of the hostility between them that she tightened her arms, hugging him with all her might. In return she thought she felt the lightest touch on the top of her head, as though a kiss had been dropped there. She looked up quickly, finding his face just above hers, and it seemed to her fancy that he looked like a man who'd just kissed someone and wanted to do so again. He was trembling, but not as hard as she was.

But then his hands were firm on her shoulders, pushing her away. “I'm sure you have a busy day ahead, ma'am.”

“No I haven't. I've got a free morning. Let's go riding.”

Her eyes were wide and hopeful, full of an offer to forget their quarrel, and return to the time when they had been at ease. Wouldn't a good secretary accept that offer and be on friendly terms with his future sovereign? For the sake of the country?

The temptation hung before him, dazzling him with offers of beauty and excitement: to ride with her under the trees, to walk beside the water where she'd once kissed him, in the days when he'd still been blind to what was so clear now, to laugh and be happy and forget duty.

With a sigh he came down to earth. She was dangerous. She threatened his control.

“It sounds lovely, but your secretary must spend the day serving your interests.”

“Oh, all right. Spoilsport. Now push off while I get dressed.”

“Of course.” He extended his hand. “Friends?”

She took it. “Friends.”

It came nowhere near the truth, but it would have to do for now.

The state visit was arranged for six weeks ahead. While preparations went on behind the scenes Dottie's ministers decided to capitalize on her growing popularity by introducing her to the country. She found her schedule full of visits to hospitals, factories, schools.

Often she had to stay overnight. These were fun occasions that she used to get to know her ladies, who were mostly young and lively. The exception was Duchess Alicia Gellin, an elderly widow with a reputation as a battle-ax. Dottie's sharp eyes saw the loneliness beneath the crusty surface, and insisted on appointing her.

It turned out to be an inspired choice. Alicia knew more gossip than the rest of the court put together, and she kept Dottie in the know better than any security service.

On one hospital visit she outlined the timetable, ten minutes for this ward, fifteen minutes for that, five minutes with the matron and an hour with the governors. But Dottie was unable to leave a children's ward in less than half an hour. She started singing a children's song from her own childhood and soon they were all singing it. Every verse ended with a command to start again from the beginning, and it seemed as if they would be there forever. Patients who could walk wandered in to see what the noise was about, and stayed to sing. Young doctors joined in with gusto. One of them winked at Dottie, and she winked back. The song ended only when they were all too weary to go on.

After a while the visits blended seamlessly into each other, the same rides through the streets, the same smiles and cheers. Then there would be dinner with the local dignitaries, during which Dottie could practice being the one to direct the conversation. This was mentally exhausting as it was always up to her to produce new ideas. Luckily Alicia seemed to have relatives wherever they stopped and was a mine of local information. Of course, her secretary would have been even better, but Randolph had contrived to excuse himself on the grounds of pressing work.

After dinner she would sit up with one or two of her ladies, chatting with the top level of her mind, while the rest of it wondered what Randolph was doing at this moment.

One day her driver, confused in a strange place, took a wrong turn and went too far down a narrow street to be able to turn around. Seeking a way out, he drove on and on, until Dottie found herself in a nightmare place.

“It looks as though they've had a fire,” she said, getting out. “At least three streets have gone. But why don't they do something?”

“Because the council's taken all the money,” said a surly voice nearby. It belonged to a shabby man who seemed to be living in the ruins of a house.

“Tell me about it,” Dottie said at once.

The houses belonged to the local council, and had caught fire years ago. The government had voted money to rebuild but the council bickered endlessly about which department had the right to spend it, while the inhabitants stayed homeless. As the man spoke, more and more people came close and stood listening. Soon there were enough to form a dangerous mob, had they been so inclined. But none of them moved. They were watching Dottie. They knew her face from pictures. Suddenly they had new hope.

By now her official escort had managed to catch up with her, full of profuse apologies, eager to whisk her away, the story half-told. Dottie saw the expressions in the crowd change to cynical. Now she would leave and forget them. She couldn't bear it. Impulsively she spread her hands.

“Don't worry,” she told. “I'm going to get this sorted.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from close by, but it was drowned by the cheers from the crowd. They believed her.

“Now you've got a tiger by the tail,” Alicia observed as they talked that night. “Sternheim is the local 'great man' around her. The ruling clique on the council are mostly his buddies. He protects them and they do as they like.”

“Why doesn't the local newspaper make a fuss?”

“He owns it.”

It didn't surprise Dottie to find, on arriving home, that Sternheim had been in urgent consultation with Randolph.

“Don't tell me,” she said, holding up her hands at the sight of Randolph. “The future queen isn't supposed to make promises, but I've made it now and I have to keep it and that means-”

“Dottie-”

“-that it doesn't matter what Sternheim or anyone else says.”

“Dottie-”

“I don't even care what the rules say because-”

“Dottie, will you pipe down and let someone else get a word in edgeways?” he roared.

“Just as long as I've made myself clear.”

“Blindingly. Now will you please tell me what happened and how you managed to get Sternheim so rattled.”

“He's rattled? Great!” She told him the whole story. “Alicia says he's the local great man. Local pig if you ask me. Anyway, he's got them all by the short and curlies.” Randolph winced. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes I do, and I beg you not to use that expression to anyone but me.”

“Never mind that,” she told him impatiently. “Tell me what I can do. What about a decree?”

“No decrees,” he said at once. “A decree is a blunt instrument. Save it for a big occasion.”

“I only-”

“Button it, and listen. Sternheim will be here in a minute. He'll have heard you're back and he won't waste time.”

“Good. I want a word with him.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Dottie, you can't accuse him. It would cause a scandal. He mustn't even suspect that you know of his involvement. There are other ways. I'll talk to him. You don't say a word.”

“Oh don't I?” she said, bristling.

“No, because if you do you'll ruin everything, and the people who will suffer will be the ones you've promised to help.”

That silenced her, he noticed with a touch of respect. “You leave it to me,” he said.

The last words were spoken in a tone that brooked no argument, and for a moment she could see Randolph as the king he should have been. But she couldn't say anything because Sternheim appeared at that moment, bristling with barely suppressed annoyance. But Randolph would put it right, Dottie thought with a surge of confidence.

When the civilities had been gotten out of the way Randolph said, in the smooth voice of a diplomat, “Chancellor, I'm sure you appreciate that our princess is young and unfamiliar with her new duties, and she was wholly unaware of the impropriety of her…”

He managed to make it last for five minutes, during which Dottie stared at him, sick with disillusion. How could he be doing this? Not to her, but to the innocent victims of fire and corruption.

Sternheim was relaxing visibly as the emollient words poured from Randolph. Gradually a smile spread over his smug features.

“I'm sure we can all consider the matter settled,” Randolph said at last, “once we've dealt with the small matter of presentation.”

“What's that?” Sternheim demanded.

“Her Royal Highness gave a promise in public. People will be watching to see what happens, so we must make it seem as if things are being done. I suggest a commission of inquiry, with full powers to investigate and summon witnesses. They'll speak to the unfortunate residents and everyone on the council, and the accounts department will explain exactly what's happened to the money, and the world will be satisfied.”

As he listened to this speech Sternheim's smile had faded and his skin turned an ugly gray. Watching him, Dottie realized that Randolph had pulled a masterstroke. Without uttering a single accusation he'd lured the minister into a trap from which there was only one escape.

“A commission of inquiry,” Sternheim said, almost stuttering. “But that'll take time.”

“Months,” Randolph confirmed. “Since every detail must be uncovered.”

“But where are these poor people supposed to live in the meantime?” Sternheim blustered.

“In the ruins, where they're living now,” Dottie couldn't resist saying.

“Shocking! Shocking!” Sternheim stammered hastily.

“Your concern does you credit,” Randolph told him, “but what else can we do?”

“I know a few people on that council,” Sternheim said. “I could put a rocket behind them.”

“And get rebuilding started quickly?”

“In a few days. And temporary accommodation for those poor unfortunates in the meantime. Much better than a lengthy commission. Leave it all to me.” Sternheim looked at Dottie who was giving him an alarming smile. “Happy to, er, be of service.”

“I'm sure Her Royal Highness won't object if you left now,” Randolph said. “You'll be wanting to get on with things.”

Sternheim mopped his brow and bowed himself out. Randolph turned to Dottie with an air of triumph, and their eyes met. Yes!

“You did it,” she crowed.

“No, we did it,” he said firmly. “I did the talking but you provided the substance.”

“Will it work?”

“I think we can look for the bulldozers to start clearing the site double quick, and the building work to proceed soon after. And when things are well under way, and it's too late to stop them-” he looked at her with almost a touch of mischief.

“What?” she breathed.

“Then we'll send in the commission.”

Her eyes widened. “But… Didn't you just make a deal with Sternheim?”

“No, but I let him think I did.”

“Oh, Randolph,” she breathed in awe, “you really know how to fight dirty.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” he said, correctly interpreting this as a compliment. “I think we've got him by the, er, short and curlies.”

She crowed with laughter, then sobered and admitted, “You do this better than me.”

“Let's just say we're a good team.”

“The best.”

She moved toward him, her hands outstretched. In another moment she would have thrown her arms about his neck, forgetting everything except that he was wonderful. But then it seemed to her that he flinched and took a half step back. His eyes were fond and smiling, but there was no doubt that he had avoided making contact with her. After their perfect communication it felt like a snub, and her happiness faded.

But not entirely. The moment might have been brief, but it had happened, and she could treasure it.

Even with a kind of truce things were never going to be smooth between them. He was naturally imperious and she was learning fast. Power, Dottie discovered, was the sweetest thing in the world. Better even than ice cream.

Her intervention about the rebuilding had been a triumph. The papers carried the story of, “I'm going to get this sorted,” and the sudden activity next day was proof, as though anybody needed it, that Princess Dottie kept her word.

Her success gave her an appetite for more intervention, with varied results. Sometimes she achieved something, more often she misread an unfamiliar situation and put her foot in it. Randolph always managed to smooth things over, but her ministers were beginning to regard her with alarm, and Randolph told her crisply that while she might think of herself as Joan of Arc she actually resembled a loose cannon, blundering across everyone's toes. After that the atmosphere became chilly again.

There was so much to be put right about this country, she decided. Increasing the numbers of female politicians was more complicated than she'd thought. It wasn't just the outdated parliamentary hours, but beyond them a whole raft of laws and social conditions that created pointless obstacles to women.

At least, Dottie thought they were pointless. Enderlin spoke of tradition and the need to move slowly. She spoke of the twenty-first century and the need for Elluria to get there without delay. He clutched his head. She poured him cups of strong tea, which he drank and felt better. He was a courtly, gracious man who never allowed their battles to affect his liking for Dottie, nor allowed that liking to make him yield easily. Soon they could exchange prejudices freely, while staying friends. When things reached crisis point Randolph was called in to referee.

He did so reluctantly. “Can't you cope with her yourself?” he demanded.

“Nobody can cope with her,” Enderlin groaned. “Her new idea is to reorganize the civil service training so that everyone can learn to do gardening, which, apparently, is good for the soul.”

“She's winding you up,” Randolph said, exasperated. “Can't you recognize it yet? If you react she just gets worse.”

“I am not used to being 'wound up' by my sovereign,” Enderlin replied with dignity. “And I'm too old to start now.”

“Nonsense! My father enjoyed practical jokes.”

“So he did,” Enderlin said, much struck. “I'd forgotten. It's just that from a woman it somehow sounds strange.”

“Don't say that to her,” Randolph begged in alarm. “She'll give you a speech about equal rights, and this time she won't be joking.”

“I have to admit that she brightens the place up. I accompanied her on a recent trip to my hometown and she insisted on walking through the streets and talking to the crowd. She noticed a child in a push chair, who'd lost a shoe, and blow me if she didn't pick the shoe up from the pavement and put it on the kiddy's foot herself, then chat to the mother for five minutes about the outrageous price of children's clothes.”

“She didn't promise to 'sort' them as well did she?” asked Randolph, alarmed.

“No, I managed to intervene just in time. But, to be fair, it's not anything she says. It's what she is. She gives them that smile…you know the one.”

“Yes,” Randolph said quietly. “I know the one.”

“It seems to bring the sun out for them. Mind you, I'm not sure if that's what a monarch is supposed to do…”

“Could a monarch do better than make the sun shine on her people?” Randolph asked, still in the same quiet voice. “It's a great gift, and she has it.”

“Well, I don't deny that she's lovable, and maybe that's important.”

Randolph nodded. “And maybe it's the only thing that matters.”

“If only somebody could reign her in.”

His significant voice and look brought Randolph out of the semitrance in which he'd been wandering. A horrible suspicion of having betrayed himself made him explode, “Forget that idea now and never mention it again.”

“But your duty to your country…”

Randolph said something very rude about his duty to his country. Enderlin shook his head, trying to believe he'd really heard what he thought he had, but he couldn't manage it.

“You've never failed in your duty before,” he pleaded.

“Ideas of duty vary, Enderlin. I'm doing mine now by trying to teach this crazy woman how to occupy the throne without blowing it up. But I recognize no duty to marry someone who goes through life like a jumping bean. And if my countrymen think otherwise, they are welcome to try it for themselves. Let me make it quite clear to you that she is the last woman I would ever dream of marrying. And that's official.”

Then, calming down just a little, he added hurriedly, “But you'll never repeat that to anyone.”

Enderlin promised and kept his word. But walls have ears and the story reached Dottie by the end of the day, and duly affected the atmosphere. It was a measure of how far she'd traveled that instead of treating Randolph to her frank opinion of him she merely smiled sweetly at their next meeting, and left him wondering.