Princess Dottie

Chapter Five

“Don't try to take it all in,” Randolph advised Dottie in the last few seconds before she met the members of her court. “Just smile at everyone.”

“I can't smile,” she gasped. “My stomach's full of butterflies.”

“Trust me.”

It was too late for her to say anything more. The heavy gilt doors were being pulled open in front of them, and she was staring along the length of a room that seemed to go on forever. Down the center was a long crimson carpet, leading to a dais, at the top of which was a chair upholstered in crimson plush. A crimson canopy, bearing the royal coat of arms, rose high overhead. The room was lined with faces.

Randolph took her hand in his, holding it up, almost to shoulder height. She wondered if he could feel that she was shaking. Strangely it felt as though he too was shaking. She gave him a quick, disbelieving glance, but he was staring straight ahead. “Lead with the left foot,” he murmured. And they were off.

As they walked slowly along the carpet the faces came into focus, so that she could discern bafflement, hostility, but mostly curiosity.

Nearing the dais she murmured to Randolph, “That chair…is it?”

“Yes, it's the throne.”

She gulped. “Blimey!”

Randolph's voice was low and fierce. “Dottie, I beg you not to say 'Blimey!”'

“What can I say?” she asked frantically.

“If you must express surprise, 'Goodness me!' would be appropriate.” There came a suppressed choke of laughter. “Dottie!”

“Well, I can't keep a straight face. I've never said 'Goodness me' in my life.”

“Then start saying it now.”

During this urgent, whispered conversation they had reached the canopied throne. Dottie turned to confront the people who had moved forward to crowd around the base of the steps, and she felt as well as saw their shock as they gained their first clear view of her face. There was a ripple of astonished recognition. Dorothea.

As before, Randolph made a speech presenting her, and signaled for her to take her place on the throne, while he remained standing. One by one her courtiers advanced and bowed or curtsied while Randolph introduced them. As he'd advised, she didn't try to take it all in, but one name stood out. Sophie Bekendorf.

The tall beauty came forward and looked up at Sophie. It was the same look, defiant, scornful, as she'd seen barely an hour before. And now she realized the full splendor of Sophie's looks. Her skin was pale porcelain, without blemish, her eyes large and dark, her features regular and her chestnut hair glossy. But it was her mouth that would draw everyone's attention, Dottie thought. It was petulant, willful and sensual, a mouth to make a man dream of kissing it, and then dream afterward of how the kiss had felt. How could Randolph not be in love with her? How could he ever love anyone else?

Everyone knew the story and was watching the meeting of the two women with interest, waiting for Sophie to curtsy. But she stayed motionless for so long that a thrilled whisper ran around the crowd. At the very last possible moment Sophie dropped the very smallest possible curtsy, and passed on, her head high.

If Sophie aroused Dottie's dislike, Sophie's brother made the hairs stand up on her spine. Dagbert was handsome, but everything he did seemed naturally insolent, so that the disagreeable effect was stronger than his good looks. He flicked his eyes over Dottie and gave a little dismissive smile. Indignant, she raised her chin and looked over his head.

At last the ceremony was over and she was free to start the walk back down the crimson carpet. When the gilt doors had closed behind her she let out a long breath of relief.

“You did excellently,” Randolph said. “You looked right and you had the perfect distant manner.”

It was modest enough praise, but she felt a small glow of satisfaction. She guessed Randolph wasn't a man who paid lavish compliments.

“I feel like a puppet whose strings have been suddenly let go. They don't like me.”

“They were all very impressed by you.”

“Not Sophie Bekendorf and her brother. Did you see the way he looked at me? Like I was dirt?”

“Their position is…peculiar,” Randolph said awkwardly. “They too have had to adjust to circumstances.”

His tone warned Dottie to inquire no further. As if to keep her off the sensitive subject he hurried on, “Tonight I thought you and Mike would like to see some of the sights. The city is beautiful by floodlight.”

So Mike wasn't to be kept entirely apart from her, she thought with relief. Perhaps Randolph had accepted that he couldn't win.

Aunt Liz turned her out in style in a silky, flowing creation in pale blue, with a solid silver pendant.

“Enchanting,” she enthused. “And this afternoon you were just perfect. I know His Roy- That is, Randolph was thrilled with you.”

“He didn't exactly put it that way,” Dottie demurred.

“Of course not. You must understand that his standards are of the very highest. For his country, nothing is too good. You won't find him an easy taskmaster. What did he say to you?”

“He said I had the right distant manner.”

“Excellent. He must be really impressed to be so warm in his approval.”

“Yes, but… Oh well, never mind.”

Tonight she could be alone with Mike and tell him of the British ambassador's promise that her reward for holding the fort would be enough money to buy the garage. They could start making plans at once.

Mike too had been newly outfitted and appeared before her in a dinner jacket and black tie. She stared at him, impressed, and he returned the compliment.

“You look great, Dot. Real great. I've got a couple of friends here, who are going to show us the sights.” He turned to a handsome young couple in their twenties, who had come in with him. “Harry and Jeanie.”

“Count Heinrich and Countess Eugenia Batz,” Aunt Liz supplied, while the couple bowed and curtsied.

“You told me Harry and Jeanie,” Mike complained to his new friends.

“And so we are,” the man said merrily. “Your Royal Highness-”

“Oh no, please,” Dottie protested. “I can't stand any more of that. It's such a mouthful every time.”

“Isn't it?” Jeanie said gaily. “Protocol is that we just say it once a day, when we first meet you. After that it's ma'am.”

“We're all going to have a wonderful night out,” Harry said.

So she and Mike weren't to be left alone together, Dottie thought wryly. Randolph had thought of everything.

“I see you're all ready. Splendid.” Randolph's voice from the door made them all turn.

Like the other men he was wearing a dinner jacket, and Dottie had to admit that he put them into the shade, not just by being taller, but by a certain air of natural authority, the conviction that wherever he was, he was at home. It had been born and bred into him, and she guessed that he would never lose it now.

His gaze fell on her. She had the feeling that he checked slightly and a faint warmth crept into his eyes.

“Will I do?” she asked, and held her breath for the answer.

“Admirably. You begin to look like a queen.”

“Thank you,” she said, deflated.

“Tonight you will enjoy yourselves. Harry and Jeanie will show you the best time you've ever had.”

“Are you coming too?” Dottie asked.

“No, for once you'll be spared my company. Other duties demand my attention. But I'm leaving you in safe hands.”

“Eee Dot, it's gonna be great,” Mike enthused.

“You forgot my royal dignity,” Dottie teased him. “You should have said, 'Eee ma'am, it's gonna be great.”

Mike roared with laughter, and in the general mirth they all swept out of the door. Dottie tried not to mind that Randolph wasn't coming too, but it was natural, being used to his undivided attention, to feel a little put out.

In minutes the sleek, black limousine had reached the suburbs of Wolfenberg, the country's capital city. Although not large it was elegant and beautiful, with a Parisian air. The great buildings were constructed from pale gray stone and so cleverly built that the heavy material seemed to take wing. It was growing dark and the floodlights were already on.

“There's the parliament building,” Jeanie pointed out, “the town hall, the cathedral and there's the great fountain that was built to commemorate the battle of…”

For Dottie these things were interesting, but she knew that Mike would be going glassy-eyed with boredom. She asked him about his day and he needed no encouragement to talk about the Ferrari. Since Harry too was a car fanatic the conversation became mechanical, and they soon abandoned sightseeing.

“There's a little place just ahead that I think you'd like,” Harry said and soon the car swung into a pretty piazza. A short flight of steps led to a picturesque café with tables outside.

The place specialized in ice cream, and since Dottie was an ice-cream addict she felt she was in heaven. It was a warm evening. In the piazza just below them were trees hung with colored lights, beneath which couples strolled.

“This is the center of Wolfenberg,” Jeanie explained as Dottie tucked into a huge confection of chocolate, coffee and vanilla ice cream, studded with nuts and doused in cream. “People congregate here before and after the theater, and sooner or later everyone comes past.”

As if to prove her right Dagbert appeared from under the trees, and hailed them. “My friends! How nice to see you!”

He was full of bonhomie, demanding an introduction to Mike, bowing very correctly to Dottie. She greeted him coolly, remembering his air of dismissive contempt earlier that day, but tonight Dagbert was on his best behavior. He began to tell Dottie about the city, especially the cathedral, “where your coronation will be held.” She began to wonder if she'd misjudged him.

“It's getting a little chilly,” Harry said at last. “Perhaps we should find some entertainment indoors?” He smiled at Dottie. “We also have excellent nightclubs. Robin Anthony, for instance, is singing at The Birdcage.”

“Robin Anthony?” Dottie exclaimed in delight. “I've been madly in love with him for years.”

“You never told me,” Mike observed mildly.

“Yes I did. You took me to one of his concerts for my seventeenth birthday, and snored all the way through.”

“Oh yeah, I remember now.”

“But could we still get in?” she asked anxiously. “His concerts were always sold out.”

“They won't be sold out for you,” Dagbert observed.

“Oh yes, I forgot. Maybe, I'm going to enjoy this.”

Dottie wasn't sure what he told the manager but they were ushered to a table at the front, and she was treated with a discreet deference that she had to admit was pleasant.

“The trouble is,” she confided to Mike in an undervoice, “that after one day I'm already becoming spoiled. I warn you, when we get home I'll expect it.”

“Don't you worry Dot. I'll bring you a cuppa in bed every morning.”

Dottie squeezed his arm, overwhelmed by tenderness and affection for him. How could she have imagined anything would be better than being married to Mike?

Robin Anthony was a disappointment, past his best, putting on weight and living on his reputation.

“Oh dear!” Dottie sighed as he bowed his way off. “Goodbye my teenage dreams.”

“May I have the honor of dancing with my future queen?” Dagbert asked as the band struck up.

“I never learned posh dancing,” Dottie protested.

“It's only a waltz. I'll teach you.”

She let him lead her onto the floor. As he'd promised she found the steps easy, and was beginning to get the hang of waltzing, even to enjoy it.

“Don't keep looking down at your feet,” Dagbert urged her. “Have confidence. Head up.”

She raised her chin and her feet seemed to find their way of their own accord. The glittering lights of the club spun around her, tables, faces. Two faces that she knew.

“Steady!” Dagbert said. “You nearly tripped.”

“I-just missed my footing,” she stammered.

Another turn of the dance and the little scene passed before her eyes again. A far table, discreetly near the wall, a man and a woman, holding hands, leaning forward so that their heads were almost touching, talking intimately. Randolph and Sophie.

“I'd like to sit down now,” she said.

“But I thought you were enjoy-”

“Now,” she said sharply. All her original distaste for him was rushing back. This might have been a coincidence, but she would have bet her kingdom on Dagbert having known where his sister would be tonight.

He'd counted on being the king's brother-in-law, and probably milking that for all it was worth. This was a warning to her that he wanted the old order restored, and the battle wasn't over.

But then, she too wanted the old order restored, so there was nothing to mind about. And if Randolph's

“other duties” included a romantic dinner with his fiancée, that was just fine by her.

Just the same, she suggested that they all return to the palace, and since her word was law, everyone agreed.

Over her breakfast the next morning, Bertha informed her that Randolph would wait on her to discuss the day.

“You mean he'll come and tell me what I've got to do?” Dottie asked wryly.

“Well, His Roy- I mean, Randolph-”

“Why did you stop yourself?”

“He isn't a 'Royal Highness' anymore,” Bertha confided.

“What is he?”

“Nothing. Nobody. It's hard to know how to treat him. We all keep curtsying out of habit, but he gets very cross and tells us not to.”

How much self-discipline would that take? Dottie wondered. Perhaps a royal upbringing helped you to go through life smiling when you had to, behaving beautifully when your heart was breaking and concealing your thoughts and feelings. She tried to imagine herself acting so coolly, and retired, defeated.

Emerging from her bath she found Aunt Liz ready with a riding habit, “for your first lesson.”

“Am I going to learn to ride?”

“Those are my instructions.”

So Randolph gave orders over her head and relayed them to her via a third person. Dottie reckoned you didn't have to be a queen to be annoyed at that. But it was hard to stay cross when the snugly fitting habit showed off her trim figure and neat behind. She was admiring herself in the mirror when Randolph's voice said, “You are one of those rare women who can wear tight pants.”

“I can, can't I?” she said gleefully. This was no time for false modesty.

His own riding pants were also snug-fitting, confirming what she'd only suspected before, that his hips were narrow, and his stomach flat. His long legs, the thighs heavy with muscles, might have been created for such a garb. He was standing in his shirtsleeves, leaning against the wall, smiling like a man without a care in the world. But who could tell? she thought, remembering Bertha's words.

“Why riding?” she asked.

“Riding is a social grace, like dancing. When a foreign head of state visits you, you dance with him, and ride with him.”

“Then I'll need dancing lessons as well.”

“Yes, I heard about last night. I gather you managed very well.”

“Didn't you see me fumbling around? You were there with Sophie.”

“Yes, I was there with Sophie. Is there any reason why I should not have been?”

His eyes had lost their warmth and become as bleak and chilly as a moorland fog. For a moment she had a glimpse of a hostility that was all the more alarming for being usually hidden.

He seemed to realize that he'd given himself away for he recovered at once, and smiled. “Forgive me. I'm just not used to having my actions questioned.”

“But I didn't question your actions,” she said indignantly. “I merely mentioned having noticed you. There was no need to get fired up.”

“True. I'm a little oversensitive. I apologize if I offended you.”

The face was friendly but the tone was formal, and it impelled her to say, “Don't talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“As though I was the queen.”

“But you are the queen,” he said quietly, “and I never can forget it.”

“Then the sooner I'm gone the better. I couldn't live like this, people treating me as one person when I feel like someone else inside.”

“Not a person, a monarch.”

“Well a monarch's still a person.”

“No, a symbol,” he said quickly. “And if behind that symbol a person lurks, then she-or he-must keep that a secret, and never allow it to influence their behavior. The only thing that matters is what's good for your country. For that good, you must learn to be ruthless, to yourself first of all. Sometimes also to others, but mostly…” his voice grew heavy, “mostly to yourself.”

But in a moment he became cheerful again. “But that's enough dull stuff for today. Just now I want you to enjoy your new life.”

“So that I become so seduced by the goodies that I can't bear to give them up?” she said cheekily.

“Remind me never to underestimate you,” he growled. “Enough. Your instructor is waiting at the stable. Let's go.”

Dottie's nerves about riding vanished with the first lesson. Helmut, an elderly army sergeant who'd taught Randolph to ride, had a fierce aspect but a gentle manner. He'd found a docile little mare called Gretel for her. She was a pale honey color, with a soft nose that nuzzled Dottie in an eager search for tidbits, in a way that won her heart.

She didn't fall off, and by the end of the lesson Helmut declared that she had a natural seat and good hands. The next day he said she was ready for a gentle ride through the grounds, accompanied by a proper escort. He indicated eight soldiers standing ready with their saddled horses.

“I don't need that many,” she protested.

“We're going out into the country,” Helmut explained. “The queen must be properly escorted.”

The soldiers were young, with bright faces, and they saluted her with a combination of respect and merriment that put her at her ease. At least three of them managed to suggest that they would have wolf whistled their queen if it wasn't treason. She took her place in the center, and they set off. Helmut stood in the stable yard watching until they were out of sight.

Before long her companions complimented her on having acquired skill so soon.

“You have really never ridden before?” asked one called Heinz.

“Just once,” she said. “When I was a little girl in England we went to the seaside for a vacation, and there was a man with donkeys giving children rides along the sands. Grandpa put me up on a donkey, and I rode it for about three feet. Then I fell off and bawled the place down, and that made all the other kids cry in sympathy, so they lost their balance, and the donkey owner told Grandpa to get me out fast before he lost his livelihood.”

They rocked with laughter, and she discovered that she was really enjoying herself.

They were gone over an hour. As they slowly returned to the stables Randolph watched them from an upper window.

“You chose the escort well,” he observed.

“According to your instructions, sir,” Helmut observed. “They're all young, cheerful and every one speaks perfect English. As far as Her Royal Highness knows they're simply there to keep her company. We might be doing Prince Harold an injustice. He'd be mad to try anything.”

“But if he does,” Randolph murmured, “We're ready for him. Protect her, Helmut. Nothing must get in the way of that.”

“But sir, there's a rumor that she'll be leaving soon.”

“Just do as I ask, Helmut. Protect her at all costs.”

It was time for her first official public appearance, which would establish her in the eyes of the world. There had been a photographic session, with the pictures designed to stress her likeness to Queen Dorothea II. The palace PR office had been working overtime getting the news out to press agencies.

There would be a short reception, and the presentation of a bouquet by a little girl.

“She will make a little welcome speech,” Aunt Liz explained, “and in your honor it will be in English.”

“I have picked up a few words of German,” Dottie said defensively.

“How many?”

“Two,” Dottie confessed. “Who is she? How was she chosen?”

“Elsa Bekendorf. You've met her sister and brother. Little Elsa is such a sweet child. And of course the honor had to be given to a family of their standing.”

Dottie was silent, thinking of Sophie's head close to Randolph's, at the nightclub, and wondering whose idea it had been to thrust little Elsa forward.

Then she pushed the thought aside to enjoy her fitting for the elegant dress Aunt Liz had chosen. It was wild silk in a deep peacock blue which made Dottie stare a little.

“There's a time for restraint and a time for being eye-catching,” Aunt Liz said. “This is a time for being eye-catching. It's a pity that Your Royal Highness lacks just a little bit of height.”

“You mean I'm short,” Dottie said gloomily.

“There's always very high heels, but wearing them is a skill.”

“You leave that to me. When you're my height you learn heels as a matter of self-defense.”

The heels they chose were not merely high, they were suicidal, and Dottie earned Aunt Liz's admiration by being able to manage them without a care. They were both pleased with the result.

When the day came, Dottie listened just “offstage” as the prime minister explained her to the world's press. He described her background accurately enough, but with rather more emphasis on her “position of authority” than she thought entirely honest.

“What they would say if they saw The Grand!” she chuckled to Randolph who was waiting with her behind the curtain.

“That's why we haven't named the place,” he murmured. “Although I suppose they'll find it even tually. I'm afraid journalists may track you down there.”

“Pardon?”

“When you go home. You did say you were going soon.”

“Oh yes, of course. I forgot for a moment.”

Durmand reached the end of his speech. The curtains parted. Dottie walked out on Randolph's arm to face a barrage of flashing lights. He led her to the throne, then gently detached himself and moved to the side.

She tried to concentrate on the cameras, turning this way and that so that everyone could get a good view. She became aware that a little girl was approaching her with a bunch of flowers. Elsa Bekendorf was only about four years old, and it was clear that she was very nervous. Dottie's heart went out to the child.

Scowling with concentration Elsa made her way up the three steps to the throne, clutching her posy to within an inch of its life, and embarked on her speech of welcome.

But almost at once she was in trouble. Dottie guessed that her English was poor and she'd been taught the words parrot fashion. When she broke down she had no knowledge to fall back on. There was a faint hiss from Sophie, who was watching her baby sister, full of tension. That wouldn't help the poor little thing, Dottie thought.

Elsa must have realized the same, for she cast a beseeching look at Sophie, made as if to run to her for comfort, but checked herself at once. With nowhere to turn she became overwhelmed, sat down on the lowest step and howled.

In a flash Dottie was down the steps, kneeling in front of the little girl, giving the child her best smile. “Hey, come on. It's not so bad. You should see how scared I am.”

Elsa sniffed and looked at her woefully. She hadn't understood the words, but Dottie's kindly tone had gotten through to her. She managed a half smile and raised the posy, somewhat bedraggled now.

“For me?” Dottie asked. Suddenly her two German words came back to her. “Fur mich?”

Elsa nodded. The next moment she was swept up in an exuberant pair of arms as Dottie rose to her feet, hugging her and kissing her cheek. Elsa's confidence came back and she beamed at Dottie, receiving a big, laughing smile in return, and for a moment they were blinded by flashbulbs going off madly. And from somewhere behind the bright lights came the sound of applause.

“You, Elsa?” Dottie asked, and the child nodded.

“Mich, Dottie,” Dottie told her firmly.

“Dottie?” the little girl echoed. Then she seemed to understand and gave a chuckle. “Prinzessin Dottie!” she caroled loudly, and there was more applause, mingled with laughter.

Somewhere Dottie was aware of Sophie covering her eyes in disgust. Probably a lot of other people felt the same. She didn't care. She was going to do this her way.

Aunt Liz came forward to take charge of Elsa. Sophie might have seemed the most suitable person, but hell would freeze over before Dottie delivered this moppet into the hands of her hard-faced sister. Despite her bright professional smile, Sophie was furious, though whether because she felt the family dignity had been damaged, or because Dottie had scored a success it was hard to say.

At last it was over. She raised her eyes to meet Randolph's, expecting to find condemnation in them, and determined to outface him.

“Who says I can't be Princess Dottie?” she asked defiantly.

Then she saw that his eyes were warm and smiling. “You can be anything you wish,” he said, offering her his arm. “Well done, Dottie. You've staked your claim to the hearts of your people.”