{{short story}}

The new kingdom

The new kingdom
a short story and it takes about 15 minutes to read it
For any British and Irish readers, I apologise for appropriating a cultural context that does not belong to me. In partial apology, I would like to point out that, while I have tried to remain faithful to the information I have gathered about the period, its customs and traditions (of which I have great respect), my intention was not to write a ‘historical’ (educational or instructive) tale. The goal was to tell the story of a moment of passage, surely linked to a historical event, but related to an imaginary person. A moment of passage that opens up to a future that may be one of hope for one nation, but which for the main character may have quite different consequences. And which will have for the other woman on the scene. But a little for everyone in that house.... A story, therefore, whose meaning I believe is applicable to very different contexts and therefore to every era. However, if you feel that the inaccuracies are too many, too conspicuous, etc., I am very happy to consider any suggestions. A text also lives from this exchange. Happy reading!
QUEEN, queen, a woman who holds the crown of a kingdom, individually, by right of blood.
‘The new royal Encyclopaedia, or complete modern universal dictionary of arts and sciences’, London, 1796.

At half past five Mrs Pike gathers us in the hall and looks straight at us. Last year, when I arrived, she was still saying ‘God gave you life, I gave you a place in this house’. Now she looks at us, her arms crossed in front of her belly and a look that needs no words. We keep quiet, even young Foster, waiting for her ‘let us begin’. Then we take our positions and start with the things we know and have to do. And no doubt we do them as Mrs Pike taught us, and as she demands they be done all the time, even when your hands are a little shaky, or you've slept badly, you're hungry or you're cold in the bones. And maybe even all these things at once. No one speaks while carrying plates or cutlery and no one seeks the gaze of another, not even me because I learned early on how valuable this obedience is. Yet I so much want Eleanor to wink at me, and I would risk a scolding if I could get it, but nothing, not even Eleanor ever raises her head. It happens, however, that if I peek at her I see her sly expression appear even behind the serious mask she puts on when Mrs Pike is around. But sometimes she taps me with her hip and if she's sure she won't be noticed, she purposely obstructs my passage. And that's worth more to us than the eye game we want but can't do.
And Foster also walks the line, because Mr Benjamin's belting in the icebox has shut his mouth and put blinkers on him like a horse. Little by little he has learnt that even though he is under the tutelage of Jeeves the cook, the rules of the house come first. Luckily for him, he is a lively and quick-witted boy, so when there is a hand to lend, he is much appreciated by all. And he is forgiven the questions that only children insist on asking. ‘In ten years' time, will the trains be passing in front of the house?’ Or an even stranger one, ‘When we are in 1840 will the world be different?’, which I don't know if it is better or worse than the one that he asks ‘Why haven't they built a car that goes to the moon yet?’
In recent weeks we don't start the service unless Mr Benjamin has said his prayer first. It's not that we all feel the same way about this prayer thing, because Eleanor gets the giggles, to say the least, and young Foster maybe doesn't even listen. And once Mrs Pike came up with something about the king that it was clear she wasn't supposed to say. But when the king is involved, and Mr Benjamin, who has been the butler of this house all his life, and Mrs Pike, who goes along with him when she knows she has to, we do everything right even if we don't want to.
“We pray for his most gracious majesty King William IV in these days of his illness. For a speedy recovery, that he may regain all his strength and that he may return to lead us his devoted subjects for a long time to come. All this we ask through the merits of Jesus Christ our Lord.”
During the service it is normal to hear only the footsteps on the wood and the clinking of porcelain or silver. We move quickly, but without running. Mrs Pike knows how fast we have to go and if she notices we are in a hurry she stops us. Ever since that time six plates were broken because little Jane let them slip, no one risks losing their grip just because they want to finish early to rest. Everyone knows that you only finish after the gentlemen have got up from the table and everything is back down in the kitchen. There is really no point in being in a hurry and then soaking your robe with tears, while your hands are swollen by the stirrups and you think they will never be the same as before. But little Jane didn't understand this, like so many other things.
Mrs Pembrose wants us to set the table for eight, even though at dinner there are almost always only she, Mr Pembrose and James, the sad son (while Jacob is the poor dead son) . In the kitchen Jeeves once prepared what was needed to feed a regiment - as he says -, now he waits to see if the guests are really expected or if they are only in the mistress's hopes. If the invitation is confirmed then it is necessary to use the two ovens and for everyone to clean and peel and chop because everyone, like Mrs Pembrose, wants to make a good impression on his guests. And to be honest, the more there is to bring to the table, the more the guests eat, the more we are there to serve and listen to the conversations. And even if we only catch bits and pieces, it is always a pleasure to get to know something about these people that Mr and Mrs Pembrose treat as important.
That's fine with us, though, because Jeeves, even when he doesn't have to set up a banquet, always cooks up a meat pie, because he knows that sometimes Mr Pembrose asks him to and he doesn't want to disappoint him. Of course, it doesn't escape me what Mr Pembrose leaves on the plate of the slice he seemed to want so much: all but a mouthful. But Mr Pembrose is like that, he likes to know that the meat pie is always there, even when he has no appetite to eat it. And that's why when the gentlemen have gone into the living room, perhaps to play a little, all the more so if Mr Benjamin joins them who has a nice touch with the violin, or better still when their lamp is now behind the door of the room, Jeeves of what's left over lets us make as many slices as we are. So even if I fall asleep, I always get mine.
Mrs Pembrose always got along very well with Mrs Pike. After all, Mrs Pike has been here many years and the whole house revolves around her. And it's not just a question of keeping two maids and a pageboy in line, but of assigning the right tasks that are needed when it is also Mr Benjamin, who now takes care more of the horses and the garden than of the house itself, or Jeeves, who has so many different tasks besides cooking. I know, for example, that if Jeeves did not stock the cellar with coal, he would only make us eat cold ham and cheese.
Mrs Pike also manages to get young Foster to do the right things. Not that it's difficult, if one keeps in mind that the boy is lively and impetuous, but also good with his hands and precise, so one can assign him tasks such as tending the centrepieces with branches and flowers in the greenhouse, picking up dry leaves, mending, but also just keeping the sewing box tidy. Things he does until he has achieved a perfect result. And if you say ‘good Foster’ to him, he says ‘yes, I know.’
Yet Mrs Pike doesn't want us to talk about her relationship with her mistress, or she says it's not true that they get along, or that even if they do it's always best to keep your mouth shut. Some things are ruined if you talk about them. It has to be said that something does indeed seem to have changed between them lately. It may be the rumours that the gentlemen want to move, or just Mrs Pembrose's discontent, because maybe she doesn't really want to leave.
But when Mrs Pike's eyes glaze over at the end of the evening, I tell her these things anyway. What I don't tell her is just that I know those little eyes come to her when Jeeves hands her the bottle. She's quick to take a swig so as not to be seen, but it's a sip of the kind I'd choke on in the flames burning in my throat. Still, we all pretend it's a secret and even though she probably knows by now that it's not, she's fine with it anyway.
The good thing is that when she takes that sip, she never really gets angry and you can even joke about it. And if she tries to be gruff again, I ask her to tell me about her beach, up there in Ireland. And Mrs Pike can't resist, since we spend so much time inside Mr and Mrs Pembrose's house and the memory of her beach, up there on the coast overlooking America, near her parents' home, becomes too strong and beautiful.
Sometimes it gets sad, to tell the truth, because the memories even hurt a little. So I tell her to sing that song in her language that I don't know, and after she sings I ask her ‘That's the hero's song, isn't it?’ even though I know it because I would recognise it sung even by a drunkard. And she replies ‘of course, dear, my brilliant hero who has gone far away.’ And although it's not a happy song, Mrs Pike calms down and almost seems to be on the verge of a smile. I know she is thinking about the bay, the dolphins that come to play there and the sheep on the meadows all around. The sheep she liked to look after when she was a child.
I don't know if it is because of this confidence that I take with her and that she likes it, but it happens that Mrs Pike assigns me different tasks than usual and different from those she assigns to Eleanor. And I am fine with that.
What I can't do is take the sadness out of Mrs Pembrose. Because I can't give her confidence. Besides, this woman is good at pretending she's fine, but I can see it in her eyes. So many sweet smiles, so much tenderness that Mr Pembrose hardly even notices, but the light in her gaze says that something is missing. And it's not because of this leaving thing, she's always had that expression. I feel a little sorry that people who don't seem to lack anything, instead have something they would like. Mr Pembrose would always like to be in town doing business and opening factories. But he already does these things and even soon he will leave, or rather unfortunately they will both leave with the sad James, to go and do them far away, up north if not across the ocean, and here we don't know what will happen, no one says, but everyone seems to know.
To know, I think, there are only the names of the other masters who will take this house.
What Mrs Pembrose is missing I don't know, but I have my own ideas. It's not that hard to imagine. Not after you've seen her laughing in front of Mr Lavoisier, or rather, Monsieur Lavoisier, as Mr Benjamin explained. Scientist and artist, he says, but only grandson of that other one who was very important, although Mr Pembrose said they took his head off.
Who knows, here the men who sit at the table seem all great, but maybe they live in sooty houses instead, with no servants, and keep a good suit for occasions when they can boast of this and that. I don't know if Monsieur Lavoisier is one of these, what is certain is that I have seen many come and sit at this table. But what really counts were the laughs with Mrs Pembrose. And even the flatteries, as Mrs Pike called them.
Another man who passed this way once said he wrote for a newspaper, and if with that Frenchman Mrs Pembroke was amused, with this one her laughter made her weep and shake in her chair as if instead of receiving words she had taken blows to the chest. That young man's name was Charles and Dickens by surname, but Mrs Pembrose, who reads his articles, told me that he uses another name in the paper. One could see very well that this Dickens, or whatever he calls himself now, had never known wealth, but when one can make a man laugh like that, he might as well lie down at night in a servant's room and return the good suit to the generous friend who lent it to him, and be a gentleman worthy of all respect.
I wish I could talk to Mrs Pembrose. To tell her what I don't really know, but I certainly wish she would let Mr Pembrose go off on his own and see more of all the scientists and artists and witty journalists with whom she likes to converse and flirt, why not. I don't know what the harm is. If you've had so much from life, you might as well have that little bit that you're missing.
From life I have had this house as long as I can stay in it. I have had, so to speak, nineteen years, although to count them all I have to wait three more days. And I know that if today is twenty, plus three makes twenty-three. Which is two days after the solstice, when the sun sets later. And I know that I was born in the year when so many died there in Peterloo, that's what my brother, who reads many books, wrote that to me. And somewhere else something good must have happened, which I don't know. Then I had someone who taught me how to use numbers and was patient enough to teach me read on my own, which I do when there's candlelight and young Foster doesn't spite me by keeping the book he took for me from the gentlemen's library.
Because in our rooms we can all finally relax, while the boy, who shares a room with Jeeves, is getting more and more lively when he can take advantage of the man's absence. And if he's in a spiteful mood, nothing gets done. And woe if Eleanor decides to visit me in bed. I don't mind, but it's inconvenient for young Foster to find out. So far, so good. He's still too naive to think that if he doesn't see Eleanor in his bed, he has to look for her in mine. I have, however, learned to keep him at a distance. A few threats are enough. With him it is always effective to remind him that if he gets too close to a woman in his days he will start to bleed too. ‘But how much too much?’ he would ask the first few times, and I would ask “do you want to find out?” and he would stop at the threshold with the doubt that he had already gone too far.
When he brings me a book he procures from among those Mrs Pembrose has already read and will no longer read or lend because he has no friends who spend time that way, if I can't let him in, I tell him to leave it by the side of the door. I thank him and scare him by telling him that from the belly pains I have I fear that the disease - I call it that to impress him - is stronger and more contagious. And of course, thank God, he runs away scared.
What Eleanor and I do is not convenient. But whatever. There's nothing wrong with it. And at least I know it won't happen to me like it did to little Jane who then found herself with a pregnant belly. Little Jane got herself into a lot of trouble. She shouldn't have thrown that baby away, because then they would find out and something would have happened. And something must have happened to little Jane, because I still don't know what happened to her, with dried blood on her dress, when they loaded her into the carriage. Because she never came back. And no one talks about it or won't talk about it.
To watch over me I can count on Jeeves. Who really likes to be on me. Especially when I'm busy chopping and stirring, he likes to pass behind, lean back and rub a little. I know by now that nothing happens. I just feel his breath on my neck, but I've never had to move his giant hands away from me. That's just the way Jeeves is. He holds out the bottle to Mrs Pike, rubs himself on my bottom, cooks to perfection for the pleasure of the gentlemen. He says one day he'll go to his house by the canal, there in the Fens, as he always says, which I don't really know where they are, but they certainly have plenty of water there, according to him. And anyway, if you want troubles you have to look for them because the men of the house are not dangerous. One must not trust those from outside. And little Jane should have known it.
Today we're working as usual, the stew is boiling downstairs and the smell makes me a little crazy. Mrs Pembrose has been out all day and it's strange because she usually comes back to get comfortable before dinner. But with Mr and Mrs Pembrose you never know, they go out for a visit and when they come back there he is, thinking about goods and machinery and not even thinking about eating. Mr Pembrose likes chemistry, and only he knows what the hell it is. Of course I can't ask him. After all, what would I understand?
Fifteen minutes after six o'clock Mr Benjamin goes to the door.
He is handed a note. It's addressed to Mrs Pike.
When he hands it to her we are all there. I see the surprise in the housekeeper's eyes.
She opens it and reads it, barely moving her lips.
We remain silent in the hope that Mrs Pike will murmur a few words. When she lifts her head from the card she has a strange expression on her face. I say strange because I have never seen it.
She whispers something to Mr Benjamin who turns away and walks down the stairs. He returns shortly after with a slightly agitated Jeeves who is still drying his hands in a tea towel.
‘Mrs Pembrose brings us some important and unexpected news.’
I think she is not coming to dinner, but it seems neither unexpected nor important.
‘The king died this morning.’
Everyone's faces are stone. Jeeves shakes the rag. Mr Benjamin brings his hands to his mouth.
‘And we have a new queen.’
Then, he looks back at the note and reads: ‘The ascension of Her Majesty Queen Victoria to the throne will give the country a promise of even greater happiness and prosperity. We will stay in the city for the night.’
We are all very surprised and delighted. But we find it hard to bring out this cheerfulness, because a king has died and therefore our prayers have not been answered. We all know how young our new queen is. She's a little younger than me, actually.
Jeeves seeks out Mrs Pike's gaze and I hope she doesn't have the bad idea of pulling out the bottle in front of everyone. Mr Benjamin still has his hands over his mouth and his eyes wide open.
Eleanor leans on my shoulder. I'm very pleased, but I try to figure out with a quick glance if the others are watching us and, if they are, if they are thinking about something they shouldn't.
In everyone's head, as is obvious, there is still the news that has just arrived.
Only young Forster appears impatient. Standing still and watching those people do nothing disturbs him. Then I would like to put my hands in his hair, but he would not understand that I want to be affectionate and instead think I want to play with him. I would also like to command him to go and do something, but I'm certainly not the one in here who can command anyone.
‘This is great news,’ Mrs Pike finally says. ‘Unexpected and...’ then she looks at the two men and it's strange to see her thinking about what to say. Mrs Pike is never lost for words. Young Foster seems to me to be vibrating with impatience. If he were a horse I would see his muscles darting under his coat.
‘Look,’ the governess begins again and does so in an even more serious tone, 'today is a special day. Maybe it will never happen to me again. Nor will it happen to more than one of us to witness yet again the ascension to the throne of a new queen. Who is also so young and beautiful. And to whom I wish a long and prosperous reign.’ I see what she means: Eleanor, Foster and I are the youngest in there, young enough to be everyone else's children.
‘We will celebrate, then.’
We all look at her surprised. Since I have been here we have never celebrated things. Except at the request of the mistress.
‘Jeeves, go back to the kitchen, throw something tasty on the fire.’
The cook doesn't react with his usual promptness when receiving orders.
‘And then fill six plates.’
Eleanor and I look at each other, I think it's impossible not to think the same thing.
‘Come on you three,’ Mrs Pike tells us, ’get to work! Straight into the kitchen to give a hand." Young Foster snaps as if a prize is up for the first one to reach the basement room.
‘Are we going to eat the masters‘ things?’ asks Eleanor, who occasionally perks up and pulls out that sassy look that is as dangerous as it is attractive to me.
‘And we'll take our time.’
‘You mean we sit here, at the gentlemen's table?’
‘Do you see a place just as big for everyone?’
‘No, ma'am. It's just that...’
'Do you perhaps wish to stand and refill our glasses, Miss Eleanor with bewildered hare eyes? While we are celebrating the new queen?"
Eleanor nods and runs off, I follow, without first taking one last look at Mrs Pike. I think that not only have I never heard the woman speak like that, but neither have I seen so much in that face that only one of Mrs Pembrose's friends, and that Mr Dickens in particular, would find the words to describe. I say... no, I can't. But what a fire there was inside, I can say that.
Before we sit down to eat, no one really seems happy about what we're about to do. Except young Foster, of course, who jumps around impatiently asking which one is his place. But what he shows is not really happiness.
Actually, it is not that we are not happy, it is just that we are waiting and therefore we are nothing. We don't know what we feel. It's something we've never done and since I'm not so sure we can do it I find it hard to be calm and happy. But from the way they look at the table or the chairs they all think so. And I think in some heads there is the thought: and then what happens once we have sat there? And what tomorrow?
Mrs Pike is the only one who has zero of these thoughts: she has brought the casserole with the stew from the kitchen and looks at us as if she wants something from us.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ but as no one moves she adds, ’Mr Benjamin, do the honours. Assign seats to the guests.’
Mr Benjamin is surprised. He did not expect to have to do anything, even though, like everyone else, he is not already engaged in an activity, he is here precisely to carry out orders. Perhaps the news of the king's death distressed him more than the news about the new queen could cheer him up.
‘Um,’ he starts to say, ‘you two there,’ he says to Eleanor and me, pointing to the furthest seats, facing each other. ‘Foster next to Eleanor. There... Jeeves and I... here and here. Mrs Pike at the head of the table.’
‘Well done, old chap. Come on, up! Sit down!’
Mrs Pike's tone urges us not to hesitate.
We move the chairs with a care we don't usually take when we set the table after a dinner party. In fact, just touching that wood seems a very strange thing to me today. Not to mention sitting at the table set for the hosts!
‘Prayer?’ asks Mrs Pike to a still shaken Mr Benjamin.
The man recovers, but his prayer is hasty.
We begin to eat. In great silence. Young Foster brings his fork to his mouth but scrutinises the others. He notices something I didn't realise either, even though I was already doing it: how hard we try not to make noise while chewing. And for some reason that only he knows, he slowly brings the morsel to his lips and with the same slowness puts it between his teeth and then starts chewing it as if he is afraid of breaking his teeth. And he doesn't stop looking around, as if afraid of not being up to the task.
‘Jeeves, for Diana! The wine!’ Whereupon the cook puts down his cutlery and looks at Mrs Benjamin and Mrs Pike, as if he needs more information.
Then he finally gets up and returns with a bottle of red, which he starts to serve to Mrs Pike. ‘Would you like to taste it, Mrs Pike?’
The woman doesn't think twice and with a sweeping gesture that I believe is meant to be refined, she grabs the goblet and very calmly takes a sip. A not very polite snap escapes her and an equally not very elegant ‘Give it up, old man, half a glass for everyone tonight!’
‘To his majesty,’ Mr Benjamin raises his goblet.
‘To his majesty’ we all repeat in chorus.
We finish the stew and Jeeves makes another round of glasses. Then he starts talking about how he would like to spend his days fishing. Mr Benjamin teases him, ‘I can't see you doing nothing, old Jeeves.’ ‘I said in fact I'd like to fish.’ ‘Stop with a rod in your hand, come on, Jeeves, how ridiculous!’
Jeeves doesn't flinch, I might have been a little offended. But I think wine helps everyone to be more open. I'd like to say something too, but I don't really know where to start.
‘And you?’ goes Jeeves to Mr Benjamin, ’what would you do with your time?’
‘Ah, me, old Jeeves, I'd go into town for a while. Smoke and fog, trains and lots of people. That's what I'm in the mood for, the opposite of here.’
'Well, but you look well ridiculous too, poor Benjamin, you among masses of people! I don't see you at all comfortable!’ and he laughed amusedly.
Mrs Pike listens to them with a smile that makes her look different than usual.
I see Eleanor whisper something in Foster's ear. The boy's face lights up. And I start to worry a little. Foster gets up and says something in Jeeves' ear and Jeeves makes an amused face, if his wide eyes were meant to express that. The boy then runs off.
Mrs Pike gestures for us to get up and Eleanor and I do so immediately. As she starts to leave the chair, Jeeves looks at Eleanor for a moment. My friend gives him a nod which I don't understand but he does.
‘Comfy, Mrs Pike, let's leave it to the servants.’
Mrs Pike is surprised, I can tell, but with her hands she seems to say okay, what's the harm.
We bring the rest of the food, potato and meat pie, and put it on the table. Eleanor and I are undecided about who should serve the dishes.
At that moment Foster arrives. He is carrying something in his hand that I cannot see. When he notices that I am not the only one looking at him, he moves the object behind his back. He goes behind Mrs Pike, but stares at Eleanor who waves him on. Everyone is now looking at the head of the table. Only Mrs Pike does not seem to have realised that she is the centre of Foster's attention.
The young man lifts a wreath of branches, an ingenious twist of cottonwood and lilac, and places it on the woman's head. Mrs Pike is too surprised to react. Foster runs to Eleanor who hurries to say more in his ear. The boy smiles and looking at the housekeeper says in as solemn a tone as he is capable of: ‘Greetings to our beloved queen!’
Mrs Pike takes a moment to react.
She tightens her lips as if preparing to deliver a stinging rebuke.
Then she rolls her eyes, as if hoping to be able to see up to the top of her hair. Shhe touches her crown, adjusts it a little. Then she laughs. And one by one we all laugh.
‘Here's to the queen of the house!’ says Jeeves and raises his goblet to Mrs Pike.
We all take the last sip.
‘More wine, Mr Benjamin, only you know the secret pleasures of this house's cellar.’ At which the butler raises an eyebrow, I imagine because flattered by those words.
‘Then your majesty, I bid you farewell just long enough to prepare to serve you in a manner that meets your highest expectations.’
We all laugh at that very ceremonious phrase, but the butler plays along and struts away.
The bottle that Mr Benjamin brings to the table is French, it's called champagne and the bubbles that slide from the tongue down the throat make you want another sip.
Foster is beside himself with excitement. But the attitude Mrs Pike maintains, coupled with the simple but gaudy crown adorning her head, puts him in awe enough to curb the lively, harassing part of his temper. Eleanor, on the other hand, gives me looks that make me blush and more. I wish I could say I was acting the shy part, but in that strange commotion I am not acting at all. The wine confuses me and I return her glances like a virgin in certain pathetic stories. This, as I might have guessed, she likes very much.
The meat pie goes well with this champagne.
The cork of a second bottle flies across the room.
‘Hooray for the Queen!’ goes Jeeves, always ready to raise his glass.
I can see that Mrs Pike's cheeks have turned red, her eyes are more shiny than they are when she secretly drinks from Mr Benjamin's bottle.
I think, because my vision has blurred a little, that her head is swaying. Instead, I'm sure her smile stays on her face too long.
‘My beloved subjects!’ exclaims Mrs Pike at one point, very much caught up in her role. ‘This is a great day,’ the words come out badly, as if her tongue is swollen or her jaw contracted from the cold. ‘I mean I'm happy to be here, in this room, sitting in this chair, eating food befitting my rank.’ Foster applauds, not quite sure why. Eleanor puts a hand on his shoulder so he doesn't get too carried away.
‘We, my queen...’ starts to say Jeeves, but a gesture from Mrs Pike shushes him.
‘I mean... that this is the best day, because something new begins. And whatever begins under the banner of youth can only be beautiful and worthy of our greatest respect.’ She squints her eyes, with the slowness that the weight of the wine has put on her eyelids.
‘But this is also an important day because I have clear... I have finally clear in my mind how to take hold' and clenches something invisible in the air in her fist, "to take and grasp my destiny. For I, I who stood on Wolfe Tone's knee, before the battle of Tory Island... before the rebellion...', on Mrs Pike's face the smile has disappeared, in that determined way that makes you think that all evening and all night she will not return. There is a silence that seems long, but we are all weighed down with food and wine, and we can hold it long enough not to interfere with Mrs Pike, who seems to want to add more.
‘Tomorrow, in a few hours, 21 June, it will be thirty-nine years since my father died. I was so little and only stories I know of him. And sure he loved me like a good father, but I can't remember it. There, that love...that love didn't stop him from joining the rebels, down on Vinegar Hill, so far from home, them wanting to drive the English out like the French had done to their king.... He died a hero, they told me. And still the old men can tell you, if you go there to our parts, how it is that from that day he became Pike, for all Pike the brave hero. He who swung his pike that pierced the knave as the latter put a musket ball in his eye. They both died, a young father without an eye and a young knave with a pierced heart. And ever since then I have borne that name with pride, Pike's daughter and Pike myself, as if I still carry high the pike with which my father wanted to change the fortunes of our land. And never will I have any other name as long as I live... and this name will be written on the tombstone when the day comes. But that day will find me there, beside my father. And that is where I want to go.’
The silence that follows Mrs Pike's words is striking. The men's gaze has lowered, Eleanor's is searching for me but I don't know what to think. This story has overwhelmed me.
‘And so I leave the crown and I leave this kingdom that does not belong to me.’ Mrs Pike pulls off her royal ornament.
‘Anyone wants it?" she looks towards us girls.
‘Do you maybe want it Nelly,’ she tells me, extending the crown as if I had already said yes to her.
‘Come on, blood-right doesn't matter here. It's your youth that rewards you. Only young queens we want!’
Everyone looks at me and for a few moments I think that with that crown on my head I would never be the same as before. The girl who was little more than a child, who left home, a lonely mother, a brother who was affectionate and odd in his own way, and who came to serve here without knowing anything about the world or life, who can now have something more. And can have it now, just because the wheel of fortune has turned. And who with that crown, worn this evening, but which I would have hidden under the bed already tonight, could speak to Mrs Pembroke not as an equal, but with more confidence. So much so that I could answer her questions, advise her on the furnishings, the flowers and even the new paintings she would like to hang in the house. And from now on it would be me, here, making the decisions, now that Mrs Pike has said what she has said, and more importantly done what she has done. Because things will change. The new queen will make Mr Pembroke change his plans, and this house will not remain empty of its masters.
But this train of thought only lasts a very short time. My hands shake and then I think that they must not expect me to take this game seriously. That it has lasted far too long. And what's worse is that it shouldn't have even begun.
‘So?’
The truth is that it's all wrong, right from the start.
So I say: ‘You cannot be queen, even for one night, without paying the consequences.’ And tomorrow we will all know them.
The crown falls on the table. Young Foster runs to grab it, but Jeeves' huge hand holds him back.
‘More wine, gentlemen? A new day of the new kingdom is approaching. And it will be prosperity and joy. And who knows what else.’
No one says anything.
Eleanor looks at me and from her eyes I glimpse that perhaps she sees what I might be.
We leave Mrs Pike to weep.