The Last in Line (The Royal Inheritance Series Book 1) (8 page)

They were scheduled to fly out the next evening. As they walked around the city doing a little sightseeing, Renee realized just how little she had seen of America. And now she was leaving it forever. She felt like a traitor. Could she ever be a properly British queen when she was so thoroughly American?
Texan
, she corrected herself.

Cassandra flew down the streets to look at everything, but Renee had a hard time holding it together and insisted on eating a hamburger and fries at the greasiest joint she could find for lunch. “We have hamburgers in England, you know,” said Chase.

“But it’s not the same,” she sniffled into her milkshake. “It will never be the same ever again.”

The evening was spent packing away her new clothes and making lists of everything she was going to miss about America. Her moroseness expressed itself as panic. She undid all of her packing and threw everything out of her purse in search of her passport. Had she remembered to bring it? Everybody interrupted their own preparations to help search for it. Finally, Chase located it stuffed between the pages of a photo album. He flipped the passport open. “There’s no stamps in it.”

“That’s because I’ve never been anywhere,” Renee said irritably and snatched it back.

“Then why do you have it?”

“It’s good to have a passport handy. Just in case I need to make a quick getaway.”

The look of alarm on Chase’s face made her laugh. “I’m just kidding,” she said. “I’m not a criminal. I just always dreamed of travelling somewhere.”

She wished she hadn’t quite dreamed so hard as they walked up the ramp to the British Airways flight. They were able to bypass security when Chase quietly flashed some sort of badge.

“Why not American Airlines?” she asked.

“Because you are British now, Ma’am. You would do well to remember that,” said Roberts.

Chase stayed close to her side, practically at her elbow, as if afraid she might change her mind at the last minute and bolt down the runway to catch the next luggage truck back to Texas. She paused when she reached the door and the stewardess held out her hand to check her ticket. The hostess’s smile faltered when Renee failed to hand it over. Chase took it from her hand and gave it to the woman who immediately pointed out their seats in business class.

“You can do this,” Chase whispered.

Renee took a deep breath and made her way to her seat and busied herself with buckling herself in, making sure Cassandra was buckled in and had access to the magazines they had purchased right before boarding. Roberts ordered himself a glass of champagne as soon as he sat down. “To Britannia,” he said and held his glass aloft before taking a drink. “Finally a few hours to unwind.”

When all the passengers were aboard and the crew sealed the door, Renee felt as if all avenues of escape were sealed off too. There was no turning back now. As the jumbo jet lifted into the air and headed out over the city, she caught a last look at the Statue of Liberty and waved goodbye.

*              *              *

The cabin was quiet and all the shades had been pulled down. Only a few people had on reading lights or talked quietly. Cassandra had leaned her seat back as far as it would go, tucked a pillow under her head and curled up to sleep. Roberts wore a black sleeping mask and he made quiet snoring sounds as he inhaled. Renee couldn’t sleep. With every slight dip or bump, she was reminded that she was rocketing away from America and towards a life she didn’t understand. She also discovered that she didn’t much like flying. Her mind kept focusing on the fact that only a thin sheet of metal separated her from the abyss and she didn’t dare close her eyes. She wanted to be awake when they crashed.

“Hey, you can’t sleep either?” Chase leaned against the empty seat next to Renee. She shook her head. “Mind if I sit?”

“Please. I need someone to pinch me and remind me that this is really happening.”

He smiled and slipped into the seat. The stewardess immediately came over and asked if he needed anything.

“Perhaps a scotch for myself and my companion.”

The stewardess glanced at Renee and frowned. She left to get their drinks.

Chase stretched his legs in front of him. “God, I love flying business class. You would not believe some of the flights Old Fussbucket and I had to endure while we were on our search. Roberts is accustomed to travelling with royalty so economy class was a revelation to him.”

The stewardess returned with two glasses clinking with ice and amber scotch. “Thanks.” He flashed a smile and Renee could see her forgive him for having a companion. “If you need anything else, just push the button. My name is Brigid.” Chase assured her he would and she went away smiling.

“But you’re not used to travelling with royalty,” said Renee and took a sip.

“No.” He smiled into his drink. “This is a first for me.”

“What did you used to do before you started escorting royalty?” Renee asked.

“A little bit of this and a little bit of that.” Seeing Renee’s disappointment he added, “I went from university into the military looking for adventure—which I found in spades. Eight years was more than enough to keep me well stocked in stories for years. After I tired of that, I joined the Yard, which is how I came to be charged with finding the next monarch, no small task, let me tell you.”

“I feel like an imposter.”

Chase leaned his head in close. “I’ll tell you a little secret. Most people feel like imposters. We’re all going through life hoping nobody catches on to what desperate wannabes we all are. You’re experience a more extreme version of what we all secretly feel. Just be yourself. The country wants you to do well and will back you. We love our monarchs, even the useless ones.”

“I don’t want to be useless.”

“Mrs. Krebs, you will be fine.”

“Why do you keep calling me Mrs. Krebs?”

“Because you haven’t been crowned yet.”

“What will you call me then?” she asked.

“I will call you Your Majesty or Ma’am, like Roberts.”

“Why don’t you just call me Renee? No one has ever called me Mrs. Krebs except Cassandra’s school teachers.”

He paused before speaking. “I think I’ll stick to Mrs. Krebs.”

“But why?”

His breathing turned hoarse.

“To remind myself that you are a married woman.”

Renee looked up, shocked. She felt an electric charge and in the dim light his eyes appeared to smolder. She realized he must have experienced the same charged moment in New York that she had. He was only inches away. She leaned in. No one would know.

Cassandra coughed and turned over to sleep on her other side. Renee straightened up and Chase leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling. He looked angry with himself.

“Yes, perhaps it would be better if you called me that,” said Renee.

Chase threw back the rest of his drink and got up. “Yes, Ma’am.” He went back to sit in his original seat a couple of rows behind. She could just see a narrow view of him through the gaps in the seat headrests. The back of his fist was pressed to his mouth. She would have to be careful in the future. Very, very careful. She had almost made a mistake with Bretton and now she had almost compromised one of her protectors and public employees. It wasn’t just about her now. She had to not only consider Cassandra, but the opinions of unknown nameless millions, the government, and a bureaucratic apparatus that served her. Her nation was distraught. They didn’t know her. She couldn’t do anything to ruin her reputation or the reputation of the monarchy. Her desires didn’t matter anymore and she couldn’t allow her actions to harm anyone or the institution which she now represented.

Somewhere over the dark waters of the Atlantic, Renee Krebs became the heiress presumptive.

CHAPTER EIGHT

HER FIRST VIEW of England wasn’t promising. It was raining, despite it being early September, but she had expected that. What she hadn’t expected was the grayness that predominated. Everything seemed suffused with the color and lines blurred into each other. She felt a stab of homesickness for the unforgiving Texas sun, which would beat down until mid December.

Chase was very brisk and professional as he took down her bags from the overhead bins. In the crush of people and noise she tried to whisper an apology, to explain why she had backed off so suddenly.

“Mrs. Krebs, let’s get you sorted and to the hotel in one piece,” was all he said in reply.              When they got to Customs, he spoke quietly to the manager on duty and flashed his identification card like he had at Newark Airport. They breezed right through and were led to a waiting black sedan.

“Are we going to Buckingham Palace?” asked Cassandra. She peered out the window, but it was difficult to see past the streaks of water running down the window panes.

“No, you won’t live in any official royal residences until after you’ve been announced as the heirs presumptive and likely not until after the coronation,” said Roberts. “For now we’ve got a beautiful boutique hotel lined up for you. First rate, you know. Lots of celebrities stay there when they are in town and the staff know to be discreet, which in your case will be easy since no one knows who you are. We’re trying to remain anonymous for now.”

Renee stared out the window transfixed as they drove through the city and gasped as she stepped out of the sedan, helped by Roberts’s outstretched hand. There was nothing particularly showy about the hotel, but the glowing lamps on either side of the door and the warm light issuing from the windows and peeking through ivy was so charming as to make her catch her breath. It was like no building she had ever seen before. And this was just one building on the street. The rest were equally charming. Across the street was a park and what appeared to be a very old, small church. The dark, stone blocks were gave the church the appearance of a tiny fortress. It looked ignored and peaceful. She had hated her apartment for being “old.” Now she realized she would have to redefine the word. Chase watched the street nervously and coordinated the loading of the luggage onto the trolleys. He himself only carried a small duffel bag.

“Right this way, Ma’am. Home sweet home,” said Roberts.

Renee and Cassandra were shown to a suite on the top floor decorated in whites and creams. Vases of pale pink and peach roses were located in strategic places. Renee thought she had never seen any place more beautiful. Forget the palace, she could stay here forever, she thought.

“I hope you like the accommodations, Ma’am. You must be tired.” Roberts pulled out a pocket tablet. “In two days you will meet the prime minister.”

“That’s so soon! Do you think I’m ready?”

“Of course. Besides, what choice do we have?”

Renee did not feel bolstered by that. Roberts bowed out of the room, advising them to rest. Chase ran his fingers through his newly shorn hair. Renee tried not to let her eyes linger.              “Mrs. Krebs, here is my card. It has my office number and personal number.” He paused. “If you need anything, do call. We will be back in the morning.” He looked exhausted. Renee merely nodded and watched him go.

Although she had not slept on the flight, she felt keyed up and unable to follow Robert’s advice to rest. It was the same whenever she moved to a new place. It was always at least three nights before she was able to feel comfortable enough to close her eyes and sleep. The hour was still early—it was morning. If she could keep herself awake through the day then maybe she would be able to avoid jet lag and sleep at night. Cassandra appeared to suffer no ill effects as she had slept well during the flight, and was tearing from room to room. Renee followed her, admiring the luxurious setting. They peeked out the window.

“The cars are going the wrong way,” said Cassandra.

“That’s the way they drive here,” said Renee. She wondered if she would have to retake driving lessons. Driving on the left seemed entirely against the laws of nature.

“Why don’t we go out?” said Renee suddenly. For the first time in days she was free of her companions and she wanted to explore her new city. She doubted she would have the opportunity to do so once everybody knew her face. Cassandra eagerly agreed and they dug out scarves and hats from the bottom of their luggage. It was still 90 degrees back home. They ran down the stairs, giggling like they were doing something illicit, past the concierge and a gentleman reading a newspaper.

The London air hit her face like a million flying ice chips and they both wrapped their scarves around tightly and buttoned up their coats.

“Where to?” asked Cassandra.

“I don’t know where we are. We need a map. And money.”

She looked into her purse with a sinking feeling. She didn’t have any money of her own. Roberts had used his “walking around money” to make all of the purchases and everything else went to a royal expense account she didn’t know anything about and could hardly use it on the street even if she did know. She spotted an ATM up the street and prayed her bank card worked here. She added a second prayer that Ray hadn’t yet emptied their account; she had worked hard for what was in there. She and Cassandra hurried to the ATM and whooped when her card slid in and her account information appeared on the screen. Should she withdraw it all or leave some for Ray to pay bills with? He hadn’t left her with anything when he walked out, but she wanted a clean conscience. She thought of the stack of bills on the corner table and decided to only withdraw forty pounds and leave the rest for him to clean up the bills with. It would be her divorce present to him, she decided.

She and Cassandra puzzled over the strange currency for a few minutes and Renee stared at her predecessor whose graceful image was stamped on the twenty pound note. She handed some of the money to Cassandra who pushed it into her coat pocket and then stepped into the street to visit the kiosk across the street to purchase a map. Renee grabbed her and pulled her back just as a car went screaming by.

“Where’d that car come from?” cried Cassandra, clinging to Renee in shock.

“It came from the direction you didn’t look. Remember, the traffic is different here so you have to look right-left-right instead of left-right-left.”

Cassandra nodded, shaken. It was a rude introduction to the country. Renee thought she saw the man from the hotel lobby who had been reading the newspaper. She didn’t know what he looked so surprised for—Cassandra was the one who had nearly been killed, not him. They looked carefully both ways this time before stepping again into the street. The map was duly purchased and they pored over it at a café around the corner. Although Renee could have killed for an iced tea, she ordered a hot one as an experiment as the weather was so cold. She bobbed the teabag in the hot water for a minute, added some milk from a tiny pitcher as she had watched Roberts do, and took a sip. She didn’t see what the big deal was. They nibbled on croissants with butter while they decided what to do.

“Can we see the crown jewels,” asked Cassandra. “Do you think they’ll let me try them on?”

“I don’t think so,” said Renee.

“Why not? They’re ours, aren’t they?”

“Keep your voice down, Cass. I think they belong to the country and we’re just allowed to wear them on special occasions.”

“Bummer,” said Cassandra.

They continued to look at the map and watch the people walk by and the traffic rumble past. A red double decker bus pulled up to the corner.

“Come on, you wanted to ride one, didn’t you?” Renee grabbed Cassandra’s hand and they ran to catch it. They jumped on just as it was leaving the curb and the driver helped them find the correct change. From the map they knew they were in an area called Mayfair. The driver asked them where they wanted to go. “Buckingham Palace!” said Cassandra. The driver told them it was on his route and he would take them to the right place. They climbed the little staircase to the second level and settled into seats. Renee gazed out the window and saw the man with the newspaper running at top speed to catch the bus, but it was already rolling down the street.
You snooze, you lose
, she thought.

The bus driver left them off by the Palace just as he had promised. The number of tourists crowding at the gates of Buckingham Palace prevented Renee and Cassandra from getting too close. Instead they climbed on a bench to get a better view. Black bunting draped from the balconies, a reminder that the country was in mourning. On a normal day the flag would have fluttered from the top of the pole had the sovereign been at home. Today, it hung sadly at half staff. The fact that there were no current residents didn’t prevent people from snapping pictures or shouting insults or jokes at the red-coated guards to get them to smile.
Red coats
, thought Renee with a sudden revelation.
So that’s where that phrase comes from.
Renee and Cassandra admired the building, agreeing that it was odd that they would soon see it from the inside.

“I thought it would be bigger,” said a pimply youth nearby to his father who had a camera draped around his neck. “This isn’t any bigger than the City Hall in Montreal. What a disappointment.”

Before Renee could stop her, Cassandra jumped down off the bench and went up to the youth who towered over her.

“Take it back,” she demanded.

He looked down at her, surprised. “Take what back?”

“Take back what you said about my house.” Renee recognized that the set of Cassandra’s mouth meant nothing good.

“Come on honey, let’s go walk in the park,” she urged. “I think we can walk to Covent Garden from here.”

“No.” Cassandra shrugged off Renee’s grasp of her arm. “I want him to take back what he said about our house. He insulted it.”

“Are you crazy?” said the youth. “Only royals live in Buckingham Palace and they’re all dead.”

“They’re not!” Cassandra stamped her foot. “Me and my mom are going to live there because we’re the next in line. My mom is the new queen.”

Renee looked around worriedly. People were starting to pay attention. Someone took a picture.

“We’re sorry,” Renee mouthed to the youth’s father who was staring at them open-mouthed. Renee thought he looked as stupid as his son. She grabbed Cassandra’s arm and gripped tighter when Cassandra started to struggle. She marched her daughter away from the palace towards a quiet spot under a tree.

“You have to control yourself,” she said.

“But mom!”

“No buts. Right now nobody is supposed to know about us so you can’t start fights. Second, once we are royals you’ll need to start acting like it. People are going to talking bad about us all the time. Get used to it. Are you going to fight with everyone who doesn’t like you or your house?” Renee needed to make Cassandra understand that life was not normal anymore and that she needed to use caution.

“I will when I need to,” said Cassandra, defiantly.

“No, you will not. You will learn to keep your mouth shut.”

“Coward.”

That stung.

“I didn’t leave my town, leave my life and come to a foreign country to be called names by my own daughter,” Renee said angrily.

“You didn’t fight back against Ray,” said Cassandra.

“That was different.”

“Whatever.” Cassandra crossed her arms.

“We may be in England, but I’m going to give you an old-fashioned American butt-whooping when we get back to the hotel. Now say you’re sorry.”

Cassandra stared in the other direction, but mumbled sorry, still with her arms crossed. Renee softened her voice. She hadn’t realized until now that the years with Ray might have been hard on Cassandra too. She put her hands on Cassandra’s shoulders and stood an arm’s length away.

“We’re starting a new life here. It’s going to be very different and we’re going to be learning a lot and making a lot of mistakes. Let’s try to avoid the mistakes that are easy to avoid—like brawling with tourists, ok?”

“Ok, mom.”

Renee breathed a sigh of relief. “Shall we go see more of
our
city? We can pretend like we’re undercover.”

Cassandra seemed excited by this idea and they made off for Covent Garden, but while Cassandra pointed out the street performers and dragged Renee into every souvenir gift shop, Renee was getting the sense that they weren’t as undercover as she thought. She looked around, but saw only the multitudes of tourists and locals streaming through the area. Cassandra was looking into the windows of a shop that sold Indian clothing and items, but Renee was admiring the white columns of a church, which she recognized from the film My Fair Lady. It was there at the base of the pillars that Eliza Doolittle had met Professor Higgins, who promised to turn her into a lady. Renee needed a Professor Higgins. She had a sudden urge to stand under the portico and sing “Wouldn’t It Be Lovely?” but stopped cold when she saw a man, who had been leaning against one of the pillars and facing her direction, step behind it again. She was certain it was the man from the hotel, the one who had run after her bus.

She reached for Cassandra’s hand. “Let’s walk by the river. I think we can reach Parliament that way.” Cassandra skipped forward, needing no urging. Renee looked back again, but the man had disappeared. She hurried to keep up with Cassandra. Some of the clouds had opened up and a little patch of blue sky appeared. Renee kept Cassandra, who wanted to dawdle and look out across the river, going at a good clip, always looking behind her. She was beginning to feel foolish.