Royal(20)

Both of Charlotte’s sisters were as heartbroken as their parents. Princess Victoria suffered even more than her older sister, remembering all the times that she had tormented her, belittled her, and argued with her.

A formal announcement by the palace was made on the radio and in the press that the king and queen’s youngest child, Her Royal Highness Princess Charlotte, while staying in the country to avoid the bombing, had succumbed to pneumonia and died shortly before her eighteenth birthday. It said that the royal family was in deep mourning. Everyone at Ainsleigh Hall heard the broadcast, and none of them made the connection with Charlotte White, who had died shortly after childbirth at Ainsleigh on the same day.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Lucy had commented to the housekeeper after the broadcast, as they all sat in the kitchen. “She died the same day our Charlotte did, though from a different cause.” Everything seemed to be about death these days, in the war, in the cities, and at Ainsleigh. Lucy was spending all her time in the nursery, and loved holding the baby. She was a last link to Henry. She would sit and hold her for hours. She was there when little Anne gave her first smile, and was more adept at calming her than anyone in the house, when she cried for hours sometimes. The nurse said it was wind, but the countess always wondered if she was keening for her mother. Lucy was sorry that Charlotte had died, but she loved the baby.

The funeral for Charlotte in their cemetery had been simple and brief. The countess, Lucy, the housekeeper, and the maids attended. The vicar who had married her and Henry said the funeral service and was genuinely sad over the death of someone so young, and such a lovely person who had brought happiness to all. No one knew exactly what had happened or why, but they knew that there were mysterious circumstances surrounding the baby’s birth. No one except the countess and the vicar knew that Henry and Charlotte had gotten married, although they had all guessed easily who the baby’s father was. And now the poor child had only her grandmother, since both her parents were dead. The countess shared the baby’s history and royal lineage with no one. Charlotte’s parents deserved to hear it first, and what they chose to tell after that was up to them. Her birth was respectable, but her conception had been less so, with parents who were so young and unmarried at first.



The countess was particularly glad now that she had encouraged them to get married. There would have been no chance of the royal family ever accepting or acknowledging the child if she had been illegitimate. For now, she was the countess’s secret, but at least she was legitimate.

The countess was anxious for the bombing in London to end, so she could go to London with Anne Louise, show her to the queen, and tell her the whole story. It was hard to imagine that she would reject an innocent infant, who was the last link she had to her youngest child, who had died at such an early age. She had sent them a copy of the death certificate, and had received a handwritten letter from the queen, saying how heartbroken they all were, and thanking the countess for her kindness to Charlotte, despite her own grief for her husband and son. They had all suffered too many losses. But it cheered Glorianna a little knowing that the baby would console them all in the end, if the Windsors were willing to accept her, and she felt sure they would. She wasn’t the first Windsor, or royal, to be born with unusual circumstances surrounding her birth.



The mood of the public was bleak again. The bombs dropping all over England were distracting and depressing them all with constant deaths and ravaged cities. It was as bad now, or worse, than at the beginning of the war. The Luftwaffe’s attacks were relentless, as Hitler continued to hammer Britain with all the force he had.

Yorkshire was still one of the safer spots in England, although that could change at any time. And they had had their share of bombings too, though less severe ones than London.

The nurse had to leave them in September, when her mother got sick in Manchester, after their home was bombed and she had a stroke. Anne Louise was four months old, and Lucy was quick to volunteer to take care of her. The countess was impressed by how loving and efficient she was for one so young. Lucy adored the baby, and every time she held her, she thought of Henry, her one true love. He had been indifferent to her in his lifetime, but now she could lavish all her love for him on his child. She was tireless in what she did for the baby, and never let her out of her sight. Wherever Lucy went, the baby went too, and the countess was grateful to her. Lucy slept in the nursery with her at night.

The countess hadn’t been well since Charlotte died. She had had too many shocks in a short time. Three deaths in the space of four months. Everyone she loved had died, except for her granddaughter, who was the only bright spot in her life.

The countess had been melancholy for months, and when winter set in, despite her injured leg from her previous accident, she began riding again for the first time in years. She said it gave her time to think, and in truth, she no longer cared about the dangers. Sometimes she went for long walks on the grounds, and stopped in the cemetery on the way back, to tend to her husband’s grave or Charlotte’s. They had put up a marker for Henry, although his remains weren’t there and had never been sent home. George’s parents were there as well, and ancestors for several generations. It brought her comfort to visit them. She seemed particularly pensive one afternoon when she came home, stopped in at the nursery, and saw the baby fast asleep in Lucy’s arms. Both Lucy and the baby looked entirely at ease with each other. She left the nursery without disturbing them, and was grateful again that Lucy had made herself so useful. There was a reason now to let her stay after the war, which was a relief for Lucy and the countess. She could be Anne Louise’s nurse, unless the queen wanted other arrangements, and decided to bring her home to the palace, once she knew about her. The countess was anxious for that time. The fate of the child was a heavy burden for her alone, and was meant to be shared. She was eager to do so with them, if they were willing and welcomed the baby.