“No one has ever asked me that,” she said.
“Do you want to leave?” Agatha asked. “Because you can’t. Surely you know that. But is that even what you really want?”
“No,” Charlotte said. “I’m not even sure why I came here today. It was only that . . .” She shook her head, and it seemed to Agatha that she was only just now truly considering the question.
“There are things you cannot do,” Agatha advised her. “You cannot leave the country. You cannot divorce the King. But you can, if you want, live apart from him. Not here,” she added quickly.
“That is what I have been doing,” Charlotte said. “He is at Kew, and I am at Buckingham.”
“But is it what you want?”
Agatha had met the King but twice. First at his wedding, when they had exchanged barely a dozen words, and then at the Danbury Ball, when he had changed the world by asking her to dance. It was impossible to judge a man on two meetings, but Agatha felt in her bones that he was a good man, a decent man.
And clearly, a troubled one, too.
“Charlotte,” she said, taking both of the younger woman’s hands in hers, “what sort of man is the King? Tell me about him. The man he truly is. When he is . . . himself.”
Charlotte’s lips trembled into a smile. “He is funny. And he is kind. And he is so very intelligent. I did not expect . . . I know that many think the royals are simply bumbling idiots born into their roles, but he is truly clever. He has a giant telescope. Have you ever seen one of those? No, of course you wouldn’t have. He has the only one in Britain.”
Agatha watched Charlotte closely. She was like a different person when she talked about her husband. When she talked about him as a man, not as their King.
“He sees me,” Charlotte said. “He sees me. For me, not just for what I represent or this baby I carry in my body. He asks my opinion. Did you know that before the wedding he said I could leave if I wanted to? There we were, with my brother, and—oh, Himmel.” She looked toward the door. “Is he still in the hall?”
“He can wait,” Agatha said. This was much more important.
“I tried to escape before the wedding,” Charlotte said, a look of mischievous glee sparking in her eyes.
“I knew it!”
“What? How?”
“I saw you. Up in the balcony. And everything was running so late. I knew something was amiss.” Agatha leaned forward. This had turned into a wonderful woman-to-woman chat, and it was clear they were both desperate for the connection. “Forget about that. Tell me what happened.”
“I tried to climb the garden wall.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did. I mean, I tried. I didn’t succeed. And then George came out, and I didn’t know who he was, and I asked him to help me go over the wall.”
Agatha shrieked with laughter.
“I know!” Charlotte exclaimed.
There was a knock on the door. “Is everything all right in there?” came the German-accented voice of Charlotte’s brother.
“Wait one moment,” Agatha said. She scurried over to the door and poked her head out. “We need a bit more time.”
“We don’t have time,” Duke Adolphus replied.
Agatha looked at him impassively. “Why not?”
“Because—” He looked at Brimsley, who shrugged. “I suppose we do have time,” he said, “as long as she returns to the palace.”
“She will,” Agatha said. “But right now, she needs a friend.” She shut the door on Duke Adolphus’s stunned face and returned to Charlotte’s side. “What happened next?” she asked eagerly.
“We talked, and he was very charming.”
Agatha nodded. “He is very charming. I danced with him, remember?”
“Yes, of course. Anyway, then Adolphus came out, and he was horrified.”
Agatha laughed. “I can just imagine.”
“And then George said that I was deciding whether or not I wanted to marry him, and Adolphus said something like, ‘Of course she’s going to marry you,’ and then George said, ‘No. She’s still deciding. It’s entirely up to her.’”
Agatha thought that was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.
“I think I might love him,” Charlotte whispered.
“Then you need to fight for him.”
Charlotte looked up sharply. “I said that to him once. I asked him to fight for me.”
“Perhaps he is trying,” Agatha said. “In his own way.”
Charlotte’s eyes took on a sad, pensive look. “I will never understand his way. No one will.”
Agatha had no idea what to say to that.
“But I have not even asked about you,” Charlotte suddenly said. “I know it has been many months, but you are still mourning a great loss. And the children? Is there anything I can do?”
Agatha’s lips parted. Her heart stopped. There was so much Charlotte could do. She could wave her hand, and all of Agatha’s troubles would disappear. Dominic would become Lord Danbury in truth, a thousand heads of cattle would be relocated to the Danbury lands, and suddenly there would be income.
And yet . . . Agatha could not ask. Not when she had vowed to be nothing but a friend.
“This,” she said firmly. “This is all I need. Spending time with a friend. It helps so much.”
“Wonderful,” Charlotte said with that unique smile of hers. “Now. I have asked the Royal Physician, and he says getting a baby out of me shall be quick and painless. You have babies. Tell me. Does it hurt?”
“Having children is the worst pain imaginable.”
“I knew it.” Charlotte’s head snapped up. “Wait. Really?”
Agatha saw the queasiness in her eyes and gave a little laugh. “No. It only hurts a little,” she lied. “And you will hardly remember it once it is over.”
“Oh,” Charlotte sighed. “Good.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” Agatha assured her.
“Except for my brother outside the door and my husband over at Kew doing God knows what with that doctor.”
Agatha reached forward and took Charlotte’s hands. “We are women,” she said. “And the men who hold our fates hardly conceive that we have desires and dreams of our own. If we are ever to live the lives we want, we have to make them conceive it. Our bravery, the force of our will, shall be their proof.”
“Yes,” Charlotte said. Just that. Just yes.
She stood up.
So did Agatha.
“I will never be able to thank you publicly for what you have done for me today,” Charlotte said. “For how you have helped me. But please know that in my heart, I will always be grateful.”
Humbled, Agatha curtsied. “Your Majesty.”
Charlotte bid her to rise. “Right now, to you, just Charlotte.”
At that, she walked to the door and opened it. The moment she stepped into the hall, she changed. Her posture, her mien, the very look in her eye.
She was no longer Charlotte.
She was the Queen.
“Brother,” she said, “how nice of you to come and fetch me.”
The duke’s temper was clearly frayed. “Charlotte, you cannot—”
She cut him off with an upraised hand and turned to Agatha. “Please thank your household for their hospitality, Lady Danbury.”
“I will, Your Majesty.”
As Agatha watched her cross the hall to the front door, Duke Adolphus made his way to her side.
“May I thank you, too, Lady Danbury. For your discretion and grace.”
“Anything for Her Majesty,” Agatha said.
She meant it.
But then Charlotte stopped. She crossed back to Agatha and took her hand. Strength, she seemed to say.
Agatha squeezed back. Strength.