“Do you feel that, George? It kicks. It grows. It is ours.”
He seemed to grow quieter, and the frantic darting of his eyes began to slow and calm.
“I am Charlotte,” she said yet again, “and this is our child, and we need you to be George. Or none of us is anyone.”
His fingers curled around hers, and he looked up. “Charlotte,” he whispered. “Charlotte.”
“Yes,” she whispered. She nodded jerkily, and all the tears she swore she could not cry began to roll down her cheeks.
“I am with you,” she promised. “I am here, and I will never leave you again.”
“I was just trying to be good,” he whimpered. “I was just trying to be well.”
“And you will be. But not like this.”
He nodded, but in his eyes she saw a scared child.
What had they done to him? How could she have allowed it to happen?
“That doctor will never come near you again,” she vowed. “I promise you.”
“I want to be well.” He touched her cheek, almost as if he were reassuring himself that she was really there. “I want to be well for you.”
“You will be,” she said, but she had no idea if her words were true. Maybe he would always be ill in this way. She could not see into his mind; she could not reach in and mend whatever it was that caused him to lose himself.
But nothing could be worse than what Doctor Monro had done. Charlotte might not be able to cure George, but she could certainly make him better than he was right now.
“What would you like to eat?” she said, careful to keep her voice soft and gentle. “You are far too thin. Do you want something sweet? Savory?”
“Both?” He gave her a tiny quirk of a smile, and in it she saw a hint of the man she so adored.
“And a bath,” she said, trying not to wince at his odor. “We will see to that as well.”
“Thank you.”
She looked at his face closely. He still looked hollow.
Haunted.
But maybe with the tiniest bit of hope.
She held his hand as she went to the door and opened it. Reynolds and Brimsley were waiting just outside.
“Your Majesties,” they both said instantly.
“Reynolds,” Charlotte said, “would you please see to the King? He needs a bath and something small to eat while we arrange for a proper meal.”
“Anything but gruel,” George said to him, and the two shared a look. Charlotte was grateful to witness that moment. It spoke of friendship. It spoke of humanity.
She turned to George. “I will be back with you shortly. First I have some important business to attend to.”
She waited while Reynolds led George away, then turned to Brimsley and said, “Come. We must deal with the doctor.”
“Gladly, Your Majesty.”
They strode back through the palace, unfortunately making one wrong turn before locating Doctor Monro and his assistants in the drive in front of the building. The sun had begun to set, and the air was golden and shimmering with promise.
“You,” Charlotte said ominously, pointing at the doctor. “You will leave here and never return.”
Doctor Monro came striding over, his posture still that of a man who expected success. “I apologize if Your Majesty—”
“Too close!” Brimsley barked, stepping in front of the Queen.
The doctor took a step back. “We were not expecting you, Your Majesty.”
“Clearly,” Charlotte said.
“You must understand, that was not the part of our treatment I would have preferred you to see.”
“There are pretty parts to the treatment?” Charlotte asked. “What would those be? The parts that gave him the welts? The bruises?”
“Your Maj—”
But she was not done. “The part where you starved him?” she continued, her voice growing dangerously brittle.
Monro brought his hands together, almost like a priest. “Your Majesty must understand. While my methods are distressing, they are proven. I desire the King’s sanity as fervently as Your Majesty does.”
“I care not for his sanity,” Charlotte retorted. “I care for his happiness. His soul. Let him be mad if mad is what he needs.”
“You are wrong,” the doctor said.
“Watch yourself,” Brimsley warned.
Charlotte jabbed a finger toward the doctor. “You? Are finished.”
She turned to the guards, the same men who had accompanied her here. “Remove him from the grounds.”
“This is an error!” Doctor Monro yelled. “An error that will destroy him!”
Charlotte whipped around to face him, seething. “Be grateful that I do not order you destroyed.”
She watched the guards pull him away. She took pleasure in it. And when she could no longer hear him howling his fury, she turned to Brimsley and said, “I will need my things packed. Everything. We are moving to Kew.”
Kew Palace
The Observatory
An hour later
Charlotte had thought she’d find George in his suite of rooms, but she supposed it made sense that he and Reynolds would have gone to the observatory. It was where he was happiest.
He was sitting at a table, freshly bathed and clothed, frantically eating the feast that had been laid out before him. Mutton (of course), warm rolls, his favorite scalloped potatoes. Kew, too, had an orangery, and several oranges had been peeled, their sections fanned out for his enjoyment.
“A warm meal and a bath must be a balm,” Charlotte said. “You seem more yourself. You look better.”
He stared at her, his fork hovering between his plate and his mouth.
“Do you feel better?” she asked.
Slowly, he set down his fork. “You should not have come.”
She swallowed. She should have known this would not be easy. But she kept her smile light and cheerful. “I was most happy to come.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No. This was a mistake.”
“I am so sorry, my love.” She started to walk toward him, but his forbidding expression caused her to stop. Still, she said, “I should have come sooner. But do not fear. I shall remain by your side as we—”
“No, Charlotte.” He raised his voice. She wasn’t sure where he found the energy to do so, but he stood and said clearly, “Listen to my words: You should not have come. I do not want you here.”
She didn’t believe him. She refused to believe him.
“Go back to Buckingham House,” he said. “Please.”
She did not speak. He was wrong. She knew it, and she only needed him to understand it, too. Slowly, she walked toward him.
“Do you hear me? I said go back to Buckingham House. That is where you live. That is where you belong.” Shaking, he thrust his arm out, pointing to the door. “Go!”
Still, she did not obey.
He rose. Crossed the room to where she was standing. Screamed, “I do not want you. I want never to see you. Leave! Get out!”
“No.”
His whole body shook. “I order you!”
“No. No, George.”
“Charlotte—”
She stood steadfast. “You cannot force me away. I will not go.”
“I command it. Go!”
Finally, she roared. “I will stay! I command it!”
George was stunned into silence, staring at her as she stalked toward him.
“Please, Charlotte.” His voice had gone quieter, and it sounded as if it might crack. “Please go.”
She said it again. “No.”
“Charlotte, you are not listening.”
“I am. I have heard that you wish I had not come, that you want me to go, that you do not want to see me.”