Page 3 of The English Queen

“Well, Louis, shall we reduce the dowry?” Maggie joked, following her daughter’s exit from dinner.

Louis was shocked she would joke about that after Maggie’s repeated attempts to get him to ask her to grant Beth’s hand over the weeks before his proposal. This nervous joke made things worse. Maggie may not have meant to offend anyone, but Louis couldn’t get over the crass mention.

“I don’t know how to respond to that–apart from reminding you Beth is your daughter, you should be very proud of her accomplishments, and you should not speak as if she is incapable. You know what matters? That I think she can do the job. She’s not your problem anymore, as you have defined it. I’m appalled.” Louis threw down his napkin and stood.

Maggie scoffed, “I do love her. You act as though after a year together that you know her so much better than do I! The gall!”

Louis ignored her and left to find Beth.

“She ran towards the library, sir,” a footman said as Louis passed.

“Thank you. Can you show me where on Earth the library is?”

“Yes, sir.”

He led Louis down to the library where he found Beth plunked in a chair by the roaring fireplace. Her evening gown, a tulle confection of sorts, billowed around her as she sobbed. Beth didn’t cry often. She was not easily rattled.

“I’m sorry, bolleke,” Louis knelt before here chair while she sniffled and tried forming words.

“I’m… God, am I that dreadfully ignorant and daft? Am I so bad at this she must take pot-shots at me? I am just… I’m done.”

“I don’t think I helped… at all. I told her she was wrong. I also insulted her mothering which was perhaps below the belt–”

“Louis!”

“If you had heard the joke she had made, you would maybe understand.”

She shook her head. “Oh, Louis, that will not help, darling. What have I done–to me? To you? To everyone? Why did I hurt everyone?”

“You didn’t. Your mother made poor choices and is inflicting pain upon herself by taking shots at everyone she loves. I cannot understand it and I’m done listening to her imply you are a damaged bag of goods.”

The door opened and Beth’s father appeared. He paced a bit, speaking in English Louis couldn’t understand. His Scottish brogue was and downright unintelligible to Louis.

“Papa, don’t throw yourself into this,” Beth pleaded. “It will end in more damage, and I cannot deal with the guilt spiral she will put everyone through.”

“It’s not your decision, chicken. Louis, I have to apologise to you on behalf of my wife–I shouldn’t–but… that joke wasn’t funny. Not at all.”

“I am ashamed of me because I’m apparently such a joke no one could trust me—”

Louis cut her off. “You aren’t a joke, Bethany. Don’t say that. You are not a joke. You’re a brave, strong person. You’re so capable. No one but your mother seems to view you in this way. I cannot understand why.”

“She was a wee baby and she skeered us. She was little and fragile, and we struggled. We thought we might lose her a few times. She’s a fighter, this lass. And at the end of the day, we had to accept she was grown.”

“I agreed to do brain surgery. I lost all my hair over it. I fought like hell to be independent,” Beth sobbed. “And despite all of that, she sees me an invalid less valuable than any of my brothers. Her concern isn’t for me, Louis. She thinks you are getting a bum deal.”

Louis was astonished Beth could ever think such a thing. He looked at her face and then up at Keir who was standing on the other side of the fireplace. He wanted Keir to say “of course not, darling” or anything at all. However, Keir didn’t dispute her.

“I keep telling myself,” Beth sobbed, “if I do this, she’ll love me. She’ll respect me. And then I do something so challenging and brave, and she won’t care. She’ll barely pat me on the head and nothing changes. The goalpost moves. I just… I will live my entire life working twice as hard as my brothers to get even a modicum of recognition from her. She’s my mother. It should not be this hard.”

“Bethany, we are both very, very proud of all you have done. It’s hard to comprehend the wee babe we had to wait days and days to hold could turn into this beautiful, talented young lass. I don’t think it’s about your capability as much as she hates to play second fiddle to you and, yes, Vanora. She fought a long, difficult road to be able to have you. Beth, you were so wanted, and I could not imagine a life with you in it. You aren’t a joke or unworthy. It’s all wrong.”

Keir was in tears, still pacing. Louis felt like he should leave, like this was a conversation he shouldn’t be involved in. It was too intimate. Perhaps, it was because his father never would have been so emotional. Louis’s mother was protective, but not doting. She was a taskmaster who delegated much to their nannies and handlers. Seeing such a raw exchange play out was odd. His family would have buried it.

“What was this joke?” Beth demanded.

“Oh, Bethy, you don’t want to know,” her father answered.

“You don’t. It wasn’t an acceptable thing to say, bolleke. No one at the table thought it was funny. No one laughed. And I don’t think she meant it to be cruel. I think it came because your leaving made her uncomfortable and she wanted to diffuse it.”

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