Page 80 of The English Queen

Louis and Beth exchanged rings for the first time. Beth moved her engagement ring to her right hand that morning, as was customary for many Belgian women after they married. She dabbed her eyes only briefly after that with the customary handkerchief she’d brought with her. It was commonplace for Belgian brides to carry one including their name, embroidered, along with the other women in the family who carried it on their wedding day. It was the hope Beth could pass it onto her daughter someday.

After what seemed far too soon, the registrar informed them they were married. Now, Bethany was no longer Princess Bethany of the United Kingdom. She was to be called Queen Bethany of the Belgians. It didn’t hit her. Louis gave her a quick kiss—nothing too much. He was still nervous. However, as they took their place on the city balcony overlooking the hordes of people assembling on Brussels’s beautiful, gothic Grand-Place, the new world order hit Beth. Here she was front and centre, flanked by her siblings. They did not outpace her. Officially, she outranked all of them. Gone were the days of being the happy Inconsequential Princess.

“We should give them a proper kiss, Louis,” Beth said.

She didn’t know how he even knew what she was saying given the deafening noise.

Still, Louis agreed. “Sure, why not?”

To the glee of happy onlookers, Louis swept Beth up in a proper kiss. The English Princess was no more. The King married his queen. The past was the past. Now, she had a hell of a future ahead. They would be a team. Beth could not have asked for a better day or a better person to do this with.

?????

Louis smiled at Beth as the wedding march she wrote played.

“It’s beautiful,” he said as they walked the aisle. “As much as the woman who wrote it.”

“Listen,” she whispered. “I want to listen.”

They made it to the altar. Beth never faltered. She’s been flawless. Louis had no idea how she stayed upright. He’d helped her out of the car with her massive gown. The train alone was cumbersome. On her tiny frame, it was a lot, but she was radiant as ever. And Louis was relieved. The song was a beautiful present.

They reached the end of the aisle where their parents waited. Beth did the customary Belgian handoff of one flower to the groom’s mother. Queen Elise took the floor and kissed Beth on both cheeks.

“Felicitations!” she said to them.

Louis, along with Beth’s two nieces in attendance, helped Beth into her chair. The girls delicately straightened her huge train, and the priest proceeded over the ceremony, first in French to welcome everyone. There was a prayer, a hymn in Dutch Beth insisted on, and Vanna did a reading in English. Marta read a psalm in German. She was the only one there who spoke decent German. She hated being put on the spot, but Beth called in the favour. She’d do it for Beth. Finally, the boring homily about the importance of marriage, fidelity, and children. It was heavy on the children. Louis had sympathy for Beth.

Then, it was time for the declarations. The priest recited several intentions—freely entering into a marriage, to love and honour one another, and be open to children and raise them in the church—now in German. Beth rolled her eyes internally, but both answered affirmative in German.

“Ich bin.”

And now, the German part was done and dusted. They both relaxed. They moved onto to the sacrament. Louis requested they do this in his mother tongue, so he did not fluster. If he was going to be overwhelmed and forget one of Beth’s hundred names, it was now.

“I, Louis Albert Leopold Phillippe, take you, Bethany Margaret Sabine Cecilia, to be my wife…”

Well, he figured he hadn’t fucked it up yet.

Louis continued. “I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad… in sickness and in health… I will love you and honour you all the days of my life.”

Louis was relieved. They were already married so far as he was concerned. The marriage was wrapped up, seemingly with a nice bow, when the two barred the door and took every bit of the fifteen minutes they were allowed to consummate the thing officially. Beth joked it certainly beat a sixteenth-century bedding ceremony.

Beth responded, suddenly emboldened. She was not her normally timid self when she spoke Dutch before Louis. Instead, Louis realised Beth The Performer took over and was cool as a cucumber.

“I, Bethany Margaret Sabine Cecilia, take you, Louis Albert Leopold Philippe, to be my husband…”

The words were so final. She smiled. She did not tear up. Relief again. Somehow, she was more relaxed in front of more than 1000 people than at the registry office. She fed off the crowd. Beth was larger-than-life before a large audience. Sometimes, he wished he felt the same.

The rings, now blessed, were exchanged. Louis couldn’t have smiled wider as he looked at Beth and slid the ring onto her finger. She looked so beautiful, so satisfied, so happy. There was some more pomp. Louis was quite relieved because Beth’s Non-Catholic status, they avoided a full mass. It cut the time he could stand or sit sweating in a uniform down. Louis looked forward to a tuxedo like never before. Meanwhile, Beth looked like she would have gladly stayed in her big dress for an eternity.

When they signed the official register, they called forward their many witnesses. It was customary for high-ranking royals to sign the register. Usually, it was more than the required two. At city hall, Robbie and Luc signed the register. Beth wanted her siblings to sign the register at the church as Louis’s would, but Robbie was prohibited because he served as Head of the Anglican Church. He could not sign the register any more than The Pope could sign an Anglican register. Instead, Vanna and Rebecca stepped up alongside Louis’s sisters.

Then, it was signed, sealed, and delivered. Beth and Louis were played out by The Brabançonne, the Belgian National Anthem. Outside, well-wishers screamed their loudest yet. Louis couldn’t resist giving Beth a less-than-chaste kiss. After all, who cared?

“What was that?” Beth laughed, surprised.

They climbed in the car to leave, her nieces helping load her train delicately.

“Well, we were just lectured on our marital obligations for the past hour. We’re supposed to produce children. If anyone is surprised or appalled by my admiration of you, I’d suppose they can now fuck off.”

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