The Thrill Is Gone

She was going to faint. Okay. Perhaps that was being a bit too dramatic, but the odds were that she was going to do something to get her out of meeting Princess Anne and Prince Andrew, because as soon as they came into view, Paulina went into a panic. She felt herself grow flustered, uncertain of her movements; there was a voice in her head telling her that she was walking awkwardly, that she was moving like a toddler that had only just started to walk. What was she doing with her free arm? It was flailing about at her side, drawing attention to its ungraceful movements, and her legs, well they weren’t doing her any favors either, they were the reason she moved so terribly. Though in truth, there was nothing awkward about her steps, nothing wrong with her arm, she was moving gracefully at Harry’s side. It was only her mind that was betraying her, giving way to her insecurities.

It was one thing to meet a royal at a private event, at a dinner in their home where the only people around would be them. Being in their home might have added a bit of pressure, but the privacy it afforded, the fact that there would be no crowds looking on, made it a simpler task. And Paulina wished that that would have been the manner in which she’d come into the company of Princess and Prince Andrew. Then she wouldn’t have had to worry so much about what people looking on would think, and then she wouldn’t be freaking out and feeling short of breath. Though the shortness of breath was coming in part from the new Spanx she’d bought that had run a size smaller, despite having been labeled otherwise.

Maybe she could feign food poisoning? Tell Harry that there was something off in her stomach and that she really had to get to the restroom? That could work. She knew he’d whisk her off to the nearest one, but just as she was parting her lips to utter the lie, she realized that he’d end up thinking her fake food poisoning was more along the lines of faked pregnancy nausea, and she didn’t want to have him freaking out over that, when there was no chance that could happen. Maybe she could say her phone was ringing? That it was a call from her mom that she had to absolutely take? That could’ve worked, except . . . except she didn’t have her phone on her. It was back at Wilton Crescent.

Before her fretful mind was able to think up a suitable lie, the pair of them reached the spot where Princess Anne and Prince Andrew stood. Princess Anne was facing them, it was she who first noticed their arrival, and then informed her brother of it. Those who were in their company quickly excused themselves, knowing very well that their time with the royals had come to its end.

Paulina had to fight the urge to scream for them to remain where they were, that their company would be most welcomed. They could be conversational buffers for her, deflect some of the attention from her person and onto them, but shouting would’ve made a spectacle of herself, and she couldn’t have that. No. She just had to keep her brave smile in tact, curtsey like she’d been instructed to, and do her best to be charming while still being herself.

“There you are!” exclaimed Harry, a massive grin taking its rightful place on his weather beaten face. “We’ve been looking for you, spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out where you’d gone to, though it was a bit of a challenge with the crowds the way they are. But we found you now.”

“You did indeed, Harry.” Princess Anne spoke in a voice that reminded Paulina strongly of the Queen. And she couldn’t help but think that in twenty or so years, their voices would be identical.

As Princess Anne spoke, Paulina slipped her hand out from Harry’s arm, preparing herself for the curtsey that she’d be giving shortly. She had to remind herself that the curtsey, was to be less grand than that she gave Prince Charles and his children, but still grand and respectful. She didn’t have to wait long to deliver her curtsy, because shortly after Princess Anne remarked that Harry had indeed found them, Harry took the opportunity to introduce Paulina to his aunt, and then, after Princess Anne had politely acknowledged her presence and Paulina had curtsied, he introduced her to his uncle, and again their were polite words exchanged, and Paulina curtsied.

The royals were pleasantly surprised by how well executed her curtsy was. They’d thought it would be an admirable attempt, but nothing more since Americans curtsied to no one in their home country, they had no kings or queens, but still the young woman impressed them with the curtsey. And the brave smile on her face, coupled with the gentleness of her voice as she spoke to them, served to do the same.

The first few minutes were nothing more than polite pleasantries, they remarked on the event, spoke of the various charities that had sent representatives, and which they themselves were patrons of. The first few minutes were very much formal, but then, as Paulina became a bit more at ease in their presence – though she wouldn’t dare venture to say that she felt comfortable – Princess Anne elevated the conversation onto more personal grounds.

“Zara sends her regards, Miss Balcázar,” spoke Princess Anne, warmly. “She meant to attend the Garden Party, though there was a matter that needed her attention directly.”

“I do hope it was nothing to serious.”

“Not serious at all.” Princess Anne reassured. “Only serious enough to keep her from attending, though I daresay she will arrive an hour or so after the party comes to an end. Then again, perhaps she might arrive beforehand.”

“I would very much like for that to happen,” commented Paulina. “It has been nearly two months since we last saw Miss Phillips and –”

“Miss Phillips? Good heavens, I daresay Zara would protest if she heard your referring to her as such.” Princess Anne knew it was because of the nerves, because of the uncertainty of how to refer to people who were royal but not royal that Paulina had referred to her daughter as that. “Please do feel free to refer to Zara as Zara, Miss Balcázar. I am quite certain that is what my daughter would prefer.”

“In that case, Ma’am, it has been nearly two months since we last saw Zara and Mike. We had dinner with them in London. It was most enjoyable. She spoke of a tournament that she had recently participated in.”

“Might that have been one in which she took silver?” inquired Princess Anne.

“Yes, Ma’am, it was that event indeed.” Paulina smiled. “She went onto tease me about my inability to mount.”

“Inability?” she repeated. “Whatever do you mean? Harry,” she turned to her nephew. “Why has Miss Balcázar had difficulty mounting? You ought to instruct her in the ways of it. You more than anyone know the pleasure of a ride.”

“I do,” he said, smiling slightly at the double meaning in the words. “And I’ve made several attempts at teaching her how to mount, but she’s . . . we’ll, she’s terrified of horse.”

“Terrified of horses?” Prince Andrew entered the conversation. “How . . . how can one be terrified of horses? They are the most noble of creatures.”

“That’s what I’ve told her! Haven’t I gone on about that, Paulin?” Harry turned to his girlfriend.”

“You have,” she conceded. “But it isn’t a question of their being noble or not. It’s the fact that I had a bad experience.” Paulina looked from Princess Anne to Prince Andrew, making eye contact with both. And when Prince Andrew inquired as to what the experience in question had been, she explained. “When I was a child, about four, I had an incident at my uncle’s farm in Mexico. I wandered away from my brothers, whom were well into their teenage years, and somehow or another, I stumbled across a mare. She was far from pleased with my presence, and for reasons which I can’t very well remember, she charged me.”

“Good heavens!” remarked Princess Anne.

“What happened then, Miss Balcázar?” inquired Prince Andrew, politely.

“I was chased for a relatively short distance, though it felt much longer when I was younger. And then, when I believed I would surely be trampled, my eldest brother Raphael came to the rescue. Well, it was my brother and my cousin Hugo. Hugo calmed the horse while my brother carried me back to our house in Mexico. Needless to say, I returned from that vacation to Mexico with an extreme aversion to horses, though it has improved these last few months.”

Harry nodded along as she spoke. “She’s able to be in their company now,” commented Harry after she finished talking. “Before she was quite fidgety, but now she’s alright enough, and she nearly mounted while we were at Highgrove.”

“What kept you from mounting?” asked Princess Anne.

“I . . . well, the horse whinnied, and the noise caught me off guard, which led to my falling off the stool, and onto the ground. After that I didn’t want anything to do with horses.” Paulina replied.

“She’s taking a break from them,” said Harry. “But I know I’ll eventually get her to mount. It’s only a matter of time.”

“You are far too confident.” Paulina flashed him a smile.

“Only because I know you’ll take to it.” He told her, with a smirk. “Riding on horseback through fine country is the sort of thing that appeals to romantic sensibilities like yours. It’s only a matter of you working up the courage.”

“Who’s working up what?” spoke a voice from behind them.

And when they turned to look, they saw Zara moving towards them. She wore a primarily plum outfit along with a bright, friendly smile.

“Zara!” exclaimed her mother. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“I heard there was a Garden Party and reckoned I ought to show up for the free food.” Zara joked. “Hello mum,” she placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Uncle Andrew, how are you? The girls come by?”

“No. I'm afraid they were unable to attend.” He answered, after she’d kissed his cheek. “They do plan on attending the next Garden Party.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to be there as well.” Zara then turned her attention to Paulina and Harry. “Don’t you dare try to curtsey,” said Zara, teasingly to Paulina.

“I wasn’t going to.” Paulina assured with a smile. “I remember the last two times well enough to know not to.”

“It’s more along the lines of three times,” reminded Zara. “There was the polo match, then Harry’s birthday night, and then that dinner awhile back.”

“That’s right. I’d forgotten the one on Harry’s birthday night.”

“S’alright, I forgive you.” Zara joked. “It’s brilliant seeing you again though.” She leant in and the pair exchanged kisses on the cheek. “I’ve mentioned to Harry that we ought to go out for drinks again one of these days, but he keeps saying he’s too busy with training.”

“That’s cuz I am.” Harry said. “And then Gran has me carrying out duties, so it’s not easy to come by free days.”

“Well if you can’t come by then, Paulina and I will just have to go out on our own. Isn’t that right, Paulina?”

“I’ve no objections to that. It’d be a pleasure.” Paulina smiled, warmly.

“I don’t reckon I know how to feel about you lot going out on your own. Aunt Anne?” spoke Harry. “Should I trust Zara to take good care of Paulina?”

“I should hope she would, though knowing Zara, she might force Miss Balcázar on horseback,” replied Princess Anne in a light tone.

“She’s more at ease on horse than foot,” commented Prince Andrew. “I daresay that if Zara were to be left with Miss Balcázar, Miss Balcázar would return a horse enthusiast.”

“See Harry, I’d take good care of her.” Zara scrunched her nose playfully at her cousin. “And I think she’d – bloody hell . . .”

“Zara!” hissed Princess Anne. “What have I told you of using that language?”

“You’ve said not to.” Zara replied, dismissively.

“Then why did you?” her mother said in a low voice.

“Because Gran is making her way over,” replied Zara in an equally low voice. She quickly turned to Paulina. “Have you met Gran yet? I mean, the Queen. Have you met her?”

“No. I’ve not yet had the honor.” Paulina replied, unsure as to why Zara was acting that way.

“Then I think she’s making her way over here to bestow that honor.” Zara fixed her jacket. “Mum, uncle, I believe we ought to give Paulina a bit of privacy. It’ll be nerve wracking enough to meet Gran without having royal spectators watching.”

“What do you think, Anne?” asked Prince Andrew, wanting his sister’s opinion on the matter.

“I believe Zara is right. It would be best for Miss Balcázar to meet mum in a more private setting.” Princess Anne replied. “Come now, Zara. Let us fetch some tea. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Balcázar. We shall surely be seeing more of you.”

“The pleasure is entirely my own, Ma’am.” Paulina curtseyed to them as they turned to leave, and then resumed her normal posture. “Your aunt and uncle were really welcoming,” said Paulina to Harry, trying to keep her mind from fixating on the fact that the Queen was on her way tot hem. “And Zara, oh, I just love her. She’s amazing.”

“She really is. Isn’t she? But I am afraid of what sorts of trouble you lot will get into if you’re left alone.” Harry joked. “Who knows, maybe I’ll have to bail you out of jail.”

“Don’t be daft. She’d be the one to get us out of being arrested.” Paulina laughed lightly. “How far is your Gran from here?”

“Not far, I say in two minutes she’ll be here. Having to smile at people is slowing down her pace, but she’ll be here soon.”

“Is it just her?” asked Paulina, not wanting to turn to look.

“My granddad is with her. Don’t worry about him though.” He slipped his hand into hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “He likes you already. Well, he doesn’t exactly like you, but he did say you were a remarkably accomplished young woman with an exceedingly pretty face. And that’s as good as him liking you.”

“He thinks I have a very pretty face?”

“And I think you’ve a very beautiful bum.” Harry smirked, hoping the teasing would make her laugh a bit and relax.

It worked. She started giggling softly, and ended up having to bite down on her lip to keep from bursting into full on laughter. By the time Harry whispered that his Gran was almost there, Paulina felt better about what was to come. She could get through it. She knew how to curtsey, had been advised on what to say and how to address the Queen and Prince Phillip. She was going to be exactly what was expected of her. Her performance would be so convincing that it would rival one of Meryl Streep’s iconic performances.

And when the Queen arrived with her consort, Paulina delved into her role. She didn’t let on that she’d met the Queen before, that they’d gotten into an argument which led to Paulina’s cursing at her, she didn’t let on that she harbored animosity towards the elderly woman. Instead Paulina seemed nervous, honored at the fact that she was to be in the Queen’s presence, and when the Queen initiated the conversation, as custom demanded, on behalf of herself and her husband, Paulina replied politely and went into an act that even managed to impress the Queen.

Paulina immediately went into a curtsey, the low, reverent form of it that Lady Fellowes had taken great pains to teach her. It was a graceful curtsey, the likes of which few others had dared attempt or had been skilled enough to deliver at the Garden Party. As Paulina resumed her normal position, she uttered the polite words that were to be her opening lines to the Queen and Prince Consort.

The Queen couldn’t help but be impressed. She, of course, didn’t make that apparent on her face, but she was. From the manner in which their first meeting had gone, she had expected the young woman to refrain from curtseying and to have an air of contempt, but there had been a curtsey, and there had not been even the slightest trace of contempt. Paulina was graceful, eloquent and warm. She embodied manners and grace. And the Queen couldn’t help but be impressed by the act that was being put on. This young woman was, despite her faults, worth keeping close.

“It is a most agreeable day,” commented the Queen. “There had been word that a light shower might fall in the early hours of the afternoon, though we were fortunate enough for that to not have come to pass.”

“We were,” agreed Paulina. “Had the showers fallen, we would have all struggled to move about in our heels.”

“The weather was considerate of the ladies then.” Prince Philip said, dryly.

Harry, knowing that was intended as a joke by his grandfather, chuckled. “We’ve been doing the rounds for most of the Garden Party. Had a nice chat with the Prime Minister,” he said. “Well, it was more along the lines of Paulina having a nice chat. I didn’t really take too much of what was said.”

“Did it revolve around politics, Miss Balcázar?” inquired Prince Phillip.

“No, Sir. It pertained to William Blake. The Prime Minister quoted Blake in conversation, and upon my commenting upon that, we began a somewhat lengthy discussion.”

“They went on about it.” Harry informed them. “And they were both so passionate in their discussion that his wife and I just sort of stood there.”

“It’s only natural to become passionate when discussing poetry. That was what it was designed for.” Queen Elizabeth decided that poetry was a suitable enough topic of conversation, and thus decided to expand on it. “Tell me, Miss Balcázar, are there any other poets whom rouse your passions as strongly as Blake?”

“I do, Ma’am. Shakespeare’s sonnets are very close to heart, Lord Byron, and Dylan Thomas,” she answered. “I am quite certain there are a few more that I have forgotten, though I can’t very well remember who they are at the present. Perhaps I'm not as passionate about them as I’d believed.”

“Perhaps not, though the ones you remembered to name need not more company,” stated the Queen. “Have you studied poetry at university?”

“I have not had the pleasure of taking a course in poetry. My schedules have never permitted. Not in Stanford. Not in Oxford. Poetry has always been something I’ve pursued in my own time. It is a comfort, much like a warm embrace.”

“It shall certainly be a comfort to you in the future. Perhaps during law school,” said the Queen. “Harry mentioned you intend to get your degree.”

“I do, Ma’am.” Paulina smiled.

“Have you decided where it is you will attend?” asked the Queen.

“Harvard,” replied Paulina, proudly. “I will be attending Harvard Law School this fall.”

They spoke on Harvard for a few minutes, and then the Queen and Prince Phillip departed. There were others to see, more conversations to be had, hands to shake. They left satisfied with how the meeting with the young woman had gone. Prince Phillip had feared that she would be rude and disagreeable, that she would make her contempt for his wife known to all, but she had put on an act of amiability, and as a man who spent most of his own life acting a part, he could appreciate her work. The Queen was equally pleased. There would be a conversation to have with her husband, later that night, and in time, she thought, she would have to have another private audience with Miss Balcázar.

When the Queen faded from view, Paulina let out a sigh of relief. She placed a hand on her hip, trying to make sense of what had just happened. They’d spoken of poetry and Harvard; there had been no contempt in the conversation, no look of disapproval in the Queen’s eyes. Paulina had done her part, something that she’d secretly feared she’d be unable to do. But she had done. She had carried herself in a graceful manner, spoken eloquently, politely, and would surely make the Queen feel every bit as confused as the Queen had made Paulina.

“Bloody hell,” whispered an astonished Harry. “That went loads better than expected.”

“It did. Didn’t it?” she said, proudly.

She turned to look up at him, to say something else, but when she tilted her head upwards, Harry placed a tender kiss on her lips, far to happy to not have done so. He pulled away after a few seconds, letting his lips linger long enough for him to get his fill, but not long enough for his Gran to come back and disapprove.

“Thank you,” he said when he pulled apart, his eyes burning into hers. “I know this can’t be easy. There’s times when it gets to be a bit much even for me, but you’ve . . . fucking hell, you’ve done beautifully. So thank you, darling.”

“Why you calling me, darling?” she asked. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know I haven’t.” He grinned. “But I reckon darling can work just as well when everything’s perfect, like it does when I’ve made an arse of myself. What do you reckon?”

“I reckon it can.” She couldn’t help but grin as widely as him. “Should we get back to your duties then?”

He pulled a face, clearly not wanting to. “I guess if we have to.”

“Well you have to.” When he offered her his arm, she took it. “Let’s get a move on, Your Royal Highness.”

“I hate when you call me that. It’s odd for you to address me like that and curtsey.”

“Imagine how weird it is to be doing the curtseying,” she said, as they began to walk. “But it’s only at these events and with your family, so it’s not so bad.”

“Speaking of family, my father wants to have a word with you later on, in private.”

“In private?” she furrowed her brow. “Will you be there? Or is it so private not even you’ll be there?”

“It’s not that private. Only private enough for him not to be done in front of these thousands of people,” explained Harry.

“Do you know what it’s about?”

“No idea.” He lied, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made it clear to her that he did in fact know.

“Harry . . .” she pouted. “I know you know so just tell me. Please?”

“Can’t, it’s meant to be a surprise.”

“What is?”

“You’ll see.” He scrunched his nose at her. “Now let’s go meet these people. Their eyes lit up as soon as we got into sight.” He moved them in direction of the two men and three women whom were standing clustered together. “Hello there, how are we today? Enjoying the Garden Party?”

Harry jumped right into conversation, putting the strangers at ease. It wasn’t long before they were laughing at his jokes, and talking freely with him and Paulina. He had a way of making people feel like they’d been friends of his for ages, and Paulina smiled politely, and spoke warmly to the strangers, doing her part.

Near the end of the Garden Party, Paulina returned to Lord and Lady Fellowes whom were immersed in conversation with Lady and Lord Davenport, the latter was a member of parliament. Paulina had intended to inform them that Prince Charles wished to have a word with her once the festivities were over, but that wasn’t news to them. Apparently, Prince Charles had already taken the liberty of informing them that he necessitated Paulina in the evening, and that he would personally see to it that she returned to their home at a reasonable hour. Paulina was taken aback by that. She hadn’t been under the impression that their conversation would last that long, she’d thought it’d be ten minutes and then she’d be on her way with the Fellowes. But it turned out that Prince Charles had other plans, and when Lady Fellowes noticed the look of surprise on Paulina’s face, she told her that it would be alright, and that when she got back to their house, they’d have a cup of tea.

Paulina expected to speak to Prince Charles on the grounds of Buckingham Palace, but it turned out that their conversation was to be had at Chatsworth House, after dinner. So she followed Harry to the royal residence, and after a dinner in which only Charles and Harry were present, since Camilla had gone over to her daughter’s home to spend time with her granddaughter, Charles brought up the reason why he’d invited Paulina over, though not before making polite conversation just before it.

“How did you like your first Garden Party, Miss Balcázar?” he inquired from his seat across her. “I do hope it hasn’t scared you off.”

“Not at all, Sir,” she replied with a smile. “As far how I liked it, I thought it was absolutely lovely. I’d never attended a Garden Party before, which it made an exciting new experience. And being able to spend the day with Henry and meet all those interesting new people was truly spectacular. It was also an honor to have made the acquaintance of Princess Anne and Prince Andrew.”

“Ah. Yes. They mentioned that to me. Apparently, they thought you quite charming.” Prince Charles smiled warmly at her. “Zara also made a point to mention that we ought to leave you alone with her for a day, and that she will have you a proper horse enthusiast at the end of it.”

“I think she’s a bit ambitious,” laughed Paulina, politely. “We made good progress at Highgrove House. I nearly mounted, but I don’t very well think I'm quite ready to ride just yet.”

“Perhaps another visit to Highgrove might do you well.” Prince Charles stated. “I was only just telling Harry that you must both come to stay during the summer. That is of course, if you should like to.”

“I would like to very much, Sir. Thank you.”

“There is another matter which I would like to speak to you of. In June, I am to bestow honours on behalf of the Order of the British Empire. And while I was going through the list of the individuals whom will be honored and receive membership into the order, I came across the name of Robert Plant. Naturally, I thought back to our conversations regarding Led Zeppelin, and Mr. Plant’s remarkable vocal abilities, and I thought you might like to accompany me, meet him, if you so desire.”

She had to be calm. She had to be composed. She had to be elegant. She had to be . . . oh . . . fucking hell. She couldn’t be composed. Not when she’d just been asked if she wanted to meet Robert fucking Plant.

“Aye Dios Mio!” she exclaimed, startling Prince Charles as a massive grin took hold of her face. “Y-you’re asking if I want to meet Robert Plant?” she stuttered. “It’s just I – Robert Plant! The Robert Plant! I . . . yes, yes, thank you so much, Sir. Thank you. I just . . . Led Zeppelin . . .” she was rambling on and soon, she’d curse herself for having been so unrestrained. “I can’t believe it. Robert Plant. What? That’s – that’s so . . . oh no. I . . .” she grew flustered, her face flushing violently. “. . . I am so sorry, Sir. That was not how I am meant to address you or speak in your presence. I am terribly sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Miss Balcázar. I am quite certain that my first meeting with Robert Plant elicited a similar reaction to yours, though come to think of it, it was the late sixties and there’s no being certain of precisely what my reaction was. I am certain that will not be the case with your first meeting. We’ll remember it well enough, surely.”

“I'm sure we will, Sir.” She paused. “Sir?” she called.

“Yes, Miss Balcázar?”

“I truly am grateful that you chose to invite me. I think my freak out made that obvious, but Led Zeppelin is just . . . it’s Led. It’s the music I grew up with. Robert Plant’s voice forever rings in my memory as does David Gilmour’s and Roger Water’s. Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd are part of the essential Balcázar experience, and I know I'm rambling again, but thank you so very much, Sir.”