Diary of a Reluctant Ruler

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The next day the entire establishment seemed to gather in the Foyer for church; my extended family, plus Olly, James, their parents, the Ambassador, and a collection of dignitaries currently staying in the palace. I twitched the collar of my pale blue shirt, which scratched uncomfortably against my neck.

Driving into Rous, (we go to the Cathedral there), I was somehow seated next to the Ambassador, who saw fit to repeat to me every detail of the Prince Philippe’s education, and his many other talents, remarkable or not. I tried to inquire about the older prince, who had seemed nicer (it may simply have been the lack of continuous conversation about him), though I didn’t get very far. I can only say I was incredibly relieved when we arrived in front of the cathedral, and filed into our pew. Catholic services are often considered incredibly dull, but I found something soothing in the routine.

Across from me, closest to the aisle of the other pew, James sat, puffing out his cheeks in boredom.

He looks like a monkey.

How dare you! He does not.

He does.

Doesn’t.

Does!

DOESN’T!

Doesn’t.

Does.

Hah!

Oh, shut up.

You said he did!

Well, even if he does, he’s a very cute monkey.

Out of the corner of my eye, it seemed like he was watching me, but whenever I glanced at him, he would be studying the lectern or gold-wrought book stand.

I tried to concentrate on the message, but again, I could feel his gaze on my face. I glanced at him, but lo! He was paying dutiful attention to the words of the priest. I frowned, turning away again, only to register the flick of his gaze back to me.

I looked at him a third time, his eyes flicking away just before I could catch them. I grimaced, then decided to stare at him until he looked at me. After a few moments his gaze slid back to my face, only to see me staring at him pointedly, my left eyebrow raised. He snorted, his eyes snapping back at the priest, who was just closing in prayer. I ducked my head and clasped my hands, deciding to ignore him completely.

The service seemed to linger on more than usual, and I found it increasingly difficult to refuse to meet James’s gaze, which seemed to flick towards me every few minutes.

The service ended well past 12 o’clock, and sat dutifully as my parents bid hello to numerous visitors, and making pleasant small talk.

I needed the toilet, so I nodded my head politely to those that currently occupied conversation space with Mum and Dad, and went out the back passage to the vestry. I went to the loo, then slumped against the wall, unwilling to return.

For me, life seemed to be full of moments spent slumping against walls in resignation to the fact that I couldn’t get away from my duty.

Amen sister!

Hallelujah!

Don’t go over the top.

“You ok?” someone asked.

“Fine,” I replied, looking up into an unknown choir boy’s face.

Finally the service ended, and we left quickly before the rest of the congregation should accost us. We returned to the palace, where dinner was served shortly after our arrival, a roast dinner of humongous proportions.

The afternoon passed without remark, Olly and I strolling the gardens before settling down to watch the pride and prejudice. James joined us after a while, mumbling something about Felix trying to tail him. He was soon groaning at the dreadful etiquette in the film instead, asking why Elizabeth couldn’t just realise she loved Darcy, and why Darcy couldn’t be less of a snob. Olly endured without comment, but I fired off in defense of my favourite period drama.

I went to bed early, in anticipation of opening parliament the next day.

Before sleep I pondered the nuisance of understanding another person’s body language. Why had James been watching me? Was it simply because he was bored, or did he like me? When he snorted, was it at my expression or being caught?

Over-analysing every single detail exhausted me, yet put off sleep for several hours as I tossed and turned under the influence of an overactive mind.