Marie II of Acadia: Story One

Chapter Five

"You may see her in." I instructed Deschamps who bowed, then left the room for a moment, and returned with Dr. Jabami, our family physician. "I wish to know how my father died." I explained to the doctor.

She curtsied to me before answering. "Cancer, Your Highness." The doctor paused a moment, then continued. "He knew for a year that he was ill."

"That is impossible. My father would have informed me, or at the very least, informed Parliament."

"It is true, Mademoiselle." Dr. Jabami urged. "I discovered the brain tumours myself."

Turning from the doctor, I spoke to Deschamps. "Call an audience with the Prime Minister."

------

The Right Honourable, Prime Esquire Anders Lundström arrived less then an hour later, and confirmed that Parliament was unaware of any illness, however, Deschamps had known. He had been the one to take my father to all his appointments, even medical.

"His Majesty left you this, Your Highness." Deschamps said as he handed me a leather bound journal filled with my father's handwriting. "He asked me to see it was given to you upon his death."

------

The day of my father's funeral it rained; as though the heavens themselves weeped for our loss. The service had been the same as any in the Catholic faith. Thousands of people had come to pay their respects, and thousand more had come to see him lie in state. He was buried next to his mother, along with every past Acadian monarch, in the family cemetery beside the Château de Montcalm.

"The news is reporting that fourteen representatives of foreign lands arrived for the funeral." My aunt, Princess Rosalie the Duchess of Annapolis Royale, informed us. My family, including my mother's elder brother, the Baron of Miramchi, sat in the salon after the funeral.

"I will send letters of gratitude to each." I said, as my little sister yawned. She had been falling asleep on my shoulder. "I think, perhaps, someone is in need of a nap, yes?"

Gabrielle nodded her head in confirmation. I grabbed her hand, and we left the salon to go to her rooms. I helped her change out of her black mourning attire and took down her hair. As she crawled into bed, silent tears began to fall from her blue eyes; she looked so much like my father. "Marie." Gabrielle spoke quietly, as though the world would shatter if she spoke any louder. "I am afraid."

"Of what, Little One?"

"That—" The young Princess paused a moment. "That I will forget Papa."

My heart clenched at her sorrow. After all, she was only ten. "I promise you, if you ever begin to, I will tell you about him. We will never forget someone who loved us so."

After she'd fallen asleep, I was returning to the salon when Deschamps, now my personal secretary, stopped me outside the room pushing me towards my father's office. "You must deal with today's papers, Your Highness."

"I am not dealing with anything today."

"You must! You are Queen."

"Today I am not a Queen." I snapped. "Today I am a daughter mourning her father."

I retreated to the salon with Deschamps following after me. "Mademoiselle, we must at least determine who will be taking on the responsibilities of Consort."

As we entered the room, Hélène replied— "I am to be Consort."

"Unfortunately, you cannot Mademoiselle. You and Her Highness are not yet wed. As such, you cannot act as Consort." Deschamps explained.

I sighed. I really did not want to deal with it on the day of my father's funeral. "Who do you suggest then?"

"Prince Étienne."

"You wish my brother to be my Consort?"

"Acting Consort, as you are an Acting Queen."

"It simply means." My Pépère, the Dowager King Yvon, explained. "That Étienne would begin the duties relevant to a Consort. He would hold no claim or title." He stopped, and looked straight at me. "I agree with Deschamps. Étienne is a beloved by the People as you are, and it could aid you on the Tour."

"Tour? What Tour?" My brother asked.

"The Tour around the country, as somewhat of a campaign, before the Referendum next year."

"Marie has to wait a whole year before they make her Queen?" Élise asked, surprised.

"Yes."

With a resigned sigh I expressed my own opinion. "Very well then, Étienne will take on the duties of the Consort, but Hélène will join me on the tour."

------

"They have no right!" My fiancée yelled. We had only just received an official notice from the Prime Minister. "Our wedding has been set for a year. They cannot simply postpone it!"

"Parliament actually has that right." I replied as I took her into my arms, which always seemed to calm her. "We will be married after I am the true Queen of Acadia."

"That is over a year away."

"Fifteen months, two weeks and ten days."

"You are counting?"

"Of course." I turned her around to face me. "I cannot wait to be married to you."

------

The tour began on a cool fall day in early September, just after my birthday. We had flown to the northernmost town of Acadia, Saint-Croix, a small County. Hélène's father, the Comte, Monsieur Saint-Croix, had opened the event with a speech. It mostly praised Acadia and me as its next Monarch. As my future father by marriage, you could hear the pride he felt through his kind words. If only I could believe in myself the way he did.

------

We had just marked three months on tour, and with Christmas around the corner, we finished the tour in Grande Pré. Though the holidays were a joyous event, filled with city wide festivities of all the faith's celebrating that month, Hélène was less then thrilled about Hanukkah.

"I have no place in your life." She cried. "The entirety of the tour I spent behind the stage, waiting for you to return."

We sat in my father's chambers, which I had moved into when we returned from the tour, in front of the large hearth with hot cider in hand. "You do have a place; you are the love of my life!"

"But until we are wed, I have no place as your partner."

It was true, she could not be Consort, or take on any of the responsibilities I would normally ask of her. However, there was nothing I or anyone could do to change that.

------

"Her Royal Highness, the Acting Queen of Acadia." We watched a news reporter say that spring, three months before the Referendum vote. "Seems to have fallen in popularity, while her brother, Prince Étienne, is now the favourite to ascend the throne. The People have said they feel she has neglected the much beloved Lady Hélène—"

Étienne turned off the television as all in the room awaited my response. Deschamps spoke first. "We can fix this. All it will take is a simple press conference to show how strong your relationship—"

"No." I ordered. "We did things your way, and it failed. From now on, we are doing things my way."