Astoria

f o u r

Lunch was always meant to be a light-hearted affair among the remaining members of the House Westerholme. The Princess Therese liked them to be, her reason being that, no matter the troubles that had befallen the house, and the number of missing family members, there were still reasons in life to be glad.

And so, lunchtime at Mansfield often found Princess Therese, Princess Isabella, and Prince Antony gathered around the large dining room table. There were, occasionally, guests, and also the occasional days when no amount of Isabella's encouragements could return Antony to the house in time for the afternoon meal. Thus, the cast of characters who made their appearance at the Mansfield table sometimes varied.

That particular day, twenty-seven days until Antony's twentieth birthday, found the usual occupants all in their chairs, with the addition of the recently returned Queen Olivya.

Most dinners in which the whole family gathered followed a practiced routine: Isabella chatted with her mother, Therese and Isabella both attempted to draw Antony into conversation, and the Queen could talk for what the other guests would consider ages. Isabella had remarked this to Antony once, and he had responded gravely that "it was rather a treat, actually" because only with family did the quiet queen "allow herself to speak openly."

This dinner was not much different than most that had occurred in that dining room. Princess Therese, from her spot at the head of the table spent the greater part of the first course shooting dirty looks at her grass-stained daughter while Isabella averted her eyes and pretended not to notice.

Edward had chosen for his wife a fine lady, of refined breeding and ample beauty. The Princess Therese was pleasantly plump and endowed with a lovely face, the treasure of which were her brilliant blue eyes. Tresses of honey-blonde hair were swept up into an elaborate up-do, with a few curly tendrils framing the princess's lovely, round face. She was the picture of motherly kindness, and a woman who cared about every living creature, be that her orphaned nephew or the smallest fledgling fallen from its nest. She also had the tendancy of thinking towards the romantic.

Her daughter, although beautiful, had not inherited her mother's more exaggerated curves but was no less blessed. Princess Isabella was a demure figure, not plump, but not terribly thin, who had glorious light blonde hair that reached almost to her waist. Her thin, graceful hands gesticulated her speech and she was constantly excited about something, even small things. She was somewhat flighty; any little thing was worthy of her attention, but was, often in the next moment, forgotten, usually when the next thing to be enthralled with came along. She was the object of the affections of many boys, but was usually chaperoned by her cousin Antony, who would break the hearts of said boys with a single look. One boy, taking a daring chance and coming up behind Isabella and slowly wrapping his arms around her, hoping for a kiss, had been greatly disappointed. It was discovered that day that, although of a proper breeding and a slightly younger age than his cousin, the Prince Antony was not below bloodying noses in defense of the innocent girl he had taken it upon himself to protect. It became known that any boy who so much as looked at the Princess wrongly would face the wrath of her cousin.

Antony himself had left behind the days of being a pale, weak boy, with unruly blonde hair and knobby knees, to become a more fitting image of a prince. He had grown taller and stronger and, according to any lady one might ask at the few parties he attended, he looked absolutely dashing when dressed up. His hair, once light blonde as his cousin's, had darkened to a honey color much like his aunt's. His quiet manner, preserved from his youth, had only increased since his father's death. Most found the young prince unsmiling and reserved, leading some girls to believe him a snob. Anyone who knew him better at all, however, knew him to be a kind and loyal personage whose avoidance of the 'social scene' was really not out of snobbery, but of discomfort and something that seemed strange when one reconciled in their mind the image of a prince: for Antony was shy.

The final dinner guest, the kind-spoken Queen Olivya had retaken the throne for the few months before her grandson turned twenty and seemed all the happier for it. She always sat with perfect posture, her light brown hair swept back from her face and her eyes shining with quiet joy. A soft smile seemed always to grace her features. Amongst strangers, she was quiet as the crown prince, but among family or close acquaintances, she loved nothing more than to talk. Perhaps her greatest quality was her ability to listen. For no one could keep a complete silence such as she; no one could give a troubled soul such complete attention. For Olivya always gave the impression that she was truly sympathetic and that she honestly understood one's problems. And, in her own way, she did. All sorts of people came to speak to the distinguished lady, from the troubled parlor maid to her grandson or her granddaughter.

This particular dinner was fast deteriorating into a stare-down between the Princess Therese and her nephew. Only her good sense kept her from asking him outright what his reasons were for attempting to skip the luncheon.

She decided that there was only one way to bring up the subject: to ask him outright.

"So Antony dear, you have finally found a woman and she has snubbed you, hasn't she?" She accompanied this statement with a look of sorrow and pity for her poor, dear nephew.

The table's reaction to this statement was entirely comical.

Antony dropped his fork, his face turning quite red. Isabella gave a rather unladylike snort and then attempted to cover it up with a cough. Olivya raised her eyebrows and glanced back and forth between her daughter-in-law and her grandson, feeling that somewhere, something had surely been misinterpreted, especially considering Therese's desire to have her nephew, whom she treated as a son, and her own daughter find romance. She also appeared to assume, wrongly, that any problems one had at this age must surely be the result of a troubled love.

"Aunt Therese," Antony finally managed to get out. "How many times do I have to tell you that that is not it at all?"

"Only once per day..." whispered Isabella, covering this statement with another cough and earning a glare from her mother for the unladylike noise.

Therese continued to give Antony the look of an anxious mother worried for her child as she pressed on in her inquiry. "She hasn't snubbed you then?"

Antony shook his head vehemently. "Heavens no! Aunt Therese, I don't even have a love interest to snub me in the first place!"

Isabella took that moment to attempt to alleviate the situation and lessen the attention her cousin now found forced upon him.

"He's simply a bit nervous for the coronation, nothing unusual. It's going to be a big day."

Antony smiled gratefully at Isabella and her mother simply stared at her as if attempting to validate the truth of her statement.

"Very well, then," she finally said, turning back to Antony. "Don't be anxious, dear. It's not for another few weeks."

She then turned her eyes to her daughter and smiled rapturously. She began to instruct her daughter with barely concealed excitement.

"Now, Isabella, on the matter of the coronation ball. I suspect that many young men will wish to meet you and will ask for a dance. Snub the impertinent ones and the handsy ones, but if you meet a man whom you like, and who is respectful and good-looking and able to provide for you, feel free to accept. Now, if you do meet such a man..."

She continued on in this manner and Isabella looked at Antony and pretended to pout while mouthing See what I get for helping you? Antony merely smirked and returned to eating his soup.

He felt that he might as well enjoy, somewhat, his last days at Mansfield. At the end of the week, he would make the journey to King's City. He would not, of course, be alone, as his relatives would be accompanying him to live at the palace. However, he would miss Mansfield.

After all, he had called the place home for a good part of his life.