The Crown

Chapter Forty Nine

Beatrice's fingertips grazed the flowers in the flower shop just outside the castle gates. Her fingers coiled suddenly as she approached the sunflowers.

Those same flowers that grew around her childhood home.

"Perhaps you would prefer something more beautiful, Miss Prior?" the shopkeeper asked, interrupting her thoughts. "Like roses!"

Beatrice glanced up and shook her head. "I'd like the sunflowers, please."

The shopkeeper smiled and reached for a bouquet. "So modest - a wonderful quality for a future princess."

"They remind me of home," she whispered.

"The castle, you mean?"

"No. My village."

So disconnected from people I grew up with ... Beatrice faltered as she mindlessly accepted the bouquet of flowers. She carried it in her arms, staring at the petals.

"Many young girls will marvel at your story, Miss Prior," the shopkeeper insisted. "A fairytale come to life."

Beatrice glanced up and forced a smile as nausea crept within her. This whole charade of hers has been a series of visits and meetings with the townfolks in hopes that the villagers would not rebel in her marriage with a prince. That they could find it in themselves not to resent and hate her for making her way into the Royal Family and leaving her own people behind.

Even so - what did they know about what it took to get where she was? Nothing had been fairytale-like leading up to the present.

"A dream come true," Beatrice said with a polite smile before stepping outside to a crowd of villagers.

A couple of feet away stood Will - the planner behind her daily visits to the villages. He believed this would help ease her transition into power, while she was convinced of the exact opposite.

Buying random items from local shops is just throwing back their tax money in the hopes of ... sympathy? It's despicable, she reminded herself as she waved to the crowd yelling their questions and comments at her.

There was a reason as to why she was brought up to resent the crown and the Royal Family. A valid reason as to why her father despised them so.

And now, she was to marry into the very institution she was supposed to hate?

What did her integration into the crown even mean? Was she to be another statue for the people to idolize and fantasize about, doomed to nothing beyond that?

Will opened his mouth and spoke to the villagers, but Beatrice could not find it in her to listen and comprehend. She blankly allowed him to guide her back the carriage, all the while continuing to smile and thank the townsfolk for coming to greet her. The sounds and conversations grew deaf in her ears as she entered and sat down, staring ahead of her.

The sound of the slamming closed-door awakened Beatrice's senses as Will settled into the seat across from her.

She stared outside at the bright smiles, wondering what she had done to deserve any degree of their happiness. All she was doing today was throwing their tax money back at them as she paraded in their streets, pretending that she was just like them, knowing very well she and they would be sleeping in two vastly different places at the end of the day.

She felt sick.

"Are you tired already, Beatrice?" Will asked, interrupting her thoughts. "I had planned quite a few more visits, but do let me know if you are no longer up for it."