available to come to my home in Gloucestershire? We have an urgent matter to discuss. And that is my son.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Wickby Hall
I bite my lip as the black Range Rover drives down the long path towards Wickby Hall, Arthur’s stately home in Gloucestershire. The home looms at the end of the drive, a gorgeous sandstone manor that serves as one of Arthur’s country residences. The fields surrounding Wickby Hall are awash with daffodils, the flowers dancing in the spring breeze under a cloudy sky. Normally, I’d embrace the beauty before me, of this stunning home and glorious fields of flowers, but I can’t.
Because my world is still grey.
I close my eyes and rest my head against the window. I can’t believe that Arthur had one of his drivers come and pick me up this morning to meet him for tea. I didn’t sleep at all after our phone conversation, which is playing over and over in my head. Arthur asked if I could take a day off from work and meet with him out in the country, that it was urgent that he speak to me, and it involved Xander. It was so imperative that he speak with me that he would call my employers directly if that would help.
Obviously, Matilda and Shane didn’t need for Arthur to call. As soon as I told them the king had requested a private audience, I was given the day off immediately.
I open my eyes. And here I am. About to have a private meeting with the king.
I swallow hard as Wickby Hall looms closer. Pain grips me as I think of Xander. But what can be done? If Xander can’t get out of his own head, of his belief that I shouldn’t live this life because he isn’t worth it, then we don’t have a chance. Xander is fierce and stubborn when it comes to people he loves.
He would rather live the rest of his life missing me than take a chance on hurting me.
Which is not merely hurting me.
It’s destroying me.
The knot in the pit of my stomach grows tighter as we move closer and closer to the house. I don’t know what Arthur is going to ask about Xander. Even if I tell Arthur everything, I don’t see what solution he has to offer. I know Xander. If he has the wall back up, I don’t see a single way to begin to rip it down.
The driver stops at the end of the drive. I draw a deep breath, praying the air I take in will somehow give me the courage to get through this meeting without crying. After the driver exits the car, he opens my door for me.
The front door to Wickby Hall opens, and a man in uniform waits for me to approach. I feel sick to my stomach as I walk up to the door. I don’t know how I’ll even look at Arthur without crying.
“Ms. Davies, welcome to Wickby Hall,” the man at the door says.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
I step inside the foyer and look around. Wickby Hall is completely different to Buckingham Palace in décor. I’m standing on a black-and-white marble floor, one almost exactly like the one Helene has at Kensington Palace. The walls are covered with a grey Chinoiserie wallpaper, and a magnificent chandelier hangs overhead. It’s still opulent but has a much homier feel than Buckingham Palace does.
“His Majesty is in the living room, Ms. Davies,” the man—whom I assume is a butler—says. “I will show you to him.”
I gulp. “Yes, thank you.”
I follow the butler down a hallway, passing by huge portraits painted long ago. These must be Xander’s relatives. Did they suffer heartbreak and loss because of this royal family lineage like I have? I feel as though their eyes are following me as the butler takes me to Arthur, and if they could talk, I wish they could give me some advice on how to help Xander find himself—and find his way back to me.
The butler leads me through open doors to a beautiful living room with white walls and large windows adorned with pale-grey drapes. Beautiful Chinoiserie prints are framed on each side of the white fireplace, which is decorated with white ginger jar vases of varying sizes. Two chairs in a sage and white floral print are separated by a round table, and across from them is a velvet sage sofa. A large, square coffee table made of dark wood is in the middle, and