A March Bride (17 page)

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Authors: Rachel Hauck

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Christian, #Short Stories (Single Author), #ebook

BOOK: A March Bride
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Pardon?
Demanding
?

Nathaniel snatched the document, his blood boiling as he read the word TREASON scrawled across the top of the page.

You are out of your mind, Brock.

He tossed the paper to the floor.

You cannot charge me with treason for defying a writ. Especially when the Marriage Act states I

m allowed to marry whomever I wish.


As long as His Majesty

s government approves.


Which it did. Last May.


Well, your new government placed conditions which
you blatantly ignored. Naturally, you

ll remain a member of the royal family after you abdicate, but we are asking you to vacate your throne immediately.


Brock, you blasted idiot! How does this accomplish your goals to be rid of a monarchy? Stephen will just take my place.

Nathaniel had had enough of the politicking, the media, the naysayers, and his government using Susanna to get to him.

My marriage to Susanna on Friday was our business. Between us. When we wed here, in Brighton, we will be within the law.


I fear it

s too little, too late.

Brock retrieved the petition for abdication.

We are moving forward with this action. As for your brother, we have plans there as well.


So you

re accomplishing your mission. To rid Brighton of a royal throne.


I

ve never denied my sentiments toward the monarchy.

He shifted his shoulders, adjusting the set of his jacket on his shoulders.

It

s archaic. From another century. It

s time has come to an end.

Nathaniel met the prime minister

s gaze with his own rock-hard resolve.

Then shall we adjourn to Parliament?

The morning session was just beginning. By next week, final government business was to be concluded before Parliament

s spring recess. Just in time for the wedding.

Brock hesitated with a slight hint of surprise. As if he weren

t expecting Nathaniel to take action.

Certainly, Your Majesty.


You bring the petition and I

ll address the assembly.

Nathaniel reached around for Susanna.

Care to join us?

Brock cast a shadow over them through the dark aura of his heart, then left the chamber.

Susanna shuddered.

Oh Nathaniel, how did he ever get to be prime minister?


He

s head of the Labor Party. They formed a coalition with the Liberal Party for the elections. They secured the most seats in the House of Senators and thus Brock became prime minister.


Does he hate you?


In his way, yes. But you know, Susanna, I

ve come to learn as king that whenever I meet someone I don

t like or understand, I put a big X on them and remind myself,

There

s treasure buried here.



Nathaniel, that

s brilliant.


So while Brock puzzles me and feels like my enemy, I remind myself that somewhere in all the supposed venom, there

s treasure.

Lord, help me find the treasure . . .

Nathaniel led the way out of the room, reaching back for Susanna

s hand, and took the stairs toward the grand central chamber, bypassing his robing room because he wanted to keep the Houses off-kilter for this debate.

At the mezzanine level, he entered through the King

s Door and sat on his red velvet and teak throne overseeing the bright, round room with its atrium ceiling and gleaming paneled walls.

He motioned for Susanna to sit in the seat on his left. The Parliament thrones. Handcrafted from Brighton oak three hundred years ago and covered with thick red velvet.


Here?

She pointed to the Queen

s Seat.

He chuckled at Susanna

s very overwhelmed expression.

Yes, and don

t worry, love. All is well.


Too late,

she whispered.

I am worried. What are you going to say?


The truth. Remind them of a few things.

He wiggled his eyebrows.

I come with a few punches of my own.

Brock had slipped on his speaker robe and white wig and was now taking the podium.

We

ve before this Parliament a decree of treason against King Nathaniel II of Brighton.

He recounted the issue and Nathaniel held himself in check, trying not to shake his head in disgust or scoff at the ridiculousness of it all. He would act like a king. Impartial. Even in cases against him.

When Brock finished his diatribe, Nathaniel stood, bareheaded without his crown or his robes. He needed no symbol on his head other than God

s delight and the love of his wife.


Members of this esteemed parliament, I concede I married Susanna while she was an American. Out of love and deference to her. To prove my love was unconditional. She, in return, has offered all we and our law demand. She is ready to surrender her American citizenship and become a Brightonian. With no conditions. But knowing this, what do you do, slap me with a charge of treason? That is a serious charge and, according to our law, one not to be uttered lightly, as I believe it has been done here today.

He paused to survey the room and many heads bobbing in agreement.

Let me remind you that if I am deposed for no other reason than that I married an American on American soil, our government will be dissolved. A new one will have to be formed. Your seats, earned by hard work and campaigning, will be gone. You

ll have to begin again. In fact, our entire
political existence will have to begin again. Because our prime minister has informed me he plans to rid Brighton of its monarchy.

The room rumbled. Men and women shifting in their seats. Leaning toward one another with bold whispers.

Nathaniel went on.

I remind you that our trade and peace accords will be dissolved. Not by my choosing, but by our own laws, if the monarchy is removed. All will be wrestled over and reestablished. Brighton will go on, but who will be our leader? Who will establish a new constitution? Brock Bishop? The man leading us toward chaos?


Brighton Kingdom, which has found economic stability in the past year, will have our front door, back door, and every window in the house open to our enemies, known and unknown while you scramble to reform a government.

He tapped the podium.

So as you debate this issue and cast your vote, keep those details in mind. And know that the House of Stratton will continue to stand. With or without me as King of Brighton.


Meanwhile, Susanna will be at the Justice House swearing in as a full, complete, and proud Brightonian citizen. Good day to you all.

As he departed, trembling beneath his suit, Susanna slipped her hand into his.

Brilliant, babe. My heart is swelling with pride.

Then he heard the rumbling and shaking of the assembly floor by shouts and stomping feet.

Then at last, the one-chorus royal approval,

Hurrah!

WEDDING DAY!

A R
OYAL
W
EDDING IN
B
RIGHTON
: K
ING
N
ATHANIEL
M
ARRIES THE
L
OVE OF
H
IS
L
IFE

B
RIGHTON
W
ARMING
U
P TO
S
USANNA
T
RUITT
:

S
HE

S
O
UR
P
RINCESS
; S
HE
M
AKES THE
K
ING
H
APPY

W
ATCHMAN
A
BBEY

M
ARCH
21

S
usanna stood at the palace window, gazing down onto the street, overflowing with Brighton citizens who were waiting for a glimpse of the bride. Of her.

Butterflies and bees battled in her belly. Joy wrestled with anxiety.

Her swearing in as a Brighton citizen was heralded on the front page of the
Liberty Press
with the headline

America

s Loss Is Our Gain. Welcome, Princess Susanna.

She clipped
that headline and tucked it into her Bible to read on the hard days, in the moments of doubt. Though she

d always be an American at heart, born and bred, she felt a certain newness in her soul about being a Brightonian.

At the light knock on the door, she turned back into the room. Her lady

s maid stepped aside for Daddy to enter, looking dapper and smart in his tuxedo with a white cravat and waistcoat.


Don

t you look handsome.

He

d even slicked back his hair.


You

re even more beautiful the second time around, kitten.

Daddy joined her at the window.

You nervous?


A little.

They leaned in unison to peer outside. For as far as the eye could see, people filled the streets, gathering under the Brighton banners snapping from every lamppost. A barricade of dark-uniformed police officers held them all in check.


Shee doggies, that

s a lot of people, Suz.


And we have to drive through
that
to get to the abbey.


Speaking of, it

s time to go. Avery and your mama just left for the church. They

ll meet us there.

Daddy squeezed her hand.

Come on, this is a piece of cake. You

re an old married lady of two weeks now.

She exhaled and made her way toward the door, picking up her bouquet of white roses.


I

m not sure being married for a hundred years could prepare me for that crowd out there.


Remember this, Susanna. They are all for you. Cheering you on. Did you see the headlines this week? Seems the press is coming over to your side.


They

ve been kind this week.

She smiled and took his hand.

Let

s get this show on the road.

With Daddy, Susanna maneuvered down the palace steps, her ivory organza and tulle skirt taking up nearly half the width of the staircase. The fitted bodice with the Cinderella neckline was made of organza and handcrafted lace. And she wore the Princess Crown, designed by Cartier in 1860 for the royal family.

Today, all the world would judge her beauty and her fashion sense. Was she ready? She quelled a blip of nerves by calling up a memory from her garden wedding at Christ Church. Then she remembered Gracie and Ethan, Granny and Grandpa, along with parishioners, family, and friends who were gathering on the grounds right now to watch her wedding. Again.

Then she remembered the man waiting for her at the abbey.

He was so worth it all.

In the palace drive, just beyond the doors, a white carriage with red and gold wheels stood waiting. Four footmen dressed in breeches and buckle shoes helped her ascend the carriage steps and settle in beside her father. The moment the carriage left the palace with security officers riding beside the coach on dark, curried mounts, the abbey bells began to ring through the crisp air, pealing a wedding sound through all of Brighton.

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