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Finally, really, he could let it all go.
Richard continued, "I wish to make it clear that in pursuing a clarification from the Church, I feel I have only been doing my duty."
"Protecting the monarchy from the horrors of homosexuality? Or any other evidence that we in the royal family are, in fact, human beings like anyone else?"
"You're not merely gay. You're determined to throw your lifestyle in everyone's face, without regard for the beliefs and morals of others. You're even carrying on with a foreigner."
James gave him a look. "Would it be less bothersome if I were buggering the Duke of Devonshire?"
Richard breathed out in exasperation. "Still, you refuse to take it seriously."
"That's right. I do refuse to take your objections seriously, because they don't deserve serious consideration. Although I will abide by the judgment of the Church, I will continue to hold my own opinion of that judgment, which is that removing me from the succession for my sexuality is bigoted, backward, and ridiculous."
"I hope you're going to make a better public statement than that."
Finally James took a seat opposite Richard. "Actually, once I'm no longer in the succession, I suspect my public statements are going to become a great deal more interesting."
Richard stared. "What do you mean?"
"You'll find out." When he was asked why he was standing aside, James would be respectful toward the Church. Beyond that, however, it was time to make his new "no limits" motto apply to far more than his relationship with Ben.
"Do you think you can threaten your way out of this?" Richard blustered.
"It's not a threat. Just the simple fact that soon I will no longer have any reason to keep up the royal facade." He smiled and held up the paper again. "I'll have lots of time on my hands and I'll need a career. Do you know, I was thinking of putting together my own drag review. Which is more my color, fuchsia or magenta?"
"You can't be serious even now." Richard's face betrayed how irritated he felt--and, James thought, a hint that he wasn't exactly proud of what he was doing here. Honestly, Richard had never struck him as the homophobic sort, more reactionary on general principles. But apparently there was no level he wouldn't stoop to for the crown. "You've never understood how much hard work goes into creating a monarchy worthy of this nation."
"I do as many royal events as anyone, far more than most."
"It's more than that. There's more going on behind the scenes than you've ever appreciated, after a lifetime of having people clean up for you."
This was ironic coming from Richard, who had never so much as picked up a piece of clothing from the floor in his life. But even as James prepared to say as much, the other meanings of what Richard had just said appeared in his mind, unbidden, and within the blink of an eye he knew, beyond any doubt, something he'd never once suspected before.
"You were the one who had Niall Edgerton followed," James said. "The one who alerted MI5."
Richard looked surprised, as well he might, but not shocked. "Well. When did you put that together?"
"Fairly recently," James replied, hoping that his voice didn't shake. "Why did you do it?"
"Why? A former staff member starts blackmailing a member of the royal family, and you wonder why I took action?"
"How did you know he was blackmailing me?"
The look Richard gave James then was contemptuous. "I audit our household expenses myself, from time to time. Keeps the staff on their toes. Enormous chunks of money begin vanishing from your funds? To that fly-by-night Edgerton? It was obvious what was going on, and equally obvious that you lacked the spine to take action yourself."
James felt as though he might slide out of his chair onto the floor. Had Niall known he was being watched? Had his speed that night been less about his daredevil side, more about his attempt to get away from the mysterious figures following him? No way to know. Probably even the MI5 agents there that night couldn't have told him. Only Niall had ever understood that, and the answer had died with him. "I thought--" James had to catch his breath. "I thought you didn't know I was gay."
"I didn't. I assumed he'd covered up some other indiscretion for you while he was still in service. My own experience of the man told me he was a bounder. He couldn't be trusted even if you had him on your secret payroll. So I alerted MI5. I protected this family, when you could not."
The worst part of it all, James realized, was that Richard had been protecting him.
"What would you have done?" James said. "When Niall didn't stop?"
"Persons from MI5 were on the verge of paying him a visit--entirely legal, mind you--and suggesting that he turn over any and all damaging materials. These would have been destroyed sight unseen."
"How would they have convinced him?" James's mind was now full of nightmarish visions of interrogations.
But Richard merely shrugged. "Most blackmailers are cowards, really. They back down faster than you'd think."
Had Richard ever been blackmailed? James realized--again, immediately and instinctively--that he hadn't been. Someone else in the royal family had fallen prey, though, maybe many someones, and Richard had seen to it without ever being found out.
If this weren't the twenty-first century, James thought, if the monarchy were still cut from the Tudor mold, where ruthlessness and pride and manipulations were all that mattered, Richard would have been the man to be king. He would have been a great one.
But this was the twenty-first century, and there was no saving any of them from the coming disaster of Richard's kingship.
Before James could say another word, the doors swung open to reveal the Archbishop of Canterbury. Archbishop Morrison looked understandably startled, as it was his place to wait on royalty, not the other way around. But he recovered quickly. "Your Royal Highnesses."
Pleasantries and formalities followed, until they were all seated again at the broad table, with work to be done. The archbishop began: "As you know, Your Royal Highness, His Royal Highness Prince Richard has raised concerns about your future role as Supreme Governor of the Church. Those same concerns have been echoed by many of our parishioners throughout Great Britain."
"I understand that," James said as calmly as he could. While he could not comprehend a just God that would reject people for who they loved, apparently many of the British people could. All illusions about the monarchy aside. their beliefs were what counted.
Richard remained silent, watching them as impassively as a sphinx.
The archbishop continued, "The canon law of the Church of England forbids marriage between same-sex partners, Your Royal Highnesses."
"Yes." James wondered if he was supposed to say he agreed. Not bloody likely.
"However, gay and lesbian worshippers are welcomed in all our congregations--some more openly than others, I grant you, sirs. But we endeavor to make it clear that we are all equal in the eyes of the Lord."
Except for the part where some of us are apparently unfit to rule, James thought sourly.
"God's mercy and understanding are infinite," the archbishop said. "We cannot hope for that kind of divine perfection, but we must strive for it in every sense, every day. Your Royal Highnesses, that requires us to look beyond our prejudices, to overcome our weaker and more worldly selves."
Where was this going? James leaned forward slightly, newly intent.
The archbishop said to James, "What we must establish--clearly, explicitly, beyond any doubt--is that you would under no circumstance seek to change or influence the development of the canon law of the Church of England. You would not agitate for gay marriage, sir, nor seek to marry your partner in a religious ceremony conducted by another church."
"I--of course I would never seek to change canon law," James said.
"If you and Mr. Dahan desired a civil ceremony, Your Royal Highness, the Church would not object," the archbishop said, then paused. "It might be advantageous were Mr. Dahan to convert."
Was what James thought was h
appening really happening? Richard was sitting up straighter now, eyes wide with astonishment.
Then James remembered he needed to speak. "I would not presume to dictate Mr. Dahan's spiritual life."
The archbishop shrugged, a small smile on his face. "It was just a thought. As I said, sir, a civil ceremony alone would raise no religious issues."
Richard said, "But you must see that James cannot be king. He cannot lead the Church."
"His Royal Highness cannot lead the Church if he is going to attempt to change or influence the canon law of the Church to his own preference, sir," the archbishop clarified, turning from Richard to James as he spoke. "However, upon receiving your solemn assurances that you will attempt to do no such thing, sir, I cannot see any reason for the Church to deny your rightful place as heir to the throne solely because of your sexuality."
"I do so swear." James felt almost light-headed, hardly able to take it in. "Will you require something in writing, Archbishop?"
"Perhaps at the time of your coronation, sir, but your oath is sufficient for now." The archbishop smiled; his only concern had been taken care of.
Richard's face had turned an unprecedented shade of red. "He lives out of wedlock with a non-Christian man--unashamedly homosexual--and this is meant to be a moral exemplar for the nation?"
The archbishop sighed. "I hope it will not be considered impolite of me to mention it, Your Royal Highnesses, but it has been some time since the Church of England looked to the House of Hanover for its moral exemplars."
"Understandable." James managed to get it out with a straight face.
"Also, I rather liked what you said in your coming-out speech, sir," the archbishop said. "About our need to accept one another as we are born, as we are made by God. That's a powerful message, and one I am proud for the Church to support."
"The entire Anglican communion won't support it." James could not in decency fail to mention this--though surely the archbishop of Canterbury knew this already. "I would never wish for my private life to be the source of a schism within the church."
With a heavy sigh, the archbishop said, "Most of us believe a schism within the Anglican communion worldwide is inevitable, given the increasing gap in social values between the different churches. Perhaps not. I hope not. All I am certain of, sir, is that the Church of England should not compromise its own principles. And I feel we would be doing so were we to stand against your succession to the throne."
James said the only thing he could: "Thank you."
"Then we all comprehend one another, Your Royal Highnesses." The archbishop smiled. "Is there any other matter you wished to discuss?"
Silence, until Richard said, voice flat, "No, Archbishop. That is all."
The archbishop departed, and James and Richard were left alone. For a moment they simply sat there in a long, heavy silence, and then Richard began to gather his things, not saying a word.
James watched him. He saw a man older than his own father had ever had the opportunity to be. He saw someone who had forever stood in the shadows of others--the king, his nephew, the brother who had beaten him to the throne through the cosmic joke of being born forty-five minutes early. All these years, Richard had believed becoming heir to the throne would make him happy. It never would have; James wasn't sure anything had that power. But he could see, finally, how heavy a weight that was for Richard to carry, and how sad it was that even now, his pride would not let him put it down.
Just as Richard walked toward the door, James said, "Uncle Richard?"
He paused. Maybe the use of the family title calmed him a bit, because he responded quite normally. "Yes, James?"
"At St. Maur Hall, part of Indigo's treatment is family therapy. It helps her to have her family members involved in the process, learning why she is the way she is, and how best to help her." James managed a small but genuine smile. "I think she'd like it if you took part. She'd like that very much. If you didn't want to be in the group sessions, I'm sure there's a way you could work together, just the two of you and her treatment team. If you wanted."
Richard's stony expression didn't change, but he said, "I shall contact the hospital."
James's smile broadened. "I think that would be wonderful."
Then Richard was gone, and James was alone with the knowledge that--despite having come out, despite everything--he was going to be the next king. It felt almost as astonishing as it would have if he were hearing this for the first time.
He imagined his father and mother watching him. Although James didn't much believe in a starkly literal heaven, where everyone remained more or less like they'd been in life, but with immortality and better lighting, he believed enough to think that something of his parents might endure, and take joy in this.
Giddy with delight, James thought, I did it. I told the truth, I stood up for what I am and what I believe, and I kept the throne. Indigo is safe forever. I'll fulfill what my father wanted for me. And Mum--
The thought of his mother, Princess Rose, caught him short. He saw her as she had been those last few years, sad, lonely, and trapped.
Mum would only have wanted him to have love.
James's heart sank. Oh God. Ben.
Chapter 8
Ben's Fate
"I can't believe it," Ben said, for what must have been the dozenth time.
"I know." James paced the length of Ben's office in Clarence House, obviously still on edge from the meeting. "It's incredible. But stupid of me, really, not to realize that Richard talking to the archbishop didn't necessarily mean he'd convinced the archbishop."
Ben's mind seized on the most bizarre detail first. "He actually wanted me to convert to the Church of England?"
"I told him that was your business and no one else's." James sat in the chair opposite the desk, stretching out his hands to clasp Ben's. "I know this isn't what you wanted to hear."
"Don't say that," Ben replied, even though it was true.
James gave him a look. "No limits."
Ben took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. Together they could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, the soft footfalls of staffers going up and down the hallways of Clarence House, oblivious. Their personal story was just one tiny corner of this palace, one small fragment of everything that happened here.
Finally Ben said, "This is a victory for you. I see that. I'm even glad about what it symbolizes. But I thought we were out of all this, and we're not."
By now James looked stricken. "They've only said that I wouldn't be asked to stand down. That doesn't mean I couldn't--decline the throne, or abdicate."
It was difficult for him to even say those words, Ben realized. "But what would that do to Indigo?"
James only looked more distraught. "I couldn't do anything now. Not while she's struggling through this."
"Of course not." Ben was horrified to have suggested such a thing, even inadvertently. "No, no. Let's not think that way."
"We have to think about it eventually." James's eyes met Ben's evenly. "We might as well deal with it now."
Ben held up his hands. "Wait. All right? Don't do this."
"Don't do what? Face facts?"
"Force an ultimatum when we're not ready." He pushed up from the desk and walked around it, needing to be closer to James. "We both have to think about this. You shouldn't make a decision today, or tomorrow, and I shouldn't either."
In truth his mind was already racing, already hemmed in between the two extremes: royal life versus leaving James forever. The third option--forcing James to abandon a role and a sister to which he felt deeply committed--felt no better than the other two. But Ben also knew that he wasn't prepared to face any of those possibilities this hour, or maybe not even this month.
"Take our time." James nodded, running one hand through his hair in an obvious effort to calm himself. "Work it out as we go."
"Exactly." Enough of this, Ben decided. He put on arm around James's shoulders and managed to smile.
"Today, you know what we're going to do? We're going to celebrate the fact that you won. You came out, and you kept your right to become king. Okay? You won."
James's smile was crooked. "This doesn't feel like winning."
"Don't." Ben gave James's shoulders a quick shake. "Try to think of it as--you know, whatever comes next, we get to choose. It's not up to the Church or the media or anybody else. Just us."
Slowly James relaxed a little. "I admit, that makes a nice change."
Ben tried to focus himself on the good too, to take heart in the moment. "Plus, Indigo's safe, just when she needs it most. When you tell her this, it's going to be a big load off her mind."
"She'll be so happy." James's smile finally looked real, and Ben realized he was smiling back. Somehow, amid everything else, Indigo's well-being had come to mean a great deal to him.
Ben kissed James's forehead, then took one of his hands. "Listen. I asked Glover to ice some champagne for us."
"To toast our freedom," James said softly, and it was the only moment Ben came close to losing control, the only moment that he let the hurt get through.
But only for a moment. "Now we're going to toast your victory. All right?"
"All right."
They kissed, and then they went upstairs and broke open the champagne. Foam was licked off each other's fingers; more kisses were exchanged; and treats were given to Happy and Glorious. For dinner they arranged to meet Cassandra and Spencer in a private dining room at a popular restaurant, which led to more champagne and a great deal of laughter.
But no matter how many glasses of bubbly Ben had, or how good Cassandra's jokes were, there was no forgetting the decision looming ahead. Ben knew that James might elect to leave the monarchy for him, but he did not see that as freeing him from his own burdens.
Freedom or James: It was a choice now, stark and irrevocable.
***
James had agreed to the television interview because he'd thought he would have to explain his removal from the line of succession. Now that he remained first in line, the entire thing had changed.
