“Don’t be silly,” she brushed off the compliment. “My sisters are much prettier than I am, especially Victoria. She’s a real beauty.” Something occurred to him then, an odd coincidence.
“Did your parents name the three of you after the royal princesses?” He had never thought of it before, and the question startled her. She was silent for a moment and then shrugged.
“I imagine they did. I never gave it any thought.”
“It can’t be an easy life, being royal,” he mused. “I would hate it. All those official events they must have to attend. And you have to behave all the time.”
“I suppose so,” she said vaguely, and then threw a handful of water at him to distract him, which proved to be effective. They got back in the stream again and swam some more. They were both smiling when they got out, and dried off in their bathing suits, and Charlotte noticed him looking down at her. He was very tall, which made her feel even more diminutive next to him, and before she could say anything, he slipped his arms around her, pulled her close to him, and kissed her. He hadn’t meant to do it, but couldn’t stop himself. A wave of passion for her had just washed over him. At first she was too shocked to react. Then she melted into his arms and kissed him back. When they stopped, she stood staring at him with a serious look in her eyes. She seemed even more beautiful to him.
“Why did you do that?” she asked in barely more than a whisper, and she was stunned at herself for responding so readily. She had never been kissed by a boy before.
“Because I’m in love with you, Charlotte, and I wanted you to know it. I’m going away soon, in a couple of months. I didn’t want to leave without your knowing how I feel about you. Maybe we could get engaged before I go,” he said hopefully, sounding innocent and childlike, and a ripple of fear and reality ran down her spine.
“I can’t do that. My parents have never met you.”
“Could we go to London to see them?” he suggested naïvely.
“You know we’re not supposed to travel. We can’t just go running down to London to see them, and they can’t come here. They’re too busy. If we ever get engaged, it would have to be after the war.” He looked disappointed, but willing to accept it. People were not moving around the country with ease, so she made sense. “Besides, we’re too young. We’re both just seventeen,” she reminded him.
“I’ll be eighteen soon, and you’ll be eighteen next year.”
“That’s too young to get engaged. My parents would be upset,” she said sensibly. She hesitated for a moment then, and looked at him. He could see that she wanted to say something more, but he had no idea what it was. “Besides, there are things you don’t know about me, about my parents, and my family. Maybe things you wouldn’t like.” He was surprised by that and tried to guess.
“Has your father ever been to prison? Has he murdered someone?” he teased her and she shook her head. “Is he a spy? Or a German?” She hesitated then and nodded.
“Not a spy, but we have German ancestors, quite a lot of them in fact.” The British royal house and her family tree had been heavily intertwined with Germans for centuries. Most of the Windsors, including Queen Victoria, were originally Saxe-Coburg-Gothas. There were German Coburgs on every throne and in nearly every royal house in Europe.
“My parents wouldn’t like that, about your having German relatives,” he admitted. And then he looked at her. “I don’t care what skeletons you have in your closet, and I don’t care that your father doesn’t have a title, if you’re worried about that. My parents would prefer it if he did, but they’re falling in love with you too. And if we marry, you’ll have my title one day.” She smiled. It never dawned on him for an instant that she might have a title herself, far more important than his. “None of that makes any difference to me, and it shouldn’t to you.” He kissed her again then, and in spite of her concerns, she kissed him with abandon, and they were both breathless when they stopped.
“We should get back,” Charlotte said modestly. “I promised to help Lucy set the table when she finishes with your mother in the garden.” She put her riding clothes over her wet bathing suit and he did the same, and he gave her a leg up onto her powerful stallion. The horses had stood peacefully by, tied to the tree, grazing on the grass. His mare and her stallion were fast friends by now, and always pleased to see each other on their morning rides.
On the way back, Henry looked at her curiously. “Were there other things you wanted to tell me?” he asked her cautiously. He had a feeling that there were, and there were things she wasn’t saying that were weighing on her. She shook her head. She didn’t feel ready to tell him who her parents were. It was too big a secret to share so soon. He knew her only as Charlotte White, the daughter of a civil servant and a secretary in London. She knew he would be profoundly shocked by the truth. She would have to tell him eventually, but not yet. And his parents knew, even if he didn’t.
They left their horses in the stable, and hurried into the house. It was later than they’d thought, and there was suddenly an unspoken intimacy between them that one could sense, now that he had kissed her. Lucy was aware of it when they walked into the kitchen, and Henry’s mother when she saw them that night. As time went on, she worried more and more. They were so close and so comfortable with each other. Too much so, in her opinion. And Lucy was mournful and silent all evening. She felt left out by the two of them, as though they had a secret from her.
That night, Charlotte sat at her desk in front of a blank page for a long time, wanting to tell her mother about him, but she hated to do it in a letter, and wasn’t sure what to say. That she loved him? That he loved her? That he wanted to ask for her hand one day? Perhaps they could make a pact just between the two of them before he left, and then get engaged after the war. But he had to meet her parents first. She was thinking about it, and still hadn’t started the letter to her mother when she heard a soft knock on her door. She tiptoed to it, and opened it a crack, and Henry was standing on the other side, in the moonlight, and smiled at her.
“I wanted to kiss you good night,” he whispered. “Can I come in?”
“You shouldn’t,” she said, her heart pounding with excitement, but opened the door anyway. He walked in quickly on silent feet, and closed it behind him, and an instant later she was in his arms, and they were kissing again. His kissing her that afternoon by the stream had changed everything between them, and his admissions about his hopes for them had opened the floodgates that had been closed until then.
“I love you, Charlotte,” he whispered in the dark. Her whole body was shaking when she answered him. She didn’t want Lucy to hear him in her room.
“I love you too,” she whispered back. “Now you have to go.” No matter how much she loved him, she didn’t want to do anything foolish, and after several more kisses, reluctantly, he left. She didn’t write to her mother that night, but lay down on her bed, thinking about him. She closed her eyes for a minute, her heart full of him, and it was morning when she woke up.