The Willow's Diamond (on a break)

Chapter 27

"Uncle Brimsley," Grace emitted, delivering a polite nod.

"Lady Fawn," he replied, opening the carriage door.

Grace stepped in, ignoring how absolutely exquisite it was, taking a seat on the deep crimson velvet.

"Does the Queen know you're here?" she asked as Brimsley sat across from her.

"She sent me to get you. She has questions about your father's death," he coughed.

Grace was dumbfounded, "What? That he killed my mother? Your sister." she paused, "He could have killed me," glancing at the carriage floor.

Brimsley sighed, "But he did not,"

"He could have," she said sorrowfully. A long halt came to the conversation, both hesitant.

"Did you know?" Grace asked, keeping her emotions inside and her eyes on the view outside.

"I had my suspicions. I received a letter shortly after the Twins' second birthday expressing her concerns," he spoke, fidgeting with his hands.

"Which were?"

"Her safety and yours. She requested if I would say something to Her Majesty."

"I found the letters. For being almost twenty-one

years older than her, you seemed close."

"Yes, for encountering in person solely four times. I suppose." he sighed, "You are eighteen, yes?" Brimsley questioned, attempting to keep things proper.

"Twenty-four."

Brimsley took in a breath, realizing how long it had been, "She would have been-"

"Forty-five. Which makes you sixty-six, thus Happy late birthday."

Stillness came from both sides of the carriage, an awkward tension of a family who had only interacted merely twice in their lives.

The carriage came to a halt. They were at the palace, the same palace she was supposed to be presented to society. But this time, it was under different circumstances.

"Does Her Majesty know?" Grace questioned before one of the coachmen opened the door, looking her uncle in the eyes.

"No."

Grace sighed, "Then allow us to make haste with this," whispering to herself, accepting the hand of the coachman.

Twists and turns through the palace all looked the same, dressed with white cream paint, wood basing lined with gold trim. Regal all on its own, but with curtains, paintings, rugs, and chairs, it was almost too regal to touch, let alone stroll on.

Brimsley walked ahead; whispers flowed from servants' mouths as Grace walked behind, even with her head held high.

She was a lioness.

It's as simple as that.

Brimsley walked in first, "Lady Grace Fawn, your Majesty," he bowed, stepping off to the side.

Grace strolled in with her head high, "Your Majesty," giving a curtsy.

"Lady Fawn, do you know why I've requested you here this day?" The Queen spoke, petting the Pomeranian in her lap.

Grace kept her head high, "I do not, your Majesty," lying.

The Queen gestured to the sofa on the right of her, "Please, sit." Then spoke aloud to anyone in the room, "Tea and biscuits, the rest of you may leave," she voiced.

Shuffling of feet began to exit the room, and the doors were shut, only leaving Grace and the Queen in the most jaw-dropping drawing room.

"Now, the reason why I've asked her here this day is because of your father, the late lord Fawn."