[2] The Queen Mother of Württemberg | A. Bridgerton

Chapter 2

Despite his shifting mood, Anthony found his thoughts still besieged by questions. Only he comprehended the depth of his longing for her presence. He yearned to draw her close, to shield her from any who dared to threaten her, from any who cast their gaze upon her with ill intent. His heart ached to hold her in his arms, to feel the tender press of his lips against hers, to trace every inch of her skin with his own. And amidst these fervent desires, one question persisted: Did she, too, feel the absence of his presence as keenly as he felt the absence of hers?

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

New Palace, Stuttgart
A week later...

On a tranquil Sunday evening, the Queen Mother of Württemberg found herself ensconced in the sanctuary of her bed, gazing pensively at the expanse of the ceiling above. Despite the peaceful ambiance that enveloped her chambers, her mind was a tumultuous sea of thoughts, swirling with the haunting remnants of recent turmoil.

Her eldest son's insistence on rest weighed heavily upon her, a reminder of the toll that recent events had exacted upon her well-being. Sleep had become an elusive companion, her nights haunted by vivid nightmares—echoes of battlefields and the sacrificial bravery of those who had risked their lives in her defense. The anguish of witnessing lives lost in the name of her safety gnawed at her soul, a burden she bore with a heavy heart.

In the depths of her mind, the cacophony of battle still raged, the thunderous roar of pistols reverberating in her ears long after the fray had ended. Each retelling of the harrowing ordeal elicited a visceral response, sending shivers down her spine and igniting a feverish heat within her veins. The specter of bloodshed lingered in her consciousness, a grim reminder of the ultimate sacrifice paid by valiant soldiers who would never again embrace their loved ones.

The weight of their sacrifice bore down upon her with suffocating intensity, inundating her with a torrent of guilt, grief, and profound sorrow. The realization that their lives had been risked and lost in her name filled her with a profound sense of responsibility—an indelible stain upon her conscience that threatened to consume her from within.

In moments of solitude, she sought solace in the embrace of privacy, cocooned within the confines of her bed, clutching a solitary pillow to her chest as tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked. Hours would pass in a haze of sorrow, each sob a testament to the immeasurable weight of her grief—a grief too deep for words to convey, too vast for tears to fully express.

Charlotte, the Queen Mother of Württemberg, found herself adrift in a sea of emotions, grappling with the inescapable anguish that permeated her soul. Amidst the tranquility of her chambers, she navigated the turbulent waters of guilt and sorrow, seeking refuge in the silent sanctuary of her tears until they flowed no more.

Amidst the tumult of her emotions, Charlotte found solace in the unwavering love and support of her children, who graced her with their presence regularly, bringing light and warmth to her troubled heart. In a tender display of familial affection, Evelyn and Olivia now ushered Anton and Amalia to their mother's side, where they nestled close to her in a cocoon of shared love and comfort.

With each tender embrace and gentle touch, Charlotte found respite from the storm raging within her, enveloped in the soothing embrace of her beloved children. Together, they sought solace in the tranquility of the moment, reveling in the quietude that surrounded them and the unspoken bond that united them as a family.

"Guten Nachmittag, Munmy," her two other sons had walked in her room. Good afternoon, Mummy. "Wie war dein Tag? Wie fühlst du dich?" How was your day? How are you feeling?