"What are you thinking about?" Harry's arms curled around her center. Meredith looked out the white clothed window again, always standing far enough back that no one would recognize her.
"Balmoral. Are we still going up?"
"You know Granny well. Nothing will keep her from Scotland," he joked.
Meredith was happy not to be kept away from Scotland. She missed it. Scotland was freeing and welcoming. It was where she met Harry, up in Edinburgh, and where she hoped she might be again.
"But that's not what you're thinking about?"
"No," Meredith admitted. "I think-- I don't know. I have a bad feeling."
"Like what?"
"A twinge in the stomach, and I mean, it could be nothing. You know how I get when I'm vulnerable. I get anxiety."
"You're not vulnerable now, are you?"
"I don't think so." She scoffed and turned around to face her fiancee. "This is going to sound stupid, so that's why I never told you. Logical people would say I'm confused. Crazy people would say yes."
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Mere," he said her name slowly, "what are you talking about?"
"I'm psychic."
A bubble of laughter escaped Harry's lips, and he started to chuckle outright. His eyes caught her face again, and he halted. Clearing his throat, Harry responded, "Um, so, you're psychic?"
"No."
He laughed, of course it was a joke.
"But coincides happen, and sometimes I'm good at guessing."
"Yep." Harry knew that well enough. Being psychic wasn't the right word, but she was uncanny at certain observations. Once she had mentioned a terrorist attack hadn't happened in a while, and the next day: boom! It was also like guessing what someone might wear, like one day with William where Meredith knew he was going to wear the blue tie and gray suit. Or when they watched baseball, Meredith sometimes knew when a home run was about to happen.
It also fell on her ability to read people, and Meredith had fine judge of character. She had to be a bit more silent on the people around her with his family, but even then, with only speaking to them for less than thirty seconds, she knew. Sometimes it didn't even take that much. When they went to events, Meredith watched the crowds, and she knew exactly who wanted her the most.
"So you're guessing something bad is going to happen now?" he asked hesitantly. He had no reason not to believe her, but there was some fear of what her feeling was. "Is someone else going to die? What?"
"I don't know. I can't place my finger on it." She lied, ad Harry appeared to not know the wiser. Meredith had an idea, but one she didn't want to speak about. "But we shouldn't worry about it now. We're going to Balmoral in a few days. If it comes, then it comes and we deal with it. But I've had these feelings where nothing comes."
Then there was Jack. Meredith shook her head, not wanting to think about him.
Kissing him, Meredith did it deeply, with her fingers lacing through his orange hair. Her lips pushed against his, and Harry happily replied with affection of his own. If there weren't other people in the flat, and if Meredith and Harry had more time, something might bloom. But now, looking at the time, they had somewhere to be.
Before going to Balmoral, it was one last push to put everything into place before going. It was one last push to get all the charities looked at before a holiday.
When Meredith's feet hit the ground floor, immediately Jessica was there with a question, "Have you given much thought to your days off after marriage, ma'am?"
Meredith paused. "I'm going to get bored."
"Yes, well, charities are scheduled, and since you are not a leading member of the monarchy, you will need something to do. Some royals take up horseback riding, or--"
"Children," Meredith answered. Her green eyes went to Harry, but he shook his head, walking the other way. "Is it possible I could do anything else? Anymore work that needs to be done? I get bored and children aren't coming out of my body quite yet. You know, they're humans, not things to do when you're bored."
"Ma'am," Jessica began, "that's not what I meant--"
"And," Meredith continued, "what do you mean I'm not a leading member of the monarchy? Is George taking my place already?" Meredith was technically about to be in the royal family, but there were spares in front of her reign. She didn't mind. As for the last woman in her place, Sarah "Fergie" Ferguson, Meredith didn't know much about her position as the Duchess of York.
"No, ma'am, I meant no disrespect--"
"It's fine," Meredith said. "Maybe I'll write juicy stories about the monarchy and sell them to the press." She looked herself in the mirror and fixed her slouching eyeliner. It always did get stuck in the crease of her eyes.
"Ma'am, please-- I wouldn't-- ma'am--" Panic peaked in Jessica, not knowing how to handle mutiny on this level.
"Jessica," Harry called, "she's winding you up on purpose."
Meredith shook a look over to her future husband and frowned.
"She doesn't feel well," he explained.
"Should I get a physician?"
"No." Meredith pulled on her heels. "I'm fine. Everything is great. And I'll find something to do. Can I just go out and walk around?"
"No, ma'am, you'll need protection."
"Oh, so I'll do that then. I'll be the cool royal."
"Ma'am, I don't think--"
"Harry, let's go." Meredith walked away from her secretary, who wanted to control her life. There was only so much Meredith had the ability to deal with. Back in her old life, she did what she wanted. Now, she did what others wanted. Harry promised her a bit more freedom, but he didn't.
Yet Harry was right. It was the gnawing feeling in her stomach that caused this bad attitude. She just needed to get through these last few days and then it was Scotland bound. It was the green, rolling hills and high mountains. It was the beaches. Oh, Meredith missed the sea. This thought gave Meredith a smile, which made her day all that much better.