August 9th, 1902. Westminster Abbey.
“Ah, look who deigned to join us.” Mr. Choate, the United States Ambassador leaned on the side of the pew, rows of medals pinned on his chest. “The Marquis de Soveral.”
Luís Pinto de Soveral made his way through the pew that reserved for foreign dignitaries, which would have held kings and presidents six weeks ago. Indeed, he himself would have attended the proceedings in quite a different fashion, had the King not fallen ill, the entire ceremony postponed. He would have been seated amongst the King's personal friends, the set that gathered regularly at the Marlborough House. Instead, with King Carlos long gone home, he was left to represent the the Kingdom of Portugal.
“I was tasked with finding a Greek prince,” he said, taking his seat next to Mrs. Choate. “He has proven quite elusive.”
Since Greece had no regular ambassador, King George's fourth son had been left behind to fulfil that duty.
“His aunt will be displeased,” said Mr. Choate.
Said aunt now entered the Abbey, dressed in gold and ermine, exquisite music guiding her every step--Queen Alexandra. She looked magnificent, remarkably young for her age.
At that moment, the young Prince Andrew, in his new Hellenic Army cavalry uniform, clambered into the box, mumbling apologies. Several old ambassadors grumbled and rolled their eyes.
The music swelled as the king entered, looking far better than he had after his surgery, but still not quite the way he had been before. From the chancel, closest to the stage, the princesses and their children looked upon the parade, looking magnificent in their crowns and fine gowns. Next to them was a pew, with a row of ladies in finery seated at the front.
Mrs. Choate whispered to her husband. “It's that not wholly indecent?”
Soveral had heard it being called "the loose box", as if referring to a horse race where the horses were not restrained. It was a coarse name, because each of the ladies was intelligent, beautiful and well-married. They were the King's past mistresses, with all of whom he maintained a cordial relationship.
And, of course, seated at the front, catching the King's eye more than once during the ceremony, was Mrs. Alice Keppel, the King's current favourite.
The King was crowned first, by the infirm Archbishop of Canterbury who had to be supported by two other bishops throughout the day. He placed the crown front-to-back on the King's head and had to be helped up by His Majesty himself after bowing for the Crown. The ceremony was not half as long as it should have been, on account of the King's recovery. That was fine by him.
Picture of Alexandra and Edward VII on the day of their coronation.
***
The following day, he joined the set once more, at the celebration in Buckingham palace. It was late, and music was still playing from the small orchestra in the drawing room. He approached the Queen, standing amongst her ladies near the edge of the room.
The Marquis de Soveral bowed graciously, and held out his arm in question. “Your Majesty.”
She took it without hesitation. She was a tall woman, taller than he was even with his heeled boots.
He glanced at the portly King, reclining on his throne, looking quite royal in purple velvet and eremine. “How is Bertie?”
“Stubborn,” she said. “He is recovering. The festivities have put a strain on him, but he refuses to admit it.”
She looked back at her husband, right as a young plump woman came up to him, grinning. Alice Keppel.
Alexandra swallowed and turned her eyes away. “Would you care for some fresh air, Marquis?”
Without a word, he led her to the gardens. She leaned on him heavily, her limp getting more pronounced with age. The Queen was still a beauty, despite nearing the age of sixty, her features youthful and her waist as slim as it had been when he had first met her.
The midnight air was chilly, despite summer being at its peak.
“I hope my nephew hasn't given you too much trouble.”
Soveral laughed. “He was almost late to the coronation. I caught him sneaking off with Alice of Battenberg today.”
“The deaf princess?”
“Indeed.”
Alexandra shook her head, watching the stars. “I shall look forward to returning to Sandringham.”
He nodded. “Will Bertie be joining you?”
“He will.”
“He does love you, you know.”
She sighed and looked out over the garden. “I know. And I him. Each in our own ways. I have accepted that. Mrs. Keppel keeps him... in check.”
She looked magnificent and lonely in the night.
“Dance with me.”
She gave him an odd look. The music drifted through the open windows of the palace, a slow waltz just starting. “I don't dance. You know that. ”
He held out his hand, inviting, his eyes never leaving hers. She frowned, biting her lip as she looked from his hand to his eyes and back. Seconds stretched until she placed her long fingers in his.
“What dance is it?” she asked, quietly. “I can't hear the music.”
He rested his other hand on her waist and lead her into the waltz, careful to adjust to her limp. “Do you need to?”
“No.” She melted against him, letting herself be pulled into the dance. “I feel it.”
She felt like heaven in his arms, though he knew he shouldn't. The moonlight shattered through the diamonds in her new crown.
The dance was over too soon. She inclined her head. He bowed, still holding her hand.
He pressed a kiss hero her knuckles, then the inside of her wrist, lingering for too long. She cradled his jaw, brushing his moustache with her thumb, shaking her head.
“Alix.”
“Don't.” She let go with a sad smile. “You know it cannot be.”
She walked away, back to the palace, to her husband. And he remained alone under the stars.
Words: 978 (ish)
The prompt for this one was to tell the story of the coronation of Edward VII and Queen Alexandra from the point of view of one of the ambassadors. I chose Luís Pinto de Soveral, ambassador of Portugal and one of Edward/Bertie's best friends. All characters in this story were real people, though I have taken some liberties with how to portray them. For example, there is nothing to suggest there was ever anything between Alix and Soveral (or anyone else), despite Bertie's insatiable sexual appetite (seriously, some historians estimate over 15.000 sexual contracts during his lifetime). It's a bit more romantic than my previous ones, but well, I'm a sucker for romance.
The Coronation was originally planned for June 26th, but due to Edward's unexpected appendicitis operation two days prior, it was postponed.
I also briefly mentioned my favourite modern royal (so far, I'm not really too interested in royalty): Alice of Battenberg. Born deaf but nonetheless fluent in 4 languages, met her future husband (Andrew of Greece) at the coronation. They married the next year. Queen Elizabeth's husband is their son.
Also, I am so done with these European royal families now. Everyone is related to everyone, usually in multiple ways. It's insane. Alexandra and her siblings alone covered pretty much every royal house in Europe, not to mention Edward "the uncle of Europe". (As for Alexandra's youthful looks, check the picture. She's 57 years old!)
Fun fact: both Edward VII and his sons, including George V, had tattoos. Edward VII had a Jerusalem Cross on his arm acquired during a pilgrimage, amongst others. George V and his brother had a red and blue Japanese dragon tattoo on their arm by Hori Chiyo, acquired during their naval training in Japan and presented to the Meiji Emperor.
I hope you liked it!
Alice