H.R.H.

“You're opening a children's hospital today at three, Your Highness, and you're stopping at a home for the elderly at four. That should be quite a short stop, and you don't need to make a speech at either place. Just a few words of admiration and thanks. The children at the hospital will give you a bouquet.” She had a list of names of the people who would be escorting her, and the names of the three children who had been chosen to present the bouquet. She was impeccably organized, and always gave Christianna all the essential details. When necessary, she traveled with her. At home, she helped her organize small dinners of important people her father asked her to entertain, or larger ones for heads of state. She had run an impeccable home for years, and was teaching Christianna to run hers, with all the details and attention to minutiae that made each event go well. Her directions were seamless, her taste exquisite, and her kindness to her young employer without limit. She was the perfect assistant to a young princess, and she had a nice sense of humor that bright ened Christianna's spirits when her duties weighed heavily on her. “You're opening a library tomorrow,” she said gently, knowing how tired Christianna was of doing things like that, after being home for only three months. Christianna's return to Vaduz still felt like a prison sentence to her. “You'll have to make a speech tomorrow,” she warned her, “but you're off the hook today.” Christianna was looking pensive, thinking of her conversation with her father. She didn't know where yet, but she knew she wanted to go away. Maybe after Freddy got back, so her father wouldn't feel so alone. She knew he had hated it when she was gone. He loved and enjoyed his children, and royal or not, he enjoyed his family more than all else, just as he had loved his marriage, and still missed his wife. “Do you want me to write your speech for tomorrow?” Sylvie offered. She had done it before and was good at it. But Christianna shook her head.

“I'll do it myself. I can write it tonight.” It reminded her of her homework in her college days. She found she even missed that now, and it was something to do.

“I'll leave the details about the new library on a sheet on your desk,” Sylvie said, then looked at her watch, startled by the hour. “You'd better dress. You have to leave in half an hour. Is there anything you'd like me to do for you? Or get out?” Christianna shook her head. She knew Sylvie was offering to get jewelry out of the vault for her, but all Christianna ever wore were her mother's pearls, and the earrings that went with them, all of which had been a gift to her mother from Prince Hans Josef. Wearing them meant a lot to her. And it always pleased her father to see Christianna in her mother's jewels. With a nod at Sylvie, she went to change, and Charles got up and followed her out of the room.

Half an hour later Christianna was back in the office, looking every inch a princess in a pale blue Chanel suit with a white flower and black bow at the neck. She was carrying a small black alligator handbag that her father had bought for her in Paris, with matching black alligator shoes, her mother's pearls and earrings, and a pair of white kid gloves tucked into the pocket of her suit.

She appeared elegant and youthful, with her long blond hair pulled neatly back in a long smooth ponytail. She was impeccable as she got out of the Mercedes sedan in front of the hospital and was warm and gracious as she greeted the head of the hospital and its administrators. She spoke a few words of thanks, acknowledging the work they would do there. She stopped to chat and shake hands with all the people pouring down the front steps to see her. They oohed and aahed at how pretty she was, how young and fresh she looked, how elegant her suit was, how unassuming her manner, and how unpretentious she was in every way. As she always did when she made public appearances, representing her father and the palace, Christianna went to considerable effort to make a good impression on all who met her, and as she drove away, everyone standing outside waved, and so did she, wearing the impeccable white kid gloves. Her visit to the hospital had been a complete success for all of them.

She laid her head back against the seat for a minute as they drove to the home for the elderly, thinking about the faces of the children she had just kissed. She had kissed hundreds of others like them, since she had assumed her duties in June. It was hard to believe, and even harder to accept, that for the rest of her life this was all that she would do—cut ribbons, open hospitals and libraries and senior centers, kiss children and old ladies, shake hands with dozens of people, then drive away and wave. She didn't mean to be ungrateful for her blessings, or disrespectful to her father, but she hated every moment of it.