H.R.H.

She avoided her father entirely for the next two days. She rode her horse, and went running with her dog. She cut ribbons at an orphanage and another home for the elderly. She read on tape for the blind, and spent time at the foundation, and hated all of it. She wanted to be anyone other than who she was, and anywhere other than at home in Vaduz. She didn't even want to go to Paris. Above all, she hated her life, her ancestors, the palace, her father when she dared. She didn't want to be a princess anymore. It felt like a curse to her, and surely not a blessing, as she had been told all her life. She called Victoria in London to complain to her, and she told her to come back. But what was the point of that? She'd just have to come back to Vaduz again, and everything waiting for her there. Her German cousins invited her to come and stay, but she didn't want to go there either. And she refused to join her father for a trip to Madrid, to visit the king of Spain. She hated them all.

She had been raging for two weeks, in a deep gloom, when her father came to her. She had been avoiding him assiduously for days. He was well aware of her misery, and looked bitterly unhappy himself, as he sat down in a chair in her bedroom. In deference to him, she turned the music down. She had been using it to drown out everything that was in her head, and her sorrows. Even Charles looked bored, as he looked up at her, wagged his tail, and didn't bother to get up.

“I want to talk to you,” her father said quietly.

“About what?” she asked, still sounding petulant and surly.

“About your insane idea of signing up with the Red Cross. I want you to know I think it's an extremely bad idea, and if your mother were alive, she wouldn't even have considered talking to you about it. In fact, she'd have killed me for talking to you at all on this subject.” Christianna frowned as she listened to him. She was tired of his trying to convince her of what a bad idea it was. She had already heard it, several times too often, which was why at the moment she wasn't speaking to him at all.

“I know how you feel about it, Papa,” she said somberly. “You don't have to tell me again. I've heard it.”

“Yes, you have, and so have I. So you can listen to me one more time.” He almost smiled to himself, thinking that he might rule a country and thirty-three thousand subjects, but he was having a much harder time reigning over one daughter. He sighed, and then went on. “I spoke to the director of the Red Cross in Geneva this week. We had a long talk. In fact, at my request, he came here to see me.”

“You're not going to buy me off by having me volunteer in an office,” she said angrily, glaring at him, as he fought not to lose his temper, and succeeded. “And I'm not going to give a ball for them, here or in Vienna. I hate things like that. I find them disgustingly boring.” She crossed her arms across her chest as a signal of her refusal.

“So do I, but they're part of my job. And one day they may be part of yours, depending on who you marry. I don't enjoy all that either, but it's expected of us, and you can't simply decide that you don't want to be who you are. Others have done that before you, and made a mess of their lives. Christianna, you have no choice but to accept your fate here. We're very fortunate in many ways.” His voice mellowed a little as he looked at her. “Besides, we have each other, and I love you very much. And I don't want you to be unhappy.”

“I am unhappy,” she stressed again. “I lead a thoroughly useless, stupid, spoiled, indulgent life. And the only time I've ever done anything meaningful or worthwhile was two weeks ago in Russia.”

“I know that. And I know you feel that way. I understand. A lot of what everyone does, in any job, is meaningless and superficial. It's very rare to have an experience like the one you just had, where you are truly helping people in their direst moments. You also can't make a life of that.”

“The woman who ran the Red Cross operation in Russia does just that. Her name is Marque, and she's an amazing woman.”