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A Prince Among Them

Multnomah Publishers

Chapter One

At Physicians' Clinic, bookkeeper Esther Knowles, a fifty-year-old spinster, stepped out into the driving wind, holding an umbrella in one hand, and a leather portfolio in the other. Bracing herself for the two-block walk to Barings Bank, she paused, stuck the portfolio under her arm, and used her free hand to secure her hat and tighten the scarf that encircled her neck. Then with the valise in hand again, she headed down the street.

The relentless wind flung prickling ice crystals in her face, making her gasp and suck the ice-cold air into her lungs, but she pressed on. The deposits had to be made, and she had another errand to tend to at the bank.

* * *

Inside Barings Bank, twenty-eight-year-old loan officer Gordon Whitaker sat at his desk, protected from the inclement weather except for the cold gusts of wind that swept his way from across the lobby when customers came and went through the bank's double doors. From timeto time, Whitaker looked up from his paperwork to smile and speak to customers who moved past the area where he sat among other bank officers.

When Esther Knowles approached the bank's double doors, a man was coming out and held the door open for her. She thanked him and moved inside. The sudden warmth of the bank's interior made her face tingle. Esther stepped aside, shook the moisture from her black umbrella, and placed it in a stand which the bank provided for its customers. She was using her coat sleeve to wipe the portfolio dry when her eyes strayed across the lobby, and she saw Gordon Whitaker looking at her.

Gordon smiled and waved. Esther nodded, smiled rather grimly, and headed toward the tellers' counter to make the deposits. She was opening the portfolio as she stepped up behind a man who was having several bills of currency counted out to him by the teller.

A minute passed.

"'Tis a right blustery day out there, isn't it, Miss Knowles?" said the dapper young teller, who looked at her over his half-moon spectacles.

Esther was deep in her own thoughts, eyes on the papers inside the portfolio, and hadn't realized that the man in front of her had gone.

"Ah ... yes, Reginald," she said, stepping up to the counter and laying the first deposit in front of him. "It's about the worst weather day we've had so far this winter. It's nice and warm in here, though."

Reginald grinned sheepishly as he began flipping through the stack of checks, checking for endorsements. "I'm glad to say I have a job inside, rather than out in the weather like some poor blokes have."

"For sure, Reginald," said Esther as she prepared to hand him the next deposit when he was ready.

While making a receipt, Reginald said, "When I was in to see Dr. Paulsen a few days ago, I noticed that a fifth doctor has been added to the clinic staff."

"Yes. We're getting more and more patients all the time. I've been with Dr. Paulsen since he first opened the clinic almost eight years ago, and it's been a steady growth ever since."

Handing her the receipt, Reginald took the next deposit and said, "I suppose most of the patients who have been with Dr. Paulsen since way back are like me. They still want to see him when they come in."

"Yes, they do. But the work has to be spread out, so one of the other doctors usually gets them."

"I know it has to be that way, but I was in my midteens when our family started going to Dr. Paulsen, and even though I know the other doctors no doubt are good, I still like to be taken care of by him when I'm sick."

"I understand," said Esther. "We get attached to a doctor, and we like to stay with him."

When the deposits had been made and Reginald handed Esther the last receipt, she thanked him, placed it with the others in the portfolio, and started to turn away.

"I hope you have a good day in spite of the weather," said Reginald.

Esther paused and managed a small smile. "Thank you."

The smile faded as she made her way toward the area that was closed in by a balustrade. Gordon Whitaker was not one of Esther's favorite patients, and she would rather not have to talk to him, but Dr. Paulsen expected her to inform him about the duke's sudden turn for the worse. Gordon was a very demanding person and Esther was quite uncomfortable around him, as she also was around Alice, his snooty wife.

Gordon had a customer at his desk as Esther moved through the small gate. Looking up, he smiled. "Did you need to see me, Esther?"

"Yes, sir," she said.

"I'll be through here in just a moment," said Gordon. He pointed to a small row of chairs just inside the gate. "Have a seat right there."

The moment turned into almost twenty minutes, and a fidgety Esther Knowles arose from her chair as the man walked past her and Gordon motioned for her to come to him.

Gordon was on his feet behind the desk as Esther drew up. He bid her sit down on the chair in front of the desk, then sat down, himself. "What did you need to see me about?"

In a solemn tone, Esther said, "Dr. Paulsen was called to Kensington Palace almost an hour ago. Your friend, the Duke of Kent, has taken a turn for the worse. Just before he left the clinic, Dr. Paulsen told me to let you know about it when I came in to make the deposits. He said as close friends as you and Edward are, you would want to know. I'm afraid this relapse could mean the thing the royal family has dreaded is going to happen. Edward may not have long to live."

Gordon Whitaker's features stiffened. "Oh my. This indeed is bad news, Esther. But I thank you for letting me know. I can't get away quite yet, but I'll head for the palace as soon as possible."

"I'm sure the doctor will be with Edward for quite a while, Mr. Whitaker," said Esther, noting the deep frown on his brow while rising to her feet.

As Esther made her way to the small gate, passed through, and headed across the lobby, the frown on Gordon's brow disappeared and an evil smile curved his lips. "Thanks for the good news,

Esther," he whispered, chuckling. "Thank you very much." Esther made her way to the stand where her umbrella waited for her, paused, wrapped the scarf tightly around her neck, and secured her hat carefully on her head. She picked up the dripping umbrella and pushed her way out the ornate door into the wintry day.

People were passing by the enclosed area near Gordon's desk as he watched Esther move outside. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he rubbed his palms together. Hurriedly, he completed the paperwork before him, then made his way to the desk of the small, bald, bespectacled man who was secretary to the officers in that section. "Wilfred, I see that Mr. Brookman's office door is closed. When he's free, will you tell him I had to leave because a friend of mine has become seriously ill?"

"Of course, Mr. Whitaker," said the man.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," said Gordon, and, putting on his hat and coat, left by the back door.

Alice Whitaker was ironing one of her husband's shirts in the kitchen when she heard the front door of the house open and close. She instantly recognized Gordon's footsteps, and as he entered the kitchen, she set the iron back on the stove to heat up again. "Gordon, what are you doing home at this hour? Are you ill?"

A grin spread from ear to ear as he moved up to her, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her. "Sweetheart, I've never felt better in my entire life!"

Eyeing him quizzically, Alice said, "Well, tell me why you're home in the middle of the morning, then."

Looking around, Gordon asked, "The children anywhere near?"

"No. They're playing in the spare room upstairs. Why?"

"I have something to tell you, and I don't want little ears hearing it."

"All right. What is it?"

Quickly, Gordon told Alice what he had learned from Esther Knowles when she came into the bank to make a deposit.

Elation lit up Alice's eyes. "Oh, do you suppose-"

"Yes! From what Esther said, it looks like it! Maybe Edward is about to leave this world ... and we're taking a giant step closer to the riches we've been talking about."

Alice took a deep breath and smiled. "Well, get over there to the palace before Dr. Paulsen leaves!"

Lamps were lit throughout the sprawling old brick mansion known as Kensington Palace-on the north bank of the river Thames-in an attempt to ward off the gloom of the day.

The weathered bricks around the front door on the outside had a mellow hue where two large lamps burned, their flames flickering from the boisterous wind. The dual glow helped adorn it some, but the aged structure had never been an imposing one, and on this raw December day it seemed to huddle close to the ground as if seeking warmth and comfort.

Inside the mansion, in the hallway outside the master bedroom on the third floor, Mary Louise Victoire, Duchess of Kent, sat on a long padded bench, holding her seven-month-old daughter, Alexandrina Victoria. Sitting next to her was the baby's governess, Louise Lehzen.

Mary's lips quivered as she looked at Louise through a mist of tears and said, "Oh, Louise, I'm afraid Edward is going to die. He will miss watching little Drina grow up, and she will have no memories of him."

Patting Mary's hand, Louise said, "Now, dear, let's not give up. Maybe Dr. Paulsen will come out of there with good news. He might be able to tell us that this relapse isn't as bad as it seems."

"Oh, Louise, you are such a help to me," said Mary, gripping the hand that was patting her. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Louise was about to comment when Meredith Palmer, the palace's maid and cook, topped the stairs and headed toward them. Meredith said, "Madam Mary Louise, Mr. Gordon Whitaker is here and asked if he might wait and see the duke after Dr. Paulsen has gone."

"Of course," said Mary. "Dr. Paulsen told me he had sent word about Edward to Mr. Whitaker this morning. I was sure he would come soon. Please bring him in."

Meredith headed back down the stairs.

Louise said, "I believe we would have to say that Mr. Whitaker is the duke's best friend, wouldn't we?"

"Yes," said Mary, brushing the blond hair of her baby girl from her eyes. "Without a doubt. Gordon has shown himself to be so."

Little Alexandrina, who was enjoying a full stomach, cooed contentedly, for which Mary was thankful. If she became fussy, Louise would take her to the nursery a little farther down the hall, and right now, Mary needed Louise with her.

Gordon Whitaker came up the stairs at a fast pace, and when he reached the top, he hurried toward the women. He stood two inches under six feet, and his sand-colored hair was already beginning to thin on the back of his head. Most women did not think of him as handsome.

"I came as soon as I could, Mary. Dr. Paulsen's bookkeeper told me about Edward when she came into the bank. He wanted me to know about Edward being sick again."

"Thank you for coming," Mary said, thumbing a tear from her eye. "Dr. Paulsen wasn't encouraging at all before he went in there. I'm afraid Edward isn't going to live much longer."

Gordon looked at the governess. "I'm glad Mary has you, Louise. I know you are a comfort to her."

"I try to be," said Louise.

Bending over the duchess, Gordon embraced her in a brotherly fashion. "Of course I want Edward to live a long life, Mary, but if this is his time to go, I want you to know that I'll be here at your side to help in any way I can."

Dabbing at her tears with a hanky, Mary said, "Thank you, Gordon. You are such a true friend. I can't tell you what it means to know-"

They heard footsteps coming toward the door of the bedroom.

"-to know you will be here to help me," Mary finished.

The door came open and Dr. Ralph Paulsen stepped into the hall, black medical bag in hand. He closed the door quietly behind him. His face was dismal and gray. Nodding at Gordon, he said, "I'm glad Esther got the message to you, Gordon." Then to the duchess: "Mary ... I ... I can't give you any hope. Edward isn't going to get better. He has at best a week or maybe two. I haven't told him this, but I'm sure he knows his time is short."

As Mary burst into tears, little Drina started to cry. Louise said, "I'll take her, Mary," and gently lifted the baby from her mother's arms, held her close, and patted her back, whispering to her in a soothing tone.

Meredith topped the stairs, worry showing on her face as she headed toward them.

Gordon stepped toward Meredith and whispered, "Dr. Paulsen just gave us the bad news. Edward is going to die."

Meredith's face pinched. "Oh, no."

As Mary sobbed, the kindly physician laid a hand on her shoulder and spoke in soft tones, trying to comfort her, but for the moment it was as if he wasn't even there.

While the sobbing went on, Dr. Paulsen opened his medical bag, took out a paper packet, handed it to Meredith, and said, "Mix this with a strong cup of tea, please. Get it down her as quickly as you can. It will help calm her. I wish I could stay longer, but I have surgery scheduled this afternoon, and I must get back to the clinic."

"Of course, Doctor," said Meredith, clutching the small packet in her work-roughened hand. "I'll walk you down to the door."

Paulsen nodded and turned back to Mary. Patting her shoulder, he said above her loud sobs, "I'll be back tomorrow, Mary."

She looked up through her tears, drew a shuddering breath and sniffed. "Th-thank you ... for coming, Doctor. See you ... tomorrow."

To Louise, the doctor said, "If I'm needed before tomorrow, please send for me."

"I will."

Paulsen nodded at Gordon, the look in his eyes showing that he appreciated his presence, and followed Meredith toward the stairs.

Mary choked on her tears, pressed her hanky to her mouth momentarily, then stood up on shaky legs. "Gordon, I want to go in and see Edward for a few minutes. Then you can spend some time with him. All right?"

"Of course," said Whitaker. "I understand. I'll be glad to wait."

Mary stepped to Louise, caressed her baby's chubby cheeks lovingly, then squeezed Louise's shoulder and said, "You're such a dear."

Louise, who was fighting tears herself, managed a thin smile.

Continue...

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Excerpted from A Prince Among Them by Al & JoAnna Lacy Copyright © 2001 by AlJo Productions, Inc.
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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