The Winter Prince by Cheryl Sawyer

Author:Cheryl Sawyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US

James Stuart, while giving a warm welcome to Prince Rupert in his home that night, had the suspicion that His Highness might be under the influence of liquor, the first time he had seen him so. But after a few minutes James decided a little inebriation added something to his guest’s charm, for it relaxed him. The prince had also brought his pet monkey, which he spared James from greeting, since the animal was anonymous and thus could never be introduced. He explained that apologies were due to the Duchess of Richmond, however, because she did not like monkeys.

Having greeted her impeccably, he went on, “What can I say? She escaped and came after me. Would you like her banished to the bookcase again? Your wish is my command.”

Mary shook her head. “For a whole evening? That would be cruel. Do please take her to the chimneypiece and stand there for a while so I can get used to her at a distance.”

He did so, waiting with one boot on the hearthstone and one arm along a groove in the carved mantel, looking at them both with a smile made somehow more engaging by the fact that the monkey was perched on his shoulder with her little head against his hair. “Thank you. She has been neglected of late-I’ve had no chance to play with her. She will behave-she is always overjoyed to be back with her own kind.”

James laughed as the prince was handed a wine cup. “Her own kind? Your Highness, if you could see yourself standing there saying that, you would catch the absurdity!”

The prince shook his head and the monkey ran down to his free wrist. “But I can. She is my mirror.” He turned his head and smiled at the creature, which went quite still and stared back, its lustrous eyes intent on his. The prince took a sip of his sherry and went on, “Have you never had that sensation with an animal, especially when you have been together for an hour or two, teasing each other and playing?” He released the monkey from his gaze and it began pulling at his lace cuff with its tiny hands, its slender tail twitching where it hung below his wrist.

“I can’t say I have,” James said, still laughing.

“Nor I,” Mary said, taking a chair at a safe distance. “You will have to explain this unique sensation more clearly.”

“Very well. You must be aware of the communion you can have with an animal. This experience comes when you have been alone with one, after playing with it for hours. I first had this curious conviction when I was a boy, and since then I have only known it with this little person. Suddenly there comes a moment when you look at it and ...” he stopped, genuinely searching for the words, and James realized that he was not in the least joking. “I can only say, you suddenly look into its face, its whole being, and think, ‘This is me.

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