The Problematic Prince

Bjorn lit a cigar. A habit he picked back up now that she was gone and her coughing no longer made him feel guilty for smoking around her.

   Through the thick, dark smoke, he could see memories of Erna dressed in her country girl attire and wondering through the square. She would only ever seem to appear when the crowds had moved on and she would catch Bjorn’s eye.

   He thought back to the time the beautiful young lady had captured the eye of every single man in the country club. Bjorn happily admitted that he was as smitten as everyone else and it wasn’t just the thrill of the bet that he chased Erna.

   That childish game had sent a ripple through his life. He could have avoided it and enjoyed his solitude, but instead he had eagerly hunted the deer just like everyone else, and when he tried to stop it, he paid the price. At least, that was what he believed, in truth, he knew what he was doing.

   Then he heard about the bet from her lips and suddenly everything went blank. He was overcome with an unbearable sense of anxiety and he wanted to come clean.

   He found that he wanted to be everything that Erna wanted him to be, he wanted to be the husband she always dreamed of. She saw him as the centre of her world and he was too stubborn to let her be the centre of his.

   Trophy, a shield against Gladys, deficit wife.

   Erna’s words had a paralysing affect on Bjorn, leaving him struggling to make sense of everything. In the end, he had mistreated his wife all along. Why couldn’t she stand it?

   Divorce.

   That finally word, uttered from her lips, shattered what was left of his fragile barrier. The situation had spiralled out of control and all he tried to do was prevent her from thinking about it. He was overly confident in his ability to win, believing he held a winning hand.

   Bjorn stared up at the night sky and blew out a massive billow of cigar smoke, trying his best to make the lingering stench of desperation and failure. He had been experiencing these feelings a lot recently and it made it harder for him to manage his cigar habit.

   “Divorce…”

   As Bjorn spoke the words, they formed a thick cloud of cigar smoke that was carried away by the gentle winter wind.

   Despite Erna’s threats, he felt a tinge of sympathy for her. Erna was still his wife, even though she was no longer able to fulfil certain expectations. She could never bring herself to settle her debts the way she desired.

   The sound of the approaching carriage broke Bjorn from his introspection and he rose from the fountain. His footsteps sounded as calm and purposeful as ever.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Under the pale winter sun, the frost covered fields glimmered like they were filled with diamonds. The sound of crunching footsteps broke the serene silence as dainty feet rustled through the frosted grass. Erna approached the lonely house at the end of the street.

   “My lady,” Ralph Royce said, as he came out of the stables.

   Erna closed the gate to the field and removed her deep hood, smiling warmly.

   “Good morning,” she said.

   “Did you really go out for another morning walk in this frigid weather?”

   Erna replied with a polite bow and made her way into the house. Mrs Greve’s incessant fussing and nagging began almost immediately. It wasn’t until she was able to reassure the old lady, so filled with concern, that Erna was able to retreat to her room.

   After taking some time to rest and read a book, Erna enjoyed a breakfast with her Grandmother. They spoke of the early winter, Mrs Greve’s arthritis and the new born calf. There was an unwritten rule that no one spoke of Erna’s life in the city.

   The morning passed by at a leisurely pace as Erna did a crossword puzzle and chatted with her Grandmother. The postman would be arriving soon and Erna always eagerly awaited for the mail.

   Wrapping herself in a thick, woollen shawl and went to wait for the postman. She had hoped to receive some news from Schuber regarding divorce proceedings. She knew there was nothing to worry about, her marriage to Bjorn had been over a long time ago and all that was left was the legal matter.

   She stood in the bright sunlight and wrapped herself against the cold wind and looked down the street that led to Baden Street. It was a peaceful sight marked by the chirping birds.

   Everything had become hazy since her surprise arrival over a month ago. She slept for days in a deep, deathlike slumber. The distinction between the days blurred and when she would awaken from her prolonged slumber, she found her world was simple and clear.

   Erna checked her watch and stopped walking, it appeared that the postal carriage would not be coming today. No matter, there was always tomorrow.

   Maintaining her usual afternoon routine, she proceeded back to the house. After organising the books in her study, she planned to knit new stockings and perhaps bake a cake with lots of cinnamon and sugar. The scent would be perfect for this time of year.

   “Your Highness.”

   Erna had just been about to step foot inside the house when someone called to her.

   “Your Highness, Your Highness.”

   The voice became clear and Erna thought she could recognise it.

   “Lisa?”

   Erna couldn’t believe what she was hearing and when she turned, a tall, young girl appeared, sprinting down the country road. She clutched a large suitcase.

   “Lisa.”

   Erna could hardly believe what she saw. Lisa ran to her, tossing aside her heavy luggage so that she could run unimpeded and holding her wide brimmed hat with a hand. Her face was drenched in tears.

   Lisa fell into Erna’s arms, crying uncontrollably.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

As the sun began to set, Harbour House filled up with guests. Renowned families from all over came to the party. Hundreds of carriages lined up, each with various crests on their doors, waited patiently to disgorge their guests into the house. It was a grand spectacle befitting the reputation of a party that attracted all kinds of socialites.

   The carriage carrying Bjorn Dniester didn’t arrive until the party had already begun. When news of his arrival finally came, the Marchioness of Harbour noticeably lit up with excitement.

   “I’m so glad you’re here, Bjorn,” she approached Bjorn with barely contained excitement.

   She knew that it was inappropriate to broach a man so soon after his recovery from being wrongly accused of being a poisonous mushroom, but she couldn’t help but hope for a little commotion to liven up the party.

   “How is the Grand Duchess doing? I hope she will be returning soon, once her health is fully restored.”

   “Yes, my wife will be returning soon,” Bjorn said, meeting the Marchioness’ gaze.

   As he looked around at the familiar faces in the hall, laughter flowed out of him as naturally as breathing. He knew that his Aunt Grandmother could throw a party.

   Walking slowly through the crowd, Bjorn received numerous congratulations and inquires about the Grand Duchess. Although the questions were some what offensive, Bjorn answered them skilfully, repeating himself over and over again.

   At least it was better than the idiotic arguments he found himself getting into with the portrait in his study. It was one of the reasons he accepted any and every invitation to most social gatherings.

   “Didn’t you two dance together at this very party?” The hostess mused with unrestrained pride. Her words scratched at Bjorn’s heart. “What a well matched pair you two are, I remember watching the two of you with such admiration.”

   As Bjorn looked at the Countess, he let a smile come naturally. He was deeply grateful that Erna had taught him how to remain calm in the midst of terrible situations.

   His heart itched as he thought about that night. It had been deemed a great success, the Countess praised Erna’s dazzling beauty and how the Prince was lucky to have such a woman at his side.

   “Bjorn, are you okay?” Leonid said quietly.

   Bjorn held his glass loosely and it was clear that the Crown Prince was only here to keep an eye on his brother. He despised these types of parties normally, their mother had insisted that Leonid went, if only to ease her own concern for Bjorn.

   “What look would you prefer? Since our noble Crown Prince dragged himself down into the mud for me, I should repay you.”

   Bjorn wondered around the corner of the banquet hall, where Erna once stood alone, feeling too shy to join in the party. He turned to look at Leonid, who just watched Bjorn. The silence from him only made Bjorn nervous.

   “I honestly don’t have anything that comes to mind, if you would care to provide an example.”

   “Why are you being like this?” Leonid asked with a sigh. “Mother worries a lot about you and the Grand Duchess, father is the same.”

   “Well, thank you for your concern, but I am fine.”

   “Bjorn.”

   “I have a nanny to sing me a lullaby, so don’t you worry about me.”

   Bjorn knew he was talking nonsense, but he couldn’t help himself. The constant mention of Erna had triggered him. Passing by Leonid, who still had much more to say, Bjorn went to join a group of rowdy partiers. It was an unjustified anger, but at the same time, the best course of action he could discern.

   In the end, the party was quite dull. In the mix of unrestrained drinking and chatter, Bjorn drank far more than he would normally do. As he could feel himself losing control, his patience began to wear thin.

   Making suitable excuses, Bjorn left the banquet hall and entered the hallway on the eastern side of the mansion, where the rowdy atmosphere dwindled. Suddenly, thoughts of poetry came to his mind.

   A scream echoed from the far side of the hallway. It was filled with the same fear that Erna had displayed that day. It was obvious what was happening in the secluded corner of the mansion, an intoxicated woman and cheap theatrics.

   Irritation and disillusionment flowed out of Bjorn, as he let out a sigh mixed with profanity. He turned in the direction of the frightened woman, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoed along the hallway as he strode forward.