Page 2 of The Crown’s Gift

At the assembly rooms, they were separated almost at once. Mrs Bennet drew Jane toward Mrs Lucas and the best light. Nurse took Kitty and Lydia to a quieter corner. Mary remained near her father, one small hand closed around two of his fingers. Elizabeth stood on his other side and watched everything.

Mr Lucas moved among the company with a flushed, important countenance. He had arranged the greenery, advised the innkeeper, lent silver from his own house, and rehearsed an address which grew longer each time he repeated it.

"He means to speak all afternoon," Elizabeth murmured.

"Then we must hope the King has eaten well."

The royal party arrived to the crash of a small local band and a roar from the street. Thomas saw scarlet uniforms first, then ladies in pale gowns, gentlemen burdened with stars and ribbons, and at their center a stocky man whose plain, open countenance seemed almost familiar from engravings. Queen Charlotte walked beside him, small and erect, her attention moving quickly over the room.

Everyone bowed or curtsied. Mary pulled Thomas's hand down with such determination that he nearly lost his balance.

The first quarter-hour passed as ceremony required. Mr Lucas delivered his address. His Majesty listened with patience, asked two questions about local trade, and complimented the decorations. Mrs Bennet managed to be presented with several other ladies and returned breathing as though she had run from Longbourn.

"The Queen looked directly at Jane," she whispered. "Directly, Mr Bennet. I thought she would speak, but Lady Somebody moved between them. Most provoking."

"Perhaps Her Majesty was overcome by the ribbon."

"It is peacock," Mrs Bennet said, but quietly, because a royal equerry had turned his head.

The company was permitted to approach the collation by degrees. Thomas would have preferred to remain near the wall, but Mary had begun to look pale and Elizabeth confessed to hunger. He found them lemonade and a plate on which rested seed cake, thin slices of ham, and a small dish of glazed sugar plums.

"Not so quickly," he warned when Mary took a large bite.

She obeyed at once.

Some twenty feet away, the King laughed at something Mr Lucas said. He held a glazed sugar plum in one hand. Thomas saw him bite into it—and saw the instant he discovered it had not been pitted. The King's laugh stopped.

At first there was nothing remarkable in it. A man coughed. His hand rose to his throat. The gentleman beside him took one uncertain step away.

The King coughed again, but no sound came.

The room changed.

Thomas would remember that change more clearly than the shouting which followed. Conversation died in pieces. Smiles remained fixed upon faces that had not yet understood. The King's eyes widened. His mouth opened, but his chest made only a terrible, useless movement.

Queen Charlotte said, "George?"

Someone called for a physician.

Everyone looked toward the doors, although the King stood in the middle of them choking.

Thomas put the plate into Elizabeth's hands.

He had seen this once before. A stable boy at Longbourn, purple-faced over a piece of apple, had been saved when the head groom caught him from behind and gave three violent heaves beneath the ribs. Mr Jones later supposed that the force had driven trapped air upward. Thomas had listened with the detached interest he gave to all knowledge that did not require him to leave his library.

Now there was no head groom. No Mr Jones. Only a ring of jeweled and uniformed people frozen by the enormity of touching an anointed king.

Thomas moved.

The first guard blocked him with an arm across his chest.

"Stand back."

"He cannot breathe."

"The physician is coming."

The King staggered. Queen Charlotte caught his sleeve. His face had darkened from red toward a dreadful violet.