“This is Her Royal Highness, Princess Aria,” J.T. said.
“Pleased,” the boy said, holding out his hand to shake hers, and Aria accepted it. He seemed to dismiss her as he looked back at J.T. “When do we get to work? I brought crates of tools and I’m ready as soon as they unload them.”
Aria looked back at the plane in time to see three children being helped down the stairs. She touched J.T.’s arm. “Who are they?”
J.T. looked at one of the pilots near him. “Who are the kids?”
“Orphans. Their relatives were killed in France and a couple of guys smuggled them on board. We’re stuck with them until we get home where we hope we can get somebody to take them.”
Aria had no idea she was speaking; the words might have been someone else’s. “I’ll take them,” she said.
“But Your Highness…” Lady Werta had followed Aria and J.T. as soon as possible to the airport and now she was giving warning looks to Aria.
Aria looked at the pilot, her chin up, her voice clear and loud. “I will take these children and Lanconia will take all the orphaned children you can find.”
The pilot smiled indulgently. “Lady, there’s a war going on and there are thousands of orphans out there. This place doesn’t look like it could feed them.”
At that J.T. stepped forward. “If Her Royal Highness says she wants children, then she’s gonna get them. We’ll take any children of any country and don’t worry about food, we’ll feed them.”
The pilot obviously didn’t like J.T.’s attitude. “Okay, buddy, you’re on. If it’s kids you want, it’s kids you’ll get.”
Feeling very pleased with herself and with her husband, Aria went to the frightened French children and began to talk to them. Lady Werta didn’t want her to touch the dirty children but Aria waved her away.
In the car on the way back to the palace, Aria held the two-year-old on her lap, while the three-and four-year-olds sat on either side of her. J.T. and Frank talked about making pulleys for getting the grapes off the hills.
At the palace, Gena came running to greet them, as usual, a little late and more than a little flushed after her run down the stairs. Her cheeks were pink, a curl had escaped her careful coiffure—and she looked divine.
Aria turned to greet her sister but then Gena’s eyes widened and she came to an abrupt halt. A second later she moved past Aria as if in a dream and stopped in front of Frank Taggert and just stood there staring. Frank’s angry look left his face as he gaped at Gena, his lower jaw slightly dropped.
“I think they want an introduction,” J.T. said, smiling. He lifted a hand of each teenager and put them together. “Gena, Frank. Frank, Gena. Now, Gena, take Frank outside to play.”
As if sleepwalking, the two teenagers started down the hall.
“I’m not sure…” Aria began. “I mean, Gena is…And Frank is…”
“Young. Both of them are young. Come on, let’s get something to eat. I bet these kids are starving.”
With one more glance at the backs of Gena and Frank, Aria followed J.T. toward the dining room.
That night Aria bathed the children and had beds put in her bedroom. The next morning four couples begged to see her, said they had heard of the children, and asked to be allowed to raise them as their own.
Aria didn’t want to part with the children, but she turned them over to the couple that spoke French.
Forty-eight hours later an American plane landed and it was filled with one hundred and seventeen children, mostly French but some Italian. They arrived just as the entire royal family was assembled to watch a ceremonial parade celebrating the defeat of the northern tribes in 1084 A.D.
The Royal Guard brought the children to the capital city on horseback, in jeeps, on motorcycles, and in goat carts. The parade came to a halt. J.T. began thrusting children into the arms of the royal family.
After some initial protests from the family members, the dirty, tired, scared child
ren were taken back to the palace, where tub after tub was filled with hot water and the scrubbing began.
Freddie, Nickie, and Toby found they had a new audience for their stories of their bravery against ferocious fawns and demented doves. Lady Barbara chose three pretty little Italian girls and washed them herself. Great-Aunt Sophie bellowed orders to two big boys who had fought all the way on the plane and they obeyed her meekly. Aunt Bradley chose two handsome boys of about fourteen.
Aria and J.T. parceled out the other children to various retainers until everyone was scrubbing behind ears.
“That’s it,” J.T. said. He and Aria had personally bathed fourteen kids and sent them off with the ladies-in-waiting to be fed and dressed in whatever could be found for them.
They were sitting on the damp marble floor of her bathroom, alone in the suite.