Prince Jasper Andrew Xavier William Jonathan Philip Christopher Jacks had just sat down to lunch with his cousin, Philip Simon Renquist -- Earl of Desborough -- when Philip's butler came out onto the terrace with a letter in hand.

     "Pardon me, Your Grace, but this telegram just came for His Highness," the butler said, handing the Prince the telegram, bowing, and then leaving the room.

     Prince Jasper, known to his nearest and dearest as 'Jax,' opened the telegram, which he instantly knew was from his parents because of the royal crest, and his blonde brows furrowed as he read its contents.

     "Being summoned back to Windsor, are you?" Philip guessed.

     "Yes," Jax said. "To discuss a wedding, it says," he murmured thoughtfully. A wedding? "I will say only one thing, Philip," Jax said as he rose to his full height of six feet, "the wedding in question had better not be mine."

      Philip laughed. "Jax, surely your parents wouldn't arrange a marriage for you. Are they that desperate for grandchildren?" he teased.

     "They hound me weekly about providing an heir, although they normally say it in the plural -- 'heirs' -- and settling down and all of that nonsense," Jax confessed. "I really didn't expect they would start with the pressure until I was at least twenty-seven," the twenty-three-year-old Prince said, as he and his cousin headed inside. The Prince motioned for his attendants to gather his belongings and rouse the coachman as they would be off momentarily.

     "Perhaps it's Gina who's getting married?" Philip offered. Georgina Anastasia Elizabeth Jane Sophia Jacks was Jax's eighteen-year-old sister.

      "There hasn't been a man born crazy enough to wed her," Jax said. His sister was delightful, but she oozed an inordinate amount of vibrancy and spirit and was extremely opinionated. She was beautiful and full of passion, and he knew many men wanted to be her lovers, but they were all terrified of having such a spitfire for a wife. It would be interesting to see who was brave enough to want to try to tame the wild Princess.

     "Well, god speed, cousin. Give my best to the family, and I do hope all is well. I shall be up to see you in a few weeks," Philip promised. "So mark your calendar to be absent from your current mistress's bed chamber long enough to spare me a few moments for a game of polo, a hand of cards, and one of those splendid palace meals."

     Jax just grinned at his cousin and then climbed into the plush, red velvet seats of the magnificent gold-gilded carriage with the royal crest on it. The guards on horseback surrounded the carriage on all sides as they took off for Windsor.

     Jax did not go directly to the Royal Palace of his parents, but stopped off at his own home, Windsor Castle, first. The servants bustled about with sharp efficiency at the return of their Prince.

     "Welcome home, Your Highness," Carsten greeted him as Jax walked along the gleaming marble floors towards the study.

     "Thank you, Carsten. Do you know of anything unusual going on?" Jax asked, pausing in the doorway of the study.

     "Unusual, Your Highness?"

     "Yes . . .anything having to do with a wedding? Has the King of Kent or one of the princes of Montrose perhaps offered for my sister?"

     "Oh, no, Your Highness. I am sure I would have heard of anything of as great import as that," Carsten said, confused as to why the Prince would have asked such an odd question about a wedding.

     Jax just nodded and then stepped into the study, his hand on the door to shut it.

     "Would you like Mrs. Lindsay to prepare you a meal, Your Highness?" Carsten asked.

     "No, I'll be going to the palace shortly," Jax said, dismissing Carsten and then shutting the door to the study.

     Thirty minutes later Jax entered the palace and was greeted by his sister jumping on his back. "Ahh! My brother, Prince Valiant, has returned!" she said, nearly strangling him in her hold on him. She kissed his cheek and then leapt off of his back.

     Jax stared at her, laughing. "Gina, what are you wearing?"

     "Breeches," she said. "I much prefer them to those cumbersome gowns and dresses I must always wear. I badgered mother until she agreed to allow me to have an entire wardrobe of fancy breeches fashioned for me by Esmerelda. Father thinks it will be all the rage and that I am setting off a new era of fashion for women."

     Jax gazed at his sister in the pants. "They do have a certain appeal," he confessed. "But I don't see women ever giving up those cumbersome dresses," he said.

     "Oh, you just wait, Jax. Just wait until men see their women in these," she said, twirling around and showing off her tight, violet satin pants. "They'll have them burning their dresses in the street!" Georgina laughed.

     Jax shook his head and tousled her glorious reams of blonde hair. "You're just going to give the papers more to gossip about," Jax warned her. "Princess Georgina of Fahrlane causes dress-burning riots all along Surrey Lane," Jax murmured, as his sister laughed at his mock headline and grabbed a hold of his hand.

     "Jax, do you know why you've been summoned home?" she asked, her dark blue eyes dancing with a secret knowledge that he didn't have yet.

     "No," he said. "Care to tell me, sibling of mine?"

     "I think I'll give our mother that pleasure," Georgina said with a gay laugh, as she raced down the palace hallway, forcing servants to dart out of her way or risk knocking into the unruly Princess.

     "Are you getting married?" Jax called out after her.

     "Not meeee!" she called back to him, her merry laughter echoing down the hallway.

     Jax frowned. Not her? Who then? He walked through the grand palace in search of his parents, and some answers.

     "Are we all packed up, gals?" Harlan Barrett asked, clapping his hands together to get his daughters spurred into action. "Her Majesty's coach will be coming for us in less than an hour. Now let's hop to it, ladies."

     "Papa, can I take Mr. Peach?" Kayla asked, hugging her big giant, smiley-faced stuffed peach.

     "Of course, dearest. But let's not try to take too much. We'll only be there for three months, and we don't dare clutter up Her Majesty's home, right?"

     "Yes, sir, Papa, " Kayla said, happily hugging Mr. Peach and racing back to the room she shared with Brenda and Geneva to see if there was anything else she could not bear to leave behind. She was so excited about going to the big palace and living there for a while! All of her sisters were excited, too. Except for Brenda, who was just very quiet about the whole thing. Kayla glanced around the room, looking for Brenda, but didn't see her. "Geneva, where's Brenda?" the little girl asked.

     "She just ran out to the garden for a minute, Kayla. She'll be right back. Do you want to help me close this?" she said of her overstuffed valise.

     But Kayla was by the window, gazing out into the overgrown garden, where she saw Brenda apparently speaking to the bushes! Kayla scrunched up her little face in curiosity and then turned to Geneva, who was sitting on the valise, trying to get it to close properly.

     "Geneva, can bushes talk?" she asked.

     Geneva laughed. "None of ours can," she said. "Maybe the bushes in the Enchanted Forest behind the palace can talk," she said with a wink.

     Kayla just nodded and gazed back out of the window watching her sister.

     Outside the sun shone down brightly in the garden, making it appear less overrun than usual and look almost decent. Brenda stood by the flowering, pink Azalea bush, trying to explain to the man on the other side of it why she would be absent for three months.

     "Your father is mad!" Michael Carruthers said. "He would allow his children to compete for the affection of that tyrant prince of Fahrlane!"

     "It will only be a competition between Victoria and Miranda," Brenda predicted. "They will vie like two bloodthirsty soldiers in the King's army for the Prince's attentions. But in the end, I know he will choose Geneva."

     "He will choose *you,* Brenda," Michael seethed. Geneva was lovely, yes - so very, very lovely. But Brenda was exquisite. Given the choice between the two of them, a man would drop to his knees and thank God that he had a choice between two such mouthwatering beauties, and then he would look into their eyes to make his choice. He would see the laughing sweetness in Geneva's amber-brown eyes and be sorely attracted to the innocence. He would see an identical innocence in Brenda's velvet brown eyes, flecked with dark gold -- but he would also see the wild passion that swam in the velvety depths, a passion he could one day unearth and reap all the breathless pleasures thereof -- and everything male within him would want her. Just thinking about it made a deep longing stir in Michael's own loins. Yes, the Prince was a hot-blooded male. And for that reason alone, Brenda would be his choice. He would take one look at her and think that heaven had opened up for him, and grab for her with both hands before the heavenly portal closed.

     "The Prince will not choose me," Brenda said with as much certainly as Michael had insisted the Prince *would* choose her. "I have a plan to ensure it, you see."

     "Tell me of this plan," Michael said, then Brenda heard him curse lowly. "I'm coming around," he said. "This conversing with this damnable bush between us is absurd! It's been weeks, Brenda. I must lay my eyes upon your beautiful face."

     "No!" she said, glancing around "My father has all but forbidden me to have anything to do with you, Michael. You must be patient and stay away until I can smooth things over."

     "Your father is trying my patience!" Michael said. "I'm sorry, Brenda, but he has no right to interfere in matters of the heart that don't concern him."

     "He is my father, he loves me, and that gives him the right," Brenda said softly. "He intends to refuse your request to marry me, Michael. He has told me this. You must not do anything to alienate him any further from this idea of us being together. Promise me, you will do as I ask."

     Promises meant nothing to him, and so he promised her easily enough, with a grunt of dissatisfaction. "All right, now tell me about this plan of yours," he said to her.

     "Well," Brenda began, laughing at her own ingeniousness. But she never got to finish her sentence, as her father's voice boomed from the open window above.

     "Brenda! Child, we've no time for you to stop and smell the roses today," he chided her.

     "We have no roses in our garden, father," she responded, and she heard her father laugh even though he tried to keep a stern face.

     "Come inside, Brenda. The first of Her Majesty's coaches has arrived. You children are going to ride in that one. Your mother and I will ride in the one following. Chop, chop, young lady. Let's go," he said. And he remained at the window, waiting for her to move.

     "I must go," she whispered to the bushes.

     "This is not acceptable!" Michael whispered back, upset. "I want to see you. I want to hold you. I want to kiss your lips. You are mine and I am yours and your father is wrong to try to come between us. Does he have no fear that I am a soldier? I could cut him down with one blow."

     "Shhh!" Brenda said as his voice was rising. "That is not funny, Michael. You would never harm my father," she said, but it was more of a command than a comment. "I really must go now. Don't worry about anything, Michael. Prince Jasper won't choose me, I can promise you that. And my father will come around, and then I shall return to you, and we will be married as we both want."

     "I will not sleep at night knowing you are under the same roof as that despicable future despot. I live for the day he and his family are tossed out and exiled."

     "Brenda, what keeps you?" her father asked impatiently.

     "I'm coming, Father," Brenda called back. "Michael, my father did make a point when he spoke of you," she said quietly. "Why are you a part of the King's army if you despise the royal family so?"

     "The best way to topple them is from the inside, my sweet," he said in a voice that chilled her.

     "I don't like it when you speak of such things," she said.

     "The royal family is evil, Brenda. Do not forget that once you enter the gold-gilded gates of the fortress they hide behind and are blinded by the beauty of all that surrounds you. Evil lurks in the Enchanted Forest that is accessible only beyond the gate of the secret garden of the palace; an evil those hypocritical Royals are hiding from us all, but are well aware of. I, and others, plan to uncover the secret that lies beyond the garden so that the people will see the truth, and revolt, and force the King and Queen and their wretched offspring to flee for their lives -- or die."

     "The royal family is well loved here, Michael. I know you despise them, but do not be foolish. You talk of treason!"

     "I will be careful," he promised her. "I will not fail. I have been planning this with others far too long to fail. I am counting on you, my sweet Brenda. I am counting on you not to turn against me and side with my enemy."

     "I have to go," she said, disliking the direction of the conversation. The royal family was certainly not her enemy. In fact they would soon be her in-laws via one of her sisters. She turned around and started walking back to the open back doors.

     "I shall see you soon, my most desirable beauty," she heard Michael whisper. "As a soldier in the King's army I have access to the palace occasionally. I shall see you there, my sweet." And to himself he murmured, 'and I shall keep an eye on you that your woman's lust does not betray me.' For he knew that for all of her commitment to him and her bravado about having some plan to make Prince Jasper not want her, she was likely to feel quite differently when she was face to face with the Prince. Michael knew all too well the devastating effect that Prince Jasper had on women. It was because of the Prince that Michael's own sister had thrown herself into the Lake of Sapphires three years ago. And Michael intended for the Prince to pay dearly for that!

     He'd been planning his revenge for years now with King Thomas, the King of Kent, which was the very small Kingdom directly across the Bayalis Ocean. King Thomas dearly coveted the Camelot-esque kingdom of Fahrlane, and he welcomed Michael and his plotting. Overthrowing the long-standing kingdom of the Royal Family Jacks was the one main fixation for Michael Carruthers now. Overthrowing them and leaving them with nothing but the clothes on their back -- perhaps not even that much. It would be a pity that whichever unfortunate sister of Brenda's was married to the Prince at the time of the coup would meet whatever fate the Royals would meet. He would promise Brenda that no harm would come to the wife of the Prince, of course. But then again, promises meant nothing to him.

Song Credit: "Storybook" written by Frank Wildhorn and Nan Knighton, available on the album entitled The Scarlet Pimpernel on Angel Records.