The Empress by Mrellan Harahan

Mrellan has written many short stories and been published in magazines. Her stories mainly focus on everyday life, both modern and historical. She has also written Fairy stories with a strong Gaelic influence, something that runs through her veins and goes back to her Irish ancestors.

Albert lovingly stroked the hood of the 1924 Rolls Royce Ghost Pall Mall Tourer with a kid-gloved hand.  Her long silver hood reflected the pink and gold tones of the summer sunset like a mirror.  She was a rare Springfield model, built in the USA rather than Britain, but that did not change her regal parentage, rather it enhanced that fact. 

The day Mr. Prestwick hired Albert he gave him the scrapbook that was the pictorial record of this empress of the twenty-car garage on The Oaks.  “My grandfather bought ‘The Empress’ as a gift to my grandmother the day my father was born.  On my parent’s wedding day, my grandmother presented it to them.  My father often said that on his wedding day he got the two ladies he loved most in the world.” 

He chuckled at the memory and said, “I often wondered how my grandmother felt about my father putting his love for the car before her.”

Mr. Prestwick also gave him a small black leather covered notebook, a set of keys on a plain gold key ring with an engraved tag saying, “The Empress”, and a pair of handmade kid gloves. His first instruction was, “Don’t ever touch her with your bare hands.  The oil in your skin is bad for her paint.” 

Albert felt for the notebook that was always in the inside pocket of his jacket.  The first twenty pages or so contained information about The Empress.  Things like, the brand of polish the original chauffeur used, the repairs made after minor accidents, and every day wear over fifty-one years.  When a chauffeur arrived or left, he always wrote a note to the lady. 

One wrote, “I will miss your stunning body, the comfort of your leather seats and your cranky gear box on a cold day.”

 Albert continued the tradition with, “I am proud to meet you my lady, I hope we will have a long and happy relationship together.”  He dated the entry, 12 June 1975, and it was Albert’s twenty-fifth birthday.  

Albert spent the afternoon washing, waxing, cleaning and polishing The Empress.  The windows were so clean they were invisible.  The walnut grain dashboard got a new coat of oil.  The last thing Albert did was lay a camel color blanket of the finest Irish wool on the backseat. 

Albert removed his gloves as he walked back to his office at the end of the garage.  He sat down to the desk, picked up a pen, and wrote, “12 June 2000.  Today I celebrate my fiftieth birthday and my twenty-fifth year of employment at The Oaks.  Tonight I will raise a glass of wine to The Empress and to my dear friend, Mrs. Prestwick.  If I could have one wish, it would be to have another twenty-five years with this magnificent car and the incomparable lady that owns it.”

Tonight Mrs. Parker, the cook would prepare the picnic basket that Albert would pick up in the morning.  Tomorrow was the twentieth anniversary of the death of the current Mr. Prestwick’s father.  Mrs. Prestwick refused to be sad or morbid on the anniversary of the death of her husband.  Instead, she developed the custom of spending the day out celebrating, her life and marriage of over thirty years before her husband died.  They would take a hamper of food to Crab Cove and spend the day. 

As he pressed the starched white shirt he would wear with his uniform tomorrow, he reminisced about all the good times of the past twenty-five years.  The times he had taken the family to church on Sunday.  The day Elsie, the only girl rode the Empress to the cathedral in Providence for her wedding ceremony.  She had been a gorgeous bride and her parents, on either side of her, could not have been more proud.   The two boys and their dates proudly rode to the Senior Prom on a warm May evening under a full moon.

The day dawned gloriously beautiful and clear.  It was a day to challenge every owner of a sailboat, on Narragansett Bay, to enjoy the perfect weather.  A wisp of a breeze blew across Albert’s face, carrying the scent of roses.  Albert entered the garden and picked a red damask rosebud, breathed in its intoxicating perfume, then tucked it into the buttonhole of his uniform jacket.  He whistled, “It’s a Lovely Day Today,” as he walked the remaining distance to the kitchen of the main house.

Mrs. Parker bustled around the kitchen giving orders to her young assistant, Sara, and preparing breakfast for the family.  When she saw Albert she stopped to say a quick good morning and tell him the hamper would be ready and waiting when he picked up Mrs. Prestwick.  “Her nurse, Susan tells me she is positively bubbling over this morning she is so excited about going out.”

“Good, I have something extraordinary planned for her today.  Can you please tell Susan that she will need to wear a hat that is securely fastened and will not blow away in the wind?”

Mrs. Parker’s eyes sparkled, and she brought her short, pudgy fingers up to the side of her face.  “Are you going to put the top down on The Empress?”

“Yes,” said Albert, “but don’t tell her, it is a surprise. I want to see the look on her face when she comes through the door and see’s the Empress.”

As Albert walked away, he could hear the ohhs and ahhs from the other staff who heard his announcement. 

Everyone in the house, whether family or staff dearly loved the elder Mrs. Prestwick.  She had been ill for months with heart difficulties that eventually caused her to have heart surgery six weeks ago.  Since the surgery, the color had returned to her delicate, tissue thin cheeks and the joy of being alive was back in her eyes.  She had a strong spirit that loved her family and her home at The Oaks, but her fragile body bore the scars of seventy-eight years of living and a life-long heart condition.   Her doctor was astonished that she was still alive.  Albert said a small prayer of thanks every time he was able to take her out in the Empress.

At exactly 09:55, Albert drove the Empress up the driveway and parked her at the front door.  One of the maids immediately opened the door and carried the large picnic hamper out to the car.  Albert placed it on the floor of the front passenger seat.  Susan, the nurse, pushed the wheelchair across the entryway to the car.  Mrs. Prestwick began to laugh as soon as she saw the Empress.  She turned in the wheel chair and told Susan how pleased she was that Albert put the top down.   Susan stared in awe at the magnificent silver car with red leather upholstery, wire wheels and hubs painted the same fire-engine tone.

“What do you think?” Said Mrs. Prestwick, beaming with pride of ownership. 

Susan could only manage a breathless, “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

“She’s beautiful!”  Corrected Mrs. Prestwick.  With a wave of her white gloved hand, she said, “Susan, this is the Empress.  She is a 1924 Rolls Royce Touring Car, and the pride of every member of the Prestwick Family.

Susan pushed the wheelchair, about ten feet from the car Mrs. Prestwick held up her hand to stop the nurse, “I can walk from here,” she said.  She stood and adjusted the skirt of the striking blue silk sheath dress with gold and silver embroidered paisleys.  It had a simple straight line and ended with three soft ruffles at the bottom, silk stockings and navy blue velvet heels finished the look perfectly.  On her head was a wide brim straw hat decorated with blue velvet flowers and white baby’s breath.  A sheer silk scarf, tied in a large bow on one side of her face held the hat.  Susan had helped her to apply a little powder and lipstick to her beaming face.

“Why Mrs. Prestwick, I have never seen you look so beautiful.  The men must have chased you all the way from Providence to Fire Island when you were young,” Albert declared.

Mrs. Prestwick blushed and held a white lace trimmed handkerchief to her cheek in a caricature of modesty.  She held out her other white gloved hand for Albert to assist her into the car. 

Albert was tickled that she was enjoying herself so much even before the outing started.  After much fussing and adjusting, she was finally installed in the car like a queen perched on a throne.  The passenger windscreen would help to keep her from being chilled and the Irish wool blanket was carefully tucked around her legs.

“Madam, would you like to circle around through the village so that everyone can admire both you and the Empress?  Then we’ll take the bay road down to Crab Cove for your picnic.”

Her hat bobbed up and down as she smiled and nodded, yes, to Albert. 

Just as Albert had hoped, the streets of the village were filled with both residents and tourists.  He made a point of slowing down as they turned onto the main street.  In just a few feet, The Empress and Mrs. Prestwick became a one car parade.  People looked and waved and Mrs. Prestwick waved back in delight.  Some of the residents even called her by name and this just made her smile wider.

The water of Narragansett Bay was a deep cobalt reflection of the cloudless blue sky.  The drive to Crab Cove ended almost too soon.  Albert suggested that Mrs. Prestwick stay in the car until he spread the blanket on the grass and brought out the picnic hamper.  She had forgotten her cane, so Albert put his arm around her waist to steady her.  He was surprised how fragile and small she felt when he helped her sit on the blanket. 

Mrs. Parker had outdone herself with cucumber sandwiches and teacakes of several different varieties. Albert served her on Royal Dalton China plates and eggshell thin porcelain cups and saucers.  

She talked for a long time about what it had been like growing up in Newport, Rhode Island, before WWII.  The Debutante Ball came alive with her description of how she met the handsome and sought after Robert Prestwick.  Albert could almost see her getting younger as she told him about their wedding day and Robert’s famous statement about having the two ladies, he most loved.   

He poured tea from a silver pot and offered her sugar cubes from a silver box with little flower-etched tongs. Crème Brulee in little white pots was served with linen napkins and silver spoons.  Mrs. Prestwick finished her Brulee and politely yawned into her lace handkerchief.

“You know Albert; it has all been just so perfect today.  I will never forget how special you have made this for me.  I wish Robert was here to share it with, but you know, I feel that he has been with us today.”

Albert packed up the dishes and the remaining food into the hamper.  When he tried to help Mrs. Prestwick to her feet, she did not seem to have the strength to stand.

Albert sat her back down on the blanket and asked, “It has been a long day for you madam, would you like me to carry you to the car?”

She looked up at him with weary tiredness in her eyes, “Yes please, I just suddenly feel very tired.”

He carried her to the car and wrapped her legs in the blanket although it was quite warm outside. 

“I think I’ll just take a little nap on the way home, Albert,” she said, then she reached up and kissed Albert on the cheek, “Thank you, for one of the happiest days I can remember in many years.  You’re a good man Albert and you are a special friend to me.”

Albert glanced back in the mirror several times on the way home, but she seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so he did not say anything to her. 

Pulling up to the front door, Albert noticed that her broad brimmed hat had slid down over her face and she had not moved it back on her head.  He called Susan’s cell number and asked her to bring down the wheel chair.  He took the hat off and Mrs. Prestwick did not move.  Her eyes were closed and her skin was the translucent color of white porcelain, like the teacups they drank from earlier.  Her lips formed into just a trace of a smile.  He thought about how peaceful she looked sitting there.  He picked up her hand and it was cold and limp. 

“Susan, I think…...”

Susan stepped up into the car and checked her pulse.  She felt nothing.  She then checked her eyes and felt for a pulse on her throat. 

In a sad, quiet voice,  she said, “She is gone Albert.  She must have died on the way home.”

A tear rolled down her cheek as she asked Albert to carry Mrs. Prestwick into the house.

Five days later, Albert once more climbed behind the wheel of the gleaming Empress.  The sun again shone from a cloudless sky.  A temporary platform was attached from the front to the back seat.  Pallbearers lifted the ornate wood casket to the platform and tied it down with two stout leather straps.  The remaining back seat was filled with bouquets and ribbon bannered set pieces.  Albert slowly drove the Empress down the driveway of the funeral home and turned on to the main street.  People walking on the sidewalk stopped in respect and men removed their hats.  Shopkeepers stood in their doorways and waved as Albert slowly drove by. 

The Empress and her lady made one last parade through the little New England town.