A Royal Romance

by Jenny Frame

  Georgina dropped her model ship and stared blankly ahead, as she thought back to being informed of his grave condition.

  “The ship’s captain informed me that my father the King was not able to fight off pneumonia due to his weakened condition. I was to leave duty and return to Sandringham immediately. As I packed my kitbag, I knew I would never be returning to my post. As well as losing my beloved Papa, I was losing my life as I had made it up until then. Duty was calling me, as I always knew it would—I just didn’t think it would be for a very long time. As Papa has always told me, duty to the country and the people comes first, second, and last.”

  She heard a knock at the door of her bedroom. “Diary end.” The computer saved her words and powered down. “Come.”

  Georgina’s personal aide and dresser, Captain Skye Cameron, or Cammy as she was known, entered, gave a brief nod, and said in her thick Scottish brogue, “Your Royal Highness, the doctor has called for the family to attend the King’s bedside.”

  Georgina’s heart sank. She stood and walked towards the drinks cabinet, determined to pour something to calm the sick feeling in her stomach. As she lifted the crystal decanter to pour, her hand started to shake and the glass clinked uncontrollably against the decanter.

  In a second Cammy was there, taking the crystal from her hand and placing it back down. She grasped her comrade and friend by the shoulders and said, “George, take a breath, man. You can’t go in there like this. Just breathe in and out. One minute more won’t do any harm.”

  Cammy enjoyed a familiarity with the princess, which no one outside the family did. Only her family and Cammy ever called her George, although the captain was not ignorant of protocol. In public or where ears were listening, she was always Your Royal Highness or Ma’am.

  With deep breathing the shakes began to lessen, and George knew it was time to assume her dutiful role as the eldest and heir of the family dynasty. She looked down at Cammy, who was a good six inches shorter than her, and said, “I’m ready.”

  “Do you still want that wee dram for your nerves?” Cammy asked.

  George shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t be appropriate to have alcohol on my breath. I don’t want to disappoint Papa.”

  “Is there anything else you need from me, Ma’am?”

  George looked down at her casual dress of jeans and wool jumper. “I think I will have to do as I am, Cammy.”

  “Very well. I’ll look after your formal dress uniforms.” Cammy was the consummate professional. Even in George’s sadness, it was her job to think what would come next and anticipate her commanding officer’s needs. With the expected death of the sovereign, George would need her formal attire pressed and ready. These little things made George’s life so much easier, especially at a time like this.

  George clapped her on the back. “Thank you. You always look after me.”

  “That’s my job and my pleasure, George.”

  She opened the door and felt a deep sorrow in the pit of her stomach. Not only was she losing her beloved father, but she was also losing the small bit of freedom she had enjoyed. George thought of the words said by many historical commentators of the past. As soon as the sovereign took his final breath, the heir entered into a life sentence, with no early release for good behaviour. Outsiders would see the luxury and the riches, but those within the family and staff understood that George would be entering a gilded cage, with her entire life mapped out for her. The relative freedom George enjoyed in the Navy would be no more.

  This was the last time George would be the Princess of Wales. When she returned to her rooms, she would be Queen with all the responsibility that brought.

  *

  George stopped in front of her parents’ bedroom door; she took a breath before walking through. She found the scene that she had dreaded since learning of her father’s illness. King Edward was in the grand four-poster bed, his breathing raspy and shallow. George felt her chest tighten as she watched her brother Theo on his knees at the side of the bed, gripping his father’s hand. The tears ran down Theo’s face; their mother stroked his hair, trying to soothe him. King Edward’s doctor approached her side and waited, as protocol demanded, for George to initiate the conversation.

  “Doctor, what is the King’s condition?”

  “The King is nearing the end of his life’s journey, Your Royal Highness.”

  George bit her lip to keep under control. She was now becoming head of the family and was determined to act as such. “How long does he have?”

  “It could be minutes or a few hours. It’s hard to say Ma’am.” George met her mother’s tear-filled eyes, and she gave a shake of the head.

  She walked towards them, past her Aunt Grace, the Princess Royal, and her grandmother, Queen Adrianna, who both reached out to her as she passed.

  As she approached the bedside, she heard her father say in a breathy voice, “Lis…ten to…your sister…my boy. I love you.”

  It broke George’s heart to see the King like this. He had been such a strong, athletic, and vibrant man all her life, and here he was, thin, ashen faced, and struggling for breath.

  The Queen leaned over and said to her husband, “Eddie, my darling? George is here.” Placing her hands on her tearful son, she encouraged him to stand and let George approach her father.

  The princess knelt and took the King’s hand. She looked into the blue eyes so much like her own and said, “Papa?”

  “George? My girl?”

  She kissed his hand. “Don’t speak, Papa. Save your strength.”

  “I must, I’m dying. I must talk.” He reached out a shaky hand and touched her cheek. “I’m so proud of you. You will be a fine Queen.”

  “Don’t say that, Papa. Hang on please.”

  “Too tired. Listen, I have trained you well. The crown is safe.” Every word was a struggle to get out, but the King was determined. “Look after your Mama, and your brother.”

  The tears were rolling down George’s face now; she knew this was the end. “I give you my word, Papa.”

  “Remember duty and service come first…”

  George was well aware of this phrase. It had been taught to her all her life. Duty and service to the country and its people come first, second, and last.

  “You will be the first. Make Uncle George proud.”

  Georgina was named after her Uncle, Prince George, whom her father had loved and looked up to a great deal. Her father was in fact the second child of the late King Alfred II and Queen Adrianna, now the Queen Mother.

  His brother George was the eldest and heir to the throne, and his younger sister Princess Grace, the Princess Royal, the youngest. George was a remarkable young man, very much liked by the people. He was the first openly gay prince and would have been the first openly gay monarch.

  Edward was very proud of him and named his eldest daughter after him. Edward never expected to sit on the throne himself, although it was expected that his children would inherit. Stem cell reproduction had been in its infancy at that time, and Prince George was unlikely to produce a legitimate heir.

  This became academic, however, when Prince George was thrown from his horse and killed. His parents and siblings and the country were distraught. From that moment on, Edward knew he would sit on the throne. George understood how much the family, and especially her father, adored her namesake and always felt it her duty to live up to her uncle’s memory. This became even more pertinent when she explained to her parents that she was gay. The family couldn’t have been more supportive. Edward now thought for certain his daughter was destined to carry on his brother’s legacy. Not only would she be the first female to inherit the throne ahead of her brother, but she would be the first openly gay monarch, and because of the major advances in reproductive technology over the preceding years, the line of succession would be secure.

  George could actually feel the heavy weight of expectation suddenly resting on her shoulders. “I will try to make you proud. I love you, Papa.”<
br />
  “Love you. Sofia?”

  George swapped places with her mother, who held her husband’s hand and stroked his head, all the time whispering words of love. This was the example she and her brother had been shown all their life. Their parents were devoted to each other, and hopelessly in love.

  George looked up to see Theo, being held in their grandmother’s arms, racked with grief.

  The tightness in George’s chest grew worse as the King’s breathing grew shallower and shallower. Another few minutes passed, and nothing could be heard from the King. The Queen convulsed in tears, holding Edward’s head to her chest and rocking him.

  “My darling Eddie, I love you. I love you my darling.”

  George looked round the room in shock. Her grandmother cried as she cooed and tried to comfort Theo. Her Aunt Grace sat on the corner of the bed, holding her face in her hands.

  The doctor at the other side of the bed said to the Queen, “May I, Ma’am?”

  Queen Sofia quickly brought herself under control. Her grieving would be done in privacy. The doctor took the King’s pulse, and then looked at the Queen. “The King is dead.” He then retreated from the bed.

  Sofia dabbed her wet red eyes with her handkerchief, and a look of calm dignity came upon her. She stood and took her daughter’s hand, kissed her knuckles with reverence, gave her a bow of the head, and said, “Long live the Queen.”

  At that moment, the tightness that George had felt in her chest made her heart feel like it was going to explode. She collapsed into her mother’s arms. “I can’t do it, Mama. I can’t…”

  Sofia, who now in a matter of minutes had become the Queen Mother, took her daughter’s head in her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “George? Look at me, look at me. Take deep breaths.”

  George did as she was asked and her sobs began to lessen and breathing to calm.

  “That’s it. Calm down. I know the pressure you feel, and I know the hurt that is tearing at your heart, but you have been trained for this moment all your life. You can do it my darling. You are your father’s daughter, and it’s time to make him proud.”

  George stood up straight, lifted her shoulders, and wiped the tears from her eyes. George brought some control back and remembered her father’s words. Duty and service come first.

  “I understand, Mama.”

  “Good girl.” Queen Sofia kissed her on each cheek and stepped to the side, where her grandmother, aunt, and brother stood, waiting to pay homage in the way her mother had. After Theo bowed and kissed her hand, George enveloped her younger brother in a hug, and his tears started anew.

  “He’s gone, Georgie.”

  I have to be strong for my family. “Everything will be fine, Theo. I will take care of everything.” George kissed her brother on the head and said to her mother, “Mama, I’m just going to take a moment, and then I’ll speak to the palace officials.”

  George guided her grieving brother to her mother and gave a last look to her father before bolting from the room, her mother’s shout echoing in her ears.

  *

  “George!” Queen Sofia shouted.

  “Leave her to me, my dear.” Queen Adrianna told her daughter-in-law and set off as fast as her aged legs would allow.

  The trademark clatter of her walking stick reverberated up the hallway of Sandringham House. The King’s private secretary, Sir Michael Bradbury, bowed as she approached.

  “Is my granddaughter in the late King’s office?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I spoke with Dr. Forsyth and immediately came to see if I could render any assistance. My sincerest condolences to you and your family, Ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Sir Michael. It is a very sad day.”

  Queen Adrianna could see the tension in Sir Michael as he gripped his tablet tightly. The death of the King put everything into flux, for the staff as well as the family. She was sure he would be worried for his own position as private secretary to the monarch.

  “I understand that this is a very difficult time, Ma’am, but I wanted to get permission from the Queen to announce the King’s death to the staff, and we need to start thinking about releasing information to the press. I tried to talk to the Queen, but she wishes to be left alone.”

  “Let me talk to Her Majesty, and we’ll take it from there, Sir Michael.”

  “Of course, Ma’am.”

  Adrianna walked into the late King’s office to find George staring at her father’s desk, unmoving.

  “It won’t bite, my dear.”

  George turned to speak to her grandmother. “How can I ever begin to follow Papa, to fill his shoes?”

  Queen Adrianna tottered over to George. “You can follow him because you have been trained, and you know you can achieve great things with the proper training, and you won’t fill Eddie’s shoes because you will make your own path. You will take all the best parts of your father’s legacy and add your own. Modernizing and adapting along the way.”

  “Granny I…”

  “George, do sit down, please? My old bones could do with a seat, but I cannot sit before the Queen.”

  “I’m sorry, Granny, of course.” George quickly sat at what was now her desk. Her grandmother walked round the desk and sat at the other side. George suddenly realized where she was sitting. “Granny, you tricked me.”

  Her grandmother gave her a small smile. “It’s not a trick. I’m here to give you a swift kick up the jacksy, my dear.”

  George clasped her hands in front of her. “I just need some time.”

  “That is not a luxury you have, my dear. There will be time for private grief. You are the head of the family now, as well as the nation. The family, the staff, and the nation need you to lead them in their grief. The people especially need to see you to know that the monarchy is safe and secure. Remember, we need to be seen to be believed.”

  “I know what my duty is, Granny, but I’ve just lost my papa.”

  “George, I have just seen my second son die. It is the worst thing imaginable for a parent to bury their child, but I know I have to be strong for your mama, and especially your brother. He’s only a young man, and he doesn’t have your strength of character. He needs to know you are taking care of things, and that everything will be all right. That’s what leaders do, and you are now our leader.”

  George blew out a breath. “Am I that strong? I don’t know.”

  Adrianna brought her hand down sharply on the desk. “Of course you are. You are a Queen of the House of Buckingham. Your whole life has been dedicated to duty and doing the right thing, and you have behaved in a very appropriate manner. You’ve accepted the responsibility that came with your birth without question. Theo, on the other hand, has struggled with the responsibilities and limits placed on his life. I love him more than life, but I and the country thank God that you were destined for the throne.”

  “I will do my duty and I will look after Theo, Granny. I promised Papa. He is a good boy—he is just more free spirited than I. I promise I won’t let the family or the nation down.”

  Her grandmother quirked an eyebrow in a way so much like the late King. “You never could, my dear. Do you not think your father had these same worries? Remember, he had no idea that he would ever inherit the throne. Your Uncle George was the heir and so Eddie didn’t have the same training, but when it became clear that George would not produce any children, Eddie knew he would perhaps have to bear that heavy burden. You, my dear, have a head start. You have always known what your destiny would be. Now just let your training take over and do it, and when at the end of the day you find yourself alone, then do your grieving.”

  George closed her eyes and tried to regain control. She twisted off the ring she wore as Princess of Wales and placed it on the desk.

  When she reopened her eyes, she was calm, in control, and ready to be Queen. “What’s first, Granny?”

  Adrianna patted her on the hand and said, “Good girl. Sir Michael is waiting outside. He will take you thr
ough the protocol. Use his experience.”

  Chapter Two

  “Not a chance Danny, I’m not doing this.” Beatrice Elliot stomped around her charity director’s office angrily.

  Danny Simpson reached for his heartburn medication and shot the aerosol into his arm, something he was doing more and more while trying to keep the small hospice charity afloat, in these harder economic times.

  “Bea, please. Do you know how lucky we are? Just to be chosen as one of hundreds to receive the patronage of Queen Georgina is lucky enough, but for Timmy’s to be chosen as the main charity she wants to publicize in the run up to her coronation is beyond lucky. It’s pure gold. The Queen has graciously asked to tour every Timmy’s hospice in the country. She wants to understand how we work, and the needs of our patients and staff. You need to be her guide—you are regional manager. You know all the staff and sites inside out.”

  Bea was fuming. She loved her job, it was more than a job it was a vocation, but the thought of escorting the Queen around their sites for six months was not her cup of tea.

  She sat at Danny’s desk and laid her feelings on the line. “Danny, you know better than most my private feelings on the royal family. I am a republican. I believe the monarchy is an outdated organization and should be abolished. It’s a waste of my time to be babysitting some blue-blooded upper-class scrounger who’s never done a hard day of work in her life. I need to be doing real work.”