by Jenny Frame
“If you’ll forgive me for saying, Ma’am, you need a wife.”
After another big sigh, George said, “You sound like my mother and granny.”
“I don’t mean you need to find a wife for duty—you need the support and care of a partner who loves you.”
George turned and looked at her. “Please don’t tell me you’re lobbying on behalf of Princess Eleanor.”
“Good gracious, no. Everyone knows she’s the biggest man-eater around. Her sudden lesbianism is somewhat see-through. Why? Who is lobbying for her?”
“Cousin Julian. He’s been to see Granny and Mama. He pushed for her to be invited tonight. I feel he seeks to have some influence to prosper his position within the family, but I’m not that stupid, I hope.”
“Of course you’re not. Viscount Anglesey has always, shall we say, struggled with his position within the royal family.”
George chuckled softly as they pulled up to the private entrance of the castle. “That is a very polite way of putting it, Lady Olivia.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
The car came to a stop and George turned to her lady-in-waiting. “I have a new friend coming to the banquet tonight. She’s not used to this type of royal occasion, and I know she has been very nervous. Would you watch out for her? Perhaps introduce her to some of the other guests. As you know, I will have to circulate.”
“I’m intrigued. Of course, Your Majesty. I’ll look out for her.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”
*
The banquet hall of Windsor Castle looked resplendent. After weeks and weeks of hard work by the staff, everything was ready for the Queen’s inspection. The hall could easily seat two hundred, but tonight it was set for a more intimate number of eighty. The Queen Mother led the way, followed by the Queen and the Master of the Household, Air Marshal Sir Hugh Blair.
The senior page, the yeoman of the cellars, and the royal florist were waiting. The staff all bowed, and Queen Sofia immediately went to the task of checking the table arrangements.
“Simpson? Any problems?” Sofia asked the senior page.
“None, Ma’am. Everything has gone very smoothly so far.”
No matter how often George had seen the banquet hall laid out for guests, either at Windsor or Buckingham Palace, she was always impressed by the display. The light from the large gold candelabras situated at regular intervals along the long table dazzled off the crystal glasses and gold plates. Fresh plump fruits groaned from the bowls at easy reach of the guests’ plates. A red and gold carpet ran the length of the banquet table, giving the room a feeling of opulence. Huge bouquets of flowers were placed at regular intervals up the table, and on wrought-iron stands in the corners of the room. The side walls were punctuated by a series of arches, allowing the staff access to serve and clear. The arches were guarded by mounted suits of armour and heraldic shields from the royal collection. The ceiling was equally impressive, made up of oak beams running the length of the room, and there was a small balcony where the band of the Welsh Guards would play the music for the evening.
The Queen Mother checked the table settings with a keen eye; George knew the staff were always nervous at this point as her mother was a stickler for details.
“This looks wonderful. Well done, Simpson.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
The Queen checked where she would be sitting at the head of the table. “So, I’m here, next to the prime minister?”
Sir Hugh stepped forward. “Yes, Ma’am, and since the prime minister doesn’t have a partner or guest accompanying her, we placed the next ranking guest, Her Royal Highness, Princess Eleanor, with the Queen Mother on her right.”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate, Sir Hugh. This is a dinner to thank those who supported my family after my father’s death. She does not merit such a high-ranking place.”
Sir Hugh looked panicked at displeasing the sovereign and turned to the Queen Mother for guidance.
“Perhaps the next highest ranking politician instead, Sir Hugh? The Chancellor of the Exchequer would be an idea, and place Princess Eleanor in his vacated spot.”
The Master of the Household was grateful for the Queen Mother’s diplomatic suggestion. “Very good, Ma’am.”
The Queen was beginning to feel the princess pushed upon her at every turn, and she didn’t like it. “Was my guest Miss Elliot placed next to Prince Theodore, as I asked?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Sir Hugh replied.
Thoughts of Bea being close went some way to assuaging the annoyance she was feeling.
“Your Majesty? Aren’t they beautiful?” Sofia nudged her daughter.
“What? Oh…yes, beautiful. Thank you, ladies.” These housekeeping tasks were the most boring of George’s duties, and she was delighted to delegate them to her mother, but being Queen, she had to do this final inspection, until she had a consort of her own.
“Where are we sending the flowers this time?” George asked Sir Hugh. It was tradition that after these types of big events, the floral arrangements were broken into smaller bouquets and distributed to local hospitals, retirement homes, and other community institutions.
“We thought, Ma’am, that we could send them to the royal military retirement home. The late King was patron there and his first equerry lives there now.”
George nodded. “Yes, excellent choice, Sir Hugh. I’m sure he would have been pleased with that. Do you agree, Queen Sofia?”
The Queen Mother smiled softly and looped her arm through George’s. “Indeed he would. Why don’t you speak with the yeoman of the cellars while I check the menu?”
George gave her mother a kiss on the hand and walked off. “Of course, Mama.”
*
Bea had been at the castle for two hours. The Queen had arranged for a car to pick her up and bring her to the castle. Her luggage had been collected earlier in the morning. George had explained that would make it easier for the staff. Bea had been a bag of nerves when she had said goodbye to her parents, and her anxiety was made worse by her mother, whose excitement had been near fever pitch for the past few days.
When she had arrived at the private entrance, she was conducted up to her room by the senior page. The bedroom was beautiful and grand, white-panelled walls edged with gold, but it was the view from the window that really took her breath away. Bea had been in the public part of Windsor Great Park with her family many times, but to see it all laid out in front of her was something special.
She had changed into her gown, a long midnight-blue chiffon with a split to the side, and was now applying her make-up at the antique dressing table. Bea had been surprised to find, when she was shown to her room, that everything she had packed in her luggage had been put away, her dress and other clothes hung up, her make-up unpacked and arranged tidily on the dressing table. Even her bear Rupert had been placed on her bed.
She looked in the mirror. What are you doing here? You don’t fit in with these people. “I’m here for Georgie. If she wants me here, then that’s where I’ll be.”
I’m falling in love with her. The thought came out of her subconscious and was impossible to ignore.
*
“George, would you keep still. You’re fidgeting like some poor lad on his wedding day.” Cammy was doing her best to fix George’s collar and white bow tie. George had been jumpy all through the dressing process.
“I’m sorry, I feel a bit on edge.”
“A bit on edge? You’ve been a bag of nerves, man.” Cammy finished with the tie and walked over to the drink decanters. “How about a wee dram before the off?”
George continued to fiddle with her collar and cuffs. “I think that would be wise. Did you ask Prince Theo to drop in before he goes downstairs?”
Cammy brought over the glass of whiskey and said, “Of course. He’ll be here any minute, I’m sure.”
“Good. Pour yourself one, Cammy.”
Cammy smiled broadly. “Thank you, Ma
’am, I wouldnae mind a wee dram.” She poured out the drink and rejoined her. “So? Is it this wee lassie that’s making you so jumpy?”
George nearly choked on her drink and started coughing. “What? Why would you say that?”
“Who knows? Probably the fact that you spend all the time you can speaking to her or talking about her, and because you’re never nervous about these functions.”
George sat down in resignation. “Do I?” Then with a big sigh she said, “Maybe I do. I’ve never met anyone like her, Cammy. She sees me, just me, not the Queen. When I’m with her, I feel lighter. Like all the responsibility and stress I feel is halved.”
“What does she feel, Ma’am?”
George swirled the drink around in her glass. “I have no idea. Women are not my specialist subject, as you know.”
“Aye, most Naval officers are supposed to have a woman in every port, but not you, George. You could have had any woman, but you didn’t.”
“Unlike you, Captain Cameron,” George joked.
Cammy smiled and raised her glass to her friend. “Too true.”
“All I know is that she is my friend. Anything more than that, then I’m at a loss. What would you suggest I do?”
“If you were an ordinary person, Ma’am, I’d advise you to ask her out.”
George snorted in disgust. “I’m not a normal person though, am I? I can’t take her to see a film, out to dinner, go to a bar for a drink, nothing.” She downed the rest of her drink and slammed the glass down.
“Your Majesty, you may not be able to go out and do those things, but you can easily achieve them just by doing them on your own patch. You have so many advantages—use them. You’ve already started by asking her to spend the day with you tomorrow. Make it special.”
“I’ll try. I thought I’d take her out riding, maybe have a picnic?”
“That sounds a cracking idea, Ma’am. You do…ah, no.” Cammy hesitated.
George stood and walked over to her. “What? Tell me.”
Cammy stood to attention, her hands behind her back. “It’s not my place to say, Ma’am.”
George patted her on the shoulder and said, “Cammy, we’ve been through a lot together. You know all my secrets and are my most trusted member of staff. Tell me.”
“Well, you do realize what the reaction will be to Miss Elliot as a possible partner for Your Majesty. A woman from a working class family and an anti-monarchist. If you want this woman, you’ll have to fight for her.”
“I know that. What I don’t know is if she even likes me in that way, and even if she does, to be with me would be a life sentence. Who would voluntarily want to be a part of this lunacy?” George sat down and held her face in her hands.
“A certain Belgian princess, I hear.”
George turned to Cammy with a look of steel. “That’s exactly why she will never get the chance, Captain. I would never allow someone like that to rule beside me.”
Cammy got the Queen’s black dinner jacket from the hanger and brought it over, holding it out for George to slip her arms in. “Then I suggest, Ma’am, that you simply enjoy your time with Miss Elliot and see where it takes you. I know what pressure rests on your shoulders, George, and if someone is willing to share in the burden, for the right reason, then you have found your Queen Consort and wife.” Cammy got a clothes brush and began to brush off any specks of lint from her jacket.
“So you’re saying, play it by ear?”
“Indeed, Ma’am.”
There was a knock at her door. Cammy opened it and let Prince Theo in.
“You wanted to see me, Georgie?” George thought Theo was looking better than he had for a long time. His unruly curly hair had been cut smartly, and his face was bright and full of smiles.
“Yes. Could you give us a minute, Captain?”
Once Cammy had left, George poured a small drink for them both. “A small snifter before the off?”
Theo laughed at his sister. “You are starting to sound like Papa.”
“Perhaps. I wondered if you would keep an eye out for Miss Elliot. She’s not coming with a partner, and you know that my time will be spread amongst the guests.”
Theo took his drink and sat down. “Of course. Young ladies are always safe in my hands.”
George was suddenly enraged. “Theo, that is not—”
“Calm down! I would never chase a girl you liked, you should know that.”
She was taken aback that her brother had noticed. Cammy had certainly noticed, and she wondered if anyone else had noticed. Has Bea? “Why would you say that, Theo? She is my friend.”
Theo finished his drink and stood. “Your face lights up like a giddy teenager’s whenever you mention her name, and you are allowing her to stage a huge concert in the Mall, just to make her happy.”
“It’s for charity.”
Her brother gave her his best dazzling smile. “Of course, Georgie. Now I promise I will be a perfect gentleman, and don’t worry, I’ve read my notes for a change and know everything that is expected of me. I won’t disappoint you.”
For events such as these, every member of the royal family received an information pack on the guests, who they would be sitting with and where.
“Good man.” She walked forward and pulled her brother into a hug. “You’re doing well, Theo, and you could never disappoint me.”
Theo looked delighted he had pleased his sister. “Well, we better get off or Granny will have my guts for garters.”
“Quite,” George said with a smirk. “Oh—I asked Lady Olivia to keep an eye out for her too. Between the two of you, I’m sure she can navigate this evening.”
When Prince Theo was halfway out the door, he turned and said, “Can I have your permission to offer my assistance to Miss Elliot for the concert? I know a lot of musicians, bands, and artists that could help.”
“Of course. That would be very kind of you.”
He’s going to be fine, Papa. I know it, she thought proudly.
Chapter Thirteen
Bea followed one of the pages down the grand staircase to be shown to the receiving line. This was the part that had been terrifying her. The thought of making conversation with all these eminent and important people was a daunting task.
She looked around her and tried to take in everything about the castle. She was under orders from her mum to give a detailed description on her return. The walls had red covering and gold cornicing, which along with the many magnificent and historic paintings covering the walls gave a feeling of opulence and majesty. The republican part of her wanted to be angry; all these riches could help to pay for so many of the country’s services. But then she thought of George, holding a dying child’s hand, feeling his pain but bringing some smiles and laughter back to the child. These conflicting notions were constantly at war inside her head.
At the bottom of the stairs and lining the route were men dressed in the Tudor style, with scarlet ceremonial dress with GR emblazoned on the front. On their heads they wore black Tudor hats, and they each carried a long spear.
“Excuse me, sir. Are those beefeaters?” Bea asked the page.
“Oh no, miss. Their uniform is similar, but they are the Yeoman of the Queen’s bodyguard. They take part in ceremonial events, and are all senior ex-servicemen.”
Bea had to admit that the sight was spectacular. It felt like she had stepped back to medieval times. She remembered something George had said to her when they were debating the subject: Monarchy is magical, Bea. All the pageantry and strange rituals that are lost in the mists of time are important for one reason. It honours the dignity of our constitution. Monarchy represents what we were, where we are, and what we aspire to be.
The page stopped at the back of a line of people. “Miss Elliot, if you would wait here to be called. You will be announced to Her Majesty, then walk forward, give a bow or curtsy, and wait for the Queen to extend her hand. Then please move swiftly on to Her Majesty, the Queen Mother, and repeat the s
ame process. From there you move on to the drawing room in front of you, where you will be greeted by members of the royal family and other members of the household.”
“Thank you.”
She was sixth in the line to be greeted by the Queen, and everyone in front of her was in a couple. Bea suddenly felt very alone. As the line moved up, she got her first glance of George. She looked stunning in her white tie dress suit, with a blue sash set diagonally across her chest.
Bea felt her traitorous heart began to thud wildly, and a nervous tremble began in her hands. I can’t do this. I don’t belong here. Bea took a deep breath to calm herself.
I have to do this. I have to do this for Georgie.
*
George had been introduced to around half the guests so far and was anxiously waiting for her first sight of Bea.
“Miss Veronica Chase and Mr. Steven Crawford,” the senior page announced.
The couple moved along and bowed before the Queen, looking rather nervous. George was well-practised at this ritual of receiving guests and always managed to put people at their ease.
“Good evening, Miss Chase, Mr. Crawford. I’m delighted to have you here. May I introduce the Queen Mother?” Since George didn’t have a consort, Queen Sofia took the place of cohost. As the Queen lifted her head to meet the next guest, she caught her first glimpse of Bea. The whole room dropped away, and she stopped breathing as her gaze filled with the vision that was Beatrice Elliot.
George had never seen a woman look as beautiful as Bea did. Her normally straight golden hair had a soft wave, which gently cascaded down her bare shoulders and back. Her dress was a midnight blue with a bodice that accentuated her already ample bosom.
