Princess Ophelia wore a pink ombre dress by Givenchy. Want details? We’ve got everything you want to know about those fabulous dresses, where to get the real thing or how to fake it with the closest high street equivalent in our fashion section on page 23.
The next morning, breakfast was a crowded affair as ‘the wider family’ arrived. Various lords, earls and ladies turned up, most of them dressed for the outdoors. After the fairly gentle atmosphere of the last few days, the larger gathering seemed loud and overwhelming. Kumari was introduced to so many people, she had given up trying to remember how they were all connected, and focused on names instead.
The saloon was crammed with people, all dressed for the outdoors. Children zipped around, playing a game that involved a lot of dodging and hiding. It was almost a relief when the gong went summoning everyone out for the hunt.
Kumari stood in the doorway with the others who were remaining behind, mostly the elderly and one or two children. The hunt truly was something one did not decline. The shooting party traipsed off, the large group stretching out into clusters as people got into their stride.
‘Oh, thank goodness they’ve gone,’ said a voice behind her. ‘Now we get a few hours of peace.’
Kumari turned to find a small woman with brown hair smiling at the departing pack. Her foot was in plaster and she was leaning on a crutch.
‘The only good thing about this wretched broken foot is that it gets me out of that.’ She nodded at the departing hunt. ‘I’ve never understood the fascination with shooting at things.’
‘Me neither,’ said Kumari. Benedict had pointed this woman out to her and suggested that she was someone Kumari might like to talk to. She remembered having met her before, at the wedding. She recalled rather liking her. In a world where the women tended to be tall and whip-thin, this woman stood out by being short and matronly.
‘I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Carla,’ the woman said. ‘Married to the Earl of Hythe.’
‘I’m—’
‘Oh, everyone knows who you are, darling,’ said Carla. ‘Your wedding caused such a stir.’ She started to walk back towards the saloon, where tea and cake had been laid out for them. ‘Tell me, darling. Do you miss being a doctor?’
She was getting used to this question. People asked her that often. ‘A bit,’ she said. ‘But there’s plenty to keep me busy.’
‘I bet,’ said Carla. ‘When I was on the other side, I used to think the royals were the “idle rich”. Ha! Shows how much I knew. Honestly, I read more reports now than I ever did when I was in corporate finance.’
Kumari did a mental jog to catch up. Oh yes. The Earl of Hythe’s second wife. Once a high-flyer in corporate finance. They had met at a charity reception and fallen in love instantly, according to Ophelia. Kumari glanced at the woman standing beside her, who was staring thoughtfully at the tiny cakes.
‘I recommend those tiny almond and raspberry ones,’ Kumari said.
‘Good call.’ Carla picked up two of them.
‘I am told,’ said Carla, ‘that I should ask you how your charity work is going as regards educating women and girls in the developing world.’
Kumari was taken aback. ‘You were told?’
‘Benedict told me. “Have a chat with Kumari, won’t you, Aunt Carla,” he said. “Talk about education for girls and healthcare stuff. She’d love that. She misses having someone to talk medicine to.” . . . So here I am, darling. Ready to talk medicine.’ She dropped her voice and said in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘I did a biotech degree, you know. Before I got sucked into the world of money.’
Kumari laughed. She now saw why Ben had suggested she speak to Carla. They had some things in common.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘Let me tell you about this one project . . .’ She told Carla about the Boost Her! project. ‘It seems like a small thing now, just raising hygiene standards and improving child survival rates in the villages, but over a few years, you end up with a much healthier and better informed population. If you want to make permanent change to people and culture, you start by educating the mothers, so that they influence the next generation.’ She raised her hands in exasperation. ‘I can’t believe they have to shut it down without even giving it a chance to get started.’
‘Oh, that does seem dreadfully sad,’ said Carla. ‘How are they meant to show any progress in that time? They need the first cohort to go back to the villages and then gather data on mortality rates for two years at least before they can show the effect. It’s ridiculous that something so important is jeopardised by one man’s greed.’
‘Exactly,’ said Kumari. ‘It’s so unfair. I’ve tried to think of ways that I could help, but it seems that the only course of action is to apply to the Princesses and Prince Foundation to be considered for next year’s grants. There’s an awkward gap between their current funding ending and the foundation’s next round starting, so even if they were successful in their application, they’d have a struggle making it through.’
‘Could you not have a quiet word with the funders?’ said Carla. ‘You are a woman of considerable influence now.’
‘No. Apparently that would be frowned upon.’
‘I see, the famous neutrality,’ said Carla. ‘That is . . . as my nephew would say, a total pisser.’
Kumari laughed, despite herself. ‘Precisely.’
Carla looked thoughtful. She popped a little cake in her mouth. ‘Mm,’ she said, a minute later. ‘Those are good. Tell me, darling, if you were allowed to donate money to a charity at will, what would you give to this charity you mention?’
Kumari thought about it. ‘I’d fund it to the end.’
‘That would be the ideal scenario,’ said Carla. ‘But if you were pressed for a minimum viable amount?’
‘If I were being brutal about it,’ she said, ‘I’d check the costing hadn’t changed from their original proposal . . . and I’d fund them for a year. This would give them the time to secure further funding and at least give the girls from the first cohort a year to make a difference.’
Carla nodded. ‘And get metrics to show improved life expectancy for babies in those villages.’ She chose another cake. ‘How do you feel about mobile midwifery clinics?’
This was the sort of thing Kumari could chat about for ages. So, it turned out, could Carla. They were still chatting when the hunting party returned, looking windblown and red-faced from the cold. Ben kissed Kumari’s cheek.
‘Did you have a nice time?’ He slipped an arm around her waist.
‘I did, thanks. I spoke to Carla.’
‘Excellent. I knew you’d like her.’ He grinned. ‘Now then, what’s for lunch, I wonder. I’m famished.’
*
After lunch, they drove away from Sandringham, with Ben at the wheel as before. Kumari let out a long breath and felt the tension she’d been carrying over the past few days drain out of her.
‘You survived your first royal Christmas,’ he said. ‘What did you think of it?’
Kumari didn’t answer immediately. She had come expecting pomp and excess and ritual. There had been quite a lot of that, but there had also been an unexpected sense of warmth. It was about reaffirming family bonds and establishing new ones when the family expanded, as it had done when she’d married Ben. ‘It was . . . nice,’ she said. ‘Your family are good fun when they let their hair down.’
Ben smiled. ‘That’s good. I knew you’d fit in beautifully.’
‘I think that’s pushing the definition of “fitting in” a bit,’ said Kumari with a laugh. ‘You’re right, though. It wasn’t nearly as frightening as I expected it to be.’ After a moment, she added, ‘You guys are a close-knit family.’
‘We have to be,’ said Ben. ‘There aren’t many people like us and if we have some sort of crisis, we need to be able to rely on each other.’ He slowed down at the gatehouse and was waved out. ‘I think that’s why Grandma is always so insistent that we come to Christmas here. It�
�s group bonding, if you like. She’s reminding us that we have each other.’
Kumari let this sink in. A long time ago, Ben had told her that the rules around the institution of royalty had to be changed slowly and carefully, that to take away too much too soon would have repercussions. At the time, she hadn’t understood. The past few days had given her an idea of what it really meant. All the ritual and tradition provided cultural touchstones. Something you could point to and say,‘Yes, it’s mad, but it’s a thing we do. It’s part of what makes us different to everyone else.’
The mere existence of the royal institution was part of what made the UK united. People were attached to it, even while they complained about it. It was a way to hold on to who you were, when you were in danger of being absorbed into the homogenous mass of the world.
‘Well, I’m glad I didn’t break anything by refusing to go to the shoot this morning,’ said Kumari.
‘Grandma took it fairly well, I thought,’ said Ben. ‘I’m still puzzled by that stuff about asking for permission and forgiveness though?’
‘I thought it was a warning not to push my luck,’ said Kumari.
Ben frowned. After a few minutes he said, ‘Hmm. might be.’ He shot a sideways glance at her. ‘Were you intending to push your luck?’
She didn’t reply.
‘Kumari? Were you hoping to do something for the charity you were upset about? Was that it?’
‘I’ve tried every avenue I can think of – I’m speaking to members of the decision-making committee carefully, so that they’re aware how great the project is, I’ve looked into other short-term grant sources, I’ve even looked into making private donations, but everything has some risk attached to it. And your granny seems to be able to read minds,’ she said. ‘I know when to give up.’
‘Ah,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t do that. I’m sure we can come up with something that doesn’t break any rules and gives them a helping hand. Let’s keep thinking.’
Kumari said nothing and looked out of the window. What else was there to say? The silence stretched between them.
It started to snow. It wasn’t anything too bad yet, just light flurries which didn’t seem to be settling.
‘Looks like the promised bad weather is starting,’ said Kumari, glad to have something else to talk about. ‘I might see if my parents could come down tonight, rather than tomorrow. See if they can get here before the worst of it hits.’
‘Good idea,’ said Ben. ‘If it’s all right with them, just call my office and get a Land Rover sent over to them. That will get them here regardless of the weather.’
Kumari pulled out her phone and made the calls. Her parents were already concerned about the weather and were more than happy to be picked up early. She finally hung up. She had asked Ophelia to stay away that night, so that she and Ben could have an evening to themselves, but it couldn’t be helped. It was safer to get her parents down early. She could relax with Ben some other time.
‘All sorted?’ said Ben.
‘Yep, we should have a couple of hours at home before they show up. Thank goodness we had Louise make up the bedrooms before she went away for Christmas.’ Kumari was still getting used to having all these members of staff, but she had to admit that her housekeeper Louise was a real lifesaver. Keeping everything ticking over by herself would have been impossible.
‘It’ll be nice to see them,’ said Ben.
Kumari hadn’t seen her parents since the wedding. She’d spoken to them most weeks, but her schedule had been too packed to arrange a visit. She wondered if Amma had cooked up a load of food to bring with her. That was, she realised, one of her own comforting touchstones – her mother’s Sri Lankan meals in the freezer, ready to be heated up whenever life got too overwhelming.
Ben was clearly thinking along the same lines. ‘Will your mum bring food?’ he said, far too eagerly.
Kumari laughed. ‘You’ve been doing nothing but eat for three days!’
‘That’s different,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I hope she does. You’ve got to teach me how to eat with my hands properly too. It’s embarrassing not being able to keep up on the table manners front.’
‘Oh, come on! It’s not like anyone would judge you for using cutlery instead of your hands to eat curry!’
Ben twitched an eyebrow at her. That always made her smile and he knew it.
Kumari felt a sudden urge to throw her arms around him, but given that he was driving, it was best not to. ‘I love you,’ she said.
Ben took his eyes off the road for a second to beam at her. ‘I love you too.’
Chapter 37
The Times Herald
Boxing Day shoot
What could be more traditional on Boxing Day than going out and shooting pheasant? Pictures released today, show the royal hunting party as they walk through the Sandringham grounds en route to the Boxing Day shoot. The queen and her husband, the Duke of Hereford, were seen taking it all in their stride as they walked down to the shoot with their grandson, Prince Benedict.
The ladies were seen at the hunting lodge, all dressed casually for the occasion. Prince Benedict’s wife, Kumari, was notably absent. Speculation is rife as to whether the duchess was excused due to being in a delicate condition. It is equally possible that the duchess, who was brought up by Buddhist parents, was excused on moral and religious grounds.
Photo caption: HRH the Duke of Hereford keeping pace with his grandson HRH Prince Benedict, Duke of Westbury.
The Daily Flash
Letters: Kumari snubs the Queen
The Sandringham Boxing Day shoot is a royal tradition stretching back hundreds of years. No member of the royal family has missed it without having a good excuse. But this year, Prince Benedict’s new wife, Kumari, deliberately snubbed the queen by refusing to attend. The left-leaning pundits would have us believe that Kumari’s absence was due to her religious principles and abhorrence of hunting. But the duchess famously doesn’t know how she feels about God. She has no religious principles. This is just another example of the erosion of the traditions of the monarchy. Whatever next? Selfies with the queen?
Photo caption: Princess Helena attends the Boxing Day shoot. She was five months pregnant with Princess Francesca at the time.
Kumari woke up far too early, considering how late she had gone to bed the night before. Ben was still fast asleep. She curled herself around him and tried to get back to sleep, but it was no use. She was wide awake. She sighed. There was no point lying here. She may as well get up and make herself a cup of coffee.
The apartment had an extra reception room and several guest bedrooms, which were further down from Kumari and Ben’s bedroom, so that they and the guests had a modicum of privacy. The reception rooms, dining room and kitchen were all joined to one another by linking doors, just like the function rooms in the main part of Kensington Palace.
Kumari wandered barefoot into the kitchen and put the coffee on. A lot of the rooms had underfloor heating. It was a wonderful thing.
Her parents had arrived well after midnight the night before . . . or this morning, depending on how you looked at it. All they’d had time to do was put the food in the fridge and be shown to their room.
She opened the fridge door and looked in. Amma’s food parcels, in their myriad tupperware containers and reused margarine tubs, were crammed in between the food that Ben and Kumari had ordered. Ben had planned to cook roast pork with all the trimmings as a sort of belated Christmas meal for the four of them that evening. He could have ordered it in, of course, but Kumari got the impression he needed some time to decompress and cooking gave him the chance to do that.
Soft footfalls made her look round. Her mother stood in the kitchen doorway, in her faded dressing gown. She looked incongruously careworn amidst the perfectly coordinated kitchen. When she had visited the first time, she had looked incredibly uncomfortable to be in such a posh place. Now, she seemed a little more relaxed. She was getting used to things too.
; ‘I’m making coffee, Amma, would you like one?’
‘That would be nice,’ she said. She leaned against the work surface and watched her as she poured them a mug each. ‘You look well.’
‘Thank you,’ Kumari said automatically.
‘I’m glad,’ said Amma. ‘I know we speak to you often, but it is very reassuring to see you . . . in real life, I mean. Not on the telly.’
Kumari smiled. Amma still texted her whenever she saw her on TV. ‘You’re on the news’ or ‘Very nice pic of you in the paper today’. She liked that.
She stepped up to her mother and put her head on her shoulder. ‘It’s nice to see you too. I miss you.’
Her mother put her arm around her and gave her a gentle hug. ‘How is it, this life? Are you coping as well as you seem to be?’
Kumari lifted her head. ‘I am actually, yes. I’m getting used to it. There are rough spots, but in the main, I’m very happy.’
Amma’s gaze met hers. ‘So you made the right decision. That’s a relief for me to know.’
‘Yeah, I made the right decision.’
‘And the Christmas holidays at Sandringham went OK?’
She had told Amma about some of her fears. ‘Yes, it did. Everyone was very nice.’ She pulled a face. ‘Although, I could have done without everyone asking me when we were having kids. Seriously Amma, even the queen!’
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