by Jenny Frame
What Bo said made sense, and it had really helped clear up her messy thoughts. “So you’re saying I should just go with the status quo?”
The prime minister laughed softly. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Beatrice. There are always ways it can be adapted—the success of our constitution is the fact that it constantly evolves and modernizes. We are at the dawn of a new age, Miss Elliot, and I’d rather be on Queen Georgina’s side than against her.”
Bea lifted her glass in toast to Bo and said, “Thank you, Prime Minister. You make a lot of sense.”
“I always do, Beatrice.”
*
Bea awoke the next morning feeling happier. After her chat with the prime minister the previous evening, she had decided to relax and enjoy her friendship with George, without worrying constantly and arguing with herself. The Queen had escorted Bea to her room and promised to call for her at ten o’clock the next morning. George had arranged for breakfast to be brought to her room, to give her some privacy from the rest of the guests.
Bea looked at herself in the mirror and wondered if she looked all right. George had said to dress casually, as they would be walking around the grounds, but she always wanted to look her best. She had her hair back in a ponytail and wore a pair of figure-hugging jeans and a cream cashmere cowl-necked jumper.
“Will I do, Abby? I hope so.”
There was a knock at the door at precisely ten o’clock, and immediately the butterflies started to flutter around her stomach.
She walked to the door and grasped the handle. Okay. Deep breath, Bea.
When she opened the door, she found a smiling George standing waiting for her. “Good morning, Bea. Are you ready for our sightseeing walk?”
She gave a quick curtsy. “Oh yes, Your Majesty.” George looked wonderful in a wool cricket jumper and jeans. Bea imagined herself placing her head on George’s chest and snuggling into the cosy jumper.
“If you don’t mind, there are some people I’d like you to meet. Can we come in?”
Bea was slightly puzzled. “Of course.”
They went into the room and George said, “All dogs, come.”
In trotted her faithful companions, tails wagging. “Sit.” The three dogs sat in a line awaiting their next command.
Bea reached out and grasped the Queen’s arm. “Aww, you brought your dogs? They’re so sweet.”
George was full of smiles. “They go everywhere with me, so I hoped you wouldn’t mind them coming with us.”
“Mind? They’re adorable.” Bea got down on her knees so she was eye level with the first dog, a big black Labrador. “And who’s this big boy?”
“That’s Shadow, he’s the leader—well, below me obviously. Shadow, shake.”
The black dog lifted his paw for Bea to take. She shook his paw and clapped his big head. Shadow rewarded her with licks to the face, making Bea giggle.
The dog next to Shadow barked with impatience.
“Baxter, wait,” George commanded.
“It’s okay, Georgie.” Bea patted her lap. “Come on then. So this is Baxter the boxer?”
“Yes. He’s the silly one of the bunch. He’s not the brightest, but he’s very loving and he loves to play.”
Baxter was just about sitting on her lap and gave his new friend lots of kisses. “Oh, you are a handsome boy, Baxter.” Bea scratched his ears and kissed his head.
George put a hand on her shoulder. “They’ll make a mess of your clothes. You look beautiful, by the way.”
She looked up at George and smiled. “Thank you, and don’t worry, I love dogs.”
Rex had been sitting apart from the other two dogs looking over shyly. Bea noticed he wasn’t joining the others and got up and went over to him. “Are you a shy boy?”
George knelt beside them and clapped the dog’s head. “This was my father’s dog, Rex. He’s struggled since he died. I took him because he seemed to be happier around me. Haven’t you, Rexie? He’s been very nervous around other people.”
Bea held her hand out for him to sniff, without feeling pressured. The Labrador sniffed and then tentatively licked her hand. “Good boy, Rex. I won’t hurt you.”
Rex looked into her eyes as if he was thinking hard. He then got up and walked over to her and began peppering her face with kisses.
“Oh, you are a good boy, Rexie.” Bea put her arms round the dog and hugged him.
“How did you do that, Bea? He’s distant with everyone, even my mama.”
Bea looked into George’s eyes and smiled. “I know what it’s like to grieve. He just needs love and understanding. When you lose someone that close to you, you need someone who understands your pain.”
“Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate your friendship, and now I think Rexie will be your friend for life.”
“I’ll be here as long as he wants me to be.”
The double meaning in Bea’s statement was deliberate. When she had watched George with Princess Eleanor the night before, she’d realized she was on borrowed time. It might not be Eleanor, but somebody like her would come along eventually. A suitable aristocrat or middle- to upper-class woman would someday take George away from her, and she knew it would break her heart.
*
Princess Eleanor was furious. She had thought she could persuade George to spend some time with her today, but she had been informed by the Queen’s private secretary that she was entirely unavailable. When she returned to her room, she found her cases sitting packed and ready to depart. She stormed into Viscount Anglesey’s room. He and his wife had long ago given up sharing a bedroom. “Who is this woman, Julian? I couldn’t get George’s attention from her last night, and now she’s spending the day with her.”
This turn of events had taken Julian and his plans by surprise. He had seen the way George looked at this woman, and it worried him.
“I’ll admit, this situation has taken me by surprise. My cousin has never had a female friend like this before, but I won’t let it affect our plans. I’ll get someone to look into her background—I’m sure there’s something that will discredit her. Besides, my family does not accept working-class brides, Eleanor.”
“They better not, Julian, because all this should be mine.”
He stood up quickly and grabbed her by the hair. “Remember who’s running the show here.” He loosened his grip and kissed her lips. “I’ll work out a way to get rid of this woman. Your next opportunity to be with her will be at the races at Royal Ascot. Don’t waste the opportunity.”
*
George led the way through the ornate corridors and rooms, followed by Bea and the dogs. Rex was glued to Bea’s side and looking a great deal happier.
As they walked through the castle, they passed a few members of the housekeeping staff, who would stop what they were doing and bow. George always acknowledged them and apologized for disturbing them.
“If you spot anything you would like to know about, Bea, just shout out and we’ll stop. I didn’t want to overwhelm you on your first visit, so I thought we’d start with interesting places in the grounds and then have a picnic for lunch. I’m so glad it turned out warmish and dry today.”
“That sounds lovely, Ma’am.”
“My granny used to take us on these sorts of tours when we were younger. She wanted us to understand everything about our dynasty and where we fit into that. There’s one room I want to show you inside.”
She opened up two huge wooden doors, and they entered into the most spectacular wood-panelled room. The floor was covered with a huge red and gold woven rug and a banquet table, much like the one they sat at last night, only smaller, sat in the middle of the room.
George spotted that they had disturbed two members of staff both working at the fireplace halfway down the room. The two men got up quickly and bowed. George said, “I’m sorry for the intrusion. Please just ignore that we’re here.” Bea found it sweet that George apologized to the staff—after all, it was her house. But that was Geor
ge. Considerate and kind.
“The man tending the fire is the royal fender. His team is in charge of maintaining all the fires and fireplaces in the castle.”
“That’s someone’s job?” Bea said, somewhat surprised.
“Yes, we like to keep all of the old skills alive. Besides, in a place this big you need the heat from the fires as well as modern heating. The other chap is the royal clockmaker—he takes care of all the clocks on the estate.”
“My goodness. This really is like stepping into the past.”
George stood with her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels nervously. She truly hoped these opulent surroundings didn’t make Bea angry. Shadow and Baxter trotted over to the sumptuous carpet and lay down, but Rex stayed sitting beside Bea. She reached down and clapped her new friend.
It struck George that Bea was showing the same care to Rex as she had done with her. She saw the hurt inside them both and wanted to ease the pain she found there. Never before in the Queen’s life had she wanted to say the words I love you. But she did now, and it was agony to keep these words inside.
“Tell me about the room then. You were so good at explaining the history of the things on display last night,” Bea asked.
“I enjoyed talking to you about them. You’re so easy to talk to.” George looked at her feet shyly.
“Did you enjoy telling Princess Eleanor?” Bea asked coyly.
George looked her right in the eye and said, “No. She wasn’t interested in what I had to say.”
Bea teased, “Was she more interested in your prize bull qualities?”
George burst out laughing. She could always rely on Bea to release any tension she was feeling. She put her fingers above her head, making the horns of a bull, and scratched the floor with her foot as if it was a hoof. “Moo, moo.”
“I think I’ll call you Bully.” Bea giggled.
“Well, since you’re interested in more than my prize bull qualities, I’ll tell you about the room.”
“Please do, Your Majesty.” Bea bent down in an exaggerated curtsy.
George shook her head with a smile. “Well, Miss Elliot, this is the Waterloo chamber. It was built to commemorate the final battle at Waterloo in 1815, when Napoleon was finally defeated. If you look up to the roof, you can see the beams were made to look like the bow of a ship.”
Bea peered up at the ceiling. “Oh yes. That’s clever.”
“The wooden panels on the walls are in fact a lot older than the room. They were carved for the then royal chapel in the 1620s. When it was demolished, they were salvaged and put up here. The paintings around the room are all politicians, royals, and important people from around the time of the war with France.”
George watched Bea gaze around the room in silence. She couldn’t tell if she was impressed or appalled at the treasures on show. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Bea crossed her arms and looked at her friend quizzically. “Oh? Do tell, Georgie.”
“That all these treasures and valuable things could pay for a great deal in this country, but I don’t actually own these things, I’m just the trustee for my lifetime. They belong to the nation, and even if I wasn’t here, they could never be sold. They would still have to be kept just as they are.”
“I wasn’t thinking that, actually, Georgie. I was thinking of how beautiful it all was, but since you brought it up, how do the people get to enjoy all these beautiful things?”
George took her hand and led her over to a rather large painting of a man in what looked like religious garb. “This painting is Pope Pius VII by Sir Thomas Lawrence. It only arrived back two weeks ago—it’s been at the Royal Portrait Gallery for the past six months. Museums and galleries up and down the country submit requests to borrow the paintings and other items. They all go out on a rotation. And Windsor is open to the public all year, apart from Easter court and during Ascot.”
Bea smiled. “You’ve convinced me, Georgie.”
George never let go of her hand and then quite naturally pulled her in closer.
Bea pulled back from her abruptly when Sir Michael entered the room and cleared his throat to get her attention.
“Can I help you, Sir Michael? I did say I was having some private time until this afternoon.”
Sir Michael walked a few more steps into the room and bowed. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but I thought you might want to see the guest list for Your Majesty’s birthday celebrations. Number Ten want the invites to go out this week.”
George sighed and spoke softly to Bea. “Excuse me for one minute.” After a quick word, Sir Michael hurried away. “Are you ready to continue our tour?”
Bea nodded and followed George from the chamber, closely followed by the dogs. Bea asked, “I’m keeping you from your work, aren’t I?”
“No, of course not. I got started on my boxes early this morning, and I’ll finish up the rest this evening. Sir Michael knew I asked for some personal time, he just didn’t realize how important it was to me. I simply let him know my time with you is sacrosanct. Come on.”
*
As George and Bea approached the steps to the medieval-looking St George’s Chapel, George turned and addressed the dogs following them, “All dogs, stay. You know you can’t come in.” Shadow and Baxter went off to play on the grass, but Rex sat and began to whine. Bea crouched down and hugged the dog. “It’s all right, Rexie. We won’t be long.” After a final kiss on the head, Rex trotted off after the other two dogs.
“You’re amazing with him, you know,” George said.
Bea stood and walked up the ancient stone steps with her friend. “Thanks. What about them?” She pointed to Inspector Lang and his men, who had joined them discreetly as the Queen left the safety of the castle.
“Don’t worry about them. They’ll take up position outside until I come out.”
George opened the huge oak door and waved her inside. Bea gasped at the beauty of the ancient church. The black-and-white stone tiles that ran the length and breadth of the church, gave it the look of a giant chessboard. The wooden pews ran down both sides of the building culminating in the worship area at the top.
“It’s simply astounding, Georgie. It’s like a smaller version of Westminster Abbey. The stained glass alone is beautiful.”
George pointed up to the glass windows and said. “That’s always been my favourite one. St. George slaying the dragon. When I would sit here during services, I would imagine I was my namesake, riding my horse into battle. Come on, I’ll show the sovereign’s stall.”
Bea followed her up to the front, where a large oak booth, set apart and covered in tapestries, sat. “What’s this?”
George climbed up the three stairs to the side and sat down. “This is the sovereign’s booth, my seat for attending services here. You see, no one can sit higher than the sovereign, so my chair has to set higher than the rest of the pews.”
Bea put her hand on her hip. “Oh, really?”
“I thought that might annoy you.” George winked down to her.
Bea raised an eyebrow, knowing she was being played with. “Does anyone else get their own seat? Or do the commoners just have to take what’s left?”
George walked down the steps to rejoin her guest. “The Knights of the Garter each get their own seat for life.” She pointed up to the coats of arms on display above the wooden pews.
“I’ve heard about the Garter knights, but I don’t really know what it means. Is it another hereditary thing?”
“Oh no. The sovereign appoints knights based on what they have done to help the nation. Unlike most of the other honours, this one is not in the Government’s hands—it’s entirely within my gift. It was started by Edward III, the man who founded this chapel. He wanted to create a Camelot-style round table of knights. There are only ever twenty-four knights, plus the royal knights. My father made me a knight following my installation as Princess of Wales. There is a service every June, where all the knights gather for a service here,
and then we walk in procession down to the castle and have a meal together in the Waterloo chamber.”
Bea thought for a moment and said, “Is that the thing where you all wear the big blue cloaks and a hat with a long feather? I think I’ve seen it on the news.”
George smiled at Bea’s description. “They’re called Garter Robes, and there’s no higher honour in the United Kingdom. It’s a very solemn ceremony.”
Bea closed her eyes and took a breath. “You can almost feel the history in the atmosphere of this place. It feels ancient, think how many people have sat in this church. Ordinary people and kings and queens.”
“A lot of them are under your feet.”
Bea looked down at her feet and jumped. “What do you mean, Georgie?”
George walked up to her and whispered, “There’s a royal vault beneath your feet”—she pointed down—“all the way back to Edward IV in 1483. There’s Henry V, Henry VIII, all beneath your feet.”
Bea reached out and held on to her arm. “Don’t tell me that, Georgie. That’s creepy.”
As if it was the most natural thing in the world, George put her arm round Bea’s shoulder, and guided her down the left wing of the chapel. “Don’t worry, I won’t let the ghosties get you.”
She immediately relaxed in the crook of the Queen’s arm. “Where are we going?”
“To a special part of the church called King Edward XI memorial chapel. I want you to meet my papa.”
Chapter Fifteen
Viscount Anglesey and his wife Marta were on their way back to their London home.
“Should I expect you home this evening, Julian?”
“No, and don’t pretend that news upsets you.” Julian and his wife had not married for love and had always led separate private lives. Marta wanted the Viscount’s position as a member of the royal family and Julian rather liked the large fortune Marta’s father had left her.