by Jenny Frame
“I would never pretend to miss you, Julian.” After a long silence Marta said, “I heard an interesting rumour from one of the pages at Windsor. Would you like to hear it?”
Julian looked at her with a sneer. “And how did you obtain this information? Try and keep your assignations away from the staff, my dear wife.”
“Do you want to know?”
“Tell me then,” Julian said with growing frustration.
“The Queen Mother and Queen Adrianna were overheard to say—”
“What?”
“To say that if George continued in her attentions to that common little bitch, then they should invite her to Balmoral, and you know what that means.”
“Have they gone mad? They would let some common little charity worker pollute our bloodline?” Julian shouted.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, darling. I thought you would like the chance to do something about it,” Marta said defensively.
Julian activated the car’s on-board computer and called his private secretary.
“How may I assist you, sir?”
“I want every bit of information you can find on a Miss Beatrice Elliot. I want to know about all the skeletons in her cupboard. Contact any of the Queen’s staff who you think would talk and find out what exactly is going on with this woman.”
“I will do my best, sir.”
*
The chapel was a lot bigger than Bea initially thought, with many parts of it leading off the main part of the church.
They approached a stone sarcophagus set atop a large stone platform. The King’s still body was carved into the top of the sarcophagus, like the ones Bea had seen on a trip to Westminster Abbey.
“Do sit down, Bea.” George pointed to the pews in front of the tomb. “I come here to think. I miss his good advice. He always knew the right thing to say or do.” She sat next to Bea.
“How have the panic attacks been?”
George smiled. “A great deal better, since I met you. It’s been a real comfort to me, having someone who understands these stupid things.”
Bea took George’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “They aren’t stupid—it’s just your body reacting to stress.”
George sighed. “It makes me feel weak. I hate feeling out of control, and I think I’ve been worrying about this upcoming week.”
Bea turned round to fully face George and absent-mindedly stroked the back of her hand. “What happens this week?”
“There’s a memorial service at Westminster Abbey. It’s to mark the official end of the late King’s mourning period, and the start of my coronation celebration year. Dignitaries are flying in from all over the world, and it’s being shown live on TV. I have to make a speech about my father and his legacy. Every time I think about it, I just imagine the walls of the cathedral closing in on me, and I get that tight feeling in my chest. I wish you could be there. I know I would feel much calmer,” George hinted.
Bea wanted nothing more than to be there for her friend but knew it was impossible, just as impossible as loving her. “I wish I could too but…”
George’s face lit up. “Would you come if I got you an invitation?”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to be there, Georgie. It’s not my place.”
The Queen’s face turned from smiles to anger in a second. “Is it any more appropriate for the dozen European aristocrats being there, who are more interested in my crown than paying respect to my papa? Or the countless politicians who I have never met in my life, when all I need is you?”
She stood and stormed off angrily towards her father’s tomb.
Bea was left astonished at what she had heard. I’m not imagining it, she feels something too. What are we going to do? She got up and walked over to George, who was resting her palms against the cold marble tomb. She placed a hand on George’s and just waited for her to speak.
“I’m very sorry for my outburst Bea. I’m just feeling under a great deal of pressure. I understand your point and I won’t ask again.”
All George could think of was having Bea at her side always, as her consort, and then it would always be appropriate. Papa, I’ve found my Queen Consort, and I can’t have her. Tell me what I should do? she silently prayed.
“Georgie? Will you look at me?”
George turned, but she feared Bea could see the overwhelming emotions barely being held back, behind her eyes.
“You don’t have to apologize. I know you’re feeling under strain. I would like to be there for you, you know I would, but I have my work. The days I’m not out of the office with you visiting the sites, I spend trying to catch up with my work.”
George got hold of herself and let her controlled persona fall into place.
“Oh no, don’t go all stoic on me again, Your Majesty.” Bea opened her arms.
George leapt on the invitation and engulfed Bea in her arms, trying to soak up everything about her, the woman who brought calm to her soul. Bea burrowed her head into George’s chest, and after a minute of soaking up everything they could give to each other, George said, “How about we put this behind us and enjoy the rest of our day?”
“Sounds good.” Bea pulled back from the hug and smiled.
“Come on then, I promised my Aunt Grace and Vicki that I would take you down to the stables.”
*
Bea had enjoyed her visit to the stables or, as the Queen had corrected her, the Royal Mews. Princess Grace was very warm and open to her, just like Lady Vicki, Lord Max, and their father. So unlike Viscount Anglesey, who’d looked at her with utter contempt the previous evening.
As well as showing Bea around, George caught up with her aunt and cousin, discussing the progress of various horses. Bea had become a little lost in their conversation, but she did work out that one of the Queen’s horses, Time for Tea, was one of the favourites for Royal Ascot this year.
They were now walking, with the three dogs, to the picnic spot George had picked out.
“I hope all the horse talk didn’t bore you, Bea. I just haven’t had the time to check on the progress of my horses very much, and it’s getting awfully close to Ascot.”
“Of course not. It was really interesting, actually. When you said stables, I thought it would just be ten or so stalls, but that place is like a whole other estate.”
George whistled for the dogs to catch up. “All the horses that serve the royal family are housed there. From the little Shetland ponies for the younger members of the family, right up to the race horses, polo horses, and ceremonial horses. It’s a big operation—that’s why I’m so glad I have my aunt and Vicki to run it in my absence. I hope I can get you to ride the next time.”
Bea laughed; despite everyone’s insistence she had avoided taking a ride. “Maybe another time. Where exactly are we walking to?”
George pointed ahead of her. “Just over by that old oak tree. Do you see it? It’s one of my favourite spots.”
Bea saw a young page standing under the tree up ahead. When they got closer, she found a large blanket had been placed on the ground, and an old-style picnic basket placed on it. “This is wonderful, George. It’s like a real old-fashioned picnic.”
The page bowed and the Queen said, “Thank you, Jamie. Do you have the box I asked for as well?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He handed over a medium-sized box. “Would you like me to serve, Ma’am?”
“No, thank you. We’ll be fine.” The young man bowed and walked away. “Dogs, go play.”
Shadow and Baxter ran off, full of barks and yelps, but Rex lay down on the grass next to Bea. “Don’t come on the blanket, Rexie.”
Bea looked around and marvelled at the view of the estate. “This is just magnificent, Georgie.”
“I think so, it’s a home to me. We try to come here most weekends. It might be an ancient castle, but it’s a living, breathing home and community, not just a relic.”
“Mum and Dad brought us here quite a few times over the years, but I’
ve never seen it from this angle. Is this part private?”
George indicated for them both to sit. “Yes. The majority of the grounds are open to the public. It’s very popular with dog walkers, families, and of course we have polo club and Windsor cricket club.”
“It really is a little community,” Bea said.
“Before we eat, I want to show you something.” George opened up the box the page had given her, and took out the model battleship Bea had given her. It had been fully built and painted.
“Is that the model I gave you?”
George handed it over to Bea to examine. “Yes. I enjoyed it a great deal. I wanted to show you before I got it mounted in a case.”
Bea handed it back carefully and smiled. “It’s beautiful. I’m glad some silly little gift gave you some joy.”
George lifted Bea’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “It was the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten, thank you. Now, shall we eat? I’m not sure what’s in here—I got my mother to pick the food. I have no idea about these things.”
She opened up the large basket to find several containers of food, a bottle of champagne, bottles of water, as well as a flask of tea. The plates, cutlery, and glasses were strapped to the lid of the basket.
“This looks amazing, Georgie. Would you let me serve you?”
“That would be wonderful. I’ll get the champagne though. A lady should never open a bottle of champagne, only be served it.”
Bea looked up from her task of filling the plates with food. “My, that was smooth, Your Majesty.”
The cork gave a gentle pop, and George poured the liquid into the two glasses. “I wasn’t trying to be smooth. It’s something that Granny has always said, and I always do what Granny tells me. It’s easier in the long run.”
“I’m not posh enough to be a lady,” Bea said with a touch of sadness in her voice.
George reached over and placed her fingers softly under her chin, lifting Bea’s head gently. “It takes more than an accident of birth to make a lady.”
“Well, if I’m a lady, what are you?”
“The prize bull of course,” George said with a wink.
Bea giggled. “Of course you are, Bully.” She handed over a full plate of food and received her glass of champagne. “I feel quite decadent. I’ve never had champagne at lunch, and this food is beautiful.” She began to dish out her own plate.
“All my family loves a good picnic. Especially up at Balmoral—in the summer, we have a barbecue by the river. It’s beautiful.”
“I thought you would have some poor servants carrying tables, chairs, and all the cutlery and glasses, so you could dine in style. That’s what you see the royals doing in all the films.”
“Don’t forget the gold plates,” George teased. “Only joking. We only do that if we have Granny with us. Would you have the Dowager Queen sitting on the ground?”
When Bea thought of the formidable older woman sitting on the grass, it just didn’t compute. “Fair point, Your Majesty.”
There were a few minutes of silence while the pair began to eat, and then George said, “You won’t tell Theo you call me Bully, will you?”
“I won’t call you it if you don’t like it.” Bea was fascinated by the way the Queen could turn from confident monarch to extremely shy woman in a matter of moments with her. When she saw George like this, trying not to meet her eyes and all bashful, she just wanted to kiss her so badly.
“No. I like it—it’s just that Theo would give me a fearful ribbing about it.”
Bea put down her plate and helped herself to a bottle of water from the basket. “I like your brother very much, he’s great fun. He asked to help with the coronation concert.”
“Yes, he asked my permission to ask you. I’m glad you like Theo. He’s a good boy.”
Bea stopped midchew. “Your permission?”
George looked confused. “Yes, why?”
“Why does he need your permission?”
George refilled both their champagne glasses. “I am the Queen and head of the family. They look to me for leadership and everyone knows their place.”
Bea shook her head in amazement. “You really are the bull of the herd aren’t you? Sometimes I don’t know whether you’re being completely serious or not.”
“I assure you, Bea, I never joke about matters like that. It’s just the way my family works. We do things in a very traditional way.”
Bea thought she had touched a nerve, so she decided to leave the subject alone. “I’ll be delighted with the help. He knows a lot of the artists and bands we hope to attract. Theo’s very different from you, isn’t he?”
George looked as if she was choosing her words very carefully. “He has had fewer restrictions placed on him.”
“He is very open and funny too, not the playboy that the media like to portray.”
George smiled ruefully. “He does like the ladies, but he’s just a young man with no responsibilities.”
“And what about you, Georgie? I’m sure you’ve had the ladies falling at your feet. Not only a princess, but a dashing naval officer. A girl’s dream.”
George put down her plate and gulped down the last of her champagne. “Sadly, not.”
Bea began to stroke a sleeping Rex, who had managed to edge his way onto the picnic blanket. “Come on, you must have had a girlfriend or two. Do you just not want to talk about it?”
“Oh no, it’s not that. I trust you completely, Bea.”
“What is it then?”
George rubbed her face nervously. “You have to understand, Bea, because of who I am, I have to live in a certain way, different even from Theo. The media follow every move I make—they have done since I was born. I am the first woman with a younger brother to succeed to the throne, and now I’m the first openly gay monarch. If I wanted to start seeing a girl, the press would have us down the aisle and have her my consort by the end of our first evening out together. I don’t think that would be fair to either the girl or me. My father brought me up to respect my position and any girl I was interested in. Because, as monarch, my duty is to marry and produce an heir and a spare.”
“So what exactly are you saying? You haven’t had a girlfriend or…”
“I haven’t been with a girl in any way.”
Bea was gobsmacked. “No one?”
George shook her head, her cheeks reddening by the second.
There are so many things you haven’t experienced, Georgie. “Surely if you had been discreet? It didn’t stop many of your ancestors.”
“That’s the point. So many of my ancestors brought shame and scandal to the family in the past, and it threatened the very institution of monarchy, but there hasn’t been a divorce in the family since my great-grandfather’s time. The family stopped arranging marriages with the most suitable partners and allowed everyone to find their own partners.” She then took Bea’s hand and looked into her eyes. “I don’t want to be discreet and run about with lots of girls, Bea. All I’ve ever wanted is to meet the right girl, get married, and have children. I’m a very ordinary sort of person, despite everything.”
Bea’s gaze locked with George’s.
“Bea, I—”
From the nervous look on her face, Bea knew George was about to say something from which they couldn’t return to friendship, so she interrupted her quickly. “Well, I’d better get these plates cleared up, Your Majesty.”
With that the conversation was brought to an end.
*
After returning home, Julian retired to his office away from his wife and children. After last night he was enraged. His perfect plan was faltering, and he needed to regroup. Once he had information on Miss Elliot, he would find a way to discredit her. He was appalled at the Queen Mother’s and Dowager Queen’s reactions to this woman and felt it had shown just how far his family had gotten from the old ways.
“Sir? May I come in?” the Viscount’s private secretary asked.
“Yes, come.”<
br />
“Sir, I have everything I could find on Miss Elliot.” He handed him an old-fashioned paper folder.
Julian flipped through the information and then smashed his fist down on the desk. “This woman cannot be allowed anywhere near my family. Common little tart.”
“That’s not all, sir. I contacted the Queen’s private secretary, Sir Michael Bradbury. He has concerns that this woman has an unnatural control over the Queen, and with some work, I believe I could get him to help us.”
“Very good. Leave me now, I have some private calls to make.” His secretary bowed and left.
Julian thought for a minute, before an idea slowly formed in his head. “Victor? It’s Julian. I have a nice little job for you. What? Oh yes, I think you’ll enjoy this one.”
*
Bea grew extremely tired after lunch, not being used to drinking champagne at that time of day. Since it was a bright sunny day, George suggested they lie back and close their eyes for a bit. George never fell asleep but simply enjoyed being allowed to lie next to the woman she loved and watch her sleep. On the other side of Bea, her new best friend Rex lay snuggled up to her side.
George leaned on one elbow, looking down at Bea adoringly, smiling. She memorized every inch of her love’s beautiful face, the way her nose wrinkled and the corners of her mouth lifted as she dreamed of something pleasant.
The muscles in Bea’s face began to twitch and move as she awakened. Her eyes fluttered open and George couldn’t stop herself trailing her fingers across her cheek. “You are so beautiful.” She couldn’t take her eyes off Bea’s lips. They tantalized her, and when Bea opened them slightly, George took it as an invitation and lowered her own to meet them. Her heart thudded wildly, and all her fears and insecurities disappeared with the first touch of their lips. The kiss was tender, passionate, and made George feel more than she could have ever imagined possible. She explored Bea’s mouth, memorizing everything about her—her taste, the softness of her lips—and she felt her heart was lost to this woman.