by Jenny Frame
“Of course, Miss Elliott. I’ll report on Prince Theodore’s condition as soon as I know more.”
Once he left, George looked at Bea angrily. “Countermanding my orders now?” She wasn’t used to feeling the helplessness of injury. Her brother was in some other part of the hospital teetering between life and death, and she could do nothing about it. This out of control feeling was making her feel panicked and sick.
“Well, someone has to, when you’re behaving like a spoilt brat and incapable of making sensible judgements.”
“Who do you think you are? You are talking to the Queen, or have you forgotten that?” George shouted.
Bea looked shocked at her outburst. “I thought I was your fiancée, soon to be your wife. It looks like you think I am yours to be commanded like the rest of your lapdogs.”
George watched in horror as Bea’s face crumbled into tears, and she ran from the room. “Bea, no, come back. I didn’t mean—” George tried to sit up and felt the hot searing pain lance through her shoulder. “Argh!”
Cammy ran in. “Are you all right, Ma’am?”
“No, I’m a bloody arsehole who deserves a swift kick in the proverbial bollocks.”
“Why?” Cammy asked.
George held on to her wound, as if the pressure would ease her pain. “I think I really hurt Bea.”
George replayed the conversation with Bea, and Cammy said, “Bloody hell. If you’ll forgive me, Ma’am, you are a bloody arsehole. That lassie has been out of her mind with worry in that waiting room. She was crying on my shoulder, and then you talk to her like that?”
Cammy was the only one who could give George a dressing down like that. She smacked her head back against the pillow. “I know, I know. Can you help me up? I need to speak to her.”
“I don’t think there’s any way you can walk, George. You’ve lost a lot of blood. Let me go and find her.”
“No, please. I need to do it myself. Can you get me a wheelchair?”
Cammy nodded.
“Oh, and one more thing, Cammy…”
*
When Bea rushed from George’s room, she’d no idea where to go and found herself making her way towards Theo’s room. She wasn’t allowed in, since she wasn’t family yet, but felt better just being able to sit outside. The protection officers who all knew her well had no problem with her presence.
I was stupid to ever think I could be the same as them. Is she always going to think I’m lesser?
She looked up when she heard her name called and saw the unusual sight of Captain Cameron pushing Queen Georgina down the corridor with a bunch of flowers in her lap.
“Bea—can I talk to you, please?” George asked.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“I know. I just had to talk to you. I’ll go back as soon as I’m finished,” George promised.
Bea sighed and nodded. She got up and followed Cammy as she wheeled the Queen down the corridor a bit, to give them some privacy, and then left them.
“These are for you. They’re just from the hospital shop, but I promise that when we all get home safely, I’ll have the royal florist make you up the most magnificent bunch you’ve ever seen.”
Bea took the flowers and said sarcastically, “You have a royal florist? Really?”
“Yes, and if you forgive me for being an insensitive, bloody plonker, then there’ll be a fresh bunch placed in our bedroom and your office, every morning of our life together.”
Bea couldn’t help but smile at this but still wanted to make her point. “You really hurt me.”
“I know. I felt helpless, impotent, and powerless. I’m the head of my family, I’m supposed to be the one who takes care of everything, and now my brother is lying near death in there, and I can’t do anything about it.”
Bea cupped George’s cheek. “Listen, you can’t be this control-freak superhero all the time. Sometimes you’ve got to trust others are the best people for the job. We just have to wait and pray that Theo will pull through. Now, don’t be a bad Queen. Behave.”
George smiled softly and kissed her hand. “Thank you.”
The consultant came out of Theo’s room and made his way over to them. “Your Majesty, you shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“I know, I’ll go back, but can you tell me how Theo is first?”
“Yes, Ma’am. We took him straight to theatre and repaired the internal damage caused by the knife wound. All went well in theatre, but he lost a great deal of blood. He’s resting now, but he’s not conscious.”
Bea held George’s hand, squeezing it in support. “Will he regain consciousness, Doctor? What are his chances?”
The doctor looked down at the floor, unwilling to answer.
“It’s all right, Doctor. You won’t be hung, drawn, and quartered if you get it wrong.”
“I’d say fifty-fifty.”
The Queen took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. “Thank you for your honesty. Can I see him before I go back?”
“Yes. Just five minutes though, and get back to your room.”
Cammy walked over and took the wheelchair from Bea. “Let me, Ma’am.”
Bea walked at the side holding George’s hand. “Let’s go and see that baby brother of yours.”
*
Viscount Anglesey was taken to MI5 headquarters for questioning. The agents guarding the room wouldn’t even look at him. His well-ordered and privileged life was falling around his ears, and he was scared—scared of what he’d done and scared of what it would mean.
The interview room door finally opened, and in walked Sir Walter and another agent, carrying a battered-looking computer unit.
“Well, well, Julian. We have been a busy boy, haven’t we?”
The overfamiliar language infuriated him. No matter what he’d done, he still merited the respect of his position. “Do you know who you’re talking to?” he spat.
“Indeed I do, Julian. A dirty little traitor who deserves to be horsewhipped,” Sir Walter said with disgust.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Well, what if I tell you we’ve had your London flat bugged and your conversations recorded?”
Julian stared ahead silently.
“And what if told you that this computer, taken from the dead man who tried to kill the Queen and Prince Theodore, could be traced to yours?”
Again, Julian responded only with silence.
“Julian, conspiring to kill your sovereign and the next in line to the throne? It’s positively Shakespearean.”
His hands began to shake.
“I think you’ll be the first person charged with treason in eighty-two years. I think it’s safe to say you’ll be staying at Her Majesty’s pleasure for a long time to come.”
The rage and panic in Julian boiled over. “No! It should be mine. That crown is mine!” He jumped up, grabbed a chair, and went to smash it over Sir Walter’s head, but he was tackled to the ground by the three agents in the room. He struggled and screamed, “It’s mine, mine. No one can stop me.” And then he started smashing his forehead off the floor.
Chapter Thirty-four
In the small TV studio, built to look high over Buckingham Palace, TV presenter Crispin Jacobson waited on his cue to go live on the most important broadcast of his career.
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Crispin Jacobson and I would like to welcome you to the day the country and the world have been waiting for. The wedding of Queen Georgina and Miss Beatrice Elliot. It’s a day to heal the wounds inflicted on the House of Buckingham over the past year and a bit, and to bring joy back to Britain’s favourite family.
The event has been christened The Day Fairy Tales Come True, and we will bring you every second of this special day, live in your own living room. We have reporters down lining the route with the well-wishers, some that have camped out for a whole week, to get the best places. We have reporters in the royal parks, where this program is being shown on larg
e screens.
The TV images changed to footage in the parks, where thousands had turned up to watch and be part of the occasion. The people had Union Flags and hats, and were decked out in other patriotic outfits. They had picnic baskets, champagne, and were generally in a jolly mood already.
We also have a reporter at Beatrice’s house. The once very ordinary Albion Road, a row of little houses now made famous around the world because our very own Queen Georgina fell in love with a very normal working-class girl. We can cross there now to speak to our reporter, Tricia Godfrey. Tricia, can you tell us what’s happening?
A cheer from crowds surrounding the location went up, as the reporter smiled and prepared herself to speak.
Thank you, Crispin. I hope you can hear me, the crowds of well-wishers are in great spirits here as they wait for the first glimpse of the royal bride. As we all know, this wedding has a lot of firsts, and one first is the fact the bride is leaving from her own humble home.
The royal couple took pains to make this wedding the way they want it, and I understand Beatrice was very insistent on leaving from her family home. The police have cordoned off Albion Road for two days, because of the growing crowds, only allowing the other residents access.
This morning, a lot of people have been coming and going from the property, including Beatrice’s hair and make-up team led by her friend Holly Murphy, the dress designer, royal florist, and her chief bridesmaid, Lali Ramesh. In keeping with her determination to make this her day, two of the flower girls are the daughters of her university friends Greta and Riley Garrison, in addition to three flower girls and one pageboy from Queen Georgina’s extended family. They have been getting ready at a separate location and will meet up with the chief bridesmaid later in the day.
I have with me a well-wisher who has been camping out for six days, just to get to see the royal bride leave with her father. Gina, can you tell us why it was so important for you to be here today?
The woman was dressed in a hat resembling a wedding cake with figures representing Queen Georgina and Beatrice.
I just had to be here to see this. It’s a historic day—one day I can tell my grandchildren that I was there.
And why do you think it’s so historic, Gina? Tricia asked.
Well, it’s a fairy tale, isn’t it? I think people thought fairy tales and happy ever after didn’t happen anymore, but that young woman is going to leave her house, just like millions of other houses up and down the country, and by the end of the day, she’s going home as a Queen Consort to her new home at Buckingham Palace. Bea is one of us, and she made it, she bagged a Queen. It doesn’t get any more romantic than that.
I couldn’t have put it better myself. Back to you Crispin, the reporter said.
*
Queen Georgina stood by her father’s tomb in St George’s Chapel, Windsor, dressed in her ceremonial Royal Navy uniform. She put her hand against the stone, wanting to feel closer to him.
“Papa? I wish you could be here with me today, but I know you will be there in the Abbey with me in spirit. I’ve found my Queen Consort, and I love her so much. The way you loved Mama. I know you would have adored her as a daughter-in-law. She challenges me and makes me a better person. I know she’ll do a fantastic job for my people.”
Cammy came in the door of the church and cleared her throat. “Your Majesty? It’s time.”
She nodded and leaned over to kiss the stone. “I love you, Papa. Watch over us.”
*
Crispin very nearly squealed with excitement during his voice-over, as he narrated the scene to the viewing public.
And the Queen’s car has just arrived at the Abbey, to much cheering by those lucky enough to have a spot outside. After much speculation, we can see the Queen has chosen to wear her Royal Navy uniform. We understand this is in tribute to her father, the late King Edward. The gold tassels and braiding look resplendent against the black of the uniform. On her chest, blue Order of the Garter sash and diamond Order of the Garter. On her hip, she carries her father’s gold and silver admiral’s sword.
And of course, the whole country is delighted to see her brother, Prince Theodore, by her side, after several months’ recuperation at Sandringham, where we are told the Queen’s fiancée took an important role in helping care for her brother-in-law to be. He stands proudly today as his sister’s best man.
*
“Princess?”
Bea opened her bedroom door at her father’s knock. “Dad?”
Her father gasped at the sight of her.
“Princess, you are…I can’t find the words. Beautiful doesn’t seem a good enough word, but you are. Beautiful, just beautiful.”
Bea watched as the tears ran down her father’s cheeks. “Don’t cry, Dad.”
Reg took her hand and kissed it. “I can’t help it—you’re my little girl, and you always will be.”
“Do you think Abby would be proud? I’ve been thinking a lot about her today. She should have been my bridesmaid, enjoying the day with me.”
“She will be with you. Just think of her, and know she’ll be watching over you.”
Bea smiled and said, “Well, this is it. I just can’t believe this is happening to me. Have you seen all the people outside?”
“Yes, you should see the crowds lining the route. They can’t wait to see you.”
The nerves bubbled and churned around in Bea’s stomach. “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”
“You know you are, princess. George is the kind of partner a father dreams of for his daughter. Not because she is a Queen, but because she loves you, respects you, will protect you from harm, and understands the importance of family.”
Bea agreed with her father wholeheartedly and was certain that George’s character would have been the same, whether she had been a farmer, a manual labourer, or a Queen. “You’re right, Dad. I suppose we should get going.”
Reg reached out and took both his daughter’s hands. “When you leave the house, your life will change forever. I just want you to know that no matter how busy you are, jet-setting around the world, Mum and I will always be thinking of you and are so proud of you.”
The tears started to well up in Bea’s eyes.
“Don’t you cry and waste that lovely make-up, princess. Come on.”
*
“Georgie, would you sit down, you’re making me nervous.” They were waiting in the Abbey vestry for the bride to arrive, but while Theo was calmly sitting, the Queen was nervously pacing.
“I was fine when we came in and met all the clergy—it’s just this waiting. I want to get married now.”
“I’ve never met anyone more desperate to get married than you, Georgie.” Theo chortled.
George finally came and sat down. “Can you blame me? Bea is just…I don’t have the words, but she is matchless. There is no one more perfect than her. I love her.”
“Wow, I hope I meet someone that makes me say things like that.”
George looked round at her brother. “You do think she’s right for me, don’t you? I mean my people think so too, don’t they?”
“Of course. Did you see the crowds outside? The banners, the placards, all for Queen Bea. They love her.”
George nodded and said, “Are you all right? Feeling strong enough?”
“Of course I’m all right. Stop worrying. I’m back to full health. I might not be as strong as I was, but I’ll get there.”
“Of course you will, but it’s my job to worry. You’re my brother.” George patted him on the shoulder.
Theo looked thoughtful for a minute and said, “I wonder how they’re dealing with Julian today.”
Very soon after the assassination attempt, Julian had a complete mental breakdown and was committed to Broadmoor criminal psychiatric hospital. He would be treated there until such time as he was capable of standing trial.
“I’m sure they’ll keep all forms of media away from him, since the doctor said he seems to be focused on
and obsessed with me.”
George was aware Theo still had nightmares about that day. When he was recuperating at Sandringham, both Bea and herself had seen the way it affected him. It was such a support having her fiancée at her side through that time. Bea had shown such care to her brother, that George grew ever more in love with her, even though that didn’t seem possible.
“You’ve handled everything perfectly, Georgie, as you always will.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Theo.”
Theo shook his head. “Even after all he’s done, and how angry we are at him, you still got the best psychiatrist on Harley Street to visit him every week.”
“Being head of the family means you help the lost sheep as well as the rest of the family. It’s for Aunt Grace as much as anyone. His betrayal of the family has nearly destroyed her, and it’s what Papa would have done. I don’t think I could have been as generous if you had died, Theo. The pain would have blinded me.”
“I don’t believe so. It’s who you are, Georgie. It was a lovely touch to include little Charles and Mary in the wedding party.”
In a show of family unity, Julian’s son Charles was asked to be a pageboy for Bea, and Mary a flower girl.
“They bear no blame for the sins of their father. As much as their mother doesn’t particularly like Bea, she had nothing to do with what Julian did, and as long as she behaves correctly, she and the children will always be welcome.”
One of the ceremonial guards popped his head round the door, and said, “Your Majesty? They’re ready for you. The bride’s car is five minutes away.”
George jumped up quickly. “We’re under starter’s orders, Theo.”
“Calm down, Georgie, take a breath, or you’ll fall arse over tit in front of the whole Abbey.”
“Okay, okay. I’m calm. Let’s go and get my consort,” George said with glee.