by Terry Toler
“Brilliant! If you’ll come with me, the Queen is going to hold a private ceremony in the Palace ballroom. No press allowed. Her Majesty understands your need for anonymity.”
We exited the room, and the man led us through a maze of halls. Along the way, the man gave us a history lesson on the various rooms in the Palace as we passed them. We came to a room with double doors, and when we entered the massive ballroom, my breath almost left me for a second time. The room was clearly set up for an event associated with the wedding later that day. I’d never seen such an elegant dinner display.
The royal advisor—subject, assistant, whatever he was—told Jamie and me to stand in front of two massive double doors. Facing it.
I suddenly felt nervous.
“What do I do?” I asked. “Do I, like, kneel and stuff, and she’ll tap me on the shoulder with a sword?”
“That’s only for British subjects,” the man explained. “You have to be a citizen of England to be eligible for actual knighthood. Yours is an honorary knighthood. Here’s how it’ll work. The Queen will enter. A band will play the British National Anthem. You don’t have to do anything. A consort will announce your honor. Her Majesty will approach you and hand you the insignia of knighthood.”
“Will she pin it on me or something?”
“She’ll hand the insignia to you. It’s in a royal binder. Inside will be a star, badge, and crimson silk sash. Try not to drop it.”
“I’ll try,” I said, although my hands suddenly felt clammy. I wish he hadn’t said that.
“You’ll have forty seconds with the Queen. She’ll ask you a question. If she wants to speak to you longer, that’ll be up to her.”
“Got it. Stand still. Wait for her. She’ll ask me a question. I have forty seconds to answer. I can do that.”
Jamie took my hand and squeezed it.
“Should I answer in a British accent?” I asked the man jokingly.
“No!” Jamie said. “Don’t you dare.”
“She might like to hear me talk British,” I said. I was only kidding, but Jamie acted like she didn’t know I was.
“Try not to embarrass us,” she said.
“I’ll try. No promises, though.”
Before I had a chance to get any more nervous, the doors opened, and the Queen appeared and walked through the huge double doors.
An hour ago, I was thirty seconds away from being blown up by a bomb. No problem. I dealt with it. Now I’m about to faint at the sight of the Queen of England.
36
Two guard-like people in royal military uniforms walked at the Queen’s side. A small band entered from behind her. The Queen wore a teal dress and hat. When everyone was in position, the band played, and I stood at attention. Not really sure exactly how to act. Jamie and I had been holding hands but were no longer.
When the band finished, the man who’d helped us motioned for me to step forward. When I didn’t immediately start walking, Jamie gave me a slight nudge forward. My knees suddenly felt weak and wobbly. I did manage to walk a few steps before he motioned for me to stop. The Queen approached, holding something in her hand. It looked like a college graduation degree folder, only fancier, and with a royal insignia on the outside.
She stopped right in front of me, and we made eye contact for the first time. She smiled. I tried to force my upper lip to stop quivering. I had no idea what to do, so I just stood there. Probably with a goofy looking grin on my face. My heart felt like it wanted to do laps around the ballroom.
A man read from a piece of paper in his hand. “Mr. Alex Steele. For bravery and courage in the face of an enemy on behalf of Britain.”
I wondered if the honor counted since that wasn’t my real name. In my role with the CIA, I could never tell anyone about it anyway. Except the people I worked with. That’d be satisfaction enough. Brad wouldn’t be impressed, but a lot of my fellow officers would be.
Does this mean everyone has to call me Sir?
The Queen handed me the binder. My hand shook as I reached out to take it from her. I opened it and was instantly overwhelmed with a sense of pride that rose up inside of me and warmed my heart. I stared at it for several seconds, although it seemed like several minutes. I bowed my head slightly toward her in the same manner I’d seen someone else do it a few seconds before when the Queen entered the room.
The Queen had a pleasant smile and looked me right in the eyes. She reached out her right gloved hand, took my right hand in hers, and held it in place. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “Thank you, Mr. Steele, for your courage and bravery,” she said. “You’ve done a great service to our country and to me personally. A tragedy was avoided today because of you.”
“You’re welcome, Ma’am. Er. My Queen. Er. Your Majesty.” I wasn’t sure how to address her. I added, “Thank you for this honor. I accept it on behalf of my country. I’ll never forget it.”
At least that’s what I think I said.
“Is that lovely lady your wife?” she asked, gazing at Jamie.
“Yes… she is, and she’d love to meet you.”
The Queen motioned for Jamie to join us.
Jamie approached cautiously and then curtsied. Awkwardly. We both faced down terrorists for a living, but we’d never faced anything as intimidating as the Queen of England.
Although, she was nothing like what I was expecting. She was charming and soft spoken and clearly trying to make us feel comfortable.
“Your husband is a very brave man,” she said to Jamie. “You must be extremely proud of him.”
“I am,” Jamie said. “Although now that he’s been knighted by the Queen of England, he may be harder to live with.” Jamie smiled in her unassuming way as she said it.
I was suddenly the proud one. Jamie continually amazed me with her ability to adapt to every situation. Standing here in front of the Queen of England, she handled it with grace and poise and immediately knew exactly what to say to ease the tenseness of the situation.
“All men are hard to live with as it is,” the Queen leaned in toward Jamie and quipped. I was pleasantly surprised that she was joking with us. Maybe I could pull out my British accent after all.
“How long have the two of you been married?” the Queen asked.
“Five days,” we said in unison.
Her Majesty chuckled.
“Honeymooners,” she said. “I should’ve known by looking at you. You both seem very much in love.”
“We are,” I said, taking Jamie’s hand and giving her a quick glance. She didn’t look my way but kept her focus on the Queen.
“It’s been an eventful honeymoon for sure,” Jamie said. “Hopefully, the rest of our trip will not be as trying.”
“Where are you staying?” the Queen asked. It seemed like we were well past forty seconds, but I had no intention of cutting the conversation short.
I looked at Jamie and she looked at me. I wasn’t sure where we were staying tonight. We hadn’t even talked about it. Although, the thought did occur to me that Jamie and I would finally be able to have our wedding night. Uninterrupted. We should find a really nice hotel.
“We’re not sure,” Jamie said. “We don’t have a place at the moment.”
“Well, that will not do,” the Queen said. She suddenly turned and summoned one of her subjects. Assistants, I decided. It would be politically incorrect to call the help subjects or servants.
A man stepped by her side within seconds.
“Has the Vice President and the Second Lady moved out of the Belgian Suite?” the Queen asked.
It sounded like she was talking about our Vice President and his wife who I knew were in England for the wedding. They must’ve stayed at Buckingham Palace as her guest. I hadn’t seen any secret service, so I figured he was gone.
“Yes. Your Majesty. They left after the wedding.”
“Splendid.” She turned back toward us. “I’d love for you to be my guest for the night. You’ll be very comfortable in the Belgian Suite. It
’s simply magnificent. It’s named after King Leopold, the first of the Belgians. Queen Victoria’s favorite uncle. Prince Andrew and Prince Edward were born there. Will you do me the honor of staying in my home tonight?”
She didn’t have to ask us twice.
“Sure,” we both said again in unison.
“It’d be our pleasure,” I added.
“Then it’s settled. Will you join me for breakfast in the morning?”
“Of course. It’d be our honor.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. If I could, I’d pinch myself just to see if I were having a dream.
The Queen reached out her hand to shake mine again. Then Jamie’s. “I’m so thrilled,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning. I’d spend more time with you today, but I have a wedding reception to go to and dinner with the newly married couple.” She waved her hand at the grand display behind us.
I wondered if we could crash the wedding later. That’d be something to tell our kids about.
“We perfectly understand,” Jamie said. “And thank you for your hospitality.”
The Queen turned and walked away.
Jamie and I both stayed perfectly still until she was gone.
As soon as the big doors closed, we danced around in a little jig as Jamie squealed like a schoolgirl. We were the only people in the room except for one other man.
He approached us.
“My name is Mr. Dorsey. I’m an assistant to the Queen.”
He shook my hand and kissed Jamie’s in a formal manner.
“If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to the Belgian suite. Would you like to see the Throne Room first?”
I didn’t think I’d ever hear those words in my lifetime.
“You bet… Yes sir, of course. We’d love to.” I had to tone down my casualness. Everyone and everything was so prim and proper. Jamie seemed right at home. I felt like the proverbial fish out of water. I needed a quick lesson in how to act in front of royalty.
The walk to the Throne Room took nearly a half hour, as Mr. Dorsey stopped several times to point out various points along the way. He seemed knowledgeable about the history of Buckingham Palace and particularly the artwork which he and Jamie shared as a common interest.
We stopped in front of what he said was the Throne Room and Mr. Dorsey asked us to wait outside so he could check to see if anyone was in there.
After he was gone, I whispered to Jamie, “Do you think he’d let me sit on the throne?”
Jamie reached over and pinched my arm. Hard.
“Don’t you even think about it,” she said.
“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m a knight now.”
This time she punched me in the arm. Harder. “You might be a knight, but I’m a wife. Wife trumps knight.”
“I’ll have to check the rules on that.”
“Don’t get a big head. A knight is barely above a pawn in chess.”
We both burst out laughing.
The man suddenly appeared and we both abruptly composed ourselves.
“Right this way,” the man said pointing to the open doors.
I couldn’t believe it. We were about to enter the Throne Room of Buckingham Palace.
Jamie entered before me.
I whispered in her ear, “I’m asking.”
I never did ask. I was too much in awe.
37
The Belgian Suite
The guest suite at Buckingham Palace was more grandiose and magnificent than I imagined it would be. Mr. Dorsey told us several U.S. Presidents had stayed there, as well as many world dignitaries. None more important than us, he added. He thanked me profusely for my bravery and what I did for England and the monarchy.
I told him how thankful I was to be able to save so many lives. Including my own.
Mr. Dorsey was right. The bomb would’ve detonated in the courtyard of Buckingham Palace. Right at the Grand Entrance. Most of the staff were in the courtyard when the Queen arrived and would’ve been at the epicenter of the blast. I shuddered at the thought of how close we all came to a disaster of epic proportions.
He led us into the main living area of the Belgian Suite.
Jamie was immediately drawn to the artwork.
I merely tried to take it all in.
Mr. Dorsey wowed us with his knowledge of the famous paintings that lined each wall including a three-quarter-length painting of King George III and Queen Charlotte.
“These are works by Canaletto,” Mr. Dorsey pointed out, more for Jamie’s benefit than for mine.
“Diana and Acteon,” Jamie said. “Gainsborough’s most famous painting. Stunning.”
I had no idea what they were talking about but kept nodding my head
“I’m impressed,” Mr. Dorsey said. “You know your artists.”
I was impressed with Jamie as well. Which reminded me.
“Where’s the bedroom?” I asked. While I was enjoying the tour, my mind was elsewhere now.
“This way,” Mr. Dorsey said. “I think you’ll be pleased. It’s quite opulent.”
Opulent didn’t begin to describe it. The room was sky blue. The centerpiece of the room was the massive king-sized bed with an elegant, gilded headboard. Draped by a crisp white, down-filled comforter with layers of starched, colorful spreads topped by two rows of the puffiest pillows with silk cases, standing at attention at the head of the bed. A huge, crystal chandelier was suspended high above.
While I was focused on the bed, Jamie and Mr. Dorsey were deep in discussion about the three portraits of Queen Victoria in the room.
After they were done conversing about art, Mr Dorsey said, “The suite has six bathrooms.”
“Wow!” Now, I couldn’t wait for the tour to be over, so we could start enjoying it.
Curly always told us to take everything in stride. To not give anything away. Act like we’ve been there and done that many times before. Whatever it was. He couldn’t have imagined this. I couldn’t help but show how impressed I was by my surroundings.
Before Mr. Dorsey had a chance to show us any of the bathrooms, we heard voices coming from the main room. We followed Mr. Dorsey back to the yellow room. Narrow corridors connected the rooms. The sound was coming from four staff members who were there. Upon seeing Dorsey, they suddenly became quiet and moved into formation. Three men and one woman. A younger looking lady. All dressed formally in black and white.
Mr. Dorsey gestured to each as he introduced them. “Ms. Tamara Gilbert will be Mrs. Steele’s lady-in-waiting,” he said. The young woman stepped forward.
“Please call me Jamie,” my wife responded to the young lady.
“Ms. Gilbert,” Mr. Dorsey said, “please show Jamie to the ladies’ dressing area. I’m sure she’d like to get changed.”
“I don’t have any clothes,” Jamie said, hesitantly. “We didn’t come prepared to sleep over.”
Mr. Dorsey answered, “Not a problem. We have a complete wardrobe closet for that very reason. I’m sure we can find something in your size. I’ll tell you a funny story if you have the time.”
I actually was starting to get anxious. We had the time, but I wanted to go back and try out the bedroom.
Mr. Dorsey continued. “A few years back, one of our clumsy footmen spilled a boat filled with gravy on the Grand Duchess of… I don’t remember which country. Maybe she was a Princess. Or an actress. Anyway… it doesn’t matter. It was quite the scandal. She was wearing an expensive dress. I believe her exact words to the footman was, ‘I will thank you never to darken my Dior again.”
We all burst into laughter. All except the staff. They maintained perfect composure as they continued to maintain stately decorum. Mr. Dorsey’s laugh was deep and almost roaring. I bet he had a lot of juicy stories to tell. No telling what he had seen in his years of service.
“Right this way, Madam,” the lady-in-waiting said to Jamie after the laughter died down.
Jamie looked back at me with what could only be describ
ed as childlike anticipation as they disappeared into another room.
As soon as they were gone, Mr. Dorsey continued. “Two footmen will remain outside your suite at all times,” he said to me. “Twenty-four hours a day. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask them.”
“Can they bring us food?”
“Of course. The kitchen is open day and night. Just tell them what you desire.”
“Nothing now. But perhaps in about an hour.”
“We are at your service. I’m sure you will find the food exquisite.” Dorsey gestured to another gentleman, still standing at attention. “Mr. Bennett Eland will be your equerry, Mr. Steele.” A man stepped forward and gave me a slight salute. “He is one of Her Majesty’s most trusted assistants and his family has served the Queens for three generations.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Bennett,” I said.
“I’m at your service, Sir.”
I wondered if he called me sir because I was a knight or if he called everyone sir. I was dying to know. So, I asked Mr. Dorsey. “Having been knighted by the Queen, does that mean I am to be called sir now?”
He shook his head no. “The titles of Dame and Sir are reserved for British citizens. Yours is an honorary title and does not come with the title of Sir. Nonetheless, you are an honored guest of the Queen. Our staff will address you in any manner you prefer.”
“I prefer Alex.”
“Alex it is. Make yourself at home, Alex. Should I be of further service to you, please don’t hesitate to ask one of the footmen, and they will summon me at once.”
“Very good,” I said in my most formal voice. “I appreciate all your help. I don’t expect that we’ll need anything.”
Mr. Dorsey clicked his heels, nodded his head, and departed the room. The two footmen followed him. Presumably to take their positions outside the room.
“Can I be of assistance to you?” Bennett Eland asked.
“I would like to get a shower and change clothes. Do you have a wardrobe for men as well?”
“We do, Sir. Right this way. I will help you get undressed and into the shower.”
I had no idea what he meant, but I didn’t like the sound of it.