And with a brief kiss on the cheek, he went back to his documents, leaving her clutching her bags in the open doorway, only too aware of Morris’s lingering gaze.
Closing the door softly, she found herself alone in the silent corridor, suddenly cold away from Richard’s warmth. The meeting had ended so abruptly. It hadn’t even been a proper kiss.
Deflated, she headed back to the queen’s wardrobe.
‘Where have you been? The laundry was supposed to go down half an hour ago.’ Caroline bustled in with yet another pile. ‘Was there anyone in the guest rooms?’
After a moment’s pause, Lucy replied, ‘No, no one at all.’ And as if it had never happened, she went back to sorting the clothes for cleaning.
MIRANDA
‘COME ON,MIRANDA!I’M NOT EVEN SURE I SHOULD LETyou do this!’ It was late afternoon when Caroline hurried her into the queen’s wardrobe. ‘Hide in here.’
‘You have no idea how grateful I am!’ Miranda said.
‘Just make sure no one sees you.’
Miranda stuck her head out. ‘These gowns are exquisite. Have you tried any of them on?’
‘Of course not!’ Caroline whispered.
‘Don’t tell me, it’s so against the rules that there isn’t even a rule against it.’
But voices filtered through from the adjoining rooms. ‘That’s the queen now, with the head dresser by the sounds of it.’ And with uncharacteristic brusqueness, Caroline shoved Miranda’s head back in and trotted out into the dressing room.
From behind the garments, Miranda listened to the queen’s clipped upper-class tones. She’d only previously heard Elizabeth’s voice on the radio, yet it seemed softer, more informal in this intimate environment. Slowly, she eased herself out of the wardrobe.
‘I know that Lascelles is my private secretary,’ the queen was saying, ‘and my mother says I should follow his advice, but sometimes his ideas don’t seem quite right.’
‘Surely now you’re the monarch,’ Miss MacDonald said, her Scottish burr soft and careful. ‘You should decide for yourself.’
‘First they talked me into moving my family to Buckingham Palace, just as Philip had finished redecorating Clarence House. It was perfectfor the children, and now we’re stuck in this massive place with no end of advisors and servants. My bedroom is a five-minute walk from the nursery.’
‘Churchill and Lascelles insisted, didn’t they?’
‘Yes, and now they’re putting pressure on me to change the children’s last name from Philip’s to mine, to keep the House of Windsor. They’re adamant that the children need to have the monarch’s last name. Philip’s beside himself. I keep asking if we can have Windsor-Mountbatten, but they insist.’
‘Why are they so opposed to it?’
‘Something about Philip’s uncle, Lord Mountbatten, boasting that the House of Mountbatten is now in charge. Lascelles and Churchill don’t trust him.’ She sighed. ‘And now they’re saying that I have to make a declaration, not only that our name is Windsor, but that all our children’s children will be Windsors, too. No wonder Philip’s livid.’
Miranda’s heart fell. Was this all the new queen could do, ask politely and then allow herself to be stifled by a team of stuffy old men? Miranda didn’t want to write her articles about a woman cowed by her advisors. She wanted to write about a vibrant new queen paving the way for women to hold their own. It was supposed to be the dawning of the new age for women, but this – this! – only proved more than ever that the men were still in charge.
The queen went on, ‘I’m torn between my husband and my advisors, but I have to work out what is best for the nation, best for the monarchy.’
And Miranda felt a wave of understanding. What a hard task this was, the queen juggling her personal life as a wife and mother with her regal life as a powerful monarch. How difficult to blend these two contrasting positions.
There was a rustling of heavy fabric, and then the dresser said, ‘Oh, look, they’ve made those adjustments around the waist.’
The queen must be in the gown.
Miranda checked to see that the coast was clear before creeping to the door. It was ajar, and through the crack, she could see Caroline,standing aside, waiting for orders, with one of the queen’s dogs sitting at her feet.
‘The bodice could be a little looser, don’t you think?’ the queen murmured as she looked at her reflection.
There was an obvious warmth between her and the dressers, a closeness that Miranda hadn’t expected. It felt like Miranda was intruding into the queen’s private life, and the notion spurred her on – this was where the best stories lay.
In order to see the queen, Miranda had to step in front of the crack, making her visible should anyone look in that direction. If she were caught, it was all on the line.
