Miss MacDonald had told Caroline that the Scottish trip would be a lovely break, and already she was putting her problems aside and focusing on her role.
After the launch ceremony, Caroline followed the queen on a tour of the 130-foot yacht, and what a sight it was! The queen had asked for it to be relaxing, more like a country home, and it was just that, with floral chintz sofas and thick rugs, photographs of her family, dogs and horses. It was a place where she could unwind after meetings and events as she travelled the globe.
The largest room was the magnificent state dining room, gleaming with crystal glasses and silverware on the long table running down the centre. Then there was her personal study, with sofas where she could talk to advisors or family members. Her bedroom was long, and the space at the end of the bed had a great dressing table. It led to a room to contain her wardrobe. Caroline wondered if she’d ever be called upon to accompany Her Majesty cruising around tropical islands, a different, wondrous life. She would sleep downstairs, where there werecabins to house the 220-strong crew and even a lounge room and bar where the staff could unwind.
After the tour, long black cars arrived to take the entourage to the station. There the Royal Train was waiting to take them across Scotland to Balmoral Castle. Equipped with ornate dining rooms, offices and bed chambers, the train had an older decadence than the yacht, the gilt and velvet denoting the glamour of the last century.
Once the royal party was on board, the train sped into the countryside, and before long, the great Highlands rose up like sleeping giants, huge and bleak beneath the grey sky.
The further they went, the fewer the villages and farm buildings, the roads more isolated, until there was nothing except the occasional brook or loch between the great heaving mountains.
It was late afternoon by the time they were picked up from the small town of Ballater. After only a mile or two, the cars pulled into a driveway, and Caroline’s breath caught as she first saw the hefty granite castle nestled in the valley. It looked like a fairy-tale tower, a place to hide a forbidden rebel or shelter an escaping princess.
‘If only Annabel could see this!’ Caroline murmured.
The front door opened into a dramatic gothic entrance hall. Pillars, statues and tall windows lined the great room. A grand staircase stood to one side, and a portly housekeeper, Mrs Campbell, led Caroline up to the queen’s bedroom to prepare the queen’s evening attire.
‘What a place to work,’ Caroline whispered, wondering if it was all right to talk. ‘Just think of the kings and queens who must have walked up this staircase.’
‘Well, only the more recent ones!’ the woman said in a warm Scottish accent. ‘Prince Albert bought it for Queen Victoria. It reminded him of his childhood home in the German mountains. Victoria adored the place. It was her haven, and we’re hoping the new queen will make it her special place, too, with plenty of dinners and dances.’
‘Are there any events happening during this stay? I was told it would be a nice relaxing trip for Her Majesty.’
‘Nothing of the sort!’ Mrs Campbell grinned. ‘Even on quiet nights we have bagpipes and dancers.’
The queen’s bedroom was vastly different from the splendour of Buckingham Palace. This was a proper castle, with bare grey stone interspersed with thistle-green wallpaper, carpet and curtains. The sofas were clothed in red tartan rugs, and even the table had a tartan tablecloth. If it weren’t for the photographs, the room wouldn’t have looked out of place two or even three centuries ago.
‘The dressing room and wardrobe are through the door there,’ Mrs Campbell said. ‘We unpacked Her Majesty’s clothes when they arrived yesterday, so you’ll find them in order.’
‘Thank you. It must mean a lot of extra work for you.’
‘That’s our job, to look after the queen when she visits, and the best bit, too. We take on extra staff, open all the rooms, and the place springs into life. Otherwise, it’s just about maintenance and cleaning. It’s not easy, keeping up a castle.’
‘Doesn’t it get lonely up here, in the middle of nowhere?’
That brought a chuckle out of her. ‘There’s always over a hundred staff, and the town is only a few miles away. People are always popping in and out, working in the palace, delivering things. You never get bored.’ She looked around the room. ‘After the queen’s dressed for dinner, come down to the servants’ quarters. I’ve saved you a good room, so I’ll show you there before supper.’
‘Do you live in the castle, too?’
‘Not me. I married the man who comes in to mend the boilers. We live in Ballater. It’s a quaint little town. You should see it if you have time.’
Caroline sighed. ‘I’m only here another day – until Miss MacDonald arrives – and I’ll be busy looking after the queen.’
‘The queen spends a lot of the time riding or walking, and there’s a wardrobe assistant to help, too, so I’m sure you’ll have some free time. There’s always cars heading to the town or bicycles to borrow.’
She straightened the bed and headed out, calling, ‘Let me know if you need anything,’ as she closed the door. Caroline was left alone to prepare the queen’s outfit for the evening, but felt her eyes drawn to the mountains. The northern air was getting inside her, thawing her from the inside out.
It wasn’t long before the queen arrived, and she went straight to the window.
‘This is one of my favourite views,’ she mused, turning back to Caroline. ‘It’s good to be back.’
As she’d been taught, Caroline helped the queen change into the gown, then guided her to the dressing table for her hair and makeup.
And it was there that Elizabeth began to speak to Caroline. ‘Isn’t it good to be out of the city? Have you been to Scotland before?’
The queen rarely spoke to her when Miss MacDonald was there, and Caroline swallowed hard, trying to sound natural. ‘Yes, Ma’am. I come from northern England, not far from the Scottish border, and we used to go to Edinburgh when I was a child.’
‘How lovely. There’s something very settling about the Highlands.’
