‘Annabel is quite the exception. I can take or leave a lot of the others. My New York friends were always trying to get me to engage with their offspring, to little avail. They think their little darlings are so adorable that it would magically induce me to want a brood of my own.’ She chuckled. ‘Foolish beyond belief!’
Caroline laughed along with her. ‘But why not, if that’s what you want?’
‘My job, for one!’ she exclaimed, as if the answer was obvious.
‘I have a job and a child, and let me tell you that if anyone asked me what is the best part of my life, it would be a very easy answer.’
Miranda laughed. Since she’d become friends with Caroline, she’d tuned in to her gentle humour. When she’d first arrived, she would have considered Caroline dull, but now they often chatted, and Miranda found herself worrying about Caroline’s new predicament. The coronation was getting closer, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d be back in New York, leaving Caroline and Betty to get along by themselves.
In the very back of her mind, she wondered what they would think of her if they found out that Miranda was J. Marshall. Hiding things from Betty and her friends was harder than she imagined.
‘Look, this is the main part.’ Caroline pointed to the procession, which had reached the platform. Two of the maids of honour stepped forward and unpinned the makeshift train.
‘On the day, they’ll help her into a plain white overdress,’ Caroline explained as the queen sat on the great wooden throne. ‘Then the four Knights of the Garter carry a gold silk canopy to cover her for the Anointing Ceremony – the most spiritual moment of all, where God anoints the monarch.’
‘Don’t tell me you believe that jiggery-pokery about special powers invested by anointing with holy oil. It’s nothing but a medieval superstition invented to keep the people in check.’
‘You’ll see. Once the queen’s been anointed by God, she’ll be ready to rule the country.’
‘But what does the British monarchy have to do with God?’ Miranda let out a laugh. ‘How can anyone be expected to believe it?’
‘Isn’t that part of it, though? Can’t you see how much stability the monarchy gives us, the certainty of the traditions – that they are steeped in history alone proves that this is an institution that works.’
For a moment, Miranda wondered, unsure. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it’s the blending of the spiritual with the humanity that makes it work. But it takes the right monarch, that’s for sure.’
‘And Elizabeth is perfect,’ Caroline concluded. ‘She’ll be steady and capable.’
‘I gather that they’ve agreed to let the coronation be televised – bravo to Elizabeth for forcing her advisors to agree to that.’
‘It’s not easy to take a stand.’ Caroline smiled. ‘I’m rather proud of her, actually.’
Miranda chuckled. ‘Now all she needs to do is stand up to her husband.’
‘A few months ago, that American journalist, J. Marshall, was very scathing about the couple, wasn’t he?’ Caroline said.
‘Oh, I didn’t read that,’ Miranda said blithely. How flippant she’d been in her earlier reports.
‘I would have thought you’d have seen it. Everyone in the palace is talking about J. Marshall. They’re trying to find clues as to who it could be.’
Miranda shrugged. ‘It’s a bit silly, reading too much into a few trivial articles, isn’t it?’
‘Not if they’re undermining Elizabeth. She’s a young woman taking on a big role. She needs all the help she can get, not some dreadful man spreading rumours around the world.’
A discomfort came over Miranda. In her desperation to promote herself, was she taking down another woman?
The queen and her entourage had returned to the beginning of the aisle to rehearse once again, and across from Miranda, a group of men had arrived to watch, Sinclair among them. He was looking especially prim, his hair trimmed since the last time she’d seen him.
After her chat with Betty, Miranda couldn’t help thinking about how she’d pushed him away. After all, they were colleagues, friends even – although after the closet fiasco and their subsequent row, could they ever be friends again?
However, there were two pressing reasons why it might be beneficial to befriend Sinclair. First, he was very useful in supplying her with royal titbits for her articles, and second, because with the palace searching for J. Marshall, she needed allies.
There was a third reason, of course, which was that she missed his company, but she pushed that aside, muttering to herself, ‘Rational objectives only, please.’
As her eyes flickered across the abbey to him, she wondered if he, too, were thinking about her. Every so often, she thought he looked over at her, but then his eyes seemed to focus on the queen’s entourage passing between them.
It wasn’t until the queen was on the throne, everyone watching around the edge of the platform, that he looked straight at her. It was impossible to pretend she hadn’t seen him as she was gazing directly back at him.
At first his face looked pensive, but after a few moments, the side of his mouth lifted into a half-smile of sorts.
