Caroline
As if in sympathy, the dogs were resting in the corner, and in the background, Churchill’s tribute came over the radio. ‘She died in the knowledge that the crown is far more securely based on people’s love than in the sedate days of her youth, when rank and privilege ruled society.’
‘That’s what I have to remember,’ the queen murmured, half to herself.
‘What’s that, Ma’am?’ The head dresser was lifting and tucking one stockinged foot into a shoe, followed by the other.
‘How much things have changed. My dear grandmother was always very firm about sticking to the rules, making sure things were done properly. The monarchy was there because the people trusted in the authority of the ruling class. But today, the monarchy is more about helping people rather than ruling over them.’ She frowned.
‘It’s about looking at today’s society and seeing what they need a queen to be. ’
‘Perhaps you could take her advice and change it into today’s world. Maybe it’s like a beautiful old gown that needs a little thought and careful alterations to fit the times,’ Miss MacDonald said as she smoothed down the hemlines.
‘Yes, that’s a good way of putting it.’ Elizabeth’s eyes flickered to the mirror, where she watched her perfected form, the black dress, gloves, stockings, shoes.
Her face was pale in comparison, the weight of this death, this funeral, just ten weeks before the coronation.
‘She was a great inspiration to me, but I always wondered whether she had faith in me, too. It was as if every sentence was prefaced with, “if only you were older”, or “if only your father had lived to give you the apprenticeship you needed”.’ She sighed.
‘And now she’s gone. First my father, and now her. How can I go on without help?’
‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but do you need anyone’s help, Ma’am?’ Miss MacDonald said. ‘It might be time to have faith in yourself, live by your own rules – be the queen of your own realms.’
As if in thought, the queen’s eyes drifted into middle distance. Then, snapping out of it, she looked around at her dresser. ‘Well, let’s get through the funeral and see where we are. Thank goodness we have the break in Balmoral coming up.’
The day would be long. After a funeral procession through London, the service would be taking place in the chapel at Windsor Castle, and finally back to the palace.
For Caroline, too, it would be busy, which was good as it took her mind off Angus after their day out. Yet, as she helped the queen, she found her mind running over it again and again.
How different her life could have been.
Today, Miss MacDonald was to accompany Elizabeth to the funeral, leaving Caroline to pack Her Majesty’s clothes for the Balmoral trip.
The trunks had to be taken by train to Scotland ahead of time so that they could be unpacked before the queen’s arrival.
On the way to Balmoral, the queen was stopping for the launch of the new Royal Yacht, Britannia, the floating palace that was to take her around the world on her Coronation Tour.
While she was touching up her makeup, the queen talked to Miss MacDonald about the trip, how much she needed a break, how good it would be to get away from the politics of the palace.
‘The advisors and Churchill aren’t at all happy that I want to appoint Philip as the Head of the Coronation Committee. It’s usually the Duke of Norfolk’s job. They’re put out because Philip says he wants to “modernize” everything.’
Miss MacDonald considered it before replying.
‘I think he’s right to make changes. Your advisors think the public wants a show of power and wealth, a dynasty of the oldest traditions.
But I’m not sure anyone wants to see lots of money being spent on frivolous extras, not while everyday people have to stick to rations from the last war.
’ She set the queen’s shoes on the floor in front of a leather armchair.
‘In any case, it’s a good idea to keep Philip involved, now that they’ve forced him to give up his naval career. ’
‘He’s so very cross these days, lost with nothing to do,’ Elizabeth said, and in a lower voice added, ‘and he’s spending too much time with his equerry.
Who knows what goes on at their lunch clubs.
And what about their weekends away “with the men” in various country estates.
’ She took a deep breath. ‘What he needs is to be part of the palace, to feel important.’
‘What ideas does he have for modernizing the coronation?’
‘He wants to invite businessmen and trade unionists to the service – normally it’s lords and ladies, clergymen and prime ministers. He says it reflects the changing times in a postwar Britain. He also wants to alter the liturgy, make it less pompous and more understandable.’
‘That’ll be difficult to change. The liturgy goes back centuries.’
‘Yes, that’s what Churchill and Lascelles say.
’ Elizabeth slid her feet into the shoes.
‘They don’t want the monarchy to be too transparent.
If people can see through the liturgies and the gowns, they’ll realize that, underneath all the pomp, we’re just ordinary people.
Why keep a hereditary monarchy if you’re not getting someone special? ’
‘But you bring a lot more to the monarchy, Ma’am,’ Miss MacDonald said quickly. ‘You bring knowledge and balance, the morals and teachings of your father.’
‘Except that I never had my apprenticeship with him before he died. It was a few cursory mornings, going through the red box, the state papers.’ She paused.
‘The advisors are right, but Philip has a point, too. He wants to have the coronation televised, letting the world see inside the sanctum of the holy service. Churchill and the Duke of Norfolk are furious with the notion of bringing cameras into such a sacred service, and it would make it so much more nerve-wracking for me.’
‘Wouldn’t it be lovely for everyone to watch it, though?’ Miss MacDonald said. ‘All my family adore the royal occasions, and none of them will be invited into the abbey. Think of how much more popular you’ll be if everyone can feel part of it.’
Thoughtfully, the queen nodded.
Miss MacDonald smiled. ‘You could be the queen of modernity, moving with the times.’
A knock came from the door, the butler there to collect her for the car. Elizabeth donned her usual close-lipped smile and let him escort her out.
But instead of going with her, Miss MacDonald stopped for a word with Caroline.
‘I’d like you to go with the queen to Balmoral next week, standing in as the head dresser.’
‘Who, me?’
‘I have personal reasons why I can’t be there, a family memorial.’
For a moment, Caroline wondered if she’d heard correctly. ‘Of course, it would be an honour.’
‘It’ll only be for two nights, then I’ll be up to take over. You’ll be given a train ticket to return to London.’
But Caroline was barely listening.
She was going to Balmoral.
Her mind reeled with everything that the news entailed. She’d always been told the job would involve travelling with the queen when required, but this?
A flurry of images whirled inside her: the great castle, the dramatic scenery, and of course Angus.
Would she see him while she was there?
The thought of him made her at once fired up with excitement and then anxious with utter fear: Why would she taunt herself with something she could never have?
‘Will you make sure Her Majesty’s gown is ready for this evening, Caroline?’ Miss MacDonald was putting on her coat to leave. ‘I’ll see you after the service.’
Within a minute, she was gone, and Caroline found herself standing in the dressing room alone with her thoughts.
The mirrors reflected her image back at her from every angle, this time her cropped hair and sagging shoulders filling her with frustration. She’d let herself be driven down by Frank, by her situation. From those first moments that she’d realized she was pregnant, she had become a victim.
And worse, she’d let Frank perpetuate it, using it to keep her in her place.
With a sigh, she thought about the queen, trying to rule for herself, desperate to throw off the mantle of the inexperienced girl that the older men kept foisting upon her.
That was where they were similar, both trying to regain control over their lives.
The old corgi came to sit beside her, as if a bolstering force.
‘I wish I could spruce myself up a bit,’ Caroline said.
Without thinking, she put her hands to her hair and re-pinned it, giving it more style to allow the front to frame her face.
Then her eyes strayed to the wardrobe, where the dresses and gowns for Balmoral were ready for packing, and before she knew what she was doing, she found the midnight-blue satin gown and pulled it up to herself.
‘What it would be like to wear a gown like this!’ she said to the corgi, holding it over her body.
Hadn’t Miranda asked if she’d ever thought about trying on the queen’s clothes?
Of course she couldn’t.
Could she?
With a glance to the door, her eyes met the dogs’, which seemed to say, Go on, it’ll be lovely to see you in it.
And with a breath of a laugh, she unhooked the gown from its hanger.
The fabric was soft beneath her fingers, the light from the window reflecting the sheen as she held her breath, wondering if she dared.
And quick as a flash, she took off her plain black dress and put the gown on, gasping as the thick blue fabric flowed to the floor.
Then she tried on a pair of the queen’s evening shoes and made her way back to the dressing room mirrors.
With a gasp, she saw an elegant woman reflected back at her. Her eyes shone with energy as she stood, tall and slender, her neck and shoulders pale and upright above the exquisite dark-blue silk.
‘What do you think?’
The corgi’s tail thumped lightly on the rug, her face tilted to one side, as if to say, I knew you’d look amazing.
And as Caroline twirled around, she saw a different woman.