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Authors: Rebecca Dean
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p-p-position?”
“Yes, he did, old chap. I told him you were sixty-first and that that was quite good where you were concerned and that you were working very hard.”
When he saw the still-agonized expression on Bertie’s face, he added a comforting fib: “He said he was pleased about the way you were trying.”
Bertie’s face lit up. “D-did he?”
“Yes. That wasn’t why I wanted to see you, though. I wanted to see you because the most extraordinary,
wonderful
thing has happened to me.”
Bertie couldn’t imagine anything wonderful happening to either of them with the coronation hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles.
“W-what is it, David? Have you been m-made a cadet c-captain?”
David grinned. “It’s something far more wonderful than that, Bertie. If I tell you, you have to promise
on your life
that you won’t tell anyone. Not even Mary.”
Bertie looked bewildered. Though Mary was three years younger than David and over a year younger than himself, they’d always treated her as an equal and had never had any secrets from her.
“Now, d’you promise me, Bertie?” David said, eyeballing him fiercely. “Not a word to anyone.
Ever
.”
David was Bertie’s hero and though it seemed a bit of a bad show that Mary wasn’t to be in on David’s secret, he didn’t have the slightest doubt about doing as David asked.
“N-n-not a word, old chap.”
David flashed him his uniquely charming grin and offered him a cigarette. Since Bertie was only fifteen and a half, it was against the rules for him to smoke, but he took the Capstan gratefully.
When both their cigarettes were alight, David said, “I’ve met the most amazing family—and the most angelic girl.”
Girls were foreign territory to Bertie, but he knew that David, as Prince of Wales, would have to marry young because their father, when he had been Prince of Wales, had married young, as had their grandfather, when he had been Prince of Wales.
If their father and mother were already bringing suitable girls to David’s attention, it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. All suitable girls had, of course, to be princesses of royal blood, and since Germany had the largest clutch of royal princesses—nearly all of them cousins or second cousins once removed or third cousins—he naturally assumed that David’s most angelic girl was a distant German relation.
“I say, it isn’t V-Victoria L-Louise, is it?”
Princess Victoria Louise was their uncle Willy’s daughter and both he and David liked her enormously because although she wasn’t very pretty, she was very easy to get on with. A match between the emperor of Germany’s daughter and the heir to the British throne would be a dynastic masterstroke.
“No. She isn’t one of the Schleswig-Holstein mob either. Her name is Lily. Her father was Viscount Houghton. He died whenshe was a baby. She and her older sisters live with their grandfather, the Earl of May. Their home is called Snowberry and it’s in Hampshire.”
Bertie blinked. If the Earl of May was a friend of their father, he would have heard of him. But he hadn’t. He knew their father certainly wouldn’t want David becoming acquainted with the daughter of a mere viscount.
“B-but h-how did you m-meet her?” he asked, stumbling for clarification. “W-where did you m-meet her?”
“I was en route to Windsor and I took a corner criminally wide and knocked Lily’s sister, Rose, off her bicycle. She wasn’t seriously hurt, but I couldn’t just say sorry and drive on.”
“So you took her h-home?”
“Yes. Then I met her sisters Iris and Marigold—and Lily. Yesterday I went there again and met Lord May. He’s just as nice as his granddaughters. They really are the most spiffing family, Bertie. I wish you could meet them, but I don’t suppose you can. If two of us began going to Snowberry, the secret couldn’t possibly stay a secret—and I have to be able to keep going there and being friends
“Yes, he did, old chap. I told him you were sixty-first and that that was quite good where you were concerned and that you were working very hard.”
When he saw the still-agonized expression on Bertie’s face, he added a comforting fib: “He said he was pleased about the way you were trying.”
Bertie’s face lit up. “D-did he?”
“Yes. That wasn’t why I wanted to see you, though. I wanted to see you because the most extraordinary,
wonderful
thing has happened to me.”
Bertie couldn’t imagine anything wonderful happening to either of them with the coronation hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles.
“W-what is it, David? Have you been m-made a cadet c-captain?”
David grinned. “It’s something far more wonderful than that, Bertie. If I tell you, you have to promise
on your life
that you won’t tell anyone. Not even Mary.”
Bertie looked bewildered. Though Mary was three years younger than David and over a year younger than himself, they’d always treated her as an equal and had never had any secrets from her.
“Now, d’you promise me, Bertie?” David said, eyeballing him fiercely. “Not a word to anyone.
Ever
.”
David was Bertie’s hero and though it seemed a bit of a bad show that Mary wasn’t to be in on David’s secret, he didn’t have the slightest doubt about doing as David asked.
“N-n-not a word, old chap.”
David flashed him his uniquely charming grin and offered him a cigarette. Since Bertie was only fifteen and a half, it was against the rules for him to smoke, but he took the Capstan gratefully.
When both their cigarettes were alight, David said, “I’ve met the most amazing family—and the most angelic girl.”
Girls were foreign territory to Bertie, but he knew that David, as Prince of Wales, would have to marry young because their father, when he had been Prince of Wales, had married young, as had their grandfather, when he had been Prince of Wales.
If their father and mother were already bringing suitable girls to David’s attention, it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. All suitable girls had, of course, to be princesses of royal blood, and since Germany had the largest clutch of royal princesses—nearly all of them cousins or second cousins once removed or third cousins—he naturally assumed that David’s most angelic girl was a distant German relation.
“I say, it isn’t V-Victoria L-Louise, is it?”
Princess Victoria Louise was their uncle Willy’s daughter and both he and David liked her enormously because although she wasn’t very pretty, she was very easy to get on with. A match between the emperor of Germany’s daughter and the heir to the British throne would be a dynastic masterstroke.
“No. She isn’t one of the Schleswig-Holstein mob either. Her name is Lily. Her father was Viscount Houghton. He died whenshe was a baby. She and her older sisters live with their grandfather, the Earl of May. Their home is called Snowberry and it’s in Hampshire.”
Bertie blinked. If the Earl of May was a friend of their father, he would have heard of him. But he hadn’t. He knew their father certainly wouldn’t want David becoming acquainted with the daughter of a mere viscount.
“B-but h-how did you m-meet her?” he asked, stumbling for clarification. “W-where did you m-meet her?”
“I was en route to Windsor and I took a corner criminally wide and knocked Lily’s sister, Rose, off her bicycle. She wasn’t seriously hurt, but I couldn’t just say sorry and drive on.”
“So you took her h-home?”
“Yes. Then I met her sisters Iris and Marigold—and Lily. Yesterday I went there again and met Lord May. He’s just as nice as his granddaughters. They really are the most spiffing family, Bertie. I wish you could meet them, but I don’t suppose you can. If two of us began going to Snowberry, the secret couldn’t possibly stay a secret—and I have to be able to keep going there and being friends
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