Elizabeth laughs. ‘Granny’s bark is worse than her bite. She’s a bit stiff but very kind really.’
‘A bit stiff?’ Sitting up, he pulls an expression of exaggerated incredulity. ‘In the same way that the South Pole is a bit chilly?’
She laughs again and bumps her shoulder against his. ‘Your turn. When did you realise you were a prince and not like everyone else?’
He doesn’t answer immediately. ‘It wasn’t the same for me,’ he says eventually. ‘I didn’t have a surname at school, but apart from that … I suppose the truth is, I am like everyone else.’
Elizabeth’s happy mood dims a little. ‘You know that will change, Philip?’
‘I know,’ he says. He takes her chin and turns her gently to force her to look at him. ‘Elizabeth, are you sure want to do this?’
‘I’m sure.’
There is something reckless in the smile that blazes in Philip’s face as he jumps off the boulder. ‘Then let’s go back and face the music!’ He holds up a hand to help her down. ‘We’re going to come under a lot of pressure, but if we can hold firm, we’ll make it through.’
She is brushing off the odd bits of lichen clinging to her skirt, but at that she looks up at him and smiles. ‘We will,’ she promises him. ‘We’re in this together.’
***
Elizabeth is standing at the window in the drawing room, gazing unseeingly at the hills and twisting her pearls.
Philip requested an interview with the King as soon as they got back and he is in with her father now.
‘Perhaps I should come with you?’ Elizabeth said when the message came that the King would see Philip. ‘He’s not going to be pleased that you’ve gone directly against his wishes.’
Her father’s violent outbursts of temper are familiar to all of them, but Philip didn’t appear at all nervous about the interview.
‘I should see your father alone,’ he said. ‘It’s the right thing to do, and he’ll think even less of me if I go in hiding behind your skirts.’
She bit her lip. ‘He can get so angry.’
‘Let him be angry,’ was all Philip said before he left. ‘He can’t eat me, no matter how much he might want to.’ He cast a quick glance to check they were alone and then pulled her close for a quick, fierce kiss. ‘We’re holding firm, remember?’
Now a discreet cough behind her makes Elizabeth start and swing round. Group Captain Townsend is in the doorway. ‘Your Royal Highness? The King has asked if you would join him in his study.’
‘Thank you, Peter.’ Outwardly calm, Elizabeth follows her father’s equerry along the corridor and waits for him to open the door for her.
‘Her Royal Highness, Your Majesty,’ he says before stepping back and closing the door.
The King is sitting behind his desk, his face thunderous, while Philip has got to his feet at her entrance. He sends her a faint smile and a wink.
‘S-Sit down, Lilibet,’ her father says, the stammer a sure sign of his agitation. ‘You too,’ he adds with a scowl in Philip’s direction.
‘Philip has t-told me that in d-defiance of my express wishes, you have decided to become engaged.’
‘Yes, Papa.’
‘I’m d-disappointed in you, Lilibet. I thought you understood the situation! I thought you both understood that a betrothal is not possible at the moment,’ the King goes on with another glare in Philip’s direction. ‘You are not just any girl. You can’t m-marry whenever you feel like it. Your marriage is a matter of state, of diplomacy, politics.’
Elizabeth has her hands tightly folded in her lap. ‘I do understand that, Papa,’ she manages, ‘but I hope there will also be room for personal feelings.’
Her father’s only answer to that is an exasperated snort.
‘I … I hope to have a marriage as happy as yours and Mummy’s,’ she ploughs on.
‘Your mother was twenty-three before she married,’ the King snaps. ‘You’re only twenty. And she took a good, hard look at some other chaps before she said yes to me. That’s how I knew she wasn’t just interested in a royal title.’
Philip shifts in his chair but the King ignores him.
‘Yes, yes, you want Philip now, I can see that, but how many young women know their minds at twenty? If I give permission for this marriage to go ahead and then you change your mind, there won’t be a way out of it.’
Elizabeth steals a glance at Philip. His face is expressionless, but a muscle is jumping in his jaw. She is just glad that he is hanging on to his own temper. Her father may be in a vile mood now, but he won’t have held back when Philip was alone. Philip must have endured much worse.
‘I know my mind,’ she says quietly. She is trying not to show that she is shaking inside. She adores her father and she has spent her whole life trying to please him. She is the good girl, his trusty squire, the one he can rely on. He tells her so all the time. He is never angry with her.
But he is now.
Why isn’t her mother there to support her? Elizabeth wonders. She must know what is happening.
It seems that if she wants to marry Philip, she will have to stand on her own. But not alone, she thinks, with another glance at Philip.
We’re in this together. She was the one who had said that.
She lifts her chin. ‘I won’t change my mind,’ she says. ‘I want to marry Philip. Please, Papa, give us your blessing.’
‘My b-blessing?’ the King bellows, outraged. ‘When you have both defied me?’
‘Sir—’ Philip starts through gritted teeth, but her father turns on him.
‘I’ve heard enough from you, young man. How dare you s-saunter in here and tell me you want to get engaged to my daughter when I f-forbade you to mention the matter only yesterday?’
‘Papa,’ Elizabeth interrupts before Philip can speak. ‘I was the one who asked Philip to marry me.’
‘Then he should have said no!’
‘I didn’t want to say no.’ Philip’s cool voice cuts through her father’s fury and abruptly the King subsides. He sinks back into his leather chair, still glowering, but Elizabeth is glad to see the red light of rage has left his face.
‘You should both have waited.’
‘We have waited, Papa,’ she says gently.
‘Then wait longer!’
Elizabeth and Philip exchange a look. ‘Papa, we’re not going to undo this,’ she says. ‘We want to get married.’
The King sighs and shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
‘Please, Papa.’ She doesn’t want to plead, but she knows that for all his fury, her father loves her. He won’t want her to be unhappy.
Sure enough, his shoulders slump. ‘It doesn’t sound as if either of you are going to listen to sense,’ he grumbles, but Elizabeth can hear the resignation in his voice.
Wisely, she and Philip stay silent.
‘Very well,’ the King says heavily at last. ‘I’ll allow the betrothal but—’ He holds up a hand as Elizabeth opens her mouth to thank him. ‘But,’ he repeats, ‘the engagement is to remain secret for now. No announcement will be made for at least six months.’