Chapter 4:
Elizabeth opened her eyes groggily when she heard a knock at the door. Phillip had rolled onto his back and she had compensated by snuggling against his side, pillowing her head on his chest. Phillip took a deep breath and turned his head as the knock was repeated and then a petite brunette peeked inside.
"It will be dinner time soon," she said softly. "Are either of you hungry?"
"We'll be down in a few minutes," Phillip said drowsily. The girl nodded and quietly shut the door, leaving the queen and her prince to stretch and yawn and slowly work their way out of bed.
"How are you feeling?" Phillip asked as Elizabeth sat at her vanity and put her hair to rights after she had dressed. She smiled softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Better," she replied, "thanks to you." Phillip chuckled and then waited for her to take one more look in the mirror before she joined him at the bedroom door. They walked down to dinner together, arriving at the dining room seconds after their son and grandsons. Elizabeth's mother was already there and waiting for them.
After a generally quiet dinner, the boys retired to their bedroom and Elizabeth was left with her son, her mother, and her husband; three people that she needed to have a very serious talk with.
"Are you feeling all right, mum?" Charles asked gently after a few minutes of silence.
"I'm better, yes, but there still remains the matter of these attacks. Something needs to be done and if something is to be done then you all need to know what I know," Elizabeth said evenly. She took a breath and then told them everything: the helicopter ride, the little bedroom, the men, the interrogator who ordered her execution, and the young agent who saved her life and returned her to Balmoral unharmed.
"But why didn't he bring you all the way to the castle?" Phillip asked. "He could have told us anything—that he found you himself and was restoring you to us—what made him leave you to freeze in the cold like that?"
"I think we should just be grateful that he didn't follow orders. He was probably in enough trouble with his superior for not following through," Charles said.
"I doubt he actually told whoever his superior is," Elizabeth replied, folding her arms around herself. She'd felt a chill from remembering what it was like to kneel on the hard ground in the dark and cold and think that her life was coming to an end in such a violent way. Phillip wound his arms around her and the action warmed her and chased the memory away... for now.
"The point here is what are we going to do next?" Elizabeth said. She was regaining more and more of her steadiness and focus as the evening went on.
"The media is bound to be all over this by now," Phillip said.
"Long ago," Charles added. "I just can't believe that this is all happening at once!"
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, looking up from the patch of carpeting she was staring at just beyond her feet.
"Well, this mess with Diana and then I felt like I was the target and now they've targeted you!" Charles whined, standing and moving toward the windows. Prince Phillip gave his wife a look of disbelief and she took a breath and covered his hand with hers. The last thing she needed was for Phillip to go off the deep end.
"Have you heard anything your mother just said?" Phillip cried. Elizabeth lowered her head as Phillip continued to rant. "She's just told us that she was nearly murdered on the orders of some psychotic so that you could ascend to the throne, and all you can think of is yourself?"
"I have to think of myself! Myself and the boys! If someone's out there with the intelligence and the technology necessary to stage a coup like that then I'd say I have reason to worry about myself, don't you think?" Charles shouted back.
"You may be the future king of England, but your mother is still sovereign and as such your safety and welfare take a backseat to hers!" Phillip shouted over him. Elizabeth stood and left the room without a word, her pace as fast as she could walk without running.
"That's not true and you know it!" Charles retaliated right before Elizabeth slammed the door behind her. There was pin-dropping silence for the space of a few moments, until the Queen Mother finally found her voice.
"Well," she said softly, leaning heavily on her cane as she stood. "Now you've done it. Go on, finish your argument. I'll see to Elizabeth." Though she never raised her voice above that gentle murmur, the dowager queen's words had the impact of a slap in the face to both of them. In stark opposite to her daughter, the Queen Mother took her time leaving the room, and shut the door softly behind her.
When she reached the bedroom that Elizabeth and her husband shared, she knocked politely and then ignored her feisty daughter when she replied, "Go away!" With that same quiet determination that made her source of joy to her people, the Queen Mother hobbled to Elizabeth's bedside and sat down on the edge of the bed itself. Elizabeth was lying on her side, facing away from the door, her arms wrapped around herself and tears falling unbidden from her blue eyes. For several minutes, the Queen Mother let her daughter cry. It couldn't hurt--sometimes a person just needs a good cry to start to feel better. She spied a thick blanket at the foot of the bed and stood, turned carefully, and covered her eldest child up to just past her elbows; just enough to cover what the short sleeves of her blouse didn't. Seconds later, England's sovereign found her voice.
"I don't understand, mummy," she murmured.
"What's that, dear?" the Queen Mother said, resuming her place at the edge of the bed and folding her hands.
"I don't understand how one can raise one's children to the best of one's ability and still they get it wrong," Elizabeth said. "I also don't understand how one's husband can lose his head just when I need him to keep it squarely on his shoulders!" The Queen Mother chuckled softly and reached over to stroke her daughter's shoulder.
"Don't worry about Charles," she said, her eyes betraying an understanding that only another queen—and another mother—could understand, "he will come to his senses. If he doesn't, then you will cross that bridge when you get there. As for Phillip…" she paused here to chuckle again.
"Phillip's world revolves around his queen, as it should, but more importantly," she lightly touched Elizabeth's face to make her turn to face her, "it revolves around you. He loves you, Elizabeth. Don't be too hard on him; he's only trying to protect you. After fifty years, you should know by now that he is, and has always been, your white knight." Elizabeth smiled at this.
"You know, mummy, that's what I thought of him as the other day…a white knight," Elizabeth replied.
"There's nothing wrong with that," the dowager queen replied. "Let him be your knight. Husbands like to think that they can protect their families and especially their wives. Perhaps Phillip can think of things in a way that you wouldn't think of."
"Perhaps you're right, but oh, him and Charles…"
"Let him work it out with Charles. You've said your piece and Charles has made this about himself. Now it will be up to Phillip to talk sense into him man to man…if he's able," the Queen Mother said.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Elizabeth muttered.
"Let them be," the Queen Mother added, stroking Elizabeth's hair. "Stay here and rest. I'm going to go to my room for the night. Rest well and I'll see you in the morning."
"Good night, mummy," Elizabeth murmured as her mother leaned over to kiss her cheek. Elizabeth smiled at this, and obediently closed her eyes. A little rest never hurt anyone.
