London, England
October 2017
Well versed in etiquette
"What was the correct form of address for the last Shah of Persia?" asks Mr Atwater and surveys Amy and me with eagle eyes.
I resist the urge to hit my forehead on the desktop. "There is no Shah anymore," I point out rebelliously, "nor, come to think of it, is there a Persia."
Mr Atwater narrows his eyes at me, but otherwise doesn't react. It's apparent that he considers me to be a very badly-behaved student indeed.
Luckily, he can rely on Amy to be more accommodating. "'Shah' means king in Persian, so the Shah was addressed as Your Majesty, at least until he assumed the rank of emperor and was from then on styled as Your Imperial Majesty," she recites.
"Very good," praises Mr Atwater primly, before spinning around towards the blackboard and writing on it.
"Teacher's pet," I mutter when his back is turned.
Amy looks at me from the corner of her eyes and I flash her a grin, to show that I'm just teasing. She gives a tentative smile in response and shrugs slightly.
"How many imperial majesties are there today?" Mr Atwater wants to know, turning to face us again. His unblinking gaze focuses on me and I know that this time, I won't be able to hide behind Amy.
She twitches beside me and I know that she, at least, did her homework, but obviously, I'm meant to try and fail again before she can give the correct answer. Not wanting to give Mr Atwater the pleasure of seeing me fail though, I quickly rack my brain for an adequate answer.
"Well, there's the Emperor of Japan…" I reply slowly. "I can't think of another one, so I'd say that currently, there's just the one."
"Correct," Mr Atwater states primly, if clearly displeased that my answer was less of a fact and more of a guess. "And how does the Emperor rank in relation to other monarchs?"
"They used to rank on top, didn't they? Above kings and queens, I mean," I respond. "That's why they made Queen Victoria Empress of India when her daughter was set to become Empress of Germany."
Mr Atwater sniffs. "The issue was rather a lot more complex than that, but yes, the threat of daughter outranking mother was part of why this decision was made."
Ha! I knew it! (Or rather, Owen told me once, but details, details.)
"Do emperors still rank above kings in modern times?" Mr Atwater continues, not letting me dwell on my success. "Your Royal Highness, do you have an answer?"
Amy, still not used to being addresses as such after half a year, flinches slightly and it takes her a moment to gather her bearing enough to answer, "Not anymore, no. Nowadays, all monarchs are considered equals, regardless of their title. They're ranked according to the length of their reign."
"And who is the current longest-reigning monarch?" Mr Atwater adds, rather predictably. "Miss Blythe, maybe?"
Drat him!
"Um… the Danish queen has been on the throne for quite a while, hasn't she?" I guess.
Mr Atwater's lips curl into a smile, but it's not a very pleasing one. "Well speculated, but incorrect. Her Majesty ranks second by length of reign," he informs me. "Who is first, Your Royal Highness?"
Again, Amy flinches. Again, she also has the correct answer though. "The King of Brunei has been on the throne longer than the Queen of Denmark."
"Very good!" The smile Mr Atwater bestows upon his star pupil is much more genuine than the one I got. He's one person I will never get to approve of me, I guess. (Lucky thing I don't really care for his approval anyway.)
Not that he is done with his questioning either. "Where does our King rank?"
I roll my eyes and duck my head. I don't know the answer and I don't see how it's relevant to know either, to be quite honest.
"He's in twenty-second place," Amy replies, not even needing a moment to think, "between the Kings of Norway and Lesotho."
Huh? I didn't even know Lesotho had a king…
"That's accurate." Mr Atwater nods at Amy approvingly. "And who was the longest-reigning monarch in history?"
Oh! I know that!
"Louis XIV," I pipe up, before Amy has a chance to. "He had the advantage of being just a kid when he became king though."
Mr Atwater looks at me, clearly unsure whether to be surprised or annoyed. "He was indeed. How long did he reign?"
Ugh. Way to kill my buzz!
"72 years and 110 days," Amy answers in my stead. Clearly, someone actually took the time to study the material provided to us.
"Indeed," confirms Mr Atwater and nods, probably coming to the same conclusion about Amy and our homework.
Me, I'd like it to be on the record that I looked at it, too, but I might not have read every single page. In my defence, there were 128 of them. I mean, I have a royal wedding to plan and only six more weeks to do it, for Heaven's sake! That requires more of my attention right now than how long some French king terrorised his people.
In fact, I wouldn't mind if Mr Atwater could wrap this up soon, because I have about six different folders sitting on my desk at Wren House calling for my attention.
Alas –
"Now, let's move on to the next subject," Mr Atwater decrees and steps back to stand next to the blackboard. "Who is the highest-ranking peer in the United Kingdom?"
This time, I let my forehead drop down on the desktop with an audible thud.
It goes on like that for another hour, covering British peers and then moving on to heads of states of allied nations. (Who knew that so many nations without a monarch still have a head of state and a head of government?) By the time Mr Atwater finally releases us, my head is brimming with names and I know that I will have to forget half of them for the sake of my own sanity.
"I don't know how you do it!" I inform Amy despairingly while we stroll back from the main palace towards Wren House and Nott.
"Me?" she ask, incredulous. "How do you do it? You're the perfect princess-to-be!"
I snort. "Mr Atwater wouldn't agree."
That raises a smile from Amy. "No, probably not. I don't think he thinks you're putting in the work."
"I'm not," I acknowledge openly. "Which is ironic, given that the princess lessons were my idea in the first place. Or, well, mine and Owen's, anyway."
The 'princess lessons', as we call them, were the result of a conversation between me and Owen some weeks ago when I mentioned how much I still have to learn about princess-ing. He politely disagreed, but offered to bring experts to prepare me and give me the information I feel I need. Obviously, Owen himself is covering British history, then there's Mr Atwater dealing with formal etiquette, Mrs Phillips teaching manners (including how to curtsey and which cutlery to use when), and Mr Lewis giving media training and advice how to handle the press (I could have used that one five years ago!). It was my idea to include Amy in these lesson, both because her own princess education was pretty rudimentary due to time constraints and because I selfishly figured that it would be more fun to do it together.
I didn't expect her to outshine me, but I don't really mind it either. On the contrary, I'm glad for every moment of success she has and frankly, I suspect that her newly acquired knowledge comes from many hours spent with flash cards, which I have neither the time nor the patience for. If that's what it takes to gain Mr Atwater's approval, I shall just have to live without it.
"Do you want to come up for a cup of tea?" I invite Amy when we reach the spot where we normally part ways.
She thinks for a moment, then shrugs and nods. "Sure. Teddy won't be home for a while."
"Nor Ken," I add, while inviting her to follow me towards Wren House.
Once there, I first put out food for George and Lottie (priorities!) before moving on to make the promised tea for Amy. "Is Darjeeling alright?" I ask her while surveying the teas I have to offer.
"That's fine," Amy agrees, sounding a little indifferent. (She tries, but I don't think she's yet adopted the English custom of tea drinking.)
We make chit-chat while the tea steeps, before moving on to the drawing room, each of us carrying a cup of tea and me also balancing a plate with some of Mrs Franklin's cookies. (They're much more edible than Dev's offerings that I served to Teddy a year ago, before I'd ever heard of Amy. Odd, how much can happen in a mere year!) George and Lottie follow us, with her lying down on her blanket in the corner, while he, brazen as he is, immediately jumps up on the couch.
"Just move those to the side," I instruct Amy and point at the papers littering the coffee table. I lost track of time studying them earlier and had to rush so as not to be late for Mr Atwater (who doesn't take kindly to tardiness), hence why the room is in a bit of a mess.
Amy gathers the papers together as instructed – before pausing and taking a better look at them. "Is this a list of charities?" she asks.
"It is," I confirm while I clear away enough papers to place tea and cookies on the table before sitting down next to George and stroking his back. Amy sits down on the other sofa, still looking at the page of paper she's holding.
"I've been told that I need to start thinking about which causes and charities to support," I explain. "Melissa and Bilal pulled together some options for me to review. You're holding the result of that."
Lowering the paper, Amy sighs. "I should to that, too, I suppose. Mr Overy has mentioned something to that effect."
"What's stopping you?" I ask before taking a sip of tea. It's nicely strong and hot, just right for a windy, grey October day.
"Nothing, really," replies Amy with another sigh. "It's just that I don't know where to begin, so I never really do. Are you having more success?"
I shrug. "They're not going to announce 'my' charities before the wedding, so there's no need to settle on anything yet. With my previous work at the youth centre, doing something with children and teenagers is a bit of a no-brainer."
"Sweet little babies to cuddle?" Amy suggest with a smile.
I grimace slightly. "Not quite, no. To be quite honest, I'm not overly fond of babies."
Amy's eyes widen. "Really?"
Her surprise makes me laugh. "Yes, really. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my nieces and nephew and I never minded cuddling them even when they were small. Puddles, too, come to think of it. It's just that I don't feel compelled to hold random babies I don't have a connection to. They're vaguely cute, but the way I see it, I can much better admire them from a few feet away when they're in the arms of their mothers."
Amy still looks at me with wide eyes. "But you do want –" she begins, before interrupting herself, shaking her head. "Nevermind. It's none of my business."
"It rather is some of your business, because if I'm not having children, there's a much higher chance of you ending up queen one day," I inform her cheerfully. When her expression turns to one of horror, I quickly add, "But don't worry. I might not feel a burning need to cuddle the children of strangers, but that doesn't mean I don't plan to provide the country with an heir – or even an heir and a spare."
"That'll be nice," Amy replies, smiling. "Teddy and I agreed to wait a few more years before starting our own family, but I will look forward to spoiling your children in the meantime. I like cuddling all babies."
"So that's your first cause right there, isn't it?" I muse. "We simply split up children. I take the older ones and you get the babies and toddlers."
"You make it sound like we're a divorced couple," Amy points out with a laugh, but her expression is thoughtful and I know she's considering my idea.
I join into her laughter. "That would be an odd way of organising custody, but I see what you mean."
"So, children… and what other causes are you considering?" Amy wants to know as she helps herself to a cookie. George raises his head in interest, but obviously doesn't deem the cookie worthy of the effort of getting up.
"The other end of the age spectrum, so to speak," I answer.
When she looks at me in confusion, I elaborate, "I'd like to look into providing support to the elderly. It would gel well with Ken's work with veterans, but it's also something that's close to my own heart. When I lived in New York, I had a neighbour to whom I provided some practical help to, like shopping and cleaning, and who grew to be a friend. It was only after she died that I realised how lonely she was for a long part of her life and I think that's an issue many elderly people face – loneliness. I fear that's often overlooked and would like to raise awareness of it."
"That's absolutely a worthy cause," agrees Amy readily.
"I thought so, too," I state. "And speaking of worthy causes… I still need to discuss this, but I'd like to focus on mental health, too."
"Who do you need to discuss it with?" Amy enquires.
"Ken, Leslie… all of them, I think," I answer. "Mental health has been something that none of them ever really went near for obvious reasons, but it's such an important cause and I hope I could work to make a difference. I have quite good working knowledge of mental health issues, but I've never been afflicted by them, so I have the necessary distance to apply myself."
Amy nods slowly as she considers my words. "I agree. And what's more, I think they'll agree with you as well."
"I hope so. I already talked with Ken about it and made some hints towards Owen. They were both very receptive," I tell her while taking a cookie for myself – and immediately having to defend it from George's enquiring nose.
"So that's children, elderly and mental health," Amy summarises, ticking the causes off with her fingers. "Quite a heavy portfolio!"
"Which is why I thought about adding one more frivolous area, namely British fashion," I explain. "It's not as emotional as the other ones and perhaps also not as important, but economic aspects also need to be considered and, well, I can at least talk intelligently about fashion. Or, I could, if the public wasn't more interested in what I'm wearing than what I'm saying anyway."
Amy pulls a grimace. "It's annoying when they do that, isn't it? Sometimes, it feels like we're glorified clothes hangers."
"I think that sometimes, we really are," I point out. "We can also get them to listen though, as I saw back in July, so not all hope is lost."
"The Being Brave campaign," Amy remarks, nodding. "That was amazing."
"And completely unplanned," I admit, laughing. "I'd like to take credit for it, but the truth is, I barely had any idea what I was blabbing about and I didn't think that anyone would ever listen to it. It was probably a good thing, too, because if I had known how often they'd end up playing that clip, I would have been utterly tongue-tied!"
"You looked so suave though," Amy remarks. "I wouldn't have gotten a word out under any circumstances."
I shrug modestly. "I got lucky. Had they asked about anything else, I would probably have just talked nonsense, but I'd given the subject a lot of thought that day and I just let those thoughts flow. To learn that my words resonated with people was incredibly humbling, but also such a great feeling. It made me realise for the first time that I could truly achieve something good."
"What you said that day was very inspiring. I… I wasn't feeling so good during that time and when I saw you on TV, it encouraged me to… well, to try better, I guess" Amy reveals haltingly.
Transferring my tea cup to my other hand, I reach out to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly. "You've done so very well."
She smiles wryly. "Sometimes, I think I'm doing okay and sometimes, it feels like I haven't made any progress at all. I can't even pick causes to support!"
"Could it be that you're perhaps overthinking it a little?" I muse, making sure to phrase my question carefully. "I think that mostly, it's about picking causes that speak to you."
"But that's the problem!" she moans, hanging her head. "I'm not sure what speaks to me. And whenever I study potential charities, I feel like such an imposter, too."
Confused, I knit my brows into a frown. "Why an imposter?"
"Because…" Amy pauses, gathering her thoughts. "Because most of those charities are about supporting those who've survived hardships in their lives and… and I just never had to face much hardship. Why would they be interested in listening to me with my privileged life?"
"You've faced challenges though," I point out, meaning, of course, her whirlwind entry into royal life as well as the criticism levelled at her by the press recently.
Amy sighs. "But does it compare? My life hasn't been rosy from start to finish, but overall, I've been blessed. I grew up with adoring parents, a brother to look out for me and sisters to look up to me. We never had to worry about money or expenses. We had a big house with a pool, a garden to play in and a room for each of us. I've always had many friends and was popular at school. I mean, I was voted Homecoming and Prom Queen! I didn't do cheerleading because my grandmother disliked the short outfits, but I was in the drama club, the church choir and did track and fields. I brought home straight As from school, especially in sciences. The only time I was faced with the hardships of life was when I volunteered at the local soup kitchen on Saturdays!"
"So, you've had a great childhood," I summarise, shrugging. "Me, too. Good for us! We can count ourselves lucky, but that doesn't mean we're dishonest for wanting to support others. You weren't dishonest when you helped at the soup kitchen, were you?"
"No," Amy admits. "I genuinely wanted to do something to help. I organised fundraisers, too."
"How's that different from picking causes to support now?" I ask. "Or at least, how is it different apart for the fact that with the new-found interest in us, we can achieve much more and reach many more people?"
Frowning, Amy takes a sip of tea. "I guess… I guess it's not so different. But even so, I still need to figure out which causes I want to give attention to!"
"It's evident, isn't it?" I point out practically. "We already established babies and toddlers. We'll add sciences, because Ken is doing those now and he'd love to pass the entire subject off to someone who understands more about it. Then we're left with the homeless, to build on your work with the soup kitchen, and with the British acting industry because of your own acting experience."
Looking at her with what I hope is an encouraging expression, I find Amy gaping at me over the top of her teacup.
"Not good?" I raise a quizzical eyebrow.
Another moment passes, before Amy shakes her head, as if having to rouse herself from a stupor. "It's… it is good," she assures. "It's just… how do you do that?"
"I just go with the obvious," I explain, shrugging. "Like I said, it's mostly about finding causes that you care about and that interest you. You knew yourself which ones those were. I'm just the one summarising what you said."
Amy doesn't look convinced, but doesn't argue her point either. Instead, she asks, "Isn't Leslie the one covering performing arts currently? Won't she mind if I want to get involved with drama as one of my causes?"
"I don't think so. She's more into the musical side," I explain. "If you'd tried to replace her as patron of opera or ballet, she would certainly have minded, but I think she's mostly indifferent about the acting organisations. Plus, she'll be happy to support you and if that can be achieved by handing over a patronage or two, I don't see her hesitating."
It's actually Amy who hesitates at first, clearly needing a moment to reflect on our conversation. When she speaks again, she doesn't look as relieved as I thought she would. Instead, she appears almost a little despondent. "Do you know how long I've worried about those causes? And then you come along and solve them in five minutes!"
"We solved it together," I correct, "which is really just proof that we should get together and chat more regularly. How about we make this a weekly thing? Or biweekly, at least until I have that wedding behind me?"
Placing my cup on the side table, I look up at Amy – only to find her eye brimming with tears.
"Hey!" I exclaim, concerned. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you cry!"
She shakes her head, furiously trying to blink away the tears. "You didn't… you didn't… It's just…" But her voice doesn't want to cooperate and she trails off with a watery smile.
I just mean to move over to her sofa and give her a hug, when the sound of the front door opening draws my attention. It closes again and moments later, voices drift over to us from the hall. Lottie scrambles up and trots from the room, while George flicks his ears in annoyance.
"Once Rilla and I move, Wren House will be empty." That's Ken. "Just have a look at it."
"I know it already and besides, we're okay at Nott Cott for now." And that's Teddy.
"Yes, but for how long? It has just two bedrooms, so at some point, you're likely to outgrow it." Ken again.
"Not for a while." Teddy once more. "But I suppose having a look won't hurt. I'd have to talk it over with Amy first though."
"Of course you do." Ken. "It's not a decision you can – Well, hello there!"
Their voices grow progressively louder as they speak until they appear in the doorway to the drawing room, Lottie by their feet. Judging from their looks, they're evidently surprised to see Amy and me.
"Hello," I greet them blithely. "Do you want some tea?"
Ken begins to nod, but Teddy doesn't pay me any attention. Instead, he'd focused on his wife. Despite her efforts to conceal how emotional she is, he immediately notices that something is wrong and rushes over to sit down by her side.
"What's the matter, babe?" he asks, the very picture of concern.
Amy shakes her head and tries to smile. "It's okay. Nothing's wrong."
Not that anyone believes her, of course. Teddy puts an arm around and surveys her closely, as if trying to figure out the cause for her tears just by looking at her. Ken, for his part, hovers by the door awkwardly for a moment before quietly coming closer and perching on the sofa next to me, clearly ready to get up and leave the moment he deems it necessary. He gives George a pat in greeting, while Lottie lies down on his feet.
"Please, it's fine," Amy assures, dabbing at her eyes. "I just got a bit emotional. Rilla helped me solve a problem that's been giving me headaches and I'm angry at myself for fretting so much and not asking for help sooner. I cry when I get angry."
Not just you, Amy. Not just you!
"Is that all it is?" Teddy wants to know, his brows still knitted into a frown. "Is there anything I can do?"
Amy shakes her head and offers a weak smile. "Not really, no. It's just that we also got talking about our childhoods earlier and I… I just miss them sometimes. My family, I mean. I was browsing for Christmas presents this morning and it hit me that I wouldn't be with them for Christmas and… it was a bit hard, that's all. Don't get me wrong, I'm not unhappy or anything, I just… I just miss them at times."
"Of course you do," I tell her quietly. "It's possible to have made the right decision and still miss what you left behind."
Silently, Ken picks up my hand and treads his fingers through mine, while Amy shoots me a grateful look. Teddy, on the other hand, looks thoughtful.
"We should visit them then," he suggests. "I'm afraid Christmas is off the table, but we can ask Overy to clear some days from our calendar and fly out to Kansas soon."
"You could also do New Year's Eve!" I exclaim, the thought suddenly striking me. "Christmas is an event on the royal schedule, but New Year's isn't, so what stopping you from splitting the holidays and celebrating it with Amy's family?"
"Good idea!" Teddy commends with a grateful smile.
Amy nods, slowly at first and then faster. "That… I would like that." But even as she speaks, there are fresh tears spilling over and dripping down her face. Her frenzied attempts to wipe them away don't really achieve much except for smudging her mascara.
Teddy looks at her with an expression of alarm. Noticing it, Amy grasps his hand and squeezes it tightly, trying to reassure him. "Don't be worried, please," she asks. "It's nothing. I'm just… I'm a bit emotional at the moment and a bit overwhelmed sometimes. I suppose… I suppose I've been a bit overwhelmed for quite a while, but… I'm okay. I will be, anyway. I just need a good cry sometimes."
"We all do at times," I agree sympathetically.
Amy attempts to smile for me, but Teddy still looks concerned. I understand him, too, because clearly, Amy's struggles run much deeper than Christmas presents and which charities to select. She's been out of her depth for a year and even though she does admirably well in holding on, there are clearly still issues she needs to address.
Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks that, because suddenly, Ken speaks up. "Look, I don't want to muscle into anything that is none of my business," he begins carefully, "but you sound like you could so with some extra support, Amy, and I've been wondering… have Teddy or Rilla ever told you that I've been seeing a therapist for the better part of the past two years?"
He looks at Amy for an answer, but only receives a wide-eyed stare back. I think Amy is still a little nervous around Ken and, not knowing where he's heading with this, seeks refuge in silence.
When he realises that no answer will be forthcoming, Ken continues, "I don't want to suggest you need therapy, because that's not for me or anyone else to decide. I just want to say that it's helped me tremendously to have someone to talk things over with who has the necessary distance. The nice thing about therapists is that they're paid not to have an opinion on anything."
The last sentence is clearly a joke, meant to lighten the mood, but it doesn't elicit much of a reaction. Instead, Teddy latches on something else that Ken said. "Amy can tell me everything," he declares, clearly a little put out
"And I can tell Rilla everything," Ken replies calmly without missing a beat. "I also do tell her everything that matters, but sometimes, it helps to talk it over with Otto first until I have my own thoughts and feelings straight. I've just been thinking that Amy's entire life has been turned upside down in a year and if she thinks she can benefit from talking about it with someone who's professionally trained, there's no shame in doing so."
Teddy looks slightly mollified and when I let my gaze drift to Amy, I can see that she's stopped crying, too. She watches Ken with a shy interest instead and I realise that his words are striking a chord.
"It's been an entire year though," she points out cautiously. "Shouldn't I have it figured out by now?"
"If you did, you need to tell me your secret, because I haven't figured it out in nearly thirty-three years," Ken replies drily.
A moment passes with Amy surveying him and Ken meeting her gaze steadily and openly, before she starts nodding, a cautious smile appearing on her lips. "Thank you," she states carefully. "I will remember that suggestion, Ken, and will come back to it if I feel it might help me. And thanks to you as well, Rilla. Your support today has meant a lot to me."
"Don't mention it," I assure her quickly. "After all, that's the one thing we can't learn from Mr Atwater: Becoming a royal also means becoming part of a family and what is family for if not to support each other?"
The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'Killer Queen' (written by Freddie Mercury, released by Queen in 1974).
A/N: There was a time in the past year when I wasn't sure I'd ever get to write those words again, but I'm actually going on holiday! Not far and not for long, but it feels like a marvel anyway. While I'm gone, the story gets to go on a break as well. Posting of the final set of chapters will begin on June 23rd.
To DogMonday:
I hope this chapter has addressed some of the points you made in your last review. You're certainly correct that Rilla doesn't have a public role that is just her own at the moment, but this is mainly due to time constraints. She has to plan a huge wedding and find her way into her new position, all at once. If she were to try and carve out her public role at the same time, I imagine she would be overwhelmed very quickly. This chapter shows us some of her ideas for the future and I promise she will pursue them, but right now, she has a lot on her plate already, so this is something that'll have to wait until after the wedding. I do hope though that her musings in this chapter gave you some idea of where I see her heading =).
Similarly, with Amy, I hope this chapter addressed some of your concerns as well. I agree that Amy's well-being isn't Rilla'a responsibility, so while she can offer encouragement and some support, it's not up to her to figure Amy's life out for her. I also agree with you (and Ken) that it's about time that Amy gets professional support to help her overcome her struggles and I'd say that the first seed of that has been planted here.
As for Leslie, she does what she feels she can do. Her mental illness is something that always accompanies her, but she's gotten better at handling it. She can recognise when she's starting to slip and can take measures to hopefully prevent it from happening or at least soften the impact. She realised she was feeling unwell before the state dinner, so her not going is her managing her illness. She does what she knows is best for her in any particular moment and while it would be even better if she fully recovered at some point, being able to handle her illness is no small success either.
I might not have done the apartments in the Clock Tower Wing justice with my description, because from what we know, they aren't dark and depressing. Apartment 1a is where William and Kate currently live (and Princess Margaret before them). There are some pictures of the interior available and it's got quite a light feel to it. I haven't come across any pictures taken inside apartment 1, but since it's adjacent, I imagine it's not very different in its architectural style. And speaking of architecture, I absolutely think Teddy will get involved in redesigning those two apartments for Rilla and Ken!
Lastly, Rilla was definitely invited to the state dinner, but originally chose not to go. These dinners are mind-numbingly boring by all accounts and she's very busy right now, so needs to ascertain how to best spend her time. As she's still "only" a fiancée, there is no obligation for her to turn up for any event unless she actively choses to. I imagine Ken probably advised her that this was one she might want to sit out on and she agreed - until she realised that by going, she could help out a person she cares about.
To Guest:
Yes, the tiara is real - or rather, it was real. It belonged to the Romanovs (specifically, Empress Marie Feodorovna), but hasn't been seen in about a hundred years. The best guess is that the Bolsheviks sold it after the revolution and that it was probably broken up, but no-one knows for sure. There are a few pictures and a painting of it out there on the internet though if you'd like to know what it looked like. It must have been a marvellous piece of jewellery!
