When the family finally reached home in Cardiff, one of the first things Mary did was pay a visit to Lady Flora. There are many things she must ask her about. The first of which is why didn't she share that she's essentially working for the King?

So after gathering Paisley to accompany her, together they rode to the Dowager Countess's house in Penarth. The Princess thought through all of her questions the whole way there, and they are many. Upon arrival, one of the servants escorted the ladies into the bright and quaint sitting room. They sat and greeted their dear friend. Then it was onto the main event.

Mary sat picking at an embroidered flower, which she does when she's uneasy, anxious, or feeling awkward. "Lady Flora, why didn't you divulge that my father hired you to look after me (so to speak)?"

The Countess sat as she always does, ramrod straight with her attention on her guests. Unlike the Princess, she is never awkward in any situation. "Found me out, did you? Let's be clear. I was not hired like someone hires a traveling musician. I shudder at the thought. I wasn't even told your father had anything to do with it. I was asked by my friend and former Queen to help her niece. Knowing that you had been cast aside, I knew I had my work cut out for me. As luck would have it, you have ample intelligence and catch on quickly, unlike some girls who flit around batting their eyelashes playing coy with any male of aristocratic persuasion."

She rang the bell, and Harris entered. He looked rather hot-faced and frustrated. "Harris, we shall have tea in the sunroom," she told him. Before she shewed him off, her finger pointed at him. "Leave Hattie alone. Don't be such a snob." The buttoned-up butler sniffed, then walked out.

The three women quit the sitting room in favor of the airy, spacious sunroom. When Lady Flora sat, she turned to her companions and mentioned, "I have a new maid, Hattie. She rankles Harris's nerves, and he does so loathe training a new person. Now let's discuss my looking after you, as you so plainly put it as if I'm a governess." She said the word governess with a bit of disdain.

Before they could engage in a thoughtful discussion, Harris returned with a tray of tea. Davina followed him, carrying a dish of biscuits and fruit bread. As soon as both trays were placed on the table, the ladies began helping themselves to the scrumptious-looking treats. The Dowager Countess spoke. "Mary, I did not intend to injure your person or mock you with my help. My intentions have been noble and true. In fact, on your mother's last visit, she and I had many wonderful dialogues. One of them involved you."

Her Highness sat silent and still. Oh, to hear her mother had spoken to Lady Flora about her is news too. Has everyone in the family been putting their noses into her affairs? It would seem so.

The countess trained her steel eyes on her young companion. "Your Lady Aunt had written to your mother informing her of my presence. The late Queen Catherine approved. Without her own guiding hands in your life, she knew you needed someone. It didn't have to be me, just someone of good quality. However, she trusted your Aunt's opinion and was happy her only child was being cared for. We both decided not to tell you of this because she didn't want it to hurt you or make you believe you were incompetent. You are not. I hope you understand, Dear Girl."

She does. A lot more things have become clearer now, and she is pleased to know her mother approved. "I do, Lady Flora. Thank you for believing in me and moving to England to be my friend at a time when friendship had been sorely needed. Because of you and Mr. Harris, I have been able to stand out and stand up for myself at my father's Royal Court. Without you both, I would have crumbled into pieces a long time ago."

Flora accepted the compliment with grace and changed the topic to the King's Court. "I have heard about your debut at court. I have been told you were the epitome of elegance and dignity deserving of your station. But now that you are the heir to the throne, which we all knew before the big oaf announced it formally, you have much more to learn." She bore her eyes into the Princess.

Feeling nervous and almost intimidated to ask, Mary picked at the sleeve of her gown. "Do I even want to know what that entails?" Her mind started wandering down rabbit holes.

The bell began to ring. As the Dowager Countess put it down, she declared, "Oh yes, indeed you do. Starting next week, Queen training begins in full." Mr. Harris entered the room and bowed. "Harris and I have been discussing new lessons with you and your girls in mind. We have come up with a marvelous plan. Harris, share with the ladies their new training regimen."

Mr. Harris looked as pleased as Lord Granberry after having two cups of Christmas punch. He stood up straighter and declared in an authoritative voice, "We will continue the etiquette lessons, but up our game with extended dining etiquette. You must review more in terms of manners and add to that public manners. You can also look forward to poise lessons, speaking clearly and with confidence, body language, the art of conversation, proper sitting positions, overcoming your social fears, being a gracious host, and managing awkward situations."

When he paused, both young ladies felt a bit overwhelmed by that list. Then Harris announced, "We will also be working on appearance in terms of how you are groomed. As heir to the throne, the hair, jewelry, nails, and all of the outward appearance is what dignitaries will see first. How you present yourself is important. It sends a message. We need to work on your messaging. To go along with that, you will think also about your inward beauty and the art of being a lady. And last but not least, there will be political lessons as well. You must know the names of foreign dignitaries."

Now Mary and Paisley are well and truly swamped. In the midst of feeling overcome, Paisley raised her hand. "Mr. Harris, why is it necessary that I learn these things too? I will never be Queen."

If a person could look like an angry hornet, why the plump man did so at that moment. "Lady Paisley, do you realize you are the companion and second lady in wait to the future Queen of England? You are a representation of the Princess. People will judge her by her companions as well as what she does for the country. So it is vital you partake in these classes." Then he turned to the Princess. "And do not think I have forgotten about Lady Dot. A letter has been sent to Suffolk instructing her to come one week out of every month. She must be prepared as well."

With those words, everything began to be set in motion. Lady Flora informed the girls of the time their new instruction will start. She also agreed with Mr. Harris. "One day, your father will be out of our power, and you must be ready to take over. But not yet. There is much to do and learn."

After the detailed discussion regarding the Queen lessons, Mary felt pretty much thrown off balance. Why does being a Queen have to entail so much? She can commiserate with Charles and his King lessons. The only difference between them is their teachers. Her father may be the King of England, but he doesn't know half as much as Lady Flora does. And he certainly doesn't have the manners of Mr. Harris. So, as much as she wants to complain, she feels she's getting the better deal between the two of them.

The remaining time with the Dowager Countess involved the older lady showing off the new tropical plants in the glass house. Their conversation also revolved around the betrothal made between Owen and Viviana of Venice. The wise woman heartily approves and finds it to be hilarious that Venice wants to trade with Wales and Suffolk but not the kingdom at large. She said you can chalk it up to "Your oaf of a father. His mismanagement of funds and penchant for excess are mindblowing. It's no wonder that the world's financial capital wants to trade with a ruler who can manage funds and grow an economy." Mary cannot disagree with that statement.

Once the ladies returned home, the Princess went upstairs to fetch her baby girl. Now that Gillian is almost a year old, she's walking and able to say "Dada" and "Mama" with no problem. Her hair has grown more, too, not long, but in that cute toddler hair phase. Hairbows are a regular occurrence.

On the way to the playroom, Charles called for her from his office. Backtracking to stop in the doorway. She asked in a coy way, "Yes, can I help you?"

With raised eyebrows, he smirked. "You can definitely help me either now or later. You choose."

She shook her head. "No, not that. But later, definitely later." He crooked his finger, beckoning her to come near. With a slow gait, she took her sweet time about it. She can play this flirtatious game too. When she finally reached him, he chuckled and patted his lap.

The minute she sat, his lips descended on hers for a much-needed kiss. After which, he questioned, "How did it go with Lady Flora?"

Placing a kiss on his head, she explained, "It went well. She answered all of my questions. Did you know my mother knew about her aiding me? Well, she did and gave her blessing. It's funny because I should be upset with the Countess too, like I was with my father, but I'm not. I know her intentions are pure. Sometimes it's hard to tell about His Majesty. Lady Flora is the closest thing to a mother I have. I need her too much to be angry."

Then she told him about Mr. Harris. "She and Mr. Harris have decided to put me in Queen training. I'm to start lessons next week. I don't know what you're having to do for my father, but what they outlined today is going to be grueling. They're requiring Dot to come once a month to take the classes too." Then in a dramatic voice, she added, "I'm going to die."

He laughed at her melodramatic take on things. "Sweetheart, if I have to read long, boring books, then you will be just fine learning more manners. Which may be a good thing. Perhaps he can help you from burping in public. I can't take you anywhere."

That comment earned him a swat to the arm. "I do not! That's a terrible thing to say about your wife. Besides, if anyone burps in public, that's either you or William or Anthony. We cannot take you three anywhere. I think my father needs to explain to you; Kings do not behave that way in the company of important people."

This only made Charles laugh harder. When he calmed, he let her know, "Mary, your father cannot tell me anything of the sort. He burps louder than the three of us do. Usually, he'll make a competition of it too."

Her face screwed up in disgust. "Are you serious? The King of England belches in public? Mr. Harris would be appalled to know this." Heck, she's repulsed to know this. Lady Flora is right. Her father is a big oaf.

Then from out of nowhere, her husband let her in on something. His eyes beheld hers, and a fit of nerves hit him. "I've been thinking of growing a beard and a mustache. What are your thoughts on this? If you hate it, then I won't do so. I care what you think since you have to look at me."

He's very sincere about this and has been giving it plenty of thought lately. Perhaps it's because he's beginning to feel old in comparison to his wife, who looks young and beautiful. It all started one morning at the palace when he got up to go riding. His back ached, and it never had before. He's been told it's a sign of old age, which is to be expected since he's knocking on forty. This, however, is not to be outdone by finding a few grey hairs in the mirror.

Her fingers stroked his stubbly chin and the rest of his handsome face. "Dearest, whatever you want to do is fine by me. You're handsome, and you will be regardless of the hair on your face. But more than being handsome, you're also kind and generous. Just know you don't have to grow a beard to impress me."

Those words gave his heart wings. He can't help but look at her with appreciation and devotion. Her love inspires him. "Thank you," he whispered.

Yet, he still feels aged in comparison. He can't shake it. It's like some middle-of-life disaster that's clinging onto him. Surely this will end soon. At least he hopes for it.