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Jessica opened her bag and took out a small pad and a pencil. “He didn’t say anything about drawing, Grandma,” she whispered.
As eleven o’clock struck, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II entered the Throne Room, and all the guests rose. She took her place on the step in front of the throne but did not speak. A nod from a gentleman usher, and the first recipient of an honor entered from the other side of the room. For the next hour, men and women from around the United Kingdom and Commonwealth received honors from their monarch, who held a short conversation with every one of them before the usher nodded once again and the next recipient took their place.
Jessica’s pencil was poised and ready when Grandpops entered the room. As he walked toward the Queen, the gentleman usher placed a small stool in front of Her Majesty and then handed her a sword. Jessica’s pencil didn’t rest for even a moment, capturing the scene as Harry knelt down on one knee and bowed his head. The Queen touched the tip of the sword gently on his right shoulder, lifted it, then placed it on his left shoulder, before saying, “Arise, Sir Harry.”
* * *
“So what happened after you were marched off to the Tower?” demanded Jessica as they drove out of the palace and back down the Mall, to take Harry to his favorite restaurant a few hundred yards away for a celebration lunch.
“To begin with, we were all taken into an anteroom where a gentleman usher guided us through the ceremony. He was very polite, and suggested that when we met the Queen we should bow from the neck,” said Harry, giving a demonstration, “and not from the waist like a page boy. He told us we shouldn’t shake hands with her, should address her as Your Majesty, and should wait for her to begin the conversation. Under no circumstances were we to ask her any questions.”
“How boring,” said Jessica, “because there are lots of questions I’d like to ask her.”
“And when replying to any question she might ask,” said Harry, ignoring his granddaughter, “we should address her as ma’am, which rhymes with jam. Then once the audience is over, we should bow again.”
“From the neck,” said Jessica.
“And then take our leave.”
“But what would happen if you didn’t leave,” asked Jessica, “and began to ask her questions?”
/> “The gentleman usher assured us very politely that should we outstay our welcome, he had instructions to chop off our heads.” Everyone laughed except Jessica.
“I would refuse to bow or call her Your Majesty,” said Jessica firmly.
“Her Majesty is very tolerant of rebels,” said Sebastian, trying to guide the conversation back onto safer ground, “and accepts that the Americans have been out of control since 1776.”
“So what did she talk about?” asked Emma.
“She told me how much she enjoyed my novels, and asked if there would be another William Warwick this Christmas. Yes, ma’am, I replied, but you might not enjoy my next book, as I’m thinking of killing William off.”
“What did she think of that idea?” asked Sebastian.
“She reminded me what her great-great-grandmother Queen Victoria had said to Lewis Carroll after she’d read Alice in Wonderland. However, I assured her that my next book will not be a mathematical thesis on Euclid.”
“How did she respond?” asked Samantha.
“She smiled, to show the conversation had come to an end.”
“So if you’re going to kill off William Warwick, what will be the theme of your next book?” asked Sebastian, as the car pulled up outside the restaurant.
“I once promised your grandmother, Seb,” replied Harry, as he stepped out of the car, “that I would try to write a more substantial work that would, in her words, outlast any bestseller list and stand the test of time. I’m not getting any younger, so once I’ve completed my present contract, I intend to try and find out if I’m capable of living up to her expectations.”
“Do you have an idea, a subject, or even a title?” pressed Seb as they entered Le Caprice.
“Yes, yes, and yes,” said Harry, “but that’s all I’m willing to tell you at the moment.”
“But you’ll tell me, won’t you, Grandpops?” said Jessica, as she produced a pencil drawing of Harry kneeling before the Queen, a sword touching his right shoulder.
Harry gasped as the rest of the family smiled and applauded. He was about to answer her question, when the maître d’ stepped forward and rescued him.
“Your table is ready, Sir Harry.”
3
“NEVER, NEVER, NEVER,” said Emma. “Do I have to remind you that Sir Joshua founded Barrington’s Shipping in 1839, and in his first year made a profit of—”
“Thirty-three pounds, four shillings, and tuppence, which you first told me when I was five years old,” said Sebastian. “However, the truth is that although Barrington’s managed a reasonable dividend for its shareholders last year, it’s becoming more and more difficult for us to go on challenging the big boys like Cunard and P and O.”
