Palace pool (though I tucked that one away for me and Nick).
“Have you ever been to McDonald’s?” I heard myself ask instead.
Marta made a not bloody likely noise, and Eleanor said, “Something inside the palace, for now. Something reckless but simple. Perhaps I shall order a crumpet untoasted.”
“Careful, don’t sprain anything,” I said.
She balled up the sheets in her left hand. “I don’t hear any better ideas from you.”
“How about…a margarita?” I asked. “Have you ever had one of those? Are you even allowed to right now?”
“I have not, and I do as I please,” Eleanor said. She tapped her chin. “I should also like to buy clothing on the internet. Things I don’t need, seasonally inappropriate, and very unlikely to fit properly. Mummy, I expect you’re writing this down.”
Another noise from Marta. I translated it correctly and took out my phone and opened up a new note.
“And you can show me a baseball match,” Eleanor continued. “You natter on about it so much, I should see what the fuss is about.”
“It’s the off-season right now,” I said. “But I can teach you how the game works, so that once they start up again, you’ll be ready to go.”
“Good. That will entertain me during the interminable physical therapy for this,” Eleanor said, casting a disdainful look at her arm.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said, “why me? I always felt like…more of a thorn in your side.”
“Too right,” Marta said.
“Because other than my mother, you’re the only member of this family who has ever cursed regularly in my presence, which means you are capable of speaking to me like a human,” Eleanor said.
I gazed at her in wonderment. Her hair was a mess. She wore no lipstick, nor a giant fancy brooch chosen for maximum intimidation. She had a pillow mark on her cheek from her earlier nap. Before my eyes, she had begun morphing from Her Majesty the Queen, my most terrifying opponent, into…my grandmother-in-law.
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I didn’t fuck off,” I said.
* * *
I left the palace upbeat. It was as if Georgina—at least, the way I liked to imagine her—had gotten bored in the Great Beyond and resurrected herself through Eleanor. I was still giggling when I arrived at Marj’s office at Clarence House, to Nick’s bemusement.
“Your grandmother,” I said, dropping into a chair, “apparently wants to have fun.”
He was nonplussed. “What does fun mean to her exactly?” he asked. “Are we talking medieval torture, or Parcheesi, or…”
“She wants me to teach her baseball,” I said.
“To play?” he sputtered. “She can’t even use her right hand.”
“No, goofus. To watch.” I sat up straight and wriggled my shoulders proudly. “I, Rebecca, Duchess of Clarence, and daughter of Earl Porter of the Iowa Porters, am going to turn the Queen into a Cubs fan.”
Nick grinned. “God save us all.”
“That is indeed the dream,” said Marj, sweeping in behind us and dropping a binder onto her desk. She sat down behind it and folded her hands together. “You are aware, of course, that Nicholas broached the topic of going on tour. Congratulations. The Prince of Wales and the Queen agree that it is time for our newlyweds to engage in a little diplomacy.”
She opened the binder to the title page, which read A Selective North American Adventure. “You’ll go in July, which gives us about five months to plan. You’ll start in Canada, and then pop over the border to Rebecca’s homeland. Strengthening the special relationship, and so forth. It’ll mean a lot of work, but we’ve procured help.”
She waved at someone in the hallway—I hadn’t even noticed that the door was open—and suddenly, standing beside Marj was Lady Bollocks.
“Bea?” I said, startled. “Are you, like, an expert on Canada, or something?”
“I did live there for five years,” Bea said.
“You did?”
“No,” Bea said. “But the fact that you didn’t know for certain is telling.”
“Everything is a quiz with this one,” I said to Marj, hooking my thumb at Bea as if we were some kind of vaudeville act.
“Beatrix was essential in our efforts to prepare you to join this family,” Marj said, “and so I thought she’d be ideal in this capacity. Which brings me to another announcement.”
At this, she closed the binder and looked at Nick with a lifetime of tenderness. “This tour shall be my swan song,” she said. “I’m retiring this summer.”
“What?” Nick sat bolt upright. “Marjie, no. How can we live without you?”
“My dear.” She beamed. “It’s been my honor to watch