Rose of Windsor

By

KateM1

Chapter One

London, England. May 20, 1920

The spring evening was warm with a light chill in the flower scented air. The London season was almost over and soon the noble families will leave for the freshness of a country estate.

Around the exclusive Mayfair and Belgravia districts, fine homes opened up for magnificent balls and receptions. That night at the home of Lord and Lady Farquar, a small but important ball was held.

It was important because Lady Farquar had managed to convince the First Lady of the British Empire herself Queen Mary to attend the party along with three of her five surviving children.

As usual, the royal party was late, but they only came in when the last of the invited mortals, the Earl and Countess of Strathmore along with their charming nineteen year old daughter Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon arrived a few minutes before thanks to Lady Elizabeth insistence of being unpunctual no matter what occasion arises.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Farquar,” Lady Strathmore said as she got her fur stole off, “Elizabeth took her time in getting ready.”

“I do not like to be hurried mother,” Lady Elizabeth replied with her violet eyes sparkling with humor, “I have to pick just the right dress for this ball. After all we are to meet the queen.”

“Yes my dear,” the earl chimed in, “But you could learn to organize your time.”

“Oh father!” Lady Elizabeth said in mock exasperation, “That is no fun.”

She then picked up a dance card from the nearby marble table and went to the ballroom.

“God help her husband,” Lord Strathmore muttered under his breath.

“Now my dear, you should not say that until she gets engaged,” Lady Strathmore answered.

Before Lord Strathmore said anything more, the Queen and her party entered the room.

Her Majesty Queen Mary was indeed a regal figure in her bejeweled clothes that belayed the fact that she was a daughter of a poor German duke and an impoverished English princess. She had worked hard to get into the position she was now without the grace and beauty and charm that a princess by tradition should have. Her marriage in 1893 to Prince George, Duke of York was a splendid affair despite the fact she was engaged to his older brother the late Prince Albert Victor only the year before.

It was also good fortune that the two were able to forge a love match despite the fact that they previously only cared for each other like a brother would a sister and vice versa. They had six children together—five boys and one girl. Sadly, their youngest child John had died the year before at the young age of thirteen. The queen still grieves, but like everything she kept her feelings to herself. Public feelings should be nonexistent in her book.

Queen Mary arrive arm-in-arm with her second son The Prince Albert. Once a gawky awkward boy, he grew into a handsome young prince with features similar to his mother’s especially the shape of his mouth. His tuxedo was well tailored and fitted his slender figure. His hair was wetted and slicked back making it look darker than his sandy blond. His blue eyes were observant taking everything in the elegant foyer from the crystal chandeliers lighted with bright electrical lights that made his jewel covered mother almost unbearable to be seen to the black and white tiled floor.

Behind them were Prince Henry and Princess Mary. Prince Henry was the tallest of the royal brothers and never ceased to get rid of the stupid look that always clouded his rather Hanoverian face. He also wore a well fitted tuxedo and looked rather dashing as long as he doesn’t open his mouth.

Princess Mary was a plain woman but tonight, she looked rather pretty in her pink gown that was covered with pearls that were sewn in delicate patterns throughout the gown. It wasn’t really hers, but that of a very good friend. Mary borrowed it in desperation of something that would make her look attractive and not into those out of style dark colored dresses her father insisted on her wearing. She had managed to sneak by with this one because it was a very modest dress belonging to a very modest and highly romantic young lady. Mary was quite pleased with herself in her rare moments of deception.

Only Albert or Bertie as he was called noticed that it wasn’t his sister’s dress. Earlier when they were alone, he decided to bring the subject up.

“You look lovely tonight,” He said in an unusual compliment for Bertie was never one to compliment on anything.

“Thank you,” Mary answered with a swirl.

“Its not one of yours is it?”

“No, it isn’t, Bertie, and you have my permission to tell father so. He really cannot say anything for the dress does have sleeves.”

Bertie rolled his eyes. One time before a party, Mary came down with a rather stylish sleeveless dress that had been a present from their older brother. The king was so livid that he ordered poor Mary to change. She went back and changed into the ugliest dress she could find, and the king had the gall to look satisfied and compliment her even though Bertie wanted to order her to change back to the other gown. Worse still, the gift giver was there, and Bertie never saw his brother look angry like he did that night.

Tonight, Mary managed to sneak in that dress and the king said she looked lovely. Bertie sighed in relief that Mary managed to get her own way.

“By the way who gave you the dress?” Bertie whispered in the car when their mother and Henry were not listening.

“My friend, Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon,” Mary answered, “She insisted that I wear it for she had worn it already and did not get any compliments on it. She will be here at the ball this evening, and I’m glad for I so want you two to meet.”

They said no more, but Bertie did want to meet this Lady Elizabeth. He wanted to thank her for giving his sister a nice present that made her happy. Happiness was rare in his family.

The Royal party went up to greet Lady Farquar who was talking to an elderly couple. The trio bowed and curtsied to the Queen and her children.

“Your Majesty and Your Royal Highnesses,” Lady Farquar said, “It is indeed pleasure that you should join us.”

“Thank you my dear Lady Farquar,” the queen said to the once great Edwardian hostess.

“Your Majesty,” Lady Farquar indicated to the couple who were next her, “May I present The Earl and Countess of Strathmore.”

The earl gave the queen a kiss on the hand and the countess curtsied.

“Yes it is a pleasure to see you again Lord and Lady Strathmore,” the queen said, “My daughter Mary always says the nicest things about you when she’s visits your home to see your daughter Elizabeth.”

“Yes Mary is a sweet girl, and her and our Elizabeth always enjoys the time together,” Lady Strathmore replied with a smile.

Bertie was only half listening to the conversation. He hated to meet strangers, and he knew he never met the Earl and Countess of Strathmore before. He found the earl quite stern looking with his grey bushy mustache and cold dark eyes. The countess, though once a great beauty, had lost her looks. She was plumb wearing a shapeless gown. Her face also gave a severe look, but her eyes gave away the sparkle and humor that is a hallmark of her personality. It took Bertie awhile before he heard his mother say to their new found acquaintances:

“These are my sons Albert and Henry.”

Bertie turned to see the couple waiting for him to speak. He knew in that situation his stammer was going to make its appearance, but at least he wasn’t making a speech.

“I-It is a p-pleasure to meet you Lord and Lady Strathmore.”

There that wasn’t so bad especially when they gave him such kind smiles. Bertie sigh a relief when his mother decided it was time to enter the ballroom. He wouldn’t of minded a conversation with the Strathmores, but there was a ball to attend.

As the royals were entering the ballroom with Lady Farquar, Lord and Lady Strathmore lingered in the foyer.

“I don’t care what you say Claud. I like the queen,” Lady Strathmore said.

“I always like the king and queen, my dear,” Lord Strathmore replied, “I greatly respect King George. He’s a good moral figure. It was his father that I could not stand, and I’m afraid the current Prince of Wales is following in his footsteps.”

“Well what do you think of the second-in-line?”

Lord Strathmore looked at Bertie with his hawk like eyes.

“He seemed like an okay sort of chap.”

“I like him,” Lady Strathmore decided, “he’s much handsomer than that older brother of his that every mother in Britain keeps praising about. He just needs a woman to show him how special he is, and I think our little Elizabeth might do the trick.”

“Nina Celia Bowes-Lyon you better not be suggesting that my daughter marry this man and become a ward of the Empire,” Lord Strathmore said in complete shock.

“Oh Claud, I wasn’t suggesting marriage. I just thought that he and Elizabeth could be friends like she is with his sister. I don’t think either one of them should marry, but I think Elizabeth needs a male friend not a suitor.”

Lord Strathmore shook his head. He knew better. Elizabeth would only be adding another suitor in her already filled collection. He said nothing and entered the ballroom with his wife and try to find his ever popular daughter.