Quite obviously, this is a work of fiction and (though it takes a while to get going) there will be a large mob of royalty appearing quite soon. It's highly unlikely (if not impossible) that a commoner (and an English one at that) would ever become a Grand Duchess of Russia, but if one did, then it might have happened something like this...

So here was I, plain Elspeth Gwendolyn Victoria Higgins, a humble librarian's clerk (amongst other careers) seconds away from waltzing down the aisle of some church in the Isle of Wight to marry one Prince Francis of Teck. I know. Odd isn't it? Anyway, the really interesting bit of my story is how this all began and for that, we need to zoom back in time to about a year and a half ago to a small library in Piccadilly...

6th April, 1886

"Elspeth? Elspeth?" cried someone from the drawing room. Sighing, I brushed most of the soot off my hands and left cleaning out the grate for now and hurried next door.

"Eliza – there you are," said Professor Billingsgate, looking up from his search of the carpet, "Where the devil are my slippers?"

"May I suggest your feet professor?" I asked, containing a smile.

"Hm? Ah yes, so they are...well bless my soul...Thank you Elizabeth, you may return to your work." I grinned and shut the door. The professor was exceedingly clever, but really had no memory whatsoever when it came to real life.

I returned to the fireplace and swept the ashes into an old copy of the Times, before folding up the paper and carrying it outside to the bin.

"Mornin' Miss Higgins," called Ted the baker's lad from his new bicycle, weaving somewhat unsteadily in and out of pedestrians, clutching a white farmhouse loaf to his chest.

"Morning Ted," I called and waved. A steady clopping of hooves signalled the arrival of the milk cart (which was always late, thanks to Dobbin's arthritis) and I hurried out with the money from my apron.

"Morning Miss 'Iggins," grunted Ernie the milkman.

"Morning Ern," I said, "Two pints please."

"Hop on an'grab 'em gal," he said and I sung myself onto the back of the cart, chose a couple of pints and hopped back off again.

I let myself back in and presented the milk to Millie, our rather flustered maid, who stared at them as if they'd suddenly turned blue and scurried away to make room in the pantry. I left them on the table, removed my apron, then went into the actually library, checking my appearance briefly in the mirror first.

"Ah Elspeth," boomed Mrs Pearce, gliding into view like the figurehead of a ship ploughing through a sea of books, "There you are. Now, Miss Tripp has some returned books that have not yet been sorted – could you see to them please and for goodness sakes do something with your hair before we open – here, borrow my ribbon," she said, passing me a lilac silk one that clashed nicely with my cream blouse and royal blue skirt.

"Thank you Mrs Pearce," I said, "Would you like me to make tea again today? I made some scones with Millie yesterday, so we could finish them off too."

"Ah yes, I think that would do splendidly Elspeth – you do make rather excellent scones. Now chip chop dear – we can't keep our budding readers at bay any longer." She bustled off to be imposing elsewhere and I headed towards the front desk, where Miss Tripp and Miss Tibbs were rootling through boxes full of new books.

"Ah Elspeth," beamed Miss Tripp, popping up from behind a pile of Dickens novels, "You're just in time to see these," she said, holding out a small pile of red-bound books as if they were the crown jewels, "Oscar Wilde's latest," she said (and you could even hear the italics.)

"Don't you have his photograph on your dresser?" asked Miss Tibbs, standing up to her full five feet and hurrying over to admire the rather obscure 'Life and Times of Attila the Hun'.

"Yes – I wrote to him and he sent it back to me. Shall I get it so we can make some sort of display?"

"Ooh," cried Miss Tripp, "Now that is an idea...oh," she ended abruptly, "Whatever would Mrs Pearce say?"

'I think I'll leave it then," I said smiling, "Do you need any help with unpacking or shall I make a start on the returned books?"

"Would you dear?" asked Miss Tibbs, stamping 'The Yearbook of Yachting, 1885' with the library's name.

I walked around the back of the desk and picked up the first pile and the huge navy logbook and set to work. I'd just finished writing 'returned' in the margin for 'Bleak House', when a large shadow appeared over the paper.

"Miss Higgins – your hair," chided Mrs Pearce, causing me to jump out of my skin and drop the pen I was using.

"Oh yes, er..."

"Oh you hopeless child – give it to me," she said, seizing the ribbon and tugging my short black hair into some sort of bun shape.

"Well I think that's as neat as we're going to get it...now hurry off and change for work girl – you can't stand here dressed like that."

"But this is what I always wear and you never make my tie my hair back normally...what's happening Mrs Pearce?"

"We've a very important visitor coming for tea, so I want you to look your best, that's all."

"It's not another perspective suitor is it?"

"He may be bringing a couple, but I highly doubt it, now run along dear." Somewhat mystified, I hurried out, scaled the stairs to the first floor, then clambered up the ladder to my attic. Using the word attic may seem as if I had a bad lot in the house, but it was my favourite room in the whole place. There were three huge skylights giving me a terrific view of the city if I stood on a chair, countless bookshelves crammed with books (as it was also used for storage) and then my bed, wardrobe, dressing table and desk. A small bathroom was situated behind a small door in the corner and a large second-hand chandelier on the ceiling provided more than enough light in the evenings.

I opened the huge mahogany wardrobe (a family heirloom of the professor's that was deemed too feminine for him) and selected a dusty greyish blue dress with white lace and delicate pearl buttons, which I'd last worn to my brother's wedding a year ago. After straightening it a bit and putting away my other clothes, I put on a pair of ancient cream dancing shoes that had belonged to my mother. Then I rearranged my hair into something more becoming than Mrs Pearce's severe style, tucked a small forget-me-not into one of the curls, pushed my glasses back up my nose and jumped down the ladder and arrived in the main library just in time for the main doors to open and the intellectual elite of Piccadilly to come flooding in.

I stood by the letter 'E' and waited for someone to approach. With some amusement I heard an aristocratic young man whining to his father. "But Papa – I don't want to read Dickens – it's all poor people and nonsense like that. What if my friends catch me in a library – I shall never live it down Papa."

"Now Humphrey, as all of your associates are in Oxford for the term – where you should be may I add-"

"But I'm ill Papa – and Mama says I needn't go back until next term either. So there's no point in me being here."

'Well maybe we'll find something you do want to read," said their father and I saw them come around the corner. A scrawny blond-haired boy, about thirteen or fourteen, with a horrid yellow waistcoat and tweeds was lagging sullenly behind a tall man with moustache and cane and a small girl with long blond ringlets.

"Ah, do you work here young lady?" asked the father, catching sight of me.

"Yes I do sir. Can I help you?"

"Yes...er...can you recommend anything for a fourteen year old boy with an aversion to reading?"

"Well perhaps something more adventurous than Dickens...would you care to follow me?" I led them to the 'S' section and shinned up the ladder to reach the volume I had in mind.

"You could perhaps try this sir – 'Treasure Island' by Robert Louis Stevenson – I've read it several times myself and it sounds ideal."

"Well how about this Humphrey?' asked the father, passing it to his son.

"What's it about?" he asked, somewhat dubiously.

"Pirates," I said, "And buried treasure, as well as sea battles and a great deal more."

"Well I suppose I could give it a try...thank you Miss," he said, and they walked off towards the counter, where Miss Tripp was merrily stamping away, unaware that Mrs Pearce was bearing down on her like a particularly hostile cloud.

"Miss Tripp! The professor requires your presence immediately in the drawing room," she boomed.

'Oh! Mrs Pearce, good morning. Er...I shall go to him at once then," she said and hurried off, taking the stamp with her. I hastily followed her, retrieved it and handed it back to Mrs Pearce who rolled her eyes skyward and took the book offered to her to stamp.

For about ten minutes, all was peaceful and then, just as the clock struck ten, Miss Tripp catapulted into the room and shrieked: "WINDSOR!!!" at the top of her voice. Instead of crying: "Balmoral!" as I would have liked to, I instead hurried over with the other two ladies.

"What do you think you are doing Miss Tripp?!" hissed Mrs Pearce, virtual steam pouring from her ears, "This is a library!"

"B...b....b....b...."

"Spit it out woman!" cried Mrs Pearce, her voice rising again.

"They're not coming to us for tea – we're going to them!!" she gasped and Mrs Pearce suddenly turned whiter than I'd ever seen her go and Miss Tibbs sank into a nearby chair.

"Who was coming for tea?" I asked, somewhat nervously.

"We have just received a very generous sum of money from an anonymous regular customer," began Mrs Pearce (the only one still equipped with the power of speech) "And three weeks ago, the professor had a letter through the post from that anonymous customer, announcing his true identity."

"Who was it?" I asked.

"His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales," she said, automatically standing to attention.

I gasped and managed to say: "S...s...so we're going to see him, at Windsor castle – now?!"

"Yes," said Mrs Tripp, "The professor became confused when something blew up downstairs – Millie's rock cakes I believe, so he thought that they had invited themselves here..."

"But why Windsor?" I asked, "Surely Sandringham would be right for the Prince of Wales?"

"Don't you read the gossip columns?" demanded Mrs Pearce (who most certainly did), "He's at Windsor visiting the Queen to prepare for the Jubilee next year."

"Oh. Oh – so we might meet...we might meet the Queen,," cried Mrs Tripp, jumping to her feet, "And to think – we have nothing to wear!"

There were three shrill gasps of horror.

'Close the library!" cried Mrs Pearce.

"Take a Hansom cab to Worth's!" exclaimed Miss Tripp.

"We'll never make it in time!" wailed Miss Tibbs.

"Stop panicking!' I shouted above the others and they all went quiet.

"Precisely," said Mrs Pearce, who had regained her composure by now, "Now, Miss Tripp, go and usher everyone out of the library – we'll be closed all day today, Miss Tibbs, hurry upstairs and see if the professor has contacts in the fashion industry and Miss Higgins, er...go and search for those dresses you acquired from your other occupation and bring them into the sitting room. I shall inform Millie that tea today is cancelled and send her immediately to the milliner's. Off you go."

We fled, buzzing with excitement. I raced up to my attic room and heaved open the heavy doors. I searched through to the left of the cupboard and found the five gowns, each covered with muslin sleeves to protect them and laid them out on the bed. One I dismissed immediately, as it was a ball gown and also red, which I doubted would go down very well at the castle.

Another was bright yellow, so I discarded that one too. The other three, however, looked reasonably all right, so I carried them carefully downstairs and placed them gently onto the sofa.

"Good girl," said Mrs Pearce, breezing in a moment later carrying a pile of coats, hats, gloves and parasols, which she deposited on the professor's armchair.

Miss Tibbs and Miss Tripp both arrived after a couple of seconds, the latter staggering somewhat under countless old shoeboxes.

"Now," said Mrs Pearce, positioning her formidable pince-nez onto her nose, "Shall we begin?"

Ta da! First chapter done and many more to come. I hope you liked it and if there's anything you think I can improve on or if I've got some facts wrong, please, please tell me.

: )