E.A.

Chapter One: The King is Dead, Long Live the King!

21st January 1936
 

The butler grumbled as he walked across the black-and-white tiled floor of the grand, palatial Chatsworth House to answer the door. His obligation to open the door at night often interrupted his settling down to a nice book and a cup of tea. As it had tonight.

"Good evening, welcome to Chatsworth House. How may I help you?" He spoke his well-versed line as he opened the great door.

"Good evening, Sir, may we speak with the His Grace? The matter is most urgent," were the words that greeted Mr. Lyons from one of two smartly dressed men, both of whom donned their caps as the grandfather clock in the entrance hall chimed onto half past midnight.

"I am afraid, Sirs, that the His Grace himself is currently not in residence. He is away in London dealing with business," Mr. Lyons' eyebrows knotted "Is there anything that perhaps myself or Lord Hartington could help you with?"

"May we please speak with him?" The second man asked just as Edward Cavendish, Lord Hartington, swept through from the a room hidden deep inside the vast house.

"Lord Hartington," Lyons bowed his head "These gentlemen would like to speak to you."

"Whatever is the matter, Sirs?" Lord Hartington drifted across to the doorway and promptly invited the men in from the bitter January night.

"We wish to speak to your sister, the Princess of Wales, and we were told that she would be here," the first man removed his coat and passed it to Mr. Lyons.

"Well, you are correct, she is, but I must first ask whom you are and why you are calling so late," Edward followed the men as they started up the ornate staircase towards where they presumed the bedrooms were.

"We are officials from Buckingham Palace, Sir, dispatched here with orders of great importance," the second man said "And for that reason we must see Her Royal Highness."

"I don't care who you are," Edward swiftly moved himself in front of the men, halting them in their ascent "You are not waking my sister up in her condition, no matter what the circumstances. She is seven months pregnant for heaven's sake-!"

The two officials simply pushed past Edward and the short one said "If you would care to show us Her Royal Highness' rooms, Lord Hartington, we would be most grateful."

Cursing under his breath, Edward quickly caught up with the men, and directed them towards the bedroom of his sister, Her Royal Highness The Princess of Wales. Alice.

Edward looked both the men up and down as they waited outside his sister's bedroom; they both looked like they had been scrambled in a hurry and had had little time to think about what they looked like; he even spied a dab of shaving cream on the jaw line of the taller man as he inspected them.

He turned back as the door opened and Millie, his sister's maid, poked her head out "Her Royal Highness will be ready to receive you in a few moments."

There was a minute of hushed whispering from inside the room, before Millie opened the door and Edward led the two officials into the large, distinctively feminine room.

Alice stood in the middle of the room, her silk rayon nightgown covered by a crepe and muslin dressing gown, which was patterned with brightly coloured flowers and leaves. She stood with her hands delicately tucked underneath her swollen stomach. Her head was held high and her ear-length platinum blonde hair was freshly brushed as she looked at the officials with all the grace and poise of a married-in princess.

"Gentlemen," she turned and greeted them "What is it that I can do for you at such a late hour?"

The shorter of the men paused for a moment before saying with the deepest formality "At twenty three fifty five on the night of January the twentieth in the year of our Lord nineteen thirty six, His Majesty King George V passed away quietly in his sleep."

Edward's eyes silently widened and moved up to stare at Alice, whose expression was a mixture of excitement, shock, disbelief, sadness and anxiety all at the same time.

"His Majesty King Edward VIII requests your presence at Sandringham House immediately," the second official stepped forward and bowed his head "Your Majesty."

Alice's eyes widened and after a few moments of grappling with her words, she finally spoke "Well then, gentlemen, thank you for your message," she paused "Did His Majesty mention anything about the children accompanying me?"

"Ma'am, His Majesty insisted that the children be kept here, undisturbed for the evening," the first official nodded curtly.

"Very well," Alice turned to Millie, who stood in the half-light of the room, her head bowed "Millie, will you please go and pick out an appropriate outfit for me to wear? Make sure it is sufficiently warm."

"Yes, Your Roya...," Millie paused mid-curtsey and corrected herself "Your Majesty."

She scurried off into the dressing room as Alice turned back to the officials "I will be with you promptly, Sirs, now if you would please leave me to change."

The officials both nodded and scrambled for the door, bowing as they left.

This left Lord Hartington staring at his sister; now the consort of his monarch.

"You too, Eddie," Alice gestured from her brother to the door.

Edward nodded quickly and bowed his head "Your Majesty," before leaving the new consort alone in her bedroom to ponder her new position.

Fifteen minutes later, Alice was sitting in the back of the Rolls Royce being driven to Sandringham House in Norfolk, her mind was racing...little less than an hour ago she had still been the wife of the heir apparent to the British throne, a wonderful hostess who ran a spotless houseshold in the centre of London at her residence of Lancaster House.

But now she was Queen, and, as such, her entire life would revolve around her public figure. The way she would always effortlessly appear at her husband's side, how she would conduct herself at the most grand of state balls and occasions and how she would be a loving wife to the British sovereign and a caring and devoted mother to the future king and his siblings.

She reached down at stroked her swollen stomach with her gloved hand, wincing as she felt her unborn third child turn underneath her ribcage. She had two children sleeping peacefully back at Chatsworth; her son George, or Georgie, now the Duke of Cornwall and Duke of Rothesay, and in a short while, Prince of Wales, and Louise, now the daughter of the sovereign.

She was glad that she had left the job of telling the two children of their beloved grandfather's death to their nursery maids. She hated seeing them cry.

She must have fallen asleep for the remainder of her journey, as when she opened her eyes, the car was crunching along the gravel path towards the entrance to Sandringham House, the Windsor's private retreat nestled in the Norfolk countryside.

Her husband's equerry, Lord Charles Fairfax, was waiting for her; his eyes were downcast towards his leather shoes as she stepped out of the car when the door was opened, pulling her fur lined coat further around her body as Fairfax looked up at her.

"Your Majesty," he took her gloved hand and kissed it "The King is waiting for you in his rooms."

"Thank you, Fairfax," Alice smiled sincerely, brushing past the startled looking equerry and walking through the small doorway into the comparatively cosy, family-orientated interior of Sandringham House.

She made her way quietly up a small flight of stairs towards the rooms where she knew her husband would be.

Pausing at the door to David's bedroom, Alice sighed and knocked gently "David," she called inside "David, it's me."

"Alice?" her husband's tired voice asked from the other side of the door "Is that you?"

"It's me, darling," Alice closed her eyes and sighed as David recognised her.

"Come in," Alice pushed open the door at her husband's insistence and found him standing in the middle of the room, his dinner jacket had been thrown on the bed and he was wearing just his shirt and waistcoat, the latter of which was unbuttoned, and the white tie at his neck was loosened but still in an untidy knot hanging round his collarbone. The new king's dark golden-brown hair was dishevelled and as he looked up, Alice saw red rings around his beautiful brown eyes.

"You still manage to look absolutely breathtaking even in the middle of the night," his voice was hoarse and it was clear he had been crying "Come here, you."

Alice gently drifted towards her husband, smelling his French cologne as she neared and laid a hand on his chest, nuzzling the nape of his neck with her nose as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Oh, Lissy," David muttered, resting his chin on the top of her head "My darling Lissy."

"Hush, hush now," Alice kissed David's neck, feeling him tremble as her lips touched the sensitive skin of his neck "You're so tired, my darling, so, so tired."

David sniffed and pulled away, holding Alice at elbows length he shook his head "I may be tired but it's still no excuse for waking you up at this hour, I should have waited until morning to tell you, I should have thought of you, of the baby," he moved his left hand from his wife's shoulder to the point at which her coat bowed outwards to make room for her growing belly, pulling Alice's head forward, he kissed her porcelain skin again and whispered "I've dragged you into a mess which we cannot get out of."

"You'll be wonderful," Alice said gently "You'll be as wonderful and as beloved as your father," she stroked his jaw with her index finger "And I'll be right beside you. Always."

"I won't ever be as beloved as Father," David muttered into her hair "I'll never be as beloved as him, or as Grandpapa, even Great Grandmamma Victoria would be turning in her grave at me," his eyes flickered up as he spoke softly "I'm not ready to be a King, I'm not..., I can't..."

"And you think your father was?" Alice asked tenderly "You think your grandfather was ready to become King, even after living in preparation for it for many many years? And think of Victoria, do you think she was ever expecting to become Queen at nineteen?"

"No," David's meek reply was accompanied with him leaning his head against hers "No, and I suppose I'm not ready either."

"Well," Alice whispered "We'll be unprepared together," she paused and looked up, smoothing her husband's hair back against his head "Come now," she pulled away and took his hand "Let's go to bed for now, you're the king tomorrow, not tonight."

David smiled before nodding, repeating her "Tomorrow, not tonight."

Alice's tired eyes stared at her husband with such a mesmerised love and euphoric adoration that she could barely describe it.

And with a gently tug on his hand, she led her husband to sleep, and upon the dawn, they would awake as the new King and Queen of Great Britain.