‘Her Royal Highness, Your Majesty,’ he says before stepping back and closing the door.

The King is sitting behind his desk, his face thunderous, while Philip has got to his feet at her entrance. He sends her a faint smile and a wink.

‘S-Sit down, Lilibet,’ her father says, the stammer a sure sign of his agitation. ‘You too,’ he adds with a scowl in Philip’s direction.

‘Philip has t-told me that in d-defiance of my express wishes, you have decided to become engaged.’

‘Yes, Papa.’

‘I’m d-disappointed in you, Lilibet. I thought you understood the situation! I thought you both understood that a betrothal is not possible at the moment,’ the King goes on with another glare in Philip’s direction. ‘You are not just any girl. You can’t m-marry whenever you feel like it. Your marriage is a matter of state, of diplomacy, politics.’

Elizabeth has her hands tightly folded in her lap. ‘I do understand that, Papa,’ she manages, ‘but I hope there will also be room for personal feelings.’

Her father’s only answer to that is an exasperated snort.

‘I … I hope to have a marriage as happy as yours and Mummy’s,’ she ploughs on.

‘Your mother was twenty-three before she married,’ the King snaps. ‘You’re only twenty. And she took a good, hard look at some other chaps before she said yes to me. That’s how I knew she wasn’t just interested in a royal title.’

Philip shifts in his chair but the King ignores him.

‘Yes, yes, you want Philip now, I can see that, but how many young women know their minds at twenty? If I give permission for this marriage to go ahead and then you change your mind, there won’t be a way out of it.’

Elizabeth steals a glance at Philip. His face is expressionless, but a muscle is jumping in his jaw. She is just glad that he is hanging on to his own temper. Her father may be in a vile mood now, but he won’t have held back when Philip was alone. Philip must have endured much worse.

‘I know my mind,’ she says quietly. She is trying not to show that she is shaking inside. She adores her father and she has spent her whole life trying to please him. She is the good girl, his trusty squire, the one he can rely on. He tells her so all the time. He is never angry with her.

But he is now.

Why isn’t her mother there to support her? Elizabeth wonders. She must know what is happening.

It seems that if she wants to marry Philip, she will have to stand on her own. But not alone, she thinks, with another glance at Philip.

We’re in this together. She was the one who had said that.

She lifts her chin. ‘I won’t change my mind,’ she says. ‘I want to marry Philip. Please, Papa, give us your blessing.’

‘My b-blessing?’ the King bellows, outraged. ‘When you have both defied me?’