I made a successful entry along a narrow hallway that skirted the palace kitchens, and was making my way along the lower corridor, past various household offices, startling maids and footmen along the way, until in turn I was startled by a horrified voice exclaiming, “You, girl. Where do you think you are going?”

I turned to see an austere old gentleman bearing down on me.

“I don’t know you,” he said accusingly.

“I am Lady Georgiana, His Majesty’s cousin,” I said. “I am here to take tea with Her Majesty. I am expected.”

There are some advantages to being a minor royal. The old man turned beetroot red.

“My lady, I do apologize. I can’t think why I wasn’t informed of your arrival. Her Majesty is awaiting you in the yellow sitting room. This way, please.”

He led me up a side staircase to the piano nobile, which has nothing to do with the musical instrument but is the floor on which most of the royal life of the palace takes place. The yellow sitting room is in the southeast corner, with windows looking down the Mall to Admiralty Arch and also out over the start of Buckingham Palace Road. A great vantage point, in fact. As a room, however, it has never appealed to me. It is furnished largely with objects brought from the Royal Pavilion at Brighton, collected by King George IV at a time when chinoiserie was the height of fashion. Lots of dragons, chrysanthemums, and bright painted porcelain. I found it a little too flowery and garish for my taste.

“Lady Georgiana, ma’am,” my stuffy friend said in a low voice.

Her Majesty wasn’t at the table in the window, but standing, peering into one of the glass cases that adorned the walls. She looked up briefly as I came in.

“Ah, Georgiana. I didn’t see you arrive. Did you take a cab?”

“I walked, ma’am.” I should explain that royals are always ma’ams and sirs, even to their closest relatives. I went over to plant the dutiful kiss on the cheek, plus execute a curtsy. The order of these two actions requires the most delicate timing. In spite of a lifetime of practice I always managed to bump my nose on the royal cheek as I stood up from the curtsy.

Her Majesty straightened up. “Thank you, Soames. Tea in fifteen minutes.”

The elderly man backed out, closing the double doors. Her Majesty had gone back to peering into the glass case. “Tell me, Georgiana,” she said, “am I right in thinking that your late father had a fine collection of Ming? I’m sure I remember discussing it with him.”

“He collected lots of things, ma’am, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t know one pot from another.”

“That’s too bad. You must come to the palace more often and let me educate you. One finds such solace in collecting beautiful objects.”

I didn’t point out that one needs money to collect beautiful objects and I was currently a pauper.