“Yes, my dear?” she asked, looking puzzled. “I’m actually only a princess, not a queen.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Royal Highness,” I stammered. “I was speaking to a maid. Unfortunately her Christian name is Queenie.”

Luckily both Marina and her mother thought this was awfully funny and an international incident was avoided. I noticed that Queenie took advantage of the laughter to escape down the stairs. I resolved to speak to her sternly next time we were alone.

While we were having tea, a footman appeared with a note on a silver salver. I half expected it to be from Darcy, but it was addressed to Princess Marina. She took it, opened it and smiled. “Oh, how kind. It is from Princess Louise. She says the aunts usually meet for Sunday luncheon at Princess Alice’s apartment and they would love it if Georgiana and I were free to join them tomorrow.”

“That’s very nice of them,” I said. “Are you free?”

She glanced at her mother. “I promised Mama and Papa that I’d go to church with them, but after that we had no plans,” she said. “I think I should meet my future relatives, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” her mother agreed.

“And I?” Irmtraut asked. “I am not invited?”

“I don’t think they realized you were staying here. I’ll send them a note back and ask that you may be included, Traudi,” Marina said. “Of course you should come with us.”

She was really a sweet-natured person.

“I think that perhaps you should not attend, Irmtraut,” Marina’s mother said. “It is to be a family occasion for Marina to meet her new aunts.”

“Very well,” Irmtraut said stiffly. “I should not intrude on a family occasion.”

“Oh, but Mama, surely . . .” Marina began but Irmtraut interrupted.

“No, you are right. I should not attend,” Irmtraut said stiffly. “I should not feel comfortable and I do not wish to seem like the poor relation.”

“As you wish,” Marina said and I could tell even she was becoming exasperated with Irmtraut.

She turned to me. “Now you must tell me all about these aunts so that I get it right tomorrow.”

Oh crikey. I was clear enough about Princesses Louise and Beatrice, both Queen Victoria’s daughters. Princess Alice, I understood, had married Prince Alexander of Teck, and was thus related to Queen Mary as well as the king. The last royal aunt, the Dowager Marchioness of Milford Haven, was a little more nebulous to me. I knew she was also a granddaughter of Queen Victoria and therefore cousin to my father, but not much else about her. It seemed that Queen Victoria had had enough children to populate the royal houses of Europe.

“But you know her, Marina,” her mother said when I mentioned the name. “Her daughter Alice is your aunt. She married Daddy’s brother.”

“Oh yes. Of course.” Marina smiled. “Then her grandson must be Philip. The blond boy.”