“I came up to Castle Rannoch because of my brother’s accident, ma’am,” I said. “I couldn’t leave my sister-in-law to entertain a house party alone.” I went over to her and attempted the usual combination of kiss on the cheek and curtsy, as usual getting this wrong and bumping my nose against the royal cheek. “So I felt I should come over and pay my respects as soon as I settled in.”

“I’m glad you did, my dear.” She patted my hand. “You will stay for luncheon, I hope. It’s not the most stimulating of gatherings, I’m afraid. Everybody’s gone off to shoot except for us elderly females.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’d be delighted to stay.”

The queen looked over at her ladies. “You know young Georgiana, don’t you? Henry Rannoch’s girl? Lady Peebles, Lady Marchmont, Lady Ainslie and Lady Verian.”

Four serene and elderly faces smiled at me.

The queen patted the seat next to her. “And how is your poor brother faring? What an extraordinary thing to have happened. My son George told us all about it.”

“He seems to be improving, thank you, ma’am.”

“That is good news. Such a strange summer. The king hasn’t been at all well. He’s looking so much better since he’s been up here in the fresh air. I just hope the shoot won’t be too much for him.”

A gong summoned us to luncheon. I followed the queen and her ladies into the dining room. As we walked down the hallway, I wondered how I could find out exactly who was staying at Balmoral. The servants would know, if I could slip off unobserved for a chat.

Luncheon was, as usual in royal circles, a rather heavy meal. The king was fond of good solid English food, so we had mulligatawny soup, followed by steak and kidney pudding, followed by a rather grand version of bread pudding with custard. Feeling somewhat replete, I went with the ladies back to the sitting room.

“I think we might drive up to see how the shoot is progressing, don’t you?” the queen suggested. “I want to make sure that the king is not overtaxing himself.”

A shooting brake was ordered. We bumped along a track through some leafy woodland and then up a steep hillside until the vehicle could go no farther through the rocks and heather. Then we got out and walked, following a narrow track through the bracken. It was still misty and the grouse moor ahead loomed like a ghostly shape as the breeze parted the mist then drove it in again.