Buckingham Palace, 20^th February 1937

Dear Mother and Dad,

Well, here we are all finally moved in to Buckingham Palace. The last few days have been exhausting for everyone, including the King and Queen. I do worry for them – I never worry that they cannot do their duty, of course, but I am concerned about how widespread their duties are. Life is going to be very different, and I feel so privileged to be here, serving my country in a way I never expected.

The Princesses are adapting well. Margaret is very jealous of Lilibet’s own little sitting room, which is her pride and joy. Margaret thinks it very unfair and keeps asking me why Lilibet gets her own room, when she has to stay in the nursery.

‘Because she’s eleven now,’ I told her. ‘And she is allowed to have a room of her own where she can do her homework and read in peace.’

‘But why can’t I share it with her?’

Being six is not all fun, and it took her all afternoon for her to leave behind her grumpiness.

Lilibet loves her room. She has placed all her books alphabetically on the shelves and there are two beautiful photographs of her parents on her mantelpiece. She has a little desk for homework and letter writing, a fire, a gate-legged drop-leaf table on which to dine, a small chintz sofa and an armchair with a little footstool.

I have been trying to think of ways to cheer Margaret up, so this afternoon I suggested that Lilibet send a written invitation to Margaret, asking her to come for afternoon tea.

At four o’clock the footman arrived with cucumber sandwiches, bread and butter and fruitcake – exactly as the Queen herself likes it. Alah and I kept an eye on them through the open door. Their conversation was so funny.

‘And have you had a good day, Margaret?’ Lilibet asked.

‘Oh yes, thank you. We have moved into a new house.’

‘And is it nice?’

‘Yes. It’s a palace. My father is King of England.’

‘Gosh. How interesting.’

‘Yes. And my sister will be Queen of England one day and I shall be the Queen’s sister.’ Margaret giggled, and a piece of bread and butter slipped off her plate and onto the rug. Lilibet couldn’t tell her off because she was laughing too much as well.

Dookie (you remember the Corgi I banned from the schoolroom?) couldn’t believe his luck. I honestly have no fondness for him.

I shall sign off now as I am very sleepy. Tomorrow I am being given a tour of the palace gardens by Sir Alan Lascelles, no less. He is the King’s private secretary and known as Tommy. I was rather frightened of him at first, but he is actually very kind. I will tell you more next time.

With love,

Marion xx

Buckingham Palace Gardens, 20^th February 1937

‘And what did you choose from Queen Mary’s bric-a-brac table?’ Tommy asked Crawfie as they stepped out onto the steps leading to the palace gardens, both of them keeping an eye on the Princesses who were running ahead.