As good fortune has it, Lilibet is very conscientious with her work, and her handwriting is coming along clear and strong. I am very glad.

I have, at last, made a timetable of lessons which, mostly, the Duchess allows me to follow.

Depending on the day of the week we start with:

9.30 Arithmetic, Bible studies or history for Lilibet, and a story or colouring (scribbling!) for Margaret

11.00 Elevenses, outdoor games, reading or resting

1.15 Lunch

2.30 Walks, singing, dancing, painting or (the girls’ favourite) hopscotch or chase with their father. He is excellent at both, being slim, athletic and agile. I have never been able to outrun him, but I do occasionally beat him at hopscotch.

The Duke and Duchess almost always join in the girls bath-time fun. Fortunately that is where Alah comes in to her own, and I go ‘off duty’. But I can still hear them, shrieking and splashing! You would never have allowed it.

I do miss you, Mother. Tell Dad I’m asking for him. I will be home as soon as I possibly can. I will let you know as soon as the Duchess releases me.

My dearest love,

Marion

AKA Crawfie xxx

Chapter Six

145 Piccadilly, London, August 1932

‘Crawfie, Crawfie!’ Margaret and Lilibet had burst into her room. ‘We’ve got a surprise for you!’

Marion was jolted out of her post-lunch forty winks. It had been a hot morning in the schoolroom, even with the windows open, and the heat didn’t agree with her Celtic blood. ‘I think you’ve just given me one, young ladies.’

‘Come on!’ The little girls giggled as they pulled her out of her chair. ‘Mummy wants to show you.’

They waited impatiently, hopping from foot to foot as Marion relaced her shoes.

‘Ready,’ she said finally. The moment she stood up, she was tugged down the stairs to the hall.

‘Close your eyes,’ Lilibet told her. ‘The surprise is in the garden.’

Marion gave herself up to Lilibet’s steering, as she was guided through the doorway and out on to the terrace.

‘Now you can open your eyes.’

Blinking in the sudden sunlight, Marion saw the Duchess sitting at the garden lunch table beneath the shade of a spreading magnolia tree. Sitting on her lap was a small golden puppy with long pricked ears.

Marion grinned. ‘A puppy!’

Lilibet jumped up and down with glee. ‘He’s called Dookie and he is ours!’

‘Dookie,’ repeated Margaret, beaming.

‘What sort is he?’ asked Marion looking at him closely.

Lilibet recited, ‘He’s a corgi from Wales and his proper name is … What is it, Mummy?’

‘Rozavel Golden Eagle,’ said the Duchess. ‘Isn’t he adorable?’

‘We’ve never had a dog before.’ Lilibet and Margaret were now kneeling by their mother and rubbing their fingers and faces against the little dog.

The Duchess laughed. ‘Darlings, be careful with him. He’s only just getting used to us.’ She looked at Marion. ‘My husband has his Labrador gun dogs but they are not pets, and I think it’s terribly important for children to have pets to care for. Don’t you?’