I firmly believed she’d also known no pub in England, not even one with PPOs in it, could contain guests’ urges to snap iPhone photos. A few grainy pictures of her appearance at Lacey’s reception had leaked to the press, in which the Queen looked hale and hearty enough to back her truculent son into a corner: step out of the regent role and announce her full recovery, or stir up suspicion among royal watchers.

“What an unfortunate situation, but of course we must do as the optics demand,” Eleanor had said airily the day the photos ran. “Pity a lady can’t simply wish a loved one well in peace.”

I’d nearly choked on my sandwich, and not just at the notion that Lacey was her loved one. Eleanor could play innocent all she wanted, but I’d go to my grave swearing this was a carefully crafted checkmate.

Initially, I’d been hugely annoyed that Eleanor manipulated my sister’s wedding day for her own gain, but the emotional wallop of Marta’s death knocked all that away. I’d grown fond of her during the past two years, but that was nothing compared to what I worried Eleanor might be feeling. Due to the early deaths of both their husbands, and later Georgina, they’d been each other’s touchstones for a lifetime. Eleanor was now the only one left in her family who remembered what she was like before she was a queen. I hoped the loss wouldn’t have an adverse effect on her own vigor, but when I went to see her, she was every bit as feistily frank with me as she’d been since she woke up.

“You are the only person I can say this to,” she’d said. “But while of course I’m very upset about Mummy, I am pleased that my debut will be a splash. If you’re making a comeback, make a comeback.”

“I’m sure Marta would agree,” I said.

“I doubt that,” Eleanor said. She massaged some lotion into her right hand. “For every ear-bending I got from Victoria II about duty and etiquette and the requirement that I have no fun, there were three from Mummy. It was like the current battering you against a rock. After a while you simply go limp.”

“I can’t imagine you going limp against anyone,” I said.

She laughed harshly. “Where do you think I learnt that?”

“Marta always came across as more of a…harmless curmudgeon to me.” I shrugged. “Maybe all the losses in her life eventually changed her, mellowed her a little.”

“I told you, people don’t change,” Eleanor replied curtly. “However…”

She stood up and walked over to the elegant Danish credenza set against the far wall of her sitting room. She rummaged in the top drawer for a bit and emerged with a velvet box.