Greevey apologized in mime, and I gave him as reassuring a thumbs-up as I could; he disappeared as I glanced fruitlessly around for the hand towel I’d apparently forgotten to bring outside. I improvised with a piece of paper, and caught my reflection in the glass of the door. I’d rubbed charcoal on my cheek by accident, and my hair was a disaster. Well, I’d seen Eleanor at her most vulnerable. She could handle a little mess.

I stepped off the terrace and into my bedroom, where I found the Queen rocking a fuchsia suit—as if this were a public appearance and not simply a social call—running a finger along the dresser. She lifted it and held it close to her eyes.

“Passable,” she said, brushing off her hands. “My goodness, Rebecca, you look like a chimney sweep. And do you usually let the butler up into your chambers?” Eleanor drew her eyebrows together, then smacked a throw pillow in our plush corner chair before settling down in it. “He seems a bit gormless,” she added. “Ran out of here like I’d threatened his life.”

“With all due respect, I am pretty sure the sight of you scared the shit out of him,” I said, perching across from her in front of the bedroom fireplace on the large, tufted ottoman that we used as a coffee table. “Why didn’t you call ahead? I would at least have taken a shower.”

Eleanor shrugged. “It was a whim. I am a deeply whimsical person.” She cleared her throat. “I assume you’re recovered from…the unpleasantness,” she said, but her tone was gentle.

“Almost back to normal,” I said. “Thank you for visiting me at the palace. I was really touched.”

“Nonsense.” Eleanor waved her hand at me, as if to flick aside the gratitude. “You were on my way.”

Eleanor had come down while I was in recovery, sat by my bed for about ten seconds, and then stood up and said, “How tedious. I don’t know how you managed it with me.” I had assumed this was a Valium dream until Nick told me that she had seemed worried.

“It may not have been a big deal to you, but you were the first face I saw that didn’t give me bad news, so I appreciated it,” I told her now.

Eleanor allowed a small smile to cross her lips before glancing around with renewed interest. “If I remember correctly, this was all mustard yellow and orange,” she said.

I shook my head. “Florals. Lots of them. None of them matched.”

“She must have redecorated since I was last in here,” Eleanor said. “I suppose it was, oh, 1972.”

“That long?”

Eleanor folded her hands in her lap. Her right one still didn’t want to close all the way. “I see you kept that ridiculous monogram in the main entry.”