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“I’ll make this very simple for you Alexandra,” said her father, King George VII. A tall man, usually distant from his daughter, he sat across the large oak desk looking across it’s rich leather top.
“You are a Princess. You are the heir to my throne. You must marry and bear children. No, it doesn’t have to be Lord Hugo, but you must find someone suitable. I have had Henry draw up some suggestions and over the following weeks you will spend time with any that interest you. You will choose a husband. The future of the monarchy depends upon it.”
Henry, her father’s advisor, jumped in with a thick folder which he handed to her. “Please take a good look Ma’am. We have done a lot of research on these men. I have included all the information I can. Please come to me if you have any questions or you don’t like any of them, I will find more for you.”
Henry was like an attentive dog in the way he followed her father around. He smoothed down his navy blue suit jacket with it’s bold red lapels. Alexandra hated this new uniform the palace staff wore. She always thought the red lapels looked cheap.
Alexandra felt the burden of the throne yet again. The promise that, upon the death of her father, she would become Queen. It seemed sometimes like a joke. Like a fairytale. As though it was someone else’s life than her own. But it wasn’t. She had been carefully trained and prepared her whole life for her future. For her responsibilities that went beyond merely herself. She would become responsible for England, the United Kingdom and the countries of the Commonwealth.
As the only child of the King the pressure was all on her.
“You have a year.” King George said. “A year from today, January 1st 2021, I will announce your marriage. You get to choose who. Obviously within the usual constraints. But please, Alexandra. You will without doubt become Queen. Our country is a mess. Nobody is happy with the Prime Minister or the political mess we are in. The people of our kingdom need you now. They need to see your strength, they need to see a Royal Wedding and a Royal Baby. They need to see your commitment to this monarchy’s future. You are the darling of the media. You are the heir they want. Please, Alexandra Victoria, you are thirty four years old. This is your moment to shine. Give the people what they want.”
Alexandra sat quietly, so much rushing through her quick mind.
“I was older when I married,” he continued. "But it is different for men. I could still father children. There are things we must do in this life. There are burdens that we must bear, you and I, and my mother before us. Just us, the direct heirs. There are ways we must live and appearances we must keep up.” He looked up to her.
“Sacrifices.”
“Sacrifices, Alexandra. Our lives are not our own. We belong to the people. The throne will govern our choices. I know we have your eggs frozen and that buys us time and options, but there aren’t endless years Alexandra. This is your duty. Do not let us down.” His eyes were firm and stoic.
“I will look at my options Father.” Alexandra gestured to the folder with her eyes. Duty bound her lips from saying the words she wanted to. The words she was thinking. She had called the meeting to say she wanted to end things with Lord Hugo. That she had never liked him especially. They had given her that permission, but followed it up with more pressure. More sacrifice required from her. An order to interview new potential husbands.
“Please do so, Alexandra.”
“Thank you for your time Ma’am.” Henry bowed his respect to his future Queen. He was about forty years old and the stress of his work had begun to tell around his eyes. He was beginning to look tired. Alexandra wondered if his respect for her was because he still wanted to work as the Monarch’s right hand when her father died. Not that King George was dying. But he was seventy two now. He wouldn’t live forever.
She would have a woman, she thought to herself. Obviously there was a tradition for Royal Advisors to be men. Not anymore. Queen Alexandra would have a right hand woman. It was 2020, times were changing.
Alexandra had begun to notice that as she grew into adulthood, she started to get her own way on a lot of things, as long as she didn’t clash with her father. The monarchy may not have held the power that it used to years ago, but it still did hold power. Her’s second only to her father’s.
Alexandra nodded her respect and turned and left her father’s study. Her chambermaid Jess waited outside for her and quickly fell in step next to her as she headed back to her own living quarters.
“Ma’am I have the copy of ‘Hello’ Magazine you requested, it is in your Drawing Room.” Jess’s tight navy waistcoat emphasising her slim waist and petite frame as she scuttled along next to Alexandra. New to Alexandra’s household. Determined to be the most keen and the most helpful.
“Your clothes are pressed and laid out for your first appearance at the children’s charity lunch. You need to be ready for 11.30am. Alicia is here to do hair and make-up. Natalie thought that neat blue McQueen dress would be ideal for today. Then you have the dinner with the Polish Ambassador tonight. Natalie has a dress by an up and coming Polish designer for you to wear and you will dine at the private room at the Ivy so that you can be photographed coming and going. They think it best for you to get some more exposure.”
“Thank you Jess.” Alexandra looked to her. Jess smiled and blushed, still not used to working for royalty. Every time overcome by the fact that someone as famous as Alexandra knew her name. Alexandra was one of the most photographed women in the world. One of the most loved celebrities. Always kind, always polite. Always supporting a range of charities.
Alexandra breezed back into her chambers and immediately slipped into the role she had been playing her whole life. Immediately into the Princess that people expected and wanted to see. She picked up ‘Hello’ magazine and slipped into the chair by the mirror where Alicia was waiting to do her hair.
“Good morning Alicia. Good morning Natalie.”Alexandra smiled kindly to each woman in turn. Acknowledging their existence and the work that they did for her.
Alicia ran her fingers through Alexandra’s ash blonde long bob. Alexandra regularly won magazine contests detailing the “Most Stylish Woman” or “Most Beautiful Woman” of the year. The media loved her and loved to take her photo. It wasn’t hard to be beautiful and stylish when you had a team around you whose full time job it was to make sure you were the most beautiful and stylish at all times.
Alexandra often wished she could say publicly:
“It isn’t true. None of this is real. I don’t really look like this. Beauty isn’t what really matters.”
But it would be a lie. Beauty still did matter in this fucked up world that we lived in. It was still vitally important that Alexandra was always beautiful, always stylish.
Alicia worked away at Alexandra’s hair. Alicia’s father was African American and her mother was white and she grew up in a poor area of London. Alexandra chose to employ her bec
ause it was important to her that her staff reflected diversity. It was important that her staff weren’t all white and middle class. Alicia wasn’t chosen to be politically correct. Alicia was chosen because visibility matters. A mixed race working class girl in Alexandra’s inner circle matters. It helps the people to believe. Alicia was great at her job. But lots of girls were. There could be hundreds of suitable candidates for hair and make up for the future Queen of England. But Alicia it was.
Alexandra thumbed through the pages of the magazine. ‘Hello’ was always the magazine of choice for Royal features. They had run a feature on Alexandra’s work in a cancer hospice. Photos of Alexandra with the cancer patients. Alexandra sitting at their bedside, talking gently to them. Alexandra playing games with them, laughing with them. Alexandra making them feel human again. It did the image of the Royal Family a lot of good to cultivate their ‘Perfect Princess’. Alexandra, Princess of the people. Alexandra, always lovely, she could connect with anyone.
