The Windsor Knot by Sharyn McCrumb

The Windsor Knot by Sharyn McCrumb

Author:Sharyn McCrumb
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780307761996
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-07-27T22:00:00+00:00


Elizabeth MacPherson was curled up on the chintz sofa in the den, reading a hymnbook. “It’s so difficult to decide what music to choose,” she said, running her finger down the list of titles. “I wonder what they play for weddings in Scotland.”

“‘Amazing Grace,’” said Geoffrey. “Though it’s considered bad form to use it if that happens to be the bride’s name.”

“I think ‘Greensleeves’ is a very nice tune,” she mused.

Geoffrey looked up from his playscript of Twelfth Night. “Since the other title of that melody is ‘What Child Is This,’ I implore you not to use it. You know how people jump to conclusions. What else are you considering?”

“I have a list of songs that were used at some of the royal weddings,” she said, picking up another book. “Prince Charles and Princess Diana had ‘I Vow to Thee My Country.’”

“Very appropriate for them, Elizabeth, but in this case it rather implies that you are handing Georgia over to the Redcoats.”

Elizabeth scowled. “That was several wars ago.”

“It would be worse if you were marrying a Yankee,” Geoffrey conceded, “but I advise you to abandon the idea all the same. What are the other choices?”

“‘O Perfect Love.’”

“Not bad. Who used that one?”

“The Duke and Duchess of Windsor.” She sighed. “Oh, dear, I wouldn’t like to identify with her on my wedding day, poor thing. She’d had two husbands before Edward. Her husband’s family hated her. Her mother-in-law Queen Mary never spoke to her.” Elizabeth shuddered. “And everybody blamed her for the King’s abdication.”

“Cameron is not required to give up seals or porpoises on your account, I trust?”

“No. And everybody seems very calm about the prospect of our marriage. Congratulations, but no confetti, if you know what I mean. Not wildly ecstatic.”

“You’re thinking of Princess Diana, I suppose? I’ve always thought that Prince Charles would have been driven to marry her by public and family opinion alone.”

“No. Actually I was thinking of Charles’s grandmother, Elizabeth of York. The Queen Mum. She was old Queen Mary’s other daughter-in-law. There was no way poor divorced American Wallis could compete with her. Of course, she had a better pedigree than Wallis Simpson. When the future George VI proposed to her, she was the daughter of a Scottish earl, living in Glamis Castle in the Highlands.”

“Trust you to admire the Scottish royal,” muttered Geoffrey.

Elizabeth ignored him. “She was very charming and not just a social butterfly, either! During the First World War, her family used their castle as a convalescent home for soldiers. And Elizabeth worked as a nurse, even though she was only fifteen at the time.”

“She does not sound like you in the least,” Geoffrey remarked.

“Anyway, she got to know the King’s younger son, Bertie, and when he asked her to marry him, she turned him down.”

“She seems to have had a clearer view of royal life than you do, dear.”

Elizabeth ignored him. “He kept proposing to her, though, and—get this! His parents—the King and Queen, mind you!—said to him, ‘You’ll be a lucky fellow if she accepts you.



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