Princess Elizabeth's Spy

Before anyone had a chance to recover, there was another enormous blast—the approaching German ship exploded in smoke and lacy white froth. One final detonation, and the ship burst into a ball of orange and red flames, reflected in the grey water. Boothby and the two crewmen watched helplessly.

Gregory managed to turn himself over and whistled through his bleeding teeth and lip. “Goddamned British Navy.”

“You want to know a British military secret?” David shouted, propping himself up on his elbows. “We’re equipped with really big guns, you … jerk!” he said, realizing the Princess was there.

Maggie went to Lilibet and cradled her in her arms, keeping her eyes west. “The British are coming.”

“About time, Paul Revere,” said David, before turning back to Gregory. “You’ll have quite the story to tell before they hang you for treason.”

But Gregory was already unlacing his heavy boots and stripping off his mackintosh. “But it seems like such a lovely morning for a swim,” he said, a man with nothing to lose, nothing to live for.

“No!” Maggie screamed. “Don’t do it!” She didn’t know how she felt about Gregory—disgust, hate, pity? But she did know she didn’t want him to die. “You’ll never make it!” Even if he could swim to France, the water was too cold. It would kill him before he could reach the shore.

“But I might,” he said, winking at her with his good eye. “And it’s better than the alternative,” he called back to them before he dove into the sea.

Maggie watched Gregory’s head bobbing amidst the waves. Then he vanished beneath the surface, rising again, choking on seawater. His eyes locked with Maggie’s as he slowly, slowly slipped beneath the surface of the water. She watched him sink into the darkness until she couldn’t see his face any longer.

Oh, Gregory, what a waste, was all she could think, feeling her eyes well up with hot tears. What a tragic, tragic waste of a life.

She, David and Lilibet, exhausted, huddled together for warmth, until the rubber dinghy reached them.

Chapter Twenty-nine

That evening, after being debriefed and arriving back at Windsor Castle, Maggie and David were taken to the Royal Family’s private apartments. They’d been given hot baths, glasses of cognac, fresh, dry clothes, and a chance to sleep. Now up and dressed and looked over by the Royal Physician, they entered the royal family’s private sitting room. David’s head was bandaged, as was the wrist that had had the handcuff on it. Maggie looked tired and pale, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

It was a large chamber, but cozy, with buttercup-yellow silk walls, a soft red Persian carpet, and a plethora of needlepoint pillows. The King and Queen were there, sitting on an overstuffed sofa, surrounded by their corgis. Winston Churchill and Peter Frain sat in chairs opposite. Hugh was present as well, sitting next to Frain, a pair of crutches at his side. He and Maggie locked eyes. She smiled and his face relaxed. He tried to stand.

“Please don’t,” Maggie said. She tried to remember her Royal etiquette. “Your Majesties,” she said, making a shaky curtsey. David did the same, with a bow.

“Please, sit down, both of you. You poor dears,” Queen Elizabeth said. Maggie smiled. She sounded just like a mother—which, of course, she was.

“Quite an adventure you two had, heh?” Churchill said, getting up. He gave David a bear-like embrace, slapping the younger man’s back repeatedly, while David winced. Then he kissed Maggie’s hand. “Can’t seem to keep you out of trouble, Miss Hope.”

The King had risen as well. “Jolly good show, both of you. If anything had happened to Lilibet … Well, I just can’t bear to think of it.”

“Well, it didn’t,” said Frain. “And they didn’t get Mr. Greene and Miss Hope with the knowledge they each possess, either. The U-Boat’s been captured and the surviving men all taken into custody. I have just one question. What happened to Gregory Strathcliffe?”

“He decided to swim for France,” Maggie said.

“And?”

“He—he drowned.”

“Good.” Frain nodded. “More paperwork, of course, but that’s that, then.”

The Queen indicated an ornate silver tray with a porcelain teapot, with enamels and gilding, as well as matching translucent bone cups and saucers on the low table in front of one of the sofas. “Please sit down, everyone. Who would like a cup of tea?”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Maggie said, taking a seat as the Queen poured cups for both her and David.

“How is the Princess, ma’am?” Maggie asked, accepting the cup and saucer. “Her foot?”

“She’s, well, she’s had quite the time of it. The doctor’s seen to her and it’s just a sprained ankle, thank goodness. She’s resting with Alah now. But she has her grandmother’s strong constitution—and she’s going to be fine.”

“She was very brave,” Maggie told the King and Queen. “She helped save us.”

“Of course she did,” said the King, taking the Queen’s hand and beaming with pride. “She’s our daughter.”

“Mr. Thompson,” Maggie said, “how is your leg?”

“Fine,” replied Hugh. “I’ll be on crutches for a while but expect to make a full recovery.”

“Good,” Maggie said, wishing she could say so much more.

“I must apologize for my role in all this,” the King said. “I knew about Lily’s background and I allowed her to stay at Windsor anyway. If I’d sent her away, as I should have … Instead, I sent away Marta Kunst Tooke, who was completely innocent.”

“And I let my prejudice against Louisa blind me to the fact that it was actually Audrey and George Poulter who were setting up the kidnapping plot,” Maggie interjected.

“All’s well that end’s well, then?” the Prime Minister said.

“Indeed,” added Frain. Then, to Maggie and Hugh, “I’ll see you two at my office on Monday morning, after the New Year,” he said. Then his tone softened. “In the meantime, happy Christmas.”

“Thank you,” David chimed in. “Still Jewish, of course. But I do love a cup of mulled wine and those little almond cookies at this time of the year. And the trees are always pretty.”

As Churchill, Frain, David, and the King and Queen began a long political discussion, Maggie leaned over to Hugh. “So, how’s the leg?” she asked. “Really.”

“I’ll live,” he told her. “Just needed a few stitches.”

“That’s good.”

They listened to the discussion for a while, then Hugh said, “So, you’re off to Leeds for a wedding, then?”

“How did you—?” Maggie began, then realized that she’d had to clear her schedule with MI-5 months ago and of course he’d know. “Yes, off to my friends’ wedding. I’m a bridesmaid.”

“Are you, um, bringing anyone? As a date, I mean?”

“No,” Maggie said. She wished she could ask him, but they both knew it wasn’t in the cards.

“Well,” he said, not hiding his pleasure. “Good.”

The next day, after breakfast, Maggie and David packed up their things. From Windsor, they would drive straight to Leeds, for Nigel and Chuck’s New Year’s wedding.

“Merciful Minerva,” David exclaimed, “in all the excitement, I’d nearly forgotten about good old Nigel’s getting hitched.”

“Well, as a bridesmaid,” Maggie said, “I’ve been getting regular updates all fall. You wouldn’t think Chuck would be so girly about her wedding, but she really did get into the spirit. We might need to start calling her Charlotte Mary.”

They walked past the doors to the nursery. “Do you mind?” she said to David. “I’d like to check in on Lilibet.”

“Of course,” he replied.

Maggie gave a soft knock at the door. Alah opened it. “Oh, Maggie!” she cried, falling into Maggie’s arms. “We’re ever so grateful to you, for bringing our Lilibet back!”

Maggie was stunned, and held the woman, patting her back. “She was truly brave,” she said. “A credit to you