The Windsor Knot

vacation-”

“They are. In Hawaii. But Mother is no good at this sort of thing anyway. No, if you really want a society wedding, my aunt Amanda is the only person who can handle it. I’ll bet she could even manage it in three weeks. I’m not sure if we could get the invitations engraved-raised lettering, I mean-but a good printer can get them done in three days the regular way.” Elizabeth stopped short, listening to the voluminous silence from the receiver. “Cameron?”

“Yes. I’m here.”

“This is all right with you, isn’t it?” she asked softly. “I mean, we were planning the wedding anyway, and I know this is short notice, but the Queen!”

Cameron sighed. He had not mistaken her reasonable tone for a willingness to be reasonable. “Well, I hadn’t planned on spending my honeymoon in chilly Auld Reekie. Look, how about going to the Bahamas instead? Maybe you can meet Miss Universe.”

“Don’t be silly. King Farouk was right, you know.”

“What? Sorry, bad connection. It sounded like you said King Farouk.”

“So I did. King Farouk once predicted that in fifty years there would be only five kings in the world: spades, hearts, diamonds, clubs, and the King of England. British royalty is… I don’t know… sort of magical.”

“I know.” Cameron sighed again. “I had a friend who went to school at Gordonstoun, and he said that the surest way to have it off with a girl was to pretend to be-”

“Cameron!” Elizabeth’s tone was ominous.

“All right! All right! Benedict Arnold must be laughing up his sleeve somewhere, you bloody royalist! But if you think you can manage, and if you’re set on doing it…”

“You don’t mind getting married in America?”

“No. I don’t anticipate having many guests anyway, since I haven’t really kept up with my mates from school. Mother and Ian will come over, of course, and I expect Denny Allan will attend if he can. After all, he knows you from the Banrigh expedition, and besides, he’s always wanted to go to Disney World, and this is a perfect excuse to get there. I’ll give him a call, and then let you know if he’ll be on hand. We can draft him as an usher.”

“Good! What about bridesmaids? Any cousins or old girlfriends you’d like to import?”

“No, thank you. You’ll have to manage on your own.”

“Leave everything to me! Oh, Cameron, thank you! This is going to be so amazing! I’d better get started on the preparations right away. Was there anything else?”

“What? Oh, no. No.” Just a small matter of running Adam McIver to earth and squeezing another invitation out of him. Cameron wondered if they’d have to fax over a copy of the marriage license. Which reminded him… “Wait! Elizabeth! Don’t I have to be in America to apply for the wedding license?”

“I’ll see if we can get around that!” his bride-to-be assured him. “My brother is a lawyer, remember?”

Too bad he isn’t an archbishop, thought Cameron. “Very well, dear. I’ll leave you to it. Let me go and tell the family the good news. Perhaps I ought to call your parents as well. Ask for your hand officially, and all that.”

“I have the number of the hotel somewhere here,” said Elizabeth, flipping through papers on her desk.

“What time is it in Hawaii, anyhow?” asked Cameron, wondering if the task could be postponed until he got accustomed to the idea himself.

“I don’t have a clue,” said Elizabeth. “I’m not even sure what day it is there. Speaking of days, what date shall we set for the wedding?” She riffled through her calendar. “How about July the first? That’s the Saturday before the garden party. Is that date all right with you?”

“Just fine, dear,” said Cameron. Ian should have stopped laughing by then. Sighing in resignation, he started to look up the number of Old St. Andrews House, where no doubt Adam McIver was lurking, making trouble for untold numbers of his old schoolmates.

Department of Forensic Anthropology

Office of the Graduate Students Merridew Ball

June 12

Dear Bill,

I hope that you have refrained from being a nuisance to your summer employers to the extent that they are willing to release you for a couple of days. Or, conversely, that you have been fired, so that when you slink home in dishonor, you can make yourself useful, because the first part of the summer is going to be very hectic, and we could use all the help we can get.

I am getting married!

Now I know that the drain trap you call a mind has just come up with a number of uncomplimentary explanations for this sudden haste, but you are quite mistaken. For someone who is in training to be an attorney, you certainly do jump to a lot of conclusions.

As a matter of fact, we are getting married on July the first (mark your calendar) so that I can accompany Cameron to the Royal Garden Party in Edinburgh on the sixth! I’m going to make sure this fact gets mentioned in the newspaper article on the wedding.

You are hereby appointed as one of the ushers. So is Cousin Geoffrey, so it is safe to assume that people will be thinking “House of…” when contemplating your ushership… usherhood. Whatever you call it. I expect the Queen would know; perhaps I shall ask her. Anyhow, I feel safe in allowing the two of you into the wedding party (without being chained together at the ankle, which was my first thought) because the whole affair will be managed by none other than Aunt Amanda, and neither you nor Geoffrey would dare to cross her.

As you may have deduced from this, we are getting married in Chandler Grove, and, yes, Mother and Dad will be back from Hawaii in plenty of time. Meanwhile I am subsisting almost entirely on lettuce. You will be pleased to learn that you will not need a morning coat for the occasion. If I decide to outfit you in kilts, I will let you know.

And, remember, I am the bride, so you have to do as I say.

Love,

Elizabeth

Department of Foresnic Anthropology

Office of Graduate Students Merridew Ball

Dear Bill,

We are not amused.

And I advise you not to bother a serious organization like Amnesty International with your frivolous attempts at humor.

We will see you at the wedding.

Cordially,

Elizabeth

CHAPTER 3

AMANDA CHANDLER REPLACED the telephone receiver with a soft click and stared off into the distance as if she were still listening to disembodied voices. “What an extraordinary call,” she said at last. “The Queen.”

Her husband, Dr. Robert Chandler, halted his proofreading of the galleys of his book on colonial medicine and regarded his wife with an expression of concern. He hoped that she wasn’t hallucinating again, although the clinic had assured him that Amanda was perfectly fine-as long as she didn’t drink. Had she been drinking? He didn’t think so. Surreptitiously, Dr. Chandler leaned forward in his chair to see if there was a glass on the end table beside her. He didn’t see one. He ventured a timid inquiry. “The Queen called you, did she, dear?”

Amanda stared at him over the top of her reading glasses. “Really, Robert! Have you taken leave of your senses? That was Elizabeth on the phone.”

Dr. Chandler took a deep breath. “Yes, dear,” he said carefully. “I know who the Queen of England is.”