He trails off. Without warning, his throat has snapped shut, clogged with a hard, complicated knot of memories.
Chapter 11
Elizabeth glances at him. For a time, he had been relaxed talking about his childhood, but clearly some memory has proved too much. A muscle is working in his clenched jaw. He looks furious and she suspects that it is with himself for sharing so much with her.
She is glad that he has. She wants to know more about him. She needs to know more if she is going to suggest marriage.
The thought makes Elizabeth’s heart thump once, painfully, against her ribs. She still isn’t sure that she dares, but seeing him again, talking to him properly, has changed things for her. Before, she can admit that she was infatuated with the idea of Philip. He was young, handsome, a hero. How could she not have been?
But now, now she has a better sense of him. She likes his quickness and his humour, likes his impatience with protocol. He is brusque at times, and arrogant, but he has a presence that Elizabeth feels she herself still lacks.
It is her duty to marry and to have a family. She wants that for herself, too, and why not Philip? He is a prince, after all, and he comes from a family used, like hers, to dynastic alliances. Mountbatten is keen on the idea, her parents less so, that is clear.
Elizabeth has the strong sense that if she wants him, she has to do something about it herself.
So she has decided to say something to Philip. She is desperately nervous about scaring him off altogether but she doesn’t need to make a big production out of it, she has reassured herself. It is not as if he can’t know that his uncle is pushing the idea of a marriage. Why else would he be here, after all?
But nothing has been said formally. Elizabeth is tired of being a dutiful girl, sitting at home in Windsor and waiting for something to happen. She wants to know what Philip thinks.
She is just going to mention the idea and see what he says.
Although … that is easier said than done.
Elizabeth opens her mouth to say that she’d like to talk to him about something, but immediately changes her mind. She cannot spring a discussion like that on Philip without warning.
‘You’re lucky to have such happy memories,’ she says instead, her voice trembling slightly with nerves. ‘But then, I don’t suppose it was all holidays and there must have been times when you would have liked a home of your own to go to.’
‘Sometimes,’ he admits with a grudging look. ‘But the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, isn’t it? It’s an alluring idea, but where would that home have been and what would have happened to it by now? And in any case, I’m a restless fellow. I’m like a dog that longs for a basket of its own but can’t settle. There’s a part of me that finds the idea of being tied to one place and one person utterly appalling.’
There’s a tiny pause. For Elizabeth, it is a moment of complete clarity. Well, there is her question answered before she has asked it. Perhaps it was as well to wait.
‘I see,’ she says in what she hopes is an expressionless voice, but Philip stops and swears under his breath.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, taking off his cap and dragging his hand through his hair. ‘I’ve a tendency to speak without thinking sometimes. It’s a bad habit of mine.’
‘What would you have said if you had been thinking?’
‘I don’t know … I hope I wouldn’t have made the idea of commitment sound so ghastly, for a start.’
‘Even if it is?’
‘It isn’t,’ he insists. ‘At least, not always. Of course I’d like to get married one day. It’s just … I’m not sure how good I would be at it. I haven’t seen many examples of a successful marriage – your parents excepted.’ He stares at Elizabeth. ‘How do you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Say almost nothing and yet make me be more honest with you than I am with almost anyone else.’
‘I’d like to think we can be honest with each other,’ Elizabeth says, choosing her words with care. ‘I know why you’re here. I’m sure you had more exciting and enjoyable offers of where to spend Christmas.’
She holds up a hand as Philip opens his mouth to deny it. ‘It’s all right. We have a very quiet life here. It’s how we like it. At least,’ she amends with a wry smile, ‘Mummy, Papa, and I do. Margaret would probably like more excitement.’
Calling the dogs, Elizabeth sets off once more. Now that they have started, she feels more composed and the conversation they need to have will likely be easier if they are walking. ‘I know Uncle Dickie thinks a match between us would be good thing … one day. You’re a prince, I’m a princess. We would both expect to marry … one day. Neither of us has a vast pool of potential partners to choose from.’ She is rather proud of her steady voice. ‘Things are different for us. We need to be pragmatic when it comes to marriage, so I perfectly understand why you’d want to come and … look me over, as it were.’
‘You make it sound as if I’m some horse trainer inspecting a prize filly!’
‘It comes down to the same thing, doesn’t it?’ Elizabeth’s cheeks are pink. ‘Breeding, bloodlines, finding the right match.’
‘You don’t think it’s about finding someone to love?’
The colour in her cheeks deepens at the thread of amusement in his voice.
‘I think my options, frankly, are limited. Yours are much wider. If you don’t want to, you needn’t marry at all. I, on the other hand, won’t have a choice in the matter. But I do want to get married,’ she adds honestly.
‘One day?’
‘Yes, one day.’
‘If you can find the right prince.’
‘Yes,’ she agrees on a breath.
Philip is silent for a while, clearly thinking. Their footsteps make no sound on the wet grass but Elizabeth can hear the dogs trotting busily around them, a whirr of wings as one of them flushes a pheasant from cover. The slow, steady drip of damp from the trees.
‘All right, I’ll be honest,’ he says eventually. ‘I don’t know what I want. Uncle Dickie does think I should try and sweep you off your feet, but you’re not someone who can be swept away, are you?’
How little he knows about her, Elizabeth thinks. He has occupied her thoughts for two whole years. She is grateful for the stolid expression that makes her hard to read. Some things – many things, in fact – she prefers to keep to herself. She is only young, but she has her pride and she has no intention of letting Philip know how desperately she wants him.
Because what he says is only partly true. She can’t be swept away by emotion, but only because she won’t let herself. The strength of her own feelings frightens her at times, so she keeps them firmly locked down. She doesn’t dare let them go, not when she has seen the effect her father’s sudden outbursts of temper have on people around him. Not when she knows how her Uncle David was punished for giving in to his emotions.
‘It’s too hard to plan anything while we’re still at war,’ Philip goes on. ‘I never know if a torpedo has got my name on it, and I want to live. If this damnable war has taught us anything, surely it’s that we should make the most of our opportunities. There’s so much I’d like to see and do, so much to be discovered; the thought of being tied down makes me itchy.’