The dust in the air was particularly thick the next day. The queen gave Charlotte her medicine herself, and that night, she and the king spoke yet again about what to do with their youngest daughter.
“Sending her to the countryside would encourage others to do the same,” her father said with a pained voice while the queen shook her head. Many families had sent their children away in the last four years, since war was declared, at the government’s insistence. A shocking number of children had been killed in the bombing raids, and parents had been urged to send their children to safer areas. Some concurred, other parents were afraid to let their children go, or couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from them. Travel was difficult and frowned on, with heavy gas rationing, and some parents who had sent their children away hadn’t seen them for several years since they’d left. Bringing their children home for holidays was strongly discouraged, for fear that the parents wouldn’t send them away again. But unquestionably London and the other cities were more dangerous than the rural areas where they were being housed by kind people who had opened their homes to them. Some hosts took in a number of children.
“I don’t trust Charlotte to take her medicine if we send her away. You know how she hates it, and she wants to do the same work as her sisters,” her mother said sympathetically. Charlotte’s oldest sister, Alexandra, who would inherit the throne one day, understood their mother’s concerns perfectly, and insisted to Charlotte that she respect the limitations of her health. Her sister Victoria was less compassionate. She had always felt a rivalry with her younger sister, and occasionally accused her of faking the asthma attacks in order to shirk the war work that Charlotte wanted to do desperately, and had been forbidden from doing so far. There were frequent verbal battles between the two girls. Victoria had resented Charlotte since the day she was born, and treated her like an intruder, much to her parents’ dismay.
“I don’t think she’s any better off here. Even with her medicine, she still has frequent attacks,” her father insisted, and his wife knew there was truth to it.
“I don’t know who we’d send her to anyway. I don’t want her at Balmoral alone, even with a governess. It’s too lonely there. And I can’t think of anyone of our acquaintance who is taking more children in, although I’m sure there are some we’re not aware of. We could let it be known that we have sent our youngest child away, to set the example, but it would be dangerous for her, if people knew precisely where she was,” Queen Anne said sensibly.
“That can be handled,” the king said quietly, and mentioned it to Charles Williams, his private secretary, the next morning. Charles promised to make discreet inquiries, in case the queen changed her mind, and decided to let the princess go away. He understood the problem completely. She would have to stay with a trusted family that would not reveal her true identity, in some part of England that hadn’t been as heavily bombed as the towns close to London.
It was two weeks later when Charles came to the king with the name of a family that had a large manor house in Yorkshire. The couple were older, titled aristocrats, beyond reproach, and the private secretary’s own family had recommended them, although he hadn’t told his family any details about the situation or who might be sent away, only that the hosts had to be unfailingly trustworthy and discreet.
“It’s in a quiet part of Yorkshire, Your Majesty,” he said respectfully when they were alone, “and so far, as you know, there are fewer air raids in the rural areas, although there have been some in Yorkshire as well. The couple in question have a very large estate, which the family has owned since the Norman Conquest, and there are several large tenant farms on the estate.” He hesitated for a moment, and told a familiar tale. “In all honesty, they have been somewhat in difficulty since the end of the Great War. They’re land rich and cash poor, and have struggled to keep the estate intact, without selling off any part of it. I’ve been told that the house is in poor repair, and even more so since all the young men left for war four years ago. They’re running the place with very little help. They’re older parents, she’s in her sixties, the earl’s in his seventies, and their only son is Princess Charlotte’s age. He’s due to go into the army in the next few months, when he turns eighteen. They took in a young girl from a modest home in London at the beginning of the war, to do their patriotic duty. I believe they would be willing to offer Princess Charlotte safe haven, and perhaps…” He hesitated, and the king understood. “Perhaps a gift of a practical nature would help them with the running of the estate.”