Charlotte set her chin stubbornly, prepared to do battle with them. “Queen Victoria was eighteen when she took the throne and became queen,” she used as an argument her father didn’t accept.
“True, but she wasn’t seventeen, there wasn’t a war on, and the Luftwaffe wasn’t bombing England. This is a much more complicated situation, and a dangerous one for everyone, particularly for you.” Her father knew that she had been fascinated all her life by her great-great-grandmother Queen Victoria, perhaps because people compared Charlotte to her because of her size, and because she had a plucky spirit, and was a brave girl like Queen Victoria, who had been Queen of England a century before. Charlotte knew that as third in line to the throne, she was unlikely to ever become queen, but she greatly admired her illustrious ancestor, and thought of her as a role model in life.
By the end of the week, the king and queen had made the decision, despite Charlotte’s strenuous objections. She was only slightly mollified when they told her she could take her favorite horse with her. And to emphasize the validity of their plans for her, a larger scale attack occurred again, targeting the center of the city, which strengthened the king’s resolve to send Charlotte away.
The king asked the Home Office to provide the papers they needed to protect Charlotte’s identity. The earl and countess knew who she was, and had promised to tell no one, and with new identity papers she would be using the name Charlotte White, not Windsor, which would give her anonymity.
The plan was explained to both of Charlotte’s sisters the night before she left, and Charlotte sat with them and their parents silently, with tears in her eyes, trying to be brave. Princess Alexandra put her arms around her, to comfort her, and Princess Victoria smiled wickedly, delighted to be rid of her younger sister for a year.
“I hope they don’t treat you like Cinderella, and have you sweeping out the hearths. They’ve probably lost their help like everyone else. Will you really be able to keep the secret of who you are?” Victoria said meanly, obviously in doubt.
“She’ll have to,” her father answered for her. “It wouldn’t be safe for her there if everyone knew who she was. We intend to say that she is being sent away to the country, like many children, but we will not reveal where she is. No one will discover her identity, and only the earl and countess and Charlotte will know.”
“You’ll be back before you know it,” her older sister reassured her kindly, and came to her bedroom later that night to bring Charlotte some of her own favorite sweaters to take with her, and several books. She took a little gold bracelet with a gold heart on it off her own arm and put it on her sister’s wrist. “I’ll miss you terribly,” Alexandra said and meant it. She had been protective of her since the day Charlotte was born. Victoria had often been a thorn in their sides, but Charlotte had a happy disposition, and Alexandra was a gentle soul, and stronger than she appeared. She would have to be one day when she was the sovereign, after their father was no longer king. Victoria had a jealous nature, and had often been envious of both her older and younger sister. She resented the easy bond they shared.
Alexandra was as dark as Charlotte was fair. Victoria had red hair, and all three of them had delicate aristocratic features, typical of their bloodline. Both of Charlotte’s sisters, and her parents, were considerably taller than she. Like her great-great-grandmother Queen Victoria, Charlotte was barely five feet tall, but perfectly proportioned. She was just very small, and very graceful.
* * *
—
The family gathered the next morning in the queen’s private sitting room to say goodbye to Charlotte. Charles Williams, the king’s secretary, and her elderly governess Felicity had been assigned to make the trip with her. Both were trustworthy with the secret of the princess’s whereabouts for the next ten or eleven months. The earl and countess were expecting them after the four-or five-hour drive from the city. They drove in Charles Williams’s personal car so as not to attract attention. He had a simple Austin, and there were tears on Charlotte’s cheeks when she got into the backseat. A moment later, they drove away, and rolled circumspectly through the gates of the palace, as Charlotte wondered when she would see her home again. She had a terrible sense of foreboding that she would never be back. But everyone in London felt that way now, living from day to day, with bombs falling all night long and their homes and loved ones disappearing and dying.
“It’s just for a year,” she whispered to herself, to stay calm, as they drove past newly ruined buildings on their way out of the city. She had her medicine with her, but they kept the windows rolled up so she wouldn’t need it, but either from the emotion of leaving her family or the dust outside, her chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe. She closed her eyes as she thought of her parents and sisters, fighting valiantly to make herself stop crying.