In the drawing room, the afternoon sun streamed through tall glass windows, casting warm patches of light on the floor.
Princess Elizabeth was wearing a different outfit today.
She wore a long, lavender silk dress, and her jet-black hair was still meticulously braided into an intricate plait that fell to her waist.
She stood by the window, the sunlight gilding her silhouette with a golden edge. The twelve-year-old girl already displayed the unique, elegant bearing of the Royal Family.
When Murphy strode into the drawing room, she turned and performed a perfect curtsy.
"Lord Melfield."
"Her Highness the Princess." Murphy inclined his head slightly and walked toward the main seat. "Please, sit."
An attendant withdrew from the room soundlessly. The heavy oak door clicked shut, separating the inside from the out, as if into two different worlds.
Elizabeth sat in the guest's seat, her hands folded in her lap. Her posture was impeccable.
