OUR HONEYMOON WAS a closely guarded secret. We left London in a car disguised as a removals van, the windows covered with cardboard, and went to the Mediterranean for ten days. Glorious to be away, on the sea, in the sun. But we were also sick. The build-up to the wedding had worn us down.
We returned just in time for the official June celebration of Granny’s birthday. Trooping the Color: one of our first public appearances as newlyweds. Everyone present was in a good mood, upbeat. But then: Kate asked Meg what she thought of her first Trooping the Color.
And Meg joked: Colorful.
And a yawning silence threatened to swallow us all whole.
Days later Meg went off on her first royal trip with Granny. She was
nervous, but they got on famously. They also bonded over their love of dogs. She returned from the trip glowing. We bonded, she told me. The Queen and I really bonded! We talked about how much I wanted to be a mom and she told me the best way to induce labor was a good bumpy car ride! I told her I’d remember that when the time came. Things are going to turn around now, we both said.
The papers, however, pronounced the trip an unmitigated disaster. They portrayed Meg as pushy, uppity, ignorant of royal protocol, because she’d made the unthinkable mistake of getting into a car before Granny. In truth she’d done exactly what Granny had told her to do. Granny said get in; she got in. No matter. There were stories for days about Meg’s breach, about her overall lack of class—about her daring not to wear a hat in Granny’s presence. The Palace had specifically directed Meg not to wear a hat. Granny also wore green to honor the victims of Grenfell Tower, and no one told Meg to wear green—so they said she didn’t give a fig about the victims.
I said: The Palace will make a phone call. They’ll correct the record. They didn’t.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
