I was being born, born to Queen Anita of Spain. My father, Alphonso was her consort, who I learned later in life, was killed in battle a week before I arrived. A wet nurse took me from my screaming mother and placed me in a huge, cold room where I would spend much time alone. A white bed with wooden bars was entwined with pink rose buds. A soft down pillow was changed every day. The wet nurse leaned over me, smiled, untied her shirtwaist and fed me warm milk. I gulped greedily and fell asleep. She did this several times a day and I was content, hardly cried. My mother, the Queen, came in to see me once a day, just looked and left.
For my first birthday, I was allowed out of the room, where a new, younger lady in waiting, held my hands while I learned to walk, run, play games with other children. However, my mother, the queen, warned me to stay away from the marble staircase. ‘It is too dangerous for you now. I will tell you when I think you are ready and be the first to lead you down,’ she said. I took it as a warning.
When I was five, children were allowed to come up to my quarters to keep me company. We played Hide and Seek, Rolly Polly and Just Pretend. I also was given a desk, parchment and a quill pen on a brass ink stand. A tutor came and taught me how to write, how to draw little animals. He brought me red ink I had never seen that before and wrote my name on my hand. My lady in waiting washed it off before my mother saw it.
On my tenth birthday, a beautiful new long dress was laid out on my bed, white shoes that tied up to my knees, long silver earrings that my lady in waiting had to put in for me sparkled like sunshine. My blond hair was combed, brushed, made into curls hanging to my waist. I did look pretty and somewhat grown up. Down the marble stairway was the Receiving Room. I was taken there and seated on a carved wooden chair that had a high back. It was uncomfortable and I thought quite ugly.
A trumpet sounded. The wooden door was opened and in walked a young man who bowed to me, took my hand and asked me politely to walk around him several times. He watched me intently. ‘Princess Margaret, you are a beautiful child. I bid you farewell for a while.’ He backed out of the room and was gone.
Dame Essex, her hair now all white, explained that Prince Balfour was here to look me over, to see if I would make him a good wife. ‘Your mother has already sanctioned it as has Queen June of Laurentia. We will all wait to see what dowry may be arranged. ’Do not be afraid Princess Margaret. There will be no wedding until you are fourteen and capable of giving Prince Balfour an heir.’ ‘What? I give an heir?’ My friend, Dame Essex, tells me not to worry. She will explain when the time comes. ‘You are royalty you know, a true blue blood. All will go well.’
I have tried and tried to put this out of my mind. I like to play marbles, Catch Me If You Can, and a new game called tennis, but night- mares haunt me. I am only ten, want to be eleven. ‘Dame Essex,’ I ask ‘when will you tell me about giving Prince Balfour an heir?’ ‘When the time comes, Princess, when the time comes.’ I ask another question. ‘What is all this blue blood nonsense about? I cut my wrist on purpose yesterday and my blood is red.’ I go up the marble steps to tell the Queen, I will not marry Prince Balfour as I am not good enough for him and his blue blood. My mother laughs, then slaps me.
My fourteenth birthday is nearing. Preparations for the wedding are being made. Silver, china, jewels, a Palomino horse are brought to the castle. Seamstresses sew lovely gowns for me, make a coned white hat with silk chiffon hanging from the point. I am excited. Prince Balfour arrives and he is tall, handsome has a moustache and goatee.
Dame Essex comes into my chambers the night before the wedding. She lights a candle near my bed and sits beside me to tell me about my duty, what the Prince will expect. ‘It is not possible that he will make me do that,’ I reply. ‘It is not only possible, it is an assured action. You may get to enjoy it and give the Prince more than one heir.’ I think back to when I was three, four, Dame Essex has always been my friend and so I believe her.
The pageantry is over. The prince and I are escorted to a new chamber, our chamber. He slowly undresses me and we get into bed.
He blows out the candles and I am glad My Prince Has Come.
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