The sequel to Princess Darrel Crawley
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Elizabeth, Princess of Wales, heir apparent to the British throne. Formerly known as Lady Darrel Crawley, the youngest daughter of Lord and Lady Grantham.
Now 18-years-old, Darrel's life seems to be as norma...
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"How much longer do we have to stay here?" Benjamin groaned.
Life was not very interesting for the Princess of Wales' guards while she stayed at Windsor Castle. The king sent a decent number of guards who watched the grounds and ensured the castle's security (and by extension, his daughter's). Unless Darrel left for a walk, which was not very often, Allen, Benjamin, and Sydney did not have much to do and spent most of their days waiting (and complaining) in the servants' hall.
"Stop complaining," Allen ordered, who not only was bothered by Benjamin's constant grievances but also had his personal problems. Since he was staying at Windsor Castle, he wasn't sure if Thomas had tried to reply to his letter.
"I hate to agree with Benjamin, but why did we have to come?" Sydney inquired.
"We are the Princess' guards; we had to go with her. I am sorry if this is too boring for you, but consider this your fault for not breaking up the fight sooner."
Sydney rolled his eyes as one of the footmen entered and handed an envelope to him. Allen looked at the pile hopefully, but the footman bowed and left again.
"What is that?" Benjamin asked. "Who knows that we are here?"
Sydney ignored the other guard and read the note. He got to his feet.
"I have to go," Sydney announced.
"Is everything all right?" Allen replied.
"Since the Prince of Spain is staying at Buckingham Palace, they need someone who can communicate between his guards and the others."
"The Prince of Spain is in England?"
"According to the Duke of York, yes. I need to go speak to Her Highness, excuse me."
Sydney put the letter back into the envelope and left the servants' hall. Allen and Benjamin looked at each other with puzzled expressions.
Darrel was in the library, having her afternoon tea, and writing a letter to William Turner, thanking him for his recent article. The door opened, and Sydney stepped in.
"Good afternoon, Your Highness," he bowed.
"Hello, Sydney," Darrel nodded.
"I am afraid that I must return to London, ma'am. His Highness, the Duke of York wrote to me, and told me that since the Prince of Spain is visiting, they need a translator for the guards."
"JF is back in England?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did he say why? Is everything all right? Did something happen?"
