The Prince's Secret (Prince Harry Fanfic)

Part 89 - Prime Time on the BBC

Samantha

I sat in the little back garden at Nott Cott, waiting while Colin and Harry supervised the TV crew setting up cameras and lights in our living room.

Prince Charles and the Queen thought it would be a good idea for Harry and I to do an interview, hoping to stem the tide of rumors and negative press after the surprise announcement of our marriage. The details had all been carefully managed, beginning with the choice of Wanda Naylor, a staunchly royalist TV personality who agreed to submit the questions ahead of time. The Queen had suggested we do the interview at Nott Cott, hoping that I would be more relaxed in a familiar location, and that Harry and I would look more down-to-earth in our cozy cottage as opposed to some glamorous gilded salon filled with priceless paintings at Windsor or Buckingham Palace.

I felt carefully stage-managed as well. Rona, my newly-appointed wardrobe adviser, had gone through my rather sparse closet, nodding her approval at some of the clothes I had made, and suggested a few English designers I might want to work with. For the interview she chose a dark blue dress I had made, murmuring about how it "hearkens back to Diana's and Catherine's engagement photos and shows off the color of your diamond" while she added a designer belt and shoes to the ensemble. My hair had been cut, styled, and blown out in soft waves similar to Catherine's do, and I had a fresh manicure in "Ballet Slippers," the Queen's favorite neutral nail polish.

"You have it easy," I'd grumbled at Harry that morning over breakfast.

"Why?" he'd asked, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"All you have to do is put on a dark suit and shave," I'd replied. "In fact, you could probably wear the same dark suit to 90% of your functions and no one would notice or comment. But my outfit is going to be scrutinized and criticized. Gods forbid I have a loose button or a chip in my nails."

"Maybe this will make you feel more confident," he'd said, sliding a velvet box across the table to me.

I'd opened the box with a bit of trepidation, wondering how long it would be before I could receive presents from Harry without cringing at how much they must have cost.

Resting on the black velvet was a simple silver necklace with a drop pendant of blue diamonds and a large pearl, and drop earrings to match. "They're beautiful," I told him softly. "Thank you."

"You're beautiful," Harry said, coming over to give me a kiss. "The Duchess of Sussex should have something to complement her engagement ring in her first TV interview," he said. "Especially since we don't have wedding bands yet."

The side gate into the garden opened, pulling me back to the present, and I got to my feet, expecting Harry or Colin, but it was William who advanced across the grass, looking uncomfortable, an envelope in his hands.

To curtsey or not to curtsey? was the panic-stricken question zapping through my brain, but before I could decide, William waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and said, "Please don't. I just wanted to—well, Catherine asked me to bring you this before your interview."

He handed me the sealed envelope, with Samantha, Duchess of Sussex written on the front in a feminine hand. Inside was a folded note, and another envelope.

Samantha,

I know you must be terribly anxious about your first official interview. Don't worry—you'll do fine! Just remember that what other people say about you is not important—just be yourself. I've never seen Harry so happy and everyone else will see that too.