Last year I was in France with Elizabeth and Dominic, while William was in Wales on royal progress … it was the first birthday since we were eight that William and I have not spent together. I am not sure that today will restore equilibrium and nostalgia. I am unnerved by William’s hints at my gift. I received another gown to wear this morning—crimson velvet, so at least the colour is not as inflammatory as the purple Easter gown. But it is the most elaborate gown I have seen outside of Elizabeth’s ceremonial wardrobe, and my heart misgives me. I am to be dressed as a queen today, and I wish I could claim illness and not leave my chambers. Or that I could close my eyes and open them to the last birthday I spent at Hampton Court two years ago, the day William and I both turned eighteen and all he could think of was that he had reached the age of majority. And all I could think of was Dominic, leaning over me in the rain and holding me fast with an expression I had never before seen on any man’s face.
