AFTER A SURPRISINGLY pleasant hour sitting and talking in the drawing room at Sandringham, Amelia and the royal family walked to the church. For a building on the royal estate, it looked very much like any other village church Amelia had ever encountered. Constructed of grey stone with a solid bell tower rising to the heavens, the chill spring sun spilled through tall windows onto the ancient wooden pews inside.
Amelia spent the entire service intensely aware of the two inches between her body and Arthur’s. She tried not to think about the entire congregation behind her analyzing everything from her posture to her choice of hat. To maintain an appearance of focusing on more godly matters, she counted the panes of glass in the window above the altar.
Eventually, unable to help herself, sh
