Meeting Royalty

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Meeting Royalty

Marguerite Hamilton-Smythe eyed the invitation with delight. Who would have believed, the former Maggie Hamilton, stripper and exotic dancer from Sydney would soon be mixing with royalty.

Maggie’s meteoric rise began when, aged 25, she met Gerald Smythe, self-made multi-millionaire, at the strip club in Sydney where she worked. Gerald, from Melbourne, was so impressed with her performance that he invited her to his hotel after the show and asked her to perform solely for him. Night after night he sought her company and was soon so enamoured that he decided to groom Maggie to become his wife, though at that stage he never told her of his intention, lest she proved unsuitable.

He arranged for Maggie to have elocution lessons, bought her a whole new wardrobe and set her up in a home of her own in Kirribilli. Opening a bank account in her name he deposited a very generous allowance each week, far more than she made at her regular job. For her part, Maggie had to give up work and be ready to perform for him whenever he visited Sydney.

Maggie proved to be a fast learner, so Gerald soon asked her to marry him and she agreed. The Kirribilli house was sold and the money invested in her name. When she moved into his palatial Melbourne home, Maggie, now known as Marguerite Smythe thought she was on the pig’s back. After all, Gerald was 50 years her senior; he couldn’t last many more years, and then she’d be off the hook. He was rather a sweetie so it shouldn’t be too much of a hardship
Ten years went by and still Gerald was going strong. By now Maggie was bored and Gerald was jealous and possessive. He wouldn’t allow her to find a job of any kind. Fed up, Maggie told herself it couldn’t be too much longer before he kicked the bucket, living the high life the way he did. Secretly, to fill in time, she wrote an erotic novel under the pseudonym, Primrose Layne. To her surprise this became a best seller. She gave a copy to Gerald for his 87th birthday, neglecting to tell him she was the author.

Gerald began reading immediately, positively drooling over it. Whether or not the book was to blame Maggie wasn’t sure, but he had a fatal stroke before he was half-way through.

Good old Gerald, Maggie discovered, had put the house and several investments in her name so she was set for life. After the funeral, Maggie sold the house and moved to Wellington New Zealand, where as Marguerite Hamilton-Smythe she spent a great deal of time cultivating the right people.

Marguerite chuckled as she read the invitation again:
Lady Hermione Murgatroyd
Requests the pleasure of the company of
Ms Marguerite Hamilton-Smythe
At a luncheon in honour of HRH Prince Charles ….

Imagine Lady Hermione’s horror if she knew she’d be harbouring an ex stripper under the same roof as Prince Charles; or even worse, the reaction of that snobbish Dorothea Delaney. Marguerite could not suppress a hoot of laughter at the thought.

On the fateful day Marguerite dressed carefully to impress and behaved with the height of decorum as she was introduced to everyone of any importance. Dorothea even insisted Marguerite meet her favourite son, Rory, whom she was delighted to find herself seated next to during the meal, for to Marguerite’s surprise, he was rather spunky, nothing at all like his mother. Dorothea had also brought Petronella her prize poodle, and it had the run of the house while lunch was in progress.

Prince Charles, sitting opposite and slightly to the left of Marguerite, was staring at something or someone across the table. Following his gaze, Marguerite saw it was focused on Dorothea’s plate where a large green caterpillar perched on a lettuce leaf. Marguerite realised Dorothea had seen it too, but not wishing to draw attention to her plight, using her knife and fork, she deftly wrapped the lettuce around the offending creature.

Spearing the offending morsel with her fork Dorothea bravely transferred it to her mouth, chewing delicately before swallowing with an almost imperceptible shudder. The prince’s face turned a sickly green and he surreptitiously examined the salad on his own plate. Playing safe he pushed it to one side where it remained, uneaten.

During coffee Petronella the poodle disgraced herself totally, leaving a puddle under Lady Hermione’s chair. Then she trotted off to the library, returning minutes later with a well thumbed book in her mouth, which she dropped at the feet of Prince Charles. He picked it up and a deep flush suffused Lady Hermione’s face as he read aloud the title, Naked Passion by Primrose Layne. His eyes met Marguerite’s and she was almost certain he winked.

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