WE ARRANGED A SECOND summit with Willy and Kate.
This time on our turf.
December 10, 2018. Early evening.
We all gathered in our little front annex, and this time there was no small talk: Kate got things rolling straightaway by acknowledging that these stories in the papers about Meg making her cry were totally false. I know, Meghan, that I was the one who made you cry.
I sighed. Excellent start, I thought.
Meg appreciated the apology, but wanted to know why the papers had said this, and what was being done to correct them? In other words: Why isn’t your office standing up for me? Why haven’t they phoned this execrable woman who wrote this story, and demanded a retraction?
Kate, flustered, didn’t answer, and Willy chimed in with some very supportive-sounding evasions, but I already knew the truth. No one at the Palace could phone the correspondent, because that would invite the inevitable retort: Well, if the story’s wrong, what’s the real story? What did happen between the two duchesses? And that door must never be opened, because it would embarrass the future queen.
The monarchy, always, at all costs, had to be protected.
We shifted from what to do about the story to where it came from. Who could’ve planted such a thing? Who could’ve leaked it to the press in the first place? Who?
We went around and around. The list of suspects became vanishingly small.
Finally, finally, Willy leaned back and conceded that, ahem, while we’d been on tour in Australia, he and Kate had gone to dinner with Pa and Camilla…and, alas, he said sheepishly, he might’ve let it slip that there’d been strife between the two couples…
I put a hand over my face. Meg froze. A heavy silence fell. So now we knew.
I told Willy: You…of all people…should’ve known…
He nodded. He knew. More silence.
It was time for them to go.
