I COMPLETED MY EDUCATION AT Eton in June 2003, thanks to hours of hard work and some extra tutoring arranged by Pa. No small feat for one so unscholarly,
so limited, so distracted, and while I wasn’t proud of myself, exactly, because I didn’t know how to be proud of myself, I felt a distinct pause in my nonstop internal self-criticism.
And then I was accused of cheating.
An art teacher came forward with evidence of cheating, which turned out not to be evidence of cheating. It turned out to be nothing at all, and I was later cleared by the exam board. But the damage was done. The accusation stuck.
Brokenhearted, I wanted to release a statement, hold a press conference, tell the world: I did the work! I didn’t cheat!
The Palace wouldn’t let me. In this, as in most things, the Palace stuck fast to the family motto: Never complain, never explain. Especially if the complainer was
an eighteen-year-old boy.
Thus I was forced to sit by and say nothing while the papers called me a cheat and a dummy every day. (Because of an art project! I mean, how do you “cheat” on an art project?) This was the official start of that dreaded title: Prince Thicko. Just as I was cast as Conrade without my consultation or consent, I was now cast in this role. The difference was, we did Much Ado About Nothing for three nights. This had the look of a role that would last a lifetime.
Prince Harry? Oh, yeah, not too bright.
Can’t pass a simple test without cheating, that’s what I read!
I talked to Pa about it. I was near despair. He said what he always said.
Darling boy, just don’t read it.
He never read it. He read everything else, from Shakespeare to white papers on climate change, but never the news. (He did watch the BBC, but he’d often end up throwing the controller at the TV.) The problem was, everyone else read it. Everyone in my family claimed not to, just like Pa, but even as they were making this claim to your face, liveried footmen were bustling around them, fanning every British newspaper across silver platters, as neatly as the scones and marmalades.
