A Brief History of the Private Life of Elizabeth II by Michael Paterson

procedure, and making speeches.
    As she settled into this routine of public duties, the qualities that were to characterise her in the future became apparent. She was aware that she lacked her mother’s social gifts, and
the smiles she offered to crowds and to photographers were bashful and often unsure. It was known by those close to her that she spent an anxious time before dinners wondering who she would sit
next to and what she would talk to them about, and she was soon to make a point of reading notes in advance on people in such situations. There is something rather touching about the notion of a
20-year-old practising conversation. Instead of spontaneity and wit she had diligence and a good memory. She sharpened the skills she possessed in order to make up for those she lacked. She was
described, tongue-in-cheek, at this stage of her life as being ‘like a very healthy, sound, responsible prefect in a boarding school, marked out to be head girl’. Her shyness, in any
case, endeared her to her father’s subjects.
    The matter about which she felt most reticent was Philip. Her feelings for him had not changed, and her determination to marry him was obvious. The King still had difficulty in accepting that
she had fallen for him so quickly and so young. His uncle Lord Mountbatten was persistent in pushing his suit, as he had been since the young people had first met. He had been at Dartmouth on the
day of the Royal Family’s visit, and had taken pains to ensure that his nephew was highly conspicuous. It was he who had arranged for Philip to look after the girls.
    Mountbatten was a man of charm and brilliance, but these qualities were almost eclipsed by vanity and ambition. A career naval officer like his father – who had been houndedfrom office in the First World War because of a German name and background – he was a cousin of the Windsors but his own family (the Battenbergs had anglicised their name) was a
very minor and unimportant branch of European royalty, and he passionately wanted to see it grow in prestige and influence. His handsome and personable nephew, with whom he had had few dealings
until half-a-dozen years earlier, could be a means of achieving this. The Princess obviously liked Philip but her mother was less impressed. The Queen distrusted Mountbatten, whose motives she
recognised, and his sponsorship of Philip did not stand in the young man’s favour. Even the candidate himself became alarmed by the vigour with which his uncle seemed to be forcing matters,
pleading in a letter: ‘Please, I beg of you, not too much advice in an affair of the heart or I shall be forced to do the wooing by proxy.’
    If this sounds like some Byzantine plot to capture the throne it is worth remembering that, until within living memory, this is how all dynasties tended to operate. From the time she reached
adolescence there had been speculation about Princess Elizabeth’s future husband. It would have been entirely natural that possible candidates for the hand of the Princess should be
considered. Any suitable young man could have been discussed, and would have had supporters and detractors. Those who knew the Princess and her parents might have made suggestions, perhaps
arranging for her to meet someone in order to see how they got on together. This is by no means unusual behaviour among the Queen’s subjects, many of whom owe happy marriages to precisely
that sort of arranged meeting.
    People in the Royal Family were not, as they are today, free to fall in love with ordinary members of the public and marry them. The pool from which a young man could be drawn was by definition
very small, for not only were there qualifications of birth but of temperament. Her husband must have credibility with the peoples of the Empire as well as being capableof
living a life of unremitting duty. In addition to that, he must actually love her. The days of dynastic marriages – mere political alliances between