Harry
My father and I were shown into the barrister's chambers and I shook hands with Mr. Baxter and Mr. Beadle, the solicitor and the barrister. I felt uncharacteristically nervous because I was so close to being free from Meg, but there were still so many things that could go wrong.
My father explained the options we were considering and the eyebrow-raising amount of money the Queen was willing to pay to get Meg to break our engagement quietly. Mr. Baxter nodded, taking voluminous notes on his laptop. Then we waited for Meg to arrive.
And waited.
After fifteen minutes my father looked at the solicitor. "You did tell her the meeting was for 3:30 pm, correct?"
"Yes, of course," Mr. Baxter said. "We sent her a text, left a message on her phone, and sent her a registered letter, which she signed for."
My father looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you should text her."
"Is that a good idea?" I asked the barrister. I really did not want to text her or encourage her in any way.
"I'll text her," Mr. Baxter said, a grim look on his face. "Perhaps she's caught in traffic or mistaken the time."
"Not bloody likely," I muttered.
Another five minutes passed and then my phone buzzed.
"Guess who this is?" I said, pulling the phone out of my pocket. "Should I answer it?"
"Put her on speaker," Mr. Beadle said.
"Hello, Harry," she sang out. "Are you at the lawyer's office?"
"Yes," I growled.
"Are they listening?"
"Yes."
"Who else is there? Prince Charles? The Queen?" She sounded so cheerful I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her.
Mr. Beadle motioned us to be quiet. "Miss Moran, this is Paul Beadle. I am a barrister, and I am in the office with my colleague Mr. Baxter and Their Royal Highnesses Prince Charles and Prince Harry. We would like you—"
"Oh, good, a full house," Meg said, cutting him off. "I hope you're recording this? It seems to be something your new girlfriend is good at, Harry. One of many things, I'm sure."
Mr. Beadle shot me a look and I bit my tongue. Mr. Baxter gave a thumbs-up.
"Let me tell all of you what is not going to happen," Meg said. "I am not going to be signing any agreements. I am not going to agree to a gag order, or a non-disclosure agreement, or anything else. I have already told my side of the story to several prominent sources, and it is being published as we speak. You are not going to shut me up about this."
"It would be very unwise of you to do that, Miss Moran," said Mr. Baxter. "We are prepared to offer you a settlement—"
"You can take your settlement and shove it up your ass, Mr. High-Priced Lawyer. I will get far more money out of the book deal and the interviews I will get as the jilted fiancee of Prince Harry than I would ever get from the Royal Family."
I thought about the amount the Queen had been willing to pay and wasn't so sure, but I kept my mouth shut. Mr. Baxter looked at Mr. Beadle, who nodded sharply. Mr. Baxter began typing frantically on his computer, then on his phone.
"Are you still in London?" Mr. Baxter asked.
"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I am not. I am in New York, and I will be doing several interviews in the morning."
"I'm afraid you won't," said Mr. Beadle, raising his voice. "Not unless you wish to risk very severe legal consequences. A privacy injunction—what you might call a gag order, Miss Moran—has already been granted that forbids you to discuss anything regarding your relationship with His Royal Highness Prince Harry, whether you sign a settlement agreement or not. The publishers of all major news outlets—all of them—have been given notice that to publish or broadcast anything from you will result in legal action. You will not be allowed to enter the UK, or Canada, for one year from today's date, which may be extended indefinitely if you are still seen to be a threat to the Royal Family or to Miss Samantha Walden."
He paused, and on the other end of the line I could hear a string of violent curses.
"You can't do that!" Meg said, her voice almost a shriek.
"We can and we have, Miss Moran," Mr. Beadle said, totally unruffled. "You will also note, if you are following social media, that the Queen has released a statement announcing the most unfortunate end to your engagement to His Royal Highness. I would not be surprised if, very soon, you will see news stories repeating the most scandalous gossip about how you betrayed the trust of the Royal Family and lied about being pregnant, planted false stories, and tried to blackmail and bribe several people. Most unsavory things, to be sure. The kinds of things that could ruin the reputation of someone in show business."
"I'll sue you! I'll sue them! I'm recording this—"
"I think you'll find that your recording has malfunctioned. What a pity. And if you think, Miss Moran, that you have the resources and backing to go up against Her Majesty the Queen in a court of law, or even in the court of public opinion, you are most sadly mistaken. Good day, Miss Moran. My colleagues in the States will be in touch."
Mr. Beadle reached out, tapped the end call button on my phone, and handed it back to me.
For a moment there was only silence, broken by Mr. Baxter's frantic typing.
"Is it...over?" I asked.
"For all intents and purposes, Your Royal Highness, yes. It is not the resolution I would have liked to the situation, but it was necessary. Our mandate was very clear." He looked at my father. "Miss Moran was to be taken care of, as quickly and comprehensively as possible." Mr. Beadle gave me a crooked smile. "A command from Her Majesty is not lightly disregarded."
"Well played," my father said, leaning across the table to shake Mr. Beadle's hand.
"You had this all planned?" I asked.
My father shrugged. "I spent several days with Miss Moran while she was staying at Clarence House and heard many stories from the staff as well. Let's just say I did not trust her, and I was not convinced that she would go quietly."
"And...it's all been done? The announcement from the Queen and the news stories and everything?" I asked.
"Yes. It was all prepared and ready to go, given the word." My father nodded at Mr. Baxter, who glanced up from his typing, smiled at me, and continued typing furiously.
I typed my own name into Google search on my phone and watched the breaking news stories scroll by. Clicking on one, I read the official announcement, short and to the point.
Her Majesty the Queen and His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales wish to convey that it is with great regret that His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales and Miss Meg Moran have mutually agreed to end their engagement, citing irreconcilable differences. Her Majesty requests that the privacy of His Royal Highness and Miss Moran be respected during this difficult time.
There it was, for all the world to see. It had all happened so fast that I was still in a bit of shock, not sure if it was safe for me to feel relief yet.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Now I suggest that you call Miss Walden and make plans for her to return to London as soon as possible. The Queen and I would like to meet her."