Elizabeth tried to decide how she'd feel if Phillip were to perish in a plane crash. It wrenched at her, destroyed her, and she had to push the thought from her mind; she'd have duties to carry out same as she had after the death of her father and she would just have to carry on. She'd always have to carry on. Grief couldn't be seen publicly.

"I suppose you're right," she conceded. "But I still don't have to like it. Besides, Parliament has to decide if he can or not. Not me."