Our bejeweled recaps of The Crown continue today with “Matrimonium,” the seventh episode of season two. As the title suggests, the episode includes a royal wedding, so you know we’ve got some jewels to critique! (You can catch up with our previous recaps here!)

We begin in Brussels on August 3, 1959. Peter Townsend writes to Princess Margaret. He needs to break a pact they made — that if they couldn’t marry each other, they’d never marry again at all — because he’s fallen in love with his (extremely young) assistant.

Margaret wakes up still in her clothes and gold jewelry from the night before, and a servant brings her Townsend’s letter on a silver platter. She is distraught.

She meets up with Tony Armstrong-Jones while he’s prepping for an exhibition of his photographs. They talk about Townsend and marriage — and Margaret basically proposes to him.

When Tony doesn’t answer satisfactorily, she storms out, leaving him to face all of the press who have gathered mainly to see the princess, not the photographer.

The opening is a success, and Tony is ready to brag about it at a dinner with his mother, the Countess of Rosse. (Tony’s parents were Ronald Armstrong-Jones, a barrister, and Anne Messel, sister of the famous stage designer Oliver Messel. Ronald and Anne divorced when Tony was four, and each married subsequent spouses. Anne’s second husband was the 6th Earl of Rosse. In 1959, Ronald had just divorced his second wife and was about to marry his third.)

In The Crown, Lady Rosse is played by the fabulous Anna Chancellor, whom you’ll recognize from films like Four Weddings and a Funeral and Pride and Prejudice. Chancellor is particularly well-suited for a role like this one; her grandfather was the 4th Baron Hylton, and she also has family ties to Prime Minister H.H. Asquith and to Jane Austen.

Lady Rosse is wearing colorful beads and a scowl. She’s not really interested in Tony’s art exhibition. And when she hears that he turned down Margaret’s proposal, she’s really unimpressed.

Back at Tony’s studio, he indulges in some of his other ongoing affairs. He takes photos of Jacqui Chan, an actress who was also one of his girlfriends. (His biographer, Anne de Courcy, called her one of Tony’s first loves.) And then The Crown feels the need to include some fairly graphic sex scenes, apparently to really prove to us that Tony was exploring other avenues of pleasure? Not sure most of us needed a lot of convincing, but whatever.

We also see Tony in bed with his good friends, Jeremy and Camilla Fry. (We know that Camilla was his lover; we know less about his relationship with Jeremy. The show draws its own conclusions.) Afterward, he talks to them about Margaret and decides to propose. He looks extremely happy about his decision, doesn’t he?

It’s Margaret’s turn to take part in the show’s soapy Mirror Reflection Moment.

As Margaret heads out of Clarence House, the Queen Mother doesn’t even notice — she’s too busy snacking, drinking, and watching nature shows on television. (I suppose we’re supposed to see the Queen Mum as someone totally detached from what’s going on around her, but in reality, she knew about Margaret’s romance with Tony early on, and she and Tony developed a close friendship of their own. She also wasn’t just sitting around eating bon-bons — she had a full slate of official duties. But you all know that the portrayal of the Queen Mother is one of my least favorite parts of the show, so I won’t go on!)

Tony picks Margaret up on his motorcycle, and they speed off down the Mall.

At his studio, he produces a large box full of shredded film, with a nesting box of film canisters and small boxes inside.

Margaret figures out what’s going on halfway through the unwrapping process.

It’s an engagement ring — a ruby in a cluster of diamonds, to be more exact. Unlike the Queen’s engagement ring, the show has done a decent job of replicating Margaret’s ring. Theo Aronson describes the ring as “a ruby surrounded by diamonds in the shape of a flower.” Their private engagement took place in December 1959.

She accepts — but they both have conditions. He wants her to promise never to be boring; she wants him to promise never to hurt her. (Historical spoiler alert: not gonna happen on either count.)

Margaret, defiant and smoky in bright red beaded jewels, arrives to tell her sister that she’s off the market.

The Queen reacts mostly positively, but when Margaret also tells her that Peter has gotten engaged, she’s a little less thrilled. (In reality, it was Tony who asked the Queen for her permission for the marriage. That happened at Sandringham in January 1960.)

Tony tries to call his mother to let her know that he’s engaged to Margaret after all, but Lady Rosse isn’t taking his calls.

He and Margaret make plans anyway, deciding that they should go for broke and get married in Westminster Abbey.

Margaret hurries over to tell Elizabeth about the plans they’ve made, but Elizabeth has to inform her sister that they have to delay the announcement — because Elizabeth is expecting a baby.

Margaret, wearing her engagement ring already, sees this as one more betrayal. (In reality, Margaret and Tony sought official permission only a few weeks before Prince Andrew’s birth, not months before. They did postpone the official announcement until after the baby was born.)

Elizabeth tries to soothe Margaret’s anger by offering to throw her an engagement party at the palace. (Which seems like it might have tipped off the press, doesn’t it?)

Meanwhile, Tony is visiting the Frys. They watch the results of the 1959 general election, which took place on October 8. (The show is, shockingly, playing fast and loose with the timeline here to make the Margaret and Tony storyline even soapier than it already was.) He talks about the engagement and his family. He’s pretty excited that he might eventually get an earldom — which would put him on par with his stepfather and (eventually) with his half-brother, Brendan. (Tony didn’t get an earldom when he married; he got one just before the birth of his first child.)

We skip a few months ahead. The heavily-pregnant Queen is getting ready for Margaret and Tony’s engagement party. She and Philip are clearly getting along.

Margaret arrives at the palace for the bash. Lots of her friends are on the guest list, giving the party a bit of a different tone than usual palace festivities.

The Queen, in diamonds, chats with the Queen Mother (in pearls), and Lady Rosse. But she also keeps an eye on other goings-on in the room.

She’s especially suspicious about Tony’s conversations with Camilla Fry, and rightly so — because Camilla tells him that she’s pregnant. Guess who the father probably is? (This is true. Polly Fry, Camilla’s third child, was indeed fathered by Tony. The truth about Polly’s paternity wasn’t made public until 2004.)

Also suddenly having a very bad time is Philip, who is jealous at how easily Tony is being accepted by the family, when he was so ostracized.

And Tony is getting along very well with his future mother-in-law, who is leading a conga. (Fun fact: King George VI and Queen Elizabeth apparently loved a good conga line. They truly were party people.)

Elizabeth, who is grumpy after Philip’s tirade, tells Michael Adeane to dig up any dirt he can find on Tony. (This angle also gives us a good look at her earrings, which are the production’s replicas of the Coronation Earrings.)

Adeane employs his favorite private investigator, Tommy Lascelles, who digs up a LOT of dirt on Tony. He brings his findings to the Queen, who is just about ready to have the baby right there in the room.

In her usual pearls, the Queen grows more and more troubled as she learns of Tony’s various relationships and proclivities, some of which are continuing during his engagement to Margaret.

She’s so upset, in fact, that she actually goes into labor. She’s brought into a bedroom where her foremothers literally loom over her in portrait form. We’ve got Winterhalter’s 1859 portrait of Queen Victoria, a tinted photograph of Queen Mary from 1901, and a production-created portrait of Victoria Hamilton as the Queen Mother. (The actual birth took place in the Belgian Suite at Buckingham Palace on February 19, 1960.)

We get glimpses of Elizabeth’s wedding and engagement rings as the doctors administer twilight sleep medication.

Meanwhile, the cabinet prays…

…and Philip plays squash. (This detail is actually taken from another royal birth; Philip was playing squash during the birth of Prince Charles in 1948.)

After the baby is born, Margaret drives through the cheering crowds to greet her new nephew. She’s clearly enjoying the attention, and we get a good view of her gold earrings.

She arrives and admires the baby.

We get a glimpse of Margaret’s right-hand ring as she greets little Andrew Albert Christian Edward. Margaret’s pretty dismissive about Andrew’s namesake. (That’s Prince Andrew of Greece and Denmark, Philip’s father, who died in 1944.)

Margaret tells Elizabeth that she wants to announce her engagement right away, now that the baby’s born.

Elizabeth says yes, but asks Margaret if she’s really sure about Tony. Margaret gets extremely defensive and asks Elizabeth what she’s referencing — but Elizabeth ultimately doesn’t tell her any of the information she got from Tommy. She does point out that Margaret will never truly rebel, because she loves the trappings of royalty too much. Margaret angrily leaves, telling Elizabeth that she’ll see her at the Abbey.

(I wish we’d gotten a little more coverage of Margaret and Tony’s wedding plans. The debacle about Jeremy Fry as best man — he was removed when evidence of past arrests for “homosexual offenses” was discovered — is a complicated story worth telling. So is the fact that nearly every European royal who was asked turned down the invitation, some using fairly flimsy excuses.)

But instead, we skip straight to the wedding day: May 6, 1960. We see Jacqui Chan getting ready…

…and heavily pregnant Camilla Fry getting ready, too. (Her daughter, Polly, was born only a few weeks after the wedding.)

The Queen Mother wears a necklace that looks like the Duchess of Cambridge’s costume necklace from Zara. (This choice makes zero sense to me. There are so many photographs available of the Queen Mother from the wedding day. She wore Queen Alexandra’s Wedding Necklace — which the production has already featured in replica form multiple times.)

She also wore the Greville Peardrop Earrings, which feature a much simpler design than these production-created earrings.

Princess Anne gets ready to be a bridesmaid…

…and Prince Charles is dressed up to be a page boy. (Fun fact: both Margaret and Tony were really short, and the press speculated at the time that they decided to have children as their attendants so that no one in the bridal party would be taller than the bride and groom.)

The Queen gives her full Miss Piggy Face as she gets ready. This is a decent replica of her real ensemble for the day; she really did wear a double strand of pearls, pearl earrings, and Queen Mary’s Lover’s Knot Brooch.

Tony shares a car on his way to the Abbey with his mother…

…who wears pearls with emeralds. Lady Rosse really did have a spectacular suite of emeralds, but these jewels aren’t precisely what she wore on Tony’s wedding day. Her accessories included simpler earrings, a multi-stranded pearl choker, and a large brooch.

And last but not least, we finally see Margaret, who meets Philip outside Clarence House. (He’s the one who walked her down the aisle.) The replica of her famous wedding gown is pretty good.

And so is the replica of the famous Poltimore Tiara. (The diamond riviere she wore isn’t quite right, but it’s close.) She laps up the good wishes of the public as they ride toward the Abbey, and she’s genuinely touched when Philip tells her that her father would be proud of her.

And then, just like the coronation episode, the show decides not to replicate the famous television footage of the actual wedding. Instead, we see glimpses of other characters watching the broadcast on television.

We even get glimpses of the real Tony and Margaret during their engagement announcement…

…and Margaret’s carriage heading toward the Abbey. But as for the actual wedding? We weren’t invited.

Our bejeweled recaps of Netflix’s The Crown continues with the sixth episode of season two, “Vergangenheit.” With a German language title that simply means “the past,” you’ve probably correctly guessed that there’s a whole lot of historical information in this episode. (If you need to catch up on any of our previous recaps, head over here!)

We begin in Germany in 1945. American soldiers, with the help of a translator who worked for Hitler, have discovered a trove of important documents buried in the forest. They’re taken to Marburg Castle in Hesse.

As the government processes the documents, one translator notices that some of the files reference the Duke of Windsor. He heads straight for his supervisor…

…and the documents very quickly make it to the very top of the information chain. King George VI and Queen Elizabeth are horrified by what they’ve read.

Churchill and Tommy Lascelles agree that the files should be kept secret from the British people because their contents are so potentially damaging.

The King can’t quite believe that his brother has betrayed him so thoroughly. Queen Elizabeth’s sapphire and diamond engagement ring, a symbol of their stable and long marriage, is front and center in this scene, emphasizing the reason that Bertie and Elizabeth were so much better suited for the roles than David was.

And we’re back in the “present,” though the timeline in this episode suffers from significant tampering in the interest of fictional narrative. The Queen and the Queen Mother are watching the American evangelist Billy Graham on television. He’s in the United Kingdom on one of his “crusade” tours. (The tour in question took place in the spring of 1955.)

Both royal women are wearing their everyday pearl uniform. The Queen Mum isn’t too impressed with Graham, but Elizabeth finds him very interesting.

Meanwhile, in Paris, the Windsors are up to their usual vapid hijinks. They throw a birthday party for their pug, Trooper…

…and they go to a shooting party, where Wallis wears these fabulous mint-colored button earrings…

…and they play cards, with Wallis wearing a particularly spectacular floral necklace, which appears to be made of something like lucite.

They also play dress up, choosing costumes for an upcoming party. They veto the pirate look. (Also, this necklace on Wallis seems to be a cousin to Queen Maxima’s lobster necklace, no?)

They also veto the undersea-royalty look, though Wallis quips that wearing this pearl and shell crown is the closest she’ll ever be to being queen. (You are correct, lady.)

In the end, they ditch the elaborate costumes in favor of something simpler — and more sinister.

Wallis clutches her own coronet as she sits in the garden, sipping champagne.

Note that she’s chosen the actual jewelry wardrobe of the Queen and the Queen Mother — pearls and more pearls — to masquerade as royalty. As she sits, unable to place even a costume crown atop her head, David complains about his life of leisure, wishing he could have a real job in Britain again.

Back in the UK, the real Queen plays with her pearls as she works.

Adeane arrives to tell her that Uncle David is requesting permission to come to Britain, intending to work on a book. (Mm-hm.) Over Philip’s objections, she allows it. She also tells Adeane that she wants to meet with Billy Graham. He agrees to schedule him to preach privately at Windsor, followed by a luncheon with the royal family.

At the Captured German War Documents Publication Unit, a staffer accidentally unearths the suppressed Marburg files, and historians push to have them published. They remind their supervisor that the Americans have a duplicate of the files, and if the Brits won’t publish them, they will. This plot places us in 1957; the files were released in July.

The subject of said files is merrily chugging along on his journey back to England. He’s staying with the Metcalfes in Sussex. (David went back and forth between Paris and the UK fairly often. He did make a prominent visit at the end of 1957, when he attended a memorial for Fruity Metcalfe, performed his first public royal engagement since the abdication, and had a publicly announced visit with the Queen at Buckingham Palace.)

Edward Dudley Metcalfe, who went by the rather vivid nickname “Fruity,” was one of David’s former equerries and served as best man at his wedding in 1937. He’s been helping behind the scenes to try to lay the groundwork for David to get a new job in the UK. (The real Fruity Metcalfe died in November 1957.)

Also present (and wearing pearls), is Fruity’s wife, Lady Alexandra (aka “Baba”). She was the third daughter of Lord Curzon, a viceroy of India, and his American heiress wife, Mary Leiter. Baba had numerous affairs; her lovers included her sister’s husband, Oswald Mosley, as well as Walter Monckton (whom we’ll meet later in the episode). Her appearance makes the historical timeline of the episode even more confusing, because Fruity and Baba divorced in 1955.

At Windsor, Billy Graham is preaching about what makes a person a Christian. (This took place on May 22, 1955. Graham told the Associated Press, “I can only say it was a great privilege to be at Windsor today and that the Queen was very charming and gracious to us.”)

Philip is visibly annoyed, and the Queen Mother (brooch and all) is polite but disinterested, but the Queen herself is intrigued by Graham’s sermon.

After lunch, she has a private conversation with Graham about what it means to be both a Christian and the leader (and face) of a religious organization. (I’m not sure whether this completely private moment did happen — but if it did, it certainly violated the famous “Billy Graham rule.” Maybe it doesn’t count if the woman in question is the Queen?)

David is the guest of honor at a dinner hosted by Sir Walter Monckton, who became Viscount Monckton of Brenchley in 1957.

Monckton was a lawyer and one of the Duke of Windsor’s advisors during the abdication crisis of 1936. (Relevant to this episode: he was also reportedly the person who convinced David to reject a German plan to make him a puppet monarch in 1940 and to go to the Bahamas as planned instead.) Royal watchers might recognize the Monckton surname for other reasons: one of Walter Monckton’s granddaughters is Rosa Monckton, close friend of the late Diana, Princess of Wales.

Various prominent Britons are also present at the dinner, including Lord Salisbury (the infamous “Bobbety,” whom you’ll remember from season one), Lord Beaverbrook (owner of the Daily Express), and Selwyn Lloyd (who was Foreign Secretary from 1955 until 1960). The woman portrayed wearing the bright red jewelry here is much more interesting than her brief appearance suggests; she’s Vita Sackville-West, the British writer who was famous for both her publications and her affairs. (Her lovers included Virginia Woolf and Violet Keppel, daughter of Alice Keppel and, therefore, great-aunt of the Duchess of Cornwall.)

Monckton has several job proposals for David, who smokes with his two rings, signet and wedding, visible to the audience. (The show sometimes seems to use these a visual reminder of the central conflict in David’s life, between the crown and Wallis.) He dismisses several of these prospects, but he’s especially interested in a diplomatic post.

But he doesn’t know that the Marburg files are circulating quickly; they’ve reached Harold Macmillan, who has been warned that the Americans will publish them if the Brits won’t.

The PM has an audience with the Queen and tells her about the wartime files.

Elizabeth is wary but displeased.

Adeane and the Queen Mother arrive to fill in the blanks for Elizabeth regarding Uncle David and the controversial papers.

The pearl-clad Queen Mum, who played a role in deciding to hide the documents from public view, is irritated by the entire enterprise, but says she knew they’d never be able to suppress the files.

Elizabeth, in pearls and a pearl-studded brooch, reads the confidential file for herself.

Back in Paris, Wallis does some happier reading: David has written from Paris, and he tells her that the Foreign Secretary has greenlit a new job. All that’s left is to get approval from HM.

(With all the emphasis on storytelling and biographical pasts in this episode, I would have loved some discussion of the memoir that Wallis published in 1956.)

Uncle David arrives for an official audience at the palace, his first time back in “the room.” He tells Elizabeth that he’s ready for a job. Wearing pearls and another of the production-invented brooches, she basically tells him to hold his horses.

After the meeting, Elizabeth talks to Philip about forgiveness, wondering if it’s her Christian duty to forgive her uncle, even after reading the files. It clearly pains him to say it, but Philip suggests that it’s time to talk to the man who was private secretary to King Edward VIII: Tommy Lascelles.

Elizabeth surprises Tommy at home, where he’s waging the Napoleonic Wars in miniature.

Tommy sits her down and tells her everything.

He talks about David’s carelessness with state papers, which he often shared with Wallis…

…who then passed them off to Joachim von Ribbentrop, the German ambassador and future Nazi Foreign Minister, who also happened to be one of her lovers.

And then there’s the description of Uncle David’s “semi-state” visit to Germany after the abdication, where he was treated like a once and future king.

But Elizabeth, wearing the production’s ribbon brooch, is most visibly disturbed by news that Uncle David reportedly advised the Germans to continue bombing the Brits during the Blitz, believing that continued attacks would make them give up and achieve “peace.” She takes some time to process what Tommy has told her.

He returns to the palace for her final decision on the job, and she tells him where he can shove it. She wonders how he can ever forgive himself for what he did to his country — and to his brother.

He insults her, and then storms out. But Elizabeth maintains steely determination throughout the encounter.

But she feels guilty afterward, and she talks again to Billy Graham, who advises her that, when you can’t forgive someone, all you can do is pray for them.

She’s in the middle of prayers when she’s interrupted by Philip, who is tipsy and jubilant following a celebratory drink with the Queen Mum and Tommy. They’re all proud of how she handled Uncle David. And he’s very interested in celebrating with a spontaneous drunken canoodle.

The atmosphere back in Paris is mournful. The Duke of Windsor is officially alone again with his duchess. (This isn’t exactly what happened. After the papers were published in 1957, David was still welcomed back into the royal fold from time to time, even participating in official functions.)

This show loves a soapy look in the mirror to remind us that a character is both literally and figuratively reflecting, and that’s precisely what David does at the end of the episode. But the show doesn’t let him off the hook that easily — the installment draws to a close with pictures of the real Duke and Duchess consorting with Nazis during the war. The past will always come back to haunt you.

“Marionettes,” episode five of the second season of Netflix’s The Crown, is light on both plot and jewels, unfortunately. But we’ve still got a few interesting things to discuss jewel-wise — and history-wise! (If you need to catch up on previous recaps, they’re all over here!)

We begin in August 1957. The 2nd Baron Altrincham, a writer and journalist who is also an aristocrat, has published a pointed editorial criticizing both the way the palace is run and the Queen herself. He picks on her personality and even her voice (in real life, he actually said that she sounded like “a priggish schoolgirl, captain of the hockey team, a prefect and a recent candidate for Confirmation”), and the press in Britain are selling copies like hotcakes.

The portrait of Elizabeth here features her wearing several pieces of replica jewelry: Queen Mary’s Fringe Tiara (which was then owned by the Queen Mother), the emerald earrings from the Delhi Durbar Parure, and the Godman Necklace (which is a continuity error — the episode takes place in 1957, and the Queen was not given the necklace until 1965).

People can’t stop talking about Altrincham’s “attack” on the Queen, and one man in particular is very upset about it.

He waits outside the ITN television studios, where Altrincham is recording an interview, and gleefully punches him in the face.

(This is real! The man in question, Philip Kinghorn Burbidge, was a member of a far-right organization. He was fined 20 shillings for his crime. According to contemporary news reports, the real Lord Altrincham simply replied, “That was a rather silly thing to do.”)

At Balmoral, Michael Adeane tells Elizabeth and the Queen Mother that Altrinchman has been popped in the face — and that he’s going to be on television later that night. Everyone watches nervously.

And then, we head back in time to one month earlier, as Adeane is putting the final touches on a speech that the Queen is due to give at a Jaguar factory. One staffer is worried that the language and tone sound too out of touch, and he goes to Martin Charteris with his concerns.

Bertie Pelham — er, Charteris — goes to Adeane to talk about the speech, but when he gets there, the embodiment of tradition himself, Tommy Lascelles, is already in the office. Martin tells them that he thinks the speech is too paternalistic, but they dismiss his concerns. So we’ve got a clear-cut conflict: half of the courtiers are married to tradition, and half are interested in change.

The Queen, though, trusts Adeane and has accepted his version of the speech without question. While everyone else argues, she’s in the middle of the most entertaining scene of the episode. Her hairdresser attends to the Royal Coif while “Zadok the Priest” plays triumphantly in the background. It’s hilarious.

The stylist goes for a slightly different ‘do for HM, and this is Philip’s face when he sees it on the way to the Jaguar visit. He bluntly tells her that if she really does want more children, the hair isn’t helping.

Elizabeth reads Adeane’s speech, and it’s not good. It’s dismissive of working people, calling their lives “average” and “dreary.” And she’s not even wearing a brooch!

Lord Altrincham hears the speech and brainstorms a response. He’d been looking for content for his magazine, and this critique of the Queen and the institution seems like just the thing.

Following the Jaguar visit, the royals decamp to Balmoral for their summer holiday.

We see the Queen stag hunting, and we find out that she’s a very good shot. Peter Morgan, creator of The Crown and writer of this episode, was also the writer of The Queen. He’s super into narratives that combine public and press criticism, the Queen, and bloodsport, apparently.

Altrincham’s magazine comes out, with the same portrait of the Queen featured at the top of the episode. The editorial was published at the beginning of August 1957.

Elizabeth, wearing pearls, hears about Altrincham’s critique from Adeane.

She discusses it with the Queen Mother, who reminds her that it’s August, the time when people publish all sorts of royal nonsense. (My friend Patricia Treble calls it the “silly season” for the press.) The Queen Mother had every right to be miffed at the real Lord Altrincham’s criticism, too; he wrote, “Like her mother, [the Queen] appears to be unable to string even a few sentences together without a written text — a defect which is particularly regrettable when she can be seen by her audience.”

Notably, Altrincham critiqued several members of the royal family — but wrote absolutely nothing about Prince Philip. Hm.

Altrincham’s comments have gained so much attention that he’s invited on Impact to speak with Robin Day. He claims that he’s just trying to help the monarchy by critiquing it.

The Queens Elizabeth react like this.

The Macmillans don’t seem super thrilled, either.

And neither do the Charterises.

And Tommy and his Irish wolfhounds are having NONE of it.

After the program, Adeane tells the Queen that they’ve learned more about the man who punched Altrincham — that he’s a right-wing extremist who believes in white supremacist causes and wants to defend imperialism. Elizabeth is rightfully disturbed. But she also blames Adeane for the entire mess in the first place — after all, it was his speech, and she trusted him to strike the right tone.

The situation blows up to the point that Macmillan comes to Balmoral for an audience with the pearl- and kilt-clad Queen. He wants her to put out this fire once and for all.

So the palace summons Altrincham for a meeting with Martin Charteris to discuss his ideas for improving things within the monarchy.

But it’s not Martin Charteris that he meets — it’s the Queen herself, wearing the production’s “bird” brooch. (Altrincham really did meet with Charteris, but this bit about the Queen seems to be an invented moment.) She defensive in the face of his personal critique, but she hears him out, letting him make suggestions that include ending the presentation of debutantes (which was indeed ended in 1958), allowing divorced people to circulate in the royal world, and getting rid of courtiers who resist change.

When the meeting is over, the Queen seems to vanish from the room, almost like a magic trick. Charteris arrives and continues the interaction, warning Altrincham not to tell anyone that he met with HM herself.

One of Altrincham’s suggestions is quickly implemented: televising the annual Christmas message. (This seems to have been in the works before Altrincham ever published his critique.) Elizabeth is not happy about it. She doesn’t like to perform; she feels like “a common little showgirl.” Lots to be said about the intersection of monarchy and performance, for sure.

But she carries on and does it anyway. Her costuming here is a fairly careful reproduction of her actual attire for the 1957 Christmas broadcast.

We get a good look here at the pearl button earrings she’s wearing, plus one of her three-stranded pearl necklaces.

In the wings, the Queen Mother (wearing pearl drop earrings and a pearl necklace) sits with Philip to watch the broadcast. Everyone else seems to want change in this episode, but she’s still clinging hard to tradition.

A second suggestion from Altrincham is also implemented: he wanted to see more working people spending time with the royals, and we see the family welcoming guests for a reception at the palace.

Margaret, all clad in her fancy ’50s gold jewelry, watches the arrivals with Prince Philip. He remarks positively on the changes to her hair — all thanks to Tony, of course. (There’s also a weird Vidal Sassoon joke here that falls pretty flat.)

The Queen Mother, in the same pearl earrings and a three-stranded pearl necklace, is downcast as they wait to greet their guests. She feels the old way of doing things completely slipping away.

Elizabeth, also in pearls, isn’t totally happy either, but she seems to understand that change is necessary for survival.

And so they go out to greet their guests. The show follows up with lavish praise for Altrincham, who later disclaimed his peerage and was hailed by some as a savior of the monarchy. Perhaps a little more credit could be given to the woman who actually made it happen, too?