Time for another installment of our bejeweled recaps of The Crown, magpies! Today, we’re looking at the replica jewels and the historical realities of episode three of the second season, “Lisbon.” This episode forms a sort of a finale to the first three episodes of the season; if you’ve missed any of our previous recaps, you can find them here!

We begin with a geography lesson in the royal nursery. Elizabeth, Charles, and Anne are examining a giant, fancy globe, looking for places that Philip has visited on tour. (They’re definitely at Buckingham Palace here, which is a little odd — the Queen generally stays at Sandringham until the anniversary of her accession, February 6. Not sure when the writers intended the episode to be set.)

Elizabeth, who is wearing pearl earrings, is pleased to hear that Philip has sent several canisters of film from the tour. Maybe that camera wasn’t such a bad present after all?

A less happy delivery arrives for Michael Adeane in the press office.

Now that she’s got her evidence, Eileen Parker has officially initiated divorce proceedings. Her solicitor (who, again, apparently isn’t responsible for or doesn’t care about attorney-client privilege) has passed along the news in advance out of respect.

There’s only one person Adeane can call: TOMMY. Not sure exactly why he’s practicing with his scope in his house, but he soon has his sights on Eileen and the divorce case that could potentially ruin the royal marriage.

Meanwhile, back at the palace, the entire royal family has gathered to watch Philip’s films from his royal tour. He’s even written a little letter with commentary to accompany the home movies.

And here he is with a beard and a penguin.

Much more adorable: little Prince Charles with a penguin.

Pearl-clad Elizabeth is enjoying the footage immensely.

Princess Margaret, who is wearing more fashionable ’50s earrings, thinks that the beard makes Philip look “shifty.”

The next day, Tommy arrives at the palace to try to help Adeane clean up the Parker Situation. He runs into HM on her way out the door.

She’s wearing a gold-toned brooch with a leaf-and-branch motif — another production-invented piece. She’s a little puzzled to see Tommy there, as she’s just been given a few days off to go spend at Sandringham, but she heads off without asking many questions.

The intrepid duo of Lascelles and Adeane decide that there’s only one possible solution: try to stop the divorce altogether.

At Sandringham, Elizabeth happily writes to Philip in response to the films. She even makes a cheeky little joke about Queen Mary and King George V and husbands with beards.

On board Britannia, Philip (whose beard has officially reached “mangy” status) reads part of the letter aloud.

After their own little politically-expedient health vacation, Anthony and Clarissa Eden have returned to England. Although this episode takes place after Christmas, the Edens actually came back to the UK on December 14, 1956.

The press is less than excited to see the PM back in London.

And the cabinet isn’t thrilled, either. The meeting turns into a shouting match over the Suez crisis, and Macmillan — who had agreed with Eden in a previous episode about the need for military intervention — turns on him. Eden’s tenure as prime minister is officially doomed.

This is Elizabeth’s face when she’s informed that Eden has called an emergency audience during her Sandringham vacation.

The Edens arrive in Norfolk by train, and they’re shouted at by people on the platform.

Eden tells Elizabeth that his doctors have recommended that he resign, fearing that he’ll put his life at stake if he tries to stay in office. (Many agree that Eden’s health problems provided him with a plausible reason to resign and avoid continuing political fallout.)

Elizabeth accepts his resignation — and basically tells Eden that she knows he went to war to try to best Churchill’s legacy. (A note on the historical timeline here: the Edens went to Sandringham on January 8, 1957; they stayed the night, and then returned to London the following day. The Queen also returned to London and Buckingham Palace on January 9, and Eden officially resigned at the palace that evening.)

Back in London, Tommy Lascelles has tracked down Eileen Parker. He tries to convince her to hold off on the divorce announcement.

But no dice. He telephones Adeane to let him know that they can’t avoid telling the Queen about the Parker divorce any longer.

Adeane breaks the news to the Queen on the train back from Sandringham to London.

The Queen, wearing a feathery invented brooch, makes this face in response to the news.

But when Adeane leaves her alone, she looks considerably more pensive.

The Queen’s third prime minister, Harold Macmillan, arrives for his first audience at the palace. He’s a little more weasely in this version of reality than he really was, I think.

Sidenote: I’m really surprised that the show, which was super into government intrigue with Churchill last season, didn’t get in to the unusual way that Macmillan was chosen for the job. The Conservative party was super divided following the disaster that was the Suez crisis, and it wasn’t clear whether Macmillan (who was Chancellor of the Exchequer) or Rab Butler (who was Leader of the House of Commons) would succeed Eden. The press thought it would be Butler (and that was Eden’s choice), but the cabinet took a secret vote, and Macmillan won. Meanwhile, the Queen called good old Winston Churchill to the palace to get his opinion. (Can you believe the show actually missed an opportunity to include their favorite character???) Churchill also advocated for Macmillan. That was that — Macmillan it was.

In their initial audience, Macmillan tries to put all the blame for the Suez policy on Eden, but HM isn’t having it — she knows Macmillan was involved, too. (This audience happened in real life on January 10, 1957.)

Speaking of crises — Mike Parker finds out aboard Britannia that his wife has started divorce proceedings against him.

He interrupts Philip’s me-time aboard the ship (he’s painting a tropical bird) to let him know about the developments. Phil’s not happy — not really because of the divorce, but because Mike was so indiscreet in his letter to Baron. (Which, remember, was not actually a thing, because Baron was, well, dead.)

After meeting with her new PM, Elizabeth heads over to the Parker residence for a chat with Eileen. She offers her help, and carefully asks Eileen to delay any official filings or announcements.

But Eileen’s had quite enough of all of this royal stuff. If it hadn’t been for the Townsend affair — and her desire to help protect the monarchy — she would have filed for divorce years ago, she claims. And then she gives HM the letter that implicates Philip in the royal tour infidelity rodeo, too.

HM reads it and then quickly returns it, remaining stoic even when Eileen presses her to show some emotion in response.

The train starts rolling — Eileen’s solicitor calls the press to let them know about the Parker split.

The papers carry the news. (The Parker separation was made public on February 4, 1957.)

Mike hears about this aboard the Britannia, and he tries to convince Philip that the press coverage really isn’t all that bad. Philip disagrees, and he makes Mike resign his post right away.

According to the Age, Parker’s hometown paper (and employer of the fictional reporter from last episode, he was more proactive in his response: he “immediately” offered his resignation when “he learned that the parting was public knowledge.” A spokesperson from the palace elaborated, “Lieutenant-Commander Parker realises that the existing circumstances of his marriage make it impossible for him to carry on as the Duke’s secretary.”

When the Britannia docks in Gibraltar, Mike Parker is officially out. (This happened on February 6, 1957.)

In reality, some of the British press were highly displeased with Parker’s departure. The editorial staff of the Daily Mirror responded as follows: “Just before the Duke of Edinburgh began his commonwealth tour, the death of Baron, the photographer, robbed him of a close personal friend. Now … he has had to say goodbye to another loyal friend — Lt. Cmdr. Michael Parker. This time, it is the dead hand of palace tradition which has cut the duke off from an old comrade and servant. Cmdr. Parker and his wife have parted. Because of this misfortune — which could happen to anybody — Michael Parker has felt obliged to resign …. When is this ludicrous custom going to be changed? It is fantastic in this modern age that a man who has marriage troubles should be treated as, or made to feel that he is some sort of moral leper.”

The Queen reportedly agreed. Mike Parker himself told Gyles Brandreth, “The Duke saw me off at the airport in Gibraltar and the Queen was wonderful throughout. She regarded the divorce as a sadness, not a hanging offence … The Queen telephoned me and could not have been more sympathetic.” She appointed Parker a Commander of the Royal Victorian Order after his resignation.

Back at the palace, Tommy reveals that the foreign press has also started writing quite a lot about the Parkers — and about Philip. (This was true. The Baltimore Sun really did publish a story that accused Philip of an affair. Another syndicated story that circulated widely in American newspapers in February 1957 explained, “Parker’s resignation led to fresh talk to the effect that the duke, as well as his equerry, was having domestic trouble. There have been no reports in the British press on discord in the royal family, but newspapers have given more than usual prominence to stories concerning Parker’s resignation.” The palace famously responded with a terse statement: “It is quite untrue that there is any rift between the Queen and the Duke.”)

The Queen Mum, who is wearing pearls as per usual, wants Philip to come home right away.

Elizabeth, also in pearls, listens as Tommy disagrees — there’s another plan afoot.

Aboard the Britannia, Philip is informed that the Queen will be arriving early to help manage the marital rumors away. (Her arrival wasn’t pushed up — it was always planned. The couple were meeting up in Portugal for a scheduled state visit in February 1957.)

Philip shaves off his beard to plan for his wife’s arrival.

And he lets courtiers direct his arrival as he meets her plane in Lisbon. (This happened on February 16, two days before the scheduled state visit.)

Show Elizabeth wears the production’s “ribbon” brooch and scowls at her husband. According to Brandreth, the real scene on the plane was just a bit different in tone: Philip “was greeted by an extraordinary sight: his wife and her entire entourage, sitting in their seats, all sporting false ginger beards!”

Show Philip and Show Elizabeth make nice for the press, waving as they deplane.

But back on the Britannia, they basically rip each other’s heads off. We’re back to the first scene of the season and their epic argument.

Elizabeth, wearing another of the production’s invented brooches, asks Philip what in the world he wants from her. He says that he wants respect from the “mustaches” who run the palace.

So she gives it to him: she ends the confusion over Philip’s official status, elevating him to “the style and titular dignity of a prince of the United Kingdom.” This really did happen on February 22, the day after they returned from the Portuguese state visit. It was a response to two separate proposals from prime ministers: Churchill had suggested the change in March 1955, and Macmillan had raised the idea again in February 1957.

The upgrade was, according to the Guardian, largely a recognition of the Duke’s service to the nation and the Commonweath following the lengthy tour. The Associated Press noted that it was seen by many as a sign of the Queen’s affection — and also a show of confidence following the recent rumors.

The show stages a little mini coronation for Philip. (Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I really don’t think this actually happened.) Since he’s basically the main character this season, I guess that it’s time for him to get his own crown? (That’s actually a prince’s coronet.)

Elizabeth wears a rather exaggerated replica of Queen Alexandra’s Kokoshnik for this scene, along with their version of the Coronation earrings and an invented diamond necklace.

The Queen Mother’s there, wearing the replica Greville Tiara and replica Alexandra Wedding Necklace (and the earrings invented by the production to go with the necklace); Margaret is wearing the invented tiara that she’s worn several times, including during the coronation episode.

The Queen “crowns” Philip with his new, upgraded coronet.

She also shoves a ring on his pinky finger.

One more good view of the “kokoshnik” here — its height is exaggerated quite a bit.

The newly “crowned” Philip stands next his wife. He looks like a kid in a school play here, doesn’t he?

Frowning tiaras and robes to the left…

…and frowning tiaras and robes to the right.

Philip just makes this face as he surveys his subjects. (Just kidding! You’re not the king, Phil, deal.)

But he does get a fancy new portrait.

Cecil Beaton snaps photos. Elizabeth pulls Adeane aside during the portrait session and asks for a favor.

Seriously, she makes him shave off his mustache so that Philip will feel better. (Eye roll.)

Even after all that hoopla, Philip still looks miserable. He goes to see Mike, who’s planning to go back to Australia. Philip miserably tells him that Elizabeth wants more kids. (Cheer up, Phil — didn’t you see all that help in the very first screencap from this recap???) And apparently neither of them have learned anything from this entire episode, because they toast “to our wives and sweethearts … may they never meet.”

The second episode of this season of The Crown, “A Company of Men,” wasn’t particularly jewel-heavy, but we’ve still got plenty of fiction vs. history to unpack here. If you need to catch up on any of my previous Crown recaps or posts, you can head over here first!

It’s November 1956, and Philip’s Commonwealth tour continues. Mike Parker wields the camera that Elizabeth gave her husband as a going-away present.

News reports from the real tour note that it followed the general format of these royal visits (meeting local dignitaries, touring factories, watching demonstrations), but the show presents the tour as one physical challenge after another. Mike Parker tells us that they lost every sports contest to the locals — until they challenged them to play cricket, a game none of them had seen before. (That’s basically colonialism in a nutshell, huh?)

Mike chuckles to himself aboard Britannia as he recounts tales of their adventures to Baron, head of the Thursday Club.

But there’s a biiiiig historical problem here. Although The Crown shows Baron reading Parker’s letter to the other members of the Thursday Club, the real Baron died suddenly after an operation in early September 1956, more than a month before Philip and Mike even left for their tour. (Having a ghost read the letter would add an intriguing supernatural element to the show, I’ll admit.)

The Ghost of Baron chuckles as he reads out one sentence in particular: “What happens on tour, stays on tour!” (Ugh, Mike, come on.)

Meanwhile, the people of Britain are not pleased with Anthony Eden’s war over the Suez Canal, and they’ve taken to Trafalgar Square to air their grievances.

Dickie Mountbatten fights his way through the protesting crowd on his way to Buckingham Palace, where he dines with Elizabeth and the Queen Mother. (Still ticked that the Queen Mum has been given such a minimal role in this series. She was still a vital member of the royal family long after her husband’s death; her public engagements in 1956 included an important visit to Paris, where she opened the Franco-Scottish exhibition.)

Dickie tells them (and us) how dire the situation has gotten in public because of the war. (Like the Queen wouldn’t know this?) Fuel rationing is threatened, moral has soured, and things are almost as bad as in 1939.

Their meal is interrupted by a welcome surprise, though: Philip is on the phone! Elizabeth hurries to chat with her husband for the first time, apparently, in quite a while.

But the connection is bad, and the two do a whole “can you hear me now?” routine before Philip gives up and hangs up the phone entirely.

He heads out to address the sailors aboard Britannia, reminding them (and us) that he’s heading to Australia ASAP to open the Olympic Games in Melbourne.

Fast forward to late November, when Philip has arrived in Australia. Here’s he’s speaking at a state luncheon (probably the one held in Sydney on November 29). He’s in full “battle dress,” orders and medals and all.

He spots one particularly interesting reporter in the crowd during the speech. Mike identifies her as Helen King, a reporter for The Age, a Melbourne paper. (She appears to be fictional.) I’m pretty fond of the era-appropriate costume necklace she’s wearing here, which looks like it could be Lisner or Coro.

We jump back to London and travel back in time to November 22. The two Elizabeths watch Philip’s speech in Melbourne at the opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games, and the Queen Mother congratulates herself on having the idea to send Philip on tour in the first place. The Queen Mum’s wearing an interesting (and, I believe, invented) brooch here with a leafy design. The Queen, sadly, goes pretty much brooch-less this episode.

Things are less happy for Eileen Parker, who has worn a knotted golden brooch to visit a solicitor, with the intention of untying the knot with Mike. (In reality, the Parkers reportedly began living apart months before the Commonwealth tour even began.)

The lawyer tries to convince her that she should stay in the marriage, and he reminds her that she’ll need evidence of Mike’s bad behavior to procure a divorce anyway. Eileen bristles and says she’ll come back with evidence. Attorney-client privilege is apparently not a thing, because after she leaves, he immediately picks up the phone to blab about the meeting.

Meanwhile, Eden has reached the limits of available pharmaceuticals to help ease his pain. His doctor is shocked when Eden asks for something stronger than pentobarbitone — a drug so strong that, in high doses, it’s used in executions.

Running out of options health-wise — and stinging from the reaction to his military response to the Suez crisis — Eden goes to the palace to let the Queen know that he’s planning on taking a little leave of absence. (This really did happen in November 1956.)

This is Elizabeth’s face when she realizes her prime minister isn’t heading to his country house for a little respite — he’s going all the way to Jamaica.

An interesting thing to note here, jewelry-and-costume-wise: the Queen’s private and public “uniforms” have pretty much merged at this point. We see her wearing the same clothes and jewels when she’s spending time with her family and with members of government. Her work self has pretty much merged with her private self at this point, it seems.

As Eden’s health crisis challenges the palace, Eileen Parker is in the midst of solving a crisis of her own. She heads down to Soho and tracks down one of the waitresses who works during the Thursday Club meetings, looking for anything that will help implicate Mike and get her the divorce she wants. The waitress balks when she’s confronted outside the restaurant.

But later, after she’s harassed, pinched, and slapped in the rear during a club meeting, the look on her face reveals that she’s changed her mind about speaking to Eileen.

(Sidenote: where can I get this dress? It’s so fab!)

Via a chain that includes a sister-in-law and a tennis partner, the news of the impending Parker divorce reaches Bertie Pelham (er, Martin Charteris) and Michael Adeane in the palace press office.

They agree that this could be a very, very bad thing, as Philip could certainly be implicated by association in Mike’s philandering. We aren’t privy to Adeane’s inner monologue, but I’d wager that it involves a fair bit of screaming.

Back on Britannia, Philip’s ego has allowed him to invite Helen King aboard for an interview (and, presumably, a little hanky-panky.) Love that she decided to dress thematically for the location.

Even though his wife, Gloriana herself, looms over his bar cart, Philip pours a little liquid refreshment for both himself and his journalistic guest.

But then Helen begins to ask probing questions — first about British politics, and then about Philip’s family. We see a bit of memory flashback as she presses him on his mother’s illness and his father’s abandonment, as well as the tumultuous assassinations and exiles that colored his early life.

We see a Young Philip in flashback: isolated, watching his mother as she’s carted off to a mental hospital, standing alone on a train platform. Helen even brings up his education and his connection to his sisters, with their Nazi ties.

Philip very quickly realizes that this entire interview was a mistake, and he responds with cold detachment to every question. (I have a strong suspicion that the writers watched his contentious interview with Fiona Bruce while working on this scene.) He ends the interview abruptly and is clearly ticked off at himself for being led by his libido rather than his brain.

It’s a dark and stormy night aboard the ship, and as the weather rages outside, Phil has a bit of an emotional breakdown in his cabin, staring moodily at photos from his childhood.

In London, the Thursday Club waitress reveals that she’s had an affair with Mike Parker, but she gets cold feet again when the solicitor reveals that she’ll have to testify in court.

Because they’ve basically got a private line straight to Eileen’s lawyer, Charteris and Adeane put their heads together to try to come up with a solution to the continuing Parker divorce crisis.

While Philip tries to lift his spirits by challenging everyone aboard the Britannia to a beard-growing contest.

In private, though, he’s still looking at pictures of his parents and thinking about all of the childhood trauma that Helen King so helpfully dredged up.

While he broods, Mike Parker comes in and lets him know that the palace has decided Philip will make a Christmas speech of his own, as a companion to the Queen’s.

As Elizabeth twists her wedding and engagement rings, Adeane tells her about the Christmas message plan. The dueling speeches will help the public to hear the couple together, even if they can’t currently see them that way. (In reality, the press announced in early November that the couple would both make Christmas speeches; Philip’s was simply the last segment in a round-the-world program called “Voices Out of the Air.”)

The Britannia receives a distress call while out at sea, because they’re the only ship in the area with a doctor aboard. They pick up a ship’s captain who has lost his vessel and crew, and they provide him medical attention aboard the royal yacht.

Philip, who has grown (an extremely fake) beard during the big contest, pulls rank and decides that the ship will go off course and off schedule to return the injured man to his home island.

They receive a heroic welcome from the man’s family and community as he’s brought home.

So, did this really happen on the tour? Well — sort of. In January 1957, the Britannia really did travel 200 miles off course to retrieve an Argentine sailor who was suffering from appendicitis. They removed him from his ship, the Mabel Ryan, so that doctors aboard the Britannia could operate on him. The operation was successful, and he was returned to his ship. Given the precarious nature of British-Argentine relations (Philip’s tour included a trip to the Falklands), the move apparently garnered lots of Argentine good will for the Duke.

The more dramatic and tropical version of Philip’s tour rescue includes lots of dancing girls and shenanigans. Parker promptly writes a damning letter — implicating both himself and Philip in said shenanigans — and sends it to the Ghost of Baron at the Thursday Club.

…where it’s filched by the waitress, who promptly hands it off to Eileen Parker. The waitress tells Eileen that the royal tour is like a five-month stag night, with “whores in every port.”

The letter provides Eileen with just the kind of evidence she’ll need to sue Mike for divorce.

But first, it’s Christmas! At Sandringham, the Windsors are gathered around to listen to Philip’s Christmas speech on the wireless. I love the composition of this shot — it reminds me of the old Laurits Tuxen paintings commissioned by Queen Alexandra.

Aboard Britannia, Philip reads out his speech live on the air. (In reality, the speech was recorded while he was visiting New Zealand, because the BBC didn’t trust the radio link to Britannia.)

These, hilariously, are Dickie’s and Elizabeth’s faces as they work on a complicated geography question: where precisely Philip is located on the globe.

Philip’s broadcast focuses on the areas the tour has visited, and the family that they’re missing back home, and his loneliness. (Philip’s real speech from Britannia focused on the virtues of the Commonwealth as an institution.) Margaret, wearing gold jewelry, says she thinks Philip sounds odd, like “an impersonator.”

As the Queen prepares to make her own broadcast, she fiddles with her pearls — the uniform and role are making her a bit uncomfortable here ahead of her public performance.

We also get a glimpse of an invented diamond bracelet as she revises the speech.

The criminally-underused Queen Mother, decked out in Christmas pearls, has been sent to fetch the Queen. (I guess that’s how you use a former queen consort — send her on errands?)

Elizabeth sits down at a desk featuring pictures of both of her parents as she prepares to broadcast her message.

She speaks directly to Philip during part of her speech, noting how much the entire family misses him at Sandringham. (Her real 1956 speech focused on refugees, urging everyone to realize that there is “room at the inn” to accomodate those displaced by war and violence. It was also the last Christmas message broadcast only on radio; in 1957, the speech was also aired on television. The wardrobe department seems to have used that broadcast as a template for her costume and jewels here.)

Philip listens to his wife’s voice aboard Britannia, and he seems to like what he hears.

He finally admits that he’s a little homesick, and he returns to his cabin to revisit that message Elizabeth left in his briefcase in October: “Always remember you have a family.” What first seemed like a threat now feels like a reassurance.

It’s that time again, magpies: season two of The Crown has officially debuted on Netflix, and I’ve got our first bejeweled recap of the new batch of episodes. (Going forward, we’ll have recaps on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so look out for episode two on the 14th!) We’ve got jewelry, royal tours, and plenty of marital strife on the docket for today, so grab your popcorn and settle in for my recap of the jewels and history of “Misadventure.”

We open with a timestamp that notes that it’s February 16, 1957. Phil and Liz are docked in Lisbon aboard the Britannia. Phil helpfully signals that there are strains in the marriage by opening the season stretched across a couch like Don Draper in the Mad Men credits.

The two of them bark at each other about their marital problems. Wearing her “I am the Queen” uniform — pearls and a diamond brooch — Elizabeth bargains with her husband about preserving their troubled union.

And then we flash back to “five months earlier,” where Elizabeth is getting all jeweled up for the annual diplomatic reception at the palace. Get ready to be absolutely flummoxed by the timelines in this episode, both historically and in terms of the established plot. At the end of last episode, which took place in October 1955, a grumpy Duke of Edinburgh agreed to go on a lengthy royal tour “in November.” But now, it’s September/October 1956, and Philip still hasn’t left. Have we lost an entire year?

(Never mind, of course, that the diplomatic reception in 1956 was apparently held in November, when Philip was already off on his royal tour. Just … we’re just going to have to go with it.)

Philip is also all gussied up for the reception, wearing the Garter sash ’round his middle and the Order of the British Empire at his neck. And am I right — don’t those look like the show’s version of the Cambridge emeralds lurking in the foreground of the shot?

Elizabeth happily discusses Philip’s upcoming tour, and lets him know that she’s grateful that he’s going. The replica jewels aren’t terrible in this scene. There are scale issues with the Lover’s Knot Tiara, but the Gloucester Pendant Earrings, Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee Necklace, and Queen Mary’s Chain Link Bracelet all look fairly close to the real thing.

Everybody’s absolutely thrilled to be schmoozing with the diplomatic corps on a weeknight. Note that HM is also wearing a pearl cluster brooch in this scene — perhaps an oversized version of the top of the Duchess of Cambridge’s Brooch?

But Elizabeth can’t help but smile at Philip’s compliments (he tells her she looks good in “full battle dress” these days) and the little kiss he sneaks when everyone isn’t looking.

The doors open, and the reception begins. There are lots of unfamiliar faces here, but I was THRILLED to spot one familiar fellow in the crowd: Tommy Lascelles! (He’ll be back in later episodes, too. Hurrah!)

Things aren’t so good on the diplomatic front in Egypt, however: it’s Suez Crisis Time. President Nasser nationalizes the Suez Canal and orders his soldiers to seize the company offices, which leads to this dramatic scene in front of the Gloriana portrait from the end of the last episode. The dialogue/image juxtaposition is very subtle, clearly.

(Timeline fact check: these events took place on July 26, 1956, months before the setting of this episode.)

Elizabeth is less Gloriana and more Mrs. Mountbatten the next morning, when she finds herself on her husband’s side of their bedroom suite wearing only her engagement and wedding rings.

Later in the day, Elizabeth makes eyes at a picture of Philip as she writes a note for him to take along on the royal tour. She’s wearing her “casual queen” daytime uniform: pearls with a cardigan, but no brooch.

It’s Thursday, which means it’s time for Philip and his private secretary/wingman, Mike Parker, to head off for their weekly lunch club at Wheeler’s in Soho. The Thursday Club was founded by a good friend of Philip’s, the society photographer Baron. In Elizabeth and Philip, Gyles Brandreth describes the gathering as follows: “The purpose of the club was purely convivial: an excuse to start the weekend early, eat Wheeler’s finest fish … and drink Wheeler’s cheap-and-cheerful house white wine — and plenty of it.” Other members included Philip’s cousin, David Milford Haven, and editors from the Daily Express and the Daily Mail. (How times have changed.)

Meanwhile, Prime Minister Anthony Eden addresses the students of his alma mater, Eton, encouraging them to continue reinforcing the rigid “good old boys” class and social structures of the British government. His “more Etonians in positions of power, please” speech is interrupted with news of the goings-on in Egypt.

(In reality, Eden found out about the canal nationalization while hosting King Faisal II of Iraq for dinner.)

Back at Buckingham Palace, Elizabeth has gotten Philip a going-away present: a movie camera, the same thing that her father gave her before she departed for her honeymoon way back in season one. She goes to sneak the camera into his briefcase … and discovers a sentimental photo of a gorgeous ballet dancer. Uh-oh.

Elizabeth, naturally, is displeased. But her emotions have to be put on hold for a moment, as her private secretary, Michael Adeane, comes to tell her that the prime minister is coming for an audience. (Everyone, please note that Adeane has now fully stepped in to Tommy Lascelles’s giant shoes by growing an incredibly fake-looking mustache.)

Eden tells her that things aren’t looking good for the Suez Canal, but he has a brilliant solution: tell all of the British and French ship captains who know how to sail through the treacherous canal to stop working. Then no one can use the canal at all! HM is skeptical of Eden, as per usual, but goes along with it, as per usual.

Philip comes home from dinner that night and basically re-explains Eden’s plan to Elizabeth, complete with a demonstration using various pieces of china. HM, ballet dancer firmly in mind, is unimpressed. (Note how the body language and staging of the last two scenes are pretty much identical. HM isn’t having it from either of them, but she’s not saying anything, either.)

It’s October 15, 1956, and Philip’s Commonwealth tour is ready for its kickoff. At the airport in London, Mike Parker and his wife, Eileen, say a frosty goodbye.

Also detached and stoic in her farewells: Elizabeth, who has brought Charles and Anne with her to say goodbye to their father. The production put her in their “ribbon” brooch; she appears to actually have worn one of her sapphire brooches, perhaps the Chrysanthemum.

When his wife and children leave the plane, Philip finds the camera and his wife’s note in his briefcase. Although Elizabeth wrote the note before finding the picture — and therefore likely meant something warm and comforting in its tone — it reads as a stark warning and accusation.

A stoic and almost smug Elizabeth watches as the plane takes off. This shot is modeled on actual newsreel footage from the day. In reality, another member of the family accompanied them: Philip’s sister, Princess Sophie of Hanover.

Meanwhile, Eden’s plan to stymie the Egyptians by taking away their pilots has backfired: the Soviets have begun training the Egyptians how to sail through the canal themselves. He dramatically flails about, sending his paperwork flying. As he stares angrily at his own reflection, you can almost hear his super-ego taunting, “Ain’t never gonna be Churchill now!”

Eden summons the Chancellor of the Exchequer, so we get to meet our PM-in-waiting, Harold Macmillan, for the first time. (No breaking of tradition here — Macmillan went to Eton and Oxford before fighting in World War I.) Eden tells Macmillan that they must go to war, so that Nasser won’t be able to cut off their access to Middle Eastern oil. A quick war will also be helpful for Eden to get out of Churchill’s shadow, they agree.

Back at the palace, Elizabeth is in her pearls-and-brooch uniform to chat with her children before they head off to a birthday party.

The birthday girl in question is Julie, Mike Parker’s daughter. Charles and Anne attend her cringeworthy (but very period-appropriate) “Cowboys and Indians” birthday party, which includes a teepee cake that is both culturally and aesthetically off-putting. Also: Mike doesn’t call to wish his daughter a happy birthday, which only makes Eileen’s anger toward him deepen.

Over in Clarence House, Princess Margaret is awakened by a telephone call from her big sister, even though it’s basically afternoon.

A pearly and sunny Elizabeth has found herself suddenly free, and wouldn’t Margaret like to come to lunch? Margaret, grousing about being disturbed, eventually agrees.

A ring on the middle finger of Margaret’s left hand is her only visible jewelry as she fumbles with her cigarette case. She admits that she’s still a little drunk from the night before. Show Margaret has apparently been wallowing post-Peter for some time (depending on what in the world the show wants to do with time, it’s either been a year or like five days since the broken engagement). It’s pretty lazy characterization, really: in October 1956, Real Margaret was also on a solo world tour, visiting British territories in East Africa, not drinking until four and then sleeping until noon.

Margaret asks how Philip is, and when Elizabeth doesn’t have an answer, Margaret unloads, bringing up Peter, and then dogging on Philip, and then dogging on Philip’s family, including his “lunatic mother” (not cool) and his “Nazi sisters” (tough but fair).

Another of Philip’s family members, Lord Mountbatten, is being fitted for his latest uniform, now that he’s Admiral of the Fleet. (That real-life appointment happened on October 22, 1956.) Note all of the interesting clutter in Uncle Dickie’s Fancy Uniform Room, including the robes of the Order of the British Empire in the corner.

Mountbatten is called away because he has a guest: Anthony Nutting, the Minister of State for Foreign Affairs. They run into Dickie’s wife, Edwina, who is very elegant in pearls and a floral brooch. Right in front of Nutting, the Mountbattens trade barbs about Edwina’ infidelity and Dickie’s inadequacy.

The show has decided to paint Dickie as the wounded party in the Mountbatten marriage, probably so that he can sympathize with Elizabeth in a subsequent scene. But it’s so silly: both Dickie and Edwina had long-term extramarital partners: Yola Letellier and Harold “Bunny” Phillips. According to their daughter Pamela’s autobiography, it was actually Edwina who struggled more with jealousy in their unique arrangement. BUT ANYWAY.

But back to the business at hand: Nutting has come to warn Dickie that he’s worried Eden’s going to start a war in Egypt. Dickie is extremely concerned. (Nutting really did discover the Anglo-French plot to invade Egypt, and he resigned on October 31, 1956, because of that discovery. He ended up writing a book about the crisis.)

Dickie takes his concerns straight to the top by scheduling a dinner with his niece-in-law. He warns her that she needs to pay more attention to the documents she’s sent about Egypt.

This part of the narrative really bugs me. The show is legitimately suggesting that HM was too distracted by her worries about Philip’s possible infidelities to do her job properly, which is pretty far-fetched. There are still lingering questions about how much the Queen knew about the Suez affair as it happened. Many historians believe that Eden hid at least some of his plans from her. Robert Lacey (using Lord Mountbatten as his source) claimed that the Queen “was genuinely surprised by what had been carried out in her name in October and November 1956,” while Andrew Marr believes that “the Queen knew the essential story but that Eden deliberately held back the most embarrassing part of his plan from her, precisely in order to prevent her from being contaminated if it went wrong.”

Regardless of what really happened, the show’s storyline — that Lord Mountbatten had to remind his niece to do her job, because she is too emotional to focus — is grating.

The show also has Dickie commiserate about what it’s like to be cheated on, even bringing up Edwina’s rumored affair with Nehru. He says Philip is a “wild spirit,” and Elizabeth will just have to learn to live with that. Whatever, Dickie.

Elizabeth has to leave dinner early so that she can get to the ballet, where she’s seeing Giselle. Do we think the production knows that the Vladimir Tiara is referred to as “widowed” when it’s worn without drops? Because if they do, that’s a pretty good jewelry commentary on a character’s mental state. Elizabeth’s wearing the tiara with a necklace and earrings invented by the production.

Also, you’ve got to love Adeane in the back with the mustache and the opera glasses.

Guess which ballerina is performing the lead role? Of course, it’s Galina Ulanova, the same Russian dancer whose picture was tucked away in Philip’s briefcase. We get close-ups of her during her performance staring knowingly at the royal box like the entire evening is a showdown. (Ugh.)

So, did Prince Philip really know Ulanova? The ballerina did make a celebrated series of appearances at Covent Garden in 1956, and she did perform Giselle during that trip. I don’t think there’s evidence that Philip and Ulanova ever had a relationship, but there are plenty of rumors that he was associated with other women. Royal biographers disagree about whether he was ever truly unfaithful. We’ll probably never know.

Adeane asks Elizabeth if she’d like to meet Ulanova. That’s a hard pass from the Queen.

On a jewelry note, have a look at the strange, extended sides of the tiara. The real Vladimir doesn’t have these, and I’m not sure what the replica was trying to achieve with them. Easier wear?

After the ballet, Elizabeth’s jewels — part of her “battle dress” — are removed, and she’s alone.

So she follows Uncle Dickie’s advice and decides to Be Better At Reigning, starting with a good sort through various documents. One of them, helpfully, is boldly marked SECRET. She smells a rat.

She calls Eden in, and he admits it: the Brits, the French, and the Israelis had a secret meeting outside Paris, where they agreed to the Protocol of Sèvres. Under their plan, the Israelis would invade Egypt on October 29, 1956. The next day, the Brits and the French would demand that both sides withdraw from the canal zone, and when they didn’t, they would begin airstrikes. The Israeli invasion, then, was simply a ruse for inevitable airstrikes to occur. The war, Eden explains, “is to keep the peace.”

The Queen, who reinforces her royal jewel uniform by wearing pearls on her (production-invented) brooch, is horrified. When Eden asks if he has her support for the plan, she hesitates, but she finally states that the prime minister always has the monarch’s support.

Of course, the airstrikes happen as planned.

And the show reminds us that Eden was using prescription drugs very heavily during this period. Always good when you’re plotting to hide your secret war plans from your allies and possibly your boss.

Elizabeth heads to bed, saying her prayers. She angrily closes the door between her side of the suite and Philip’s before going to sleep.