The current season of The Crown feels particularly weighty because of present-day proximity — its events exist in the audience’s living memory. But this episode is at its most moving when it’s resurrecting a story from the very first season, courtesy of Princess Margaret (now played by Lesley Manville, picking up where Vanessa Kirby and then Helena Bonham Carter left off). Though The Crown casts a sympathetic look at pretty much all the royals, she remains one of the series’s most tragic characters, consistently getting the short end of the stick. So when she, as a chain-smoking radio guest, says she still values her faith and the possibility of happy endings, it’s hard not to root for her.
Her song curation runs the gamut (very curious to see her Spotify Wrapped), finishing on “Stardust” by Hoagy Carmichael, which she cryptically says holds special meaning for her. Manville’s Margaret is a more contemplative, less impetuous princess than we’ve seen in previous seasons. When the host asks her about true loves, she explains how age makes you reevaluate which ones were real and lasting. It’s a point that, miles away, Peter Townsend (played by Timothy Dalton, who definitely can still get it) takes in thoughtfully.
After 35 years of radio silence, Peter sends Margaret a letter: He’s attending a reception in London the following week — will she be there too? Margaret tells Elizabeth about the handwritten text from her ex, but her sister isn’t exactly enthusiastic. She reminds Margaret that Peter was married when they first “fell in love” and now he’s an old married man with grandkids. The queen is being a buzzkill partly due to insecurity she feels within her own marriage, but it’s frustrating to see Margaret’s joy tampered with, especially when Elizabeth drove a wedge between those two so many years ago.
On three separate occasions during this episode, one of Elizabeth’s children visits her in the hopes of putting the final nail in their marriage’s coffin. Andrew, sporting the empire’s dumbest haircut, wants a divorce because Fergie got her toes sucked and there are pics to prove it. (Of all people to complain about incriminating photos!) Anne, who has already divorced Mark, wants to marry Tim the equerry (and refuses to wait despite her mother’s wishes). Finally, Charles asks for permission to call it quits with Diana, citing the Andrew Morton book as a deal-breaker. But unlike his siblings, Charles is heir to the throne, so he’s held to even higher standards. The queen tells him that marriage is for life: “Being happily married is a preference rather than a requirement.”
Frustrated, Charles points out how the Windsors have a remarkably high divorce rate (Margaret, Anne, soon Andrew, and hopefully him.) It’s the one way the monarchy has become modern — by fostering and forcing unhappy marriages in-house. “If we were an ordinary family and social services came to visit, they’d have thrown us into care and you into jail,” exclaims Charles. For what it’s worth, Michael Hobbes, former co-host of the podcast You’re Wrong About, articulated a similar thought, saying how the choicelessness foisted upon British royals should be considered a human rights violation. (In which case, Queen Elizabeth would be seen as a victim of the system, too — sorry, Charles.)
At the reception, Peter and Margaret steal glances at each other from a respectable distance until a trumpet version of “Stardust” plays and he insists they dance. As they move to the music, it’s clear the chemistry’s still there after all these years. Drunk off love (and presumably alcohol), we see Margaret back to her old, gregarious self for the first time this season as Peter gazes at her warmly.
As the night winds down, Peter says he’ll be back in London soon and he’d like to return her letters, which he’s kept all this time. (It’s very sweet how he immediately clarifies that it’s not out of rejection — he knows where her brain might leap to and still cares about her feelings.) Peter explains that he cherishes her words but doesn’t want them to end up in the wrong hands if he ever passes.
While Margaret takes a walk down memory lane and rereads Peter’s old letters (giving us a montage featuring Vanessa Kirby’s electrifying young Margaret), the queen seeks understanding of her own. She talks to the Archbishop of Canterbury about her children’s collapsing marriages and feeling like she failed them as a parent. The archbishop admits his own kids are in similar predicaments. (It’s sweet that they care, but watching these two lament their kids’ divorces as if it’s the end of days is kiiind of funny. There are worse things, I promise!) The archbishop then points out that Charles and Diana haven’t separated yet and still have potential to reconcile. Let us pray.
Uh, maybe those prayers were a bit too fervent: A blown fuse in the chapel sets fire to Windsor Castle. The queen is devastated. The symbolism of a castle burning feels a little on the nose in this time of turbulence and crisis, but hey, it actually happened!
More than a hundred rooms are destroyed in the inferno, including the Crimson Room — a place where Margaret and Peter had shared fond memories together. As we see the star-crossed lovers walk outside together and reminisce, Margaret learns Peter is dying from an illness. Recalling her radio interview, he asks Margaret whether their love was fleeting or lasting and quickly kisses her before leaving, not waiting for her answer. I was not prepared for how much this wistful scene would make my heart ache, truly. Unrequited love is one thing, but mutual, unexplored love feels even more gutting.
That evening, Margaret pays her sister a visit. She suggests that maybe the fire was started by someone who could have a bone to pick with the queen. Like Diana or Andrew or — dun-dun-duuun — Margaret herself! She points out how lucky Elizabeth has been to have Philip as a source of comfort throughout the years. Meanwhile, Margaret had Peter, her one true love, taken away from her, and by her own sister.
“I denied you as queen, not as your sister,” says Elizabeth. But technicalities and circumstances don’t matter when the end results are the same. After all, Anne and Margaret have romantic situations that are more or less identical, but Anne is the only one who gets her happy ending.
Unable to catch a break, Elizabeth is sniffling as she writes what will become one of her most infamous speeches ever. But when the Queen Mother critiques the draft, Philip jumps in to defend his wife, arguing she deserves to express herself and have peace of mind. The Queen Mother voices surprise at his championing of Elizabeth, but the queen notes passionately that Philip has always supported her. Margaret is right — she’s been lucky that way.
The show has reframed the queen’s “annus horribilis” speech essentially as a love letter to Margaret and her family’s sacrifices, when the actual address has no such messaging. Later, in response on the phone, Margaret says that no one blames Elizabeth. Au contraire, says the queen: Everybody blames her, but that’s kind of fair. She reaps the most benefits from the system they’re in. Margaret points out how Elizabeth suffers too (this episode was proof), but the queen says that’s the job. They end the call saying I love you — a confession that feels foreign to express out loud but that’s decidedly not fleeting.
Even so, it’s bittersweet to realize that while creator Peter Morgan can invent phone conversations and rewrite famous speeches in service of a desired narrative or theme, there’s only so much he can do when the outcome must remain a certain way. Morgan can’t give Margaret the truly happy ending she deserves. Just a memory of love’s refrain.
Royal Diary
• “Sucking Sarah’s toes, Mummy.” While the photos were invasive and wrong, watching Elizabeth’s face as she hears about Fergie’s scandal is pretty great.
• Andrews for Accountability: Prince Andrew says the Windsors knew what they were getting into when Fergie married into the family, while, in this season’s second episode, Andrew Morton essentially said the same thing regarding Diana.
• After Anne tells her mother that she’s going to marry Tim no matter what, she makes a point of kissing him in front of the help. The act feels a bit juvenile, but maybe that speaks to the arrested development and/or infantilization that royals experience when forced to follow strict protocol.
• Learning that Margaret named her dog Rum while Elizabeth named two of hers Brandy and Sherry gives new meaning to the word boozehound.
