Don’t fall out with Kate, Meghan... she’ll be the boss one day

The Mail on Sunday - - Tina Weaver -

PUT your­self for a mo­ment in Megh an Mark le’ s £1,000 Manolo Blah­nik pumps. You’ve landed the big­gest role of your life. The whole world is your stage. For­get about the four­mil­lion who tuned into Suits each week – now bil­lions are watch­ing.

They’re agog at your ev­ery ut­ter­ance, each natty lit­tle out­fit, the con­stant ca­ress­ing of your (barely there) bump, and how your puppy- dog eyes are per­ma­nently locked on to Harry, the na­tion’s favourite son. This is the great­est gig ever, so you’re not about to blow it.

A dy­namic back­room team is cor­ralled. High-pow­ered meet­ings with crisp agen­das are set. Em­pow­er­ing speeches solemnly writ­ten as your cre­den­tials as hu­man­i­tar­ian, phi­lan­thropist and fem­i­nist are pol­ished to a per­fect sheen.

You’ve said you ‘want to make a tan­gi­ble im­pact… this kind of work feeds my soul’.

So you swept into this fusty old dy­nasty like a hu­man whirl­wind. Cripes, I feel ex­hausted just writ­ing about it.

When you joined the cast of The Firm you were billed as a breath of fresh air. Bira­cial, di­vorced, glit­ter­ing ca­reer – a mod­ern woman who had al­ready lived a life.

What you hadn’t an­tic­i­pated is that the Royal Fam­ily hates to be up­staged. Your world­li­ness, a need to pub­licly ad­dress hot­but­ton is­sues like abor­tion, has got courtiers reach­ing for the smelling salts.

In the change-averse Palace cor­ri­dors, the pas­sion, zeal and de­ter­mi­na­tion you dis­played to make it in Hol­ly­wood are not at­tributes to be cel­e­brated. When you be­came HRH the Duchess of Sus­sex, your pre­vi­ous ti­tle ‘MSH’ Markle (Make S*** Hap­pen) should have been re­tired.

Fir­ing off emails to staff at 5am may be an ef­fi­cient way to get re­sults while you’re on the set of a TV show, but in the po­lite ‘would you mind aw­fully if…’ world you now in­habit, they risk com­ing across as dom­i­neer­ing and con­trol­ling.

Per­haps it was wak­ing to one of those ‘help­ful’ emails that cost you not one, but three mem­bers of staff in only six months. But as you’ve said: ‘It’s al­ways been im­por­tant to me to be vo­cal about what I feel is right.’

That ex­plains why you in­curred the dis­plea­sure of the Palace by ask­ing for air fresh­en­ers to im­prove the ‘musty’ at­mos­phere of St Ge­orge’s Chapel – where suc­ces­sive mon­archs have wor­shipped since 1475 – be­fore your wed­ding.

Then there’s the rest of the fam­ily. Dear, dig­ni­fied, de­mure sis­ter-in-law Kate who hasn’t put an LK Ben­nett-clad foot wrong in the 17 years she’s been in har­ness. She’s been a faith­ful ser­vant to the Crown. She has pro­duced heirs, buoyed up our fu­ture

AFRIEND re­cently at­tended a din­ner where both were present and was struck by how un­like each other they were. While Kate’s re­gal re­serve came across as stiff, Meghan was all chatty chum­mi­ness. Ul­ti­mately, the chal­lenge fac­ing Meghan is whether she can change the Roy­als – or whether they’ll change her. In the 12 months since her en­gage­ment, she has shaken up The Firm, en­cour­aged to chal­lenge the sta­tus quo by her be­sot­ted hus­band.

Right now she’s win­ning, not least be­cause she en­joys the ap­proval and in­dul­gence of the Queen and Prince of Wales, who are both taken with her. But she needs to tread care­fully. It’s William and Kate – our fu­ture King and Queen – who will one day be run­ning the show.

So mak­ing an en­emy of Kate and driv­ing a wedge be­tween two broth­ers who have sup­ported each other un­flinch­ingly through tragedy and tur­bu­lence is ask­ing for dou­ble trou­ble.

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