There are bad mornings. There are very bad mornings. And then there is waking up to find your younger brother’s face splashed across every front page on earth as he exits a police station.
For King Charles III, Friday was the latter.
The arrest of Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor on suspicion of misconduct in public office – linked to allegations involving confidential government documents and his association with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein – has detonated what many are calling the worst crisis for the British monarchy in 90 years.
That benchmark, of course, being 1936, when King Edward VIII tossed away the crown for Wallis Simpson and the monarchy wobbled like a blancmange on a tea trolley.
The House of Windsor has weathered divorces, leaked phone calls, toe-sucking photographs, the death of Princess Diana, and the Californian liberation tour of Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex.
But this is different.
This is not a family drama. It is a police matter.
Andrew has denied wrongdoing and has previously said he regrets his friendship with Epstein. The Palace, meanwhile, has executed what can only be described as a royal quarantine. Titles removed. Duties stripped. Public appearances erased. The Duke formerly known as HRH has been cut loose like an inconvenient lifeboat.
The King’s statement – “Let the law take its course” – was pointedly brisk. No soft lighting. No orchestral swell. Just constitutional frost.
Republic, the anti-monarchy campaign group, smells opportunity. Its chief executive, Graham Smith, has declared the moment “incredibly bad for the monarchy” and suggested this could be game over – if any evidence were to suggest that senior royals knew more than they have admitted.
At present, there is no suggestion that Prince William or the King were implicated. In fact, reports suggest Charles had previously cautioned against Andrew’s trade envoy role, the very appointment now under scrutiny.
Polling tells an interesting story. According to YouGov’s most recent tracker, Andrew’s favourability languishes at a glacial three per cent. Ninety per cent of Britons view him negatively – a statistic so emphatic it feels almost charitable.
But the monarchy itself remains sturdier than its errant spare. William commands positive ratings north of 70 per cent. The King sits around 60 per cent. The institution, while dented and ageing demographically, retains majority support.
Which raises the central question: is this a fatal blow to the monarchy, or merely to one man?
What makes this episode particularly uncomfortable for the Palace is its lack of control. Royal crises are usually managed through choreography: balcony appearances, hospital visits, carefully worded Christmas broadcasts.
A police investigation, however, operates on its own timetable. Files emerge when they emerge. Headlines write themselves. There is no tiara large enough to deflect that.
Charles is also navigating cancer treatment – an unhelpful subplot in what is already a crowded drama. Queen Camilla has expressed sympathy for victims. William and Catherine have said they are “deeply concerned”. The optics are clear: distance, gravity, restraint.
Probably not.
The monarchy has survived abdication, war, scandal and Netflix. It is a thousand-year-old institution with a remarkable instinct for self-preservation. The modern strategy appears equally straightforward: isolate the problem, protect the core, project stability.
This will do damage. It may do lasting damage. But existential? That seems unlikely – unless something dramatically new emerges.
For now, Andrew’s fate rests with the courts. The monarchy’s fate rests, as ever, on public patience.
And if history tells us anything, it is that Britain has an extraordinary tolerance for royal turbulence – provided the heir looks sensible and the King keeps calm.
Which, at present, he very much does.
with AAP