"I'm well," Elizabeth said as she stepped inside, unsure of what to do with her hands to keep from wringing them. Her mother was beautiful, but that came as no surprise. When she'd been gone, all Elizabeth had ever been able to picture of her mother was beauty, whether it had been true or not. Her mother had been a queen, and no matter how the world tried to vilify her to Elizabeth's ears, she'd always held her mother as a paragon, a distant and beautiful woman who'd had soft hands and gentle words for Elizabeth.
Elizabeth found now that she was speaking without really thinking it through. "The subway was something of a nightmare," she said, "but that's hardly a surprise at this time of day. But still, public transport, one can't expect that much."