LIZ JONES: Sorry Beatrice, nobody else will dare say it… however you threat turning into Meghan

Princess Beatrice has just written a personal essay for Vogue’s website about the premature birth of her second daughter. I’ll admit, my initial knee jerk response – as it always has been with the two daughters of Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson – was to roll my eyes.

I’ve long pooh-poohed Beatrice as little more than a spoilt, rich nepo baby of the worst possible kind. No discernible talent, not least when it comes to clothes and hats (dear God, let’s not talk about the hats). Also, were these really ‘her own words’ as the headline gushed?

But – and it is a very big but – I found myself surprised. For what Beatrice revealed is that – beyond the pomp, the palaces and the parents – she’s human. A privileged one, yes, but plopped into the limelight of an awkward family through no fault of her own.

Even so, it is here where my goodwill stops. Much as I commend Beatrice’s ‘over-sharing’ (which, to my mind, is never a negative term), I couldn’t help but recall her cousin-in-law, the Duchess of Sussex.

Meghan has built her career – both inside and outside the Royal Family – from telling all. We’ve all seen (or at least read about) the infamous Oprah Winfrey interview, the Netflix documentaries, even the New York Times article on her devastating miscarriage in 2020. Of course, Meghan has explained, it is all to raise awareness – before launching her own material ventures, such as her online shop on the ‘elite’ platform ShopMy yesterday.

Which makes me ask: is Beatrice trying to follow in Meghan’s footsteps? If so, for all the good intentions, what are these privileged women actually doing for us?

Along with her sister, Eugenie, Beatrice has endured a lifetime of brickbats with little complaint. They both have ‘careers’ at a technology firm and an art gallery, respectively. They’ve both married well and happily: Beatrice to property developer Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi and Eugenie to marking executive Jack Brooksbank.

Beatrice, she told us in Vogue on Sunday, was prompted to open up about the birth of her now nine-week-old daughter Athena because ‘it’s something to do with my mother’s breast and skin cancer diagnosis last year’. Beatrice knows that life, even inside the most privileged family on Earth, is fragile.

She is now patron of Borne, a charity that sets out to end preterm births, founded by Professor Mark Johnson who cared for Beatrice at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital. So far, so noble.

But wait… she also reveals in her article that she is hoping to raise funds by launching a baby shower collection.

This is where it all gets a little too ladies-who-lunch and, dare I say, a little too Meghan-esque. She has ‘teamed up’ with the designer Alice Naylor-Leyland (there are no single barrels in Beatrice’s orbit) to create the range, which includes a set of eight plates costing £332.

The pair of blue stork table decorations at £82 have apparently already sold out. I imagine the only effect they will have is to make kiddies scream in terror.

Now, as I say, I’m all for over-sharing. I’ve made a career out of spilling my guts for money, writing about anorexia, body dysmorphia and complex post-traumatic stress.

And I firmly believe that the royals being candid about their physical and mental health benefits not just them (it’s cathartic and garners sympathy) but also raises awareness for others.

For example, after the tragic suicide of Lady Gabriella Windsor’s husband Thomas Kingston in February last year, which we were told came after he stopped taking his antidepressants, I’m sure millions regarded the little pill boxes on the bedside table with greater care. I’d always been too terrified to swallow the Citalopram prescribed hurriedly by my GP for anxiety – and thank the Lord for that. After Kingston’s death, I threw the packet away.

Princess Diana was also open about her eating disorders, while King Charles showed a rare display of candour when he revealed he was diagnosed with cancer last year, although not what type of cancer.

The fact the Princess of Wales did not follow in their brave footsteps by being more open sooner about her own cancer diagnosis last February is of course her prerogative. Perhaps she’s conscious of the flip side of the prolific ‘opening up’ exposés in the media these days. Now it’s almost seen as a truism that if you haven’t had cancer or a miscarriage or been sexually abused, then you are somehow lacking – and not newsworthy at all. Kate was simply trying not to make a fuss and, of course, manage the news of illness while considering the impact on her three young children.

But, had she been more open and talked about the specifics of her cancer earlier, she would doubtless have helped women who are suffering from the exact same thing: women who aren’t coping and who feel ashamed.

She would have quashed the conspiracies about why she had ‘disappeared’ from the public eye and the online chatter that no one returns from a course of chemo looking ten years younger.

In the age of selfies and social media, the sad truth is that, unless you are candid and transparent about everything, there are plenty of nutters to fill in the blanks.

So yes, I commend and understand Beatrice’s glossy essay and her new patronage. But, even so, I do believe that she could do more.

After all, is it really enough to be a patron? It may sound good, but what do patrons actually do? What precise effect do royal champions have on fund – especially when they seem to patronise so many charities, meaning time and attention are spread thin?

Indeed, for Beatrice to launch (as Ab Fab’s Edina Monsoon would put it) lots of ‘little, gorgeous things’ clearly beyond the reach of most is a little too Marie Antoinette for my taste. Window dressing to avoid anyone asking: how are these aristocrats helping me?

Surely it’s the most poverty-stricken expectant mums who need aid? The ones who can’t afford the Kensington Wing of Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, where a ‘platinum vaginal delivery package’ costs £10,000 plus extras?

Why doesn’t Edoardo help by initiating the building of new clinics, drop-in centres and playgrounds instead of yet another house with a cinema room, bespoke linen sofa and pool? (One such project, a £42million mansion he’s developed in Chelsea, is said to be ‘designed with family at its heart’.)

And it’s not just Bea and Edo – or, for that matter, Meghan. Prince William vowed to end homelessness in 2023 with his Homewards initiative. But has he built anything to house the homeless himself? Or is he waiting for planning permission?

Meanwhile, the Princess of Wales launched her early childhood campaign Shaping Us in the same year, saying: ‘Supporting children in early years is more important than ever.’ Well, yes. But what practical measures have been achieved?

The campaign’s latest work includes ‘getting creative with portraits’ (scribbling) and an ‘interactive trail’ (walking). It offers support for ‘baby banks’, which is great, but again the public are being asked to donate. Meanwhile, all Kate does is add the final bits of tinsel to a north London Christmas grotto.

Until the royals roll up their sleeves, put their money where their mouths are and build lasting monuments to their philanthropy, nothing will change apart from their PR profiles.

As for Beatrice’s Angelique blue tablecloth costing £178… I know she means well, but it won’t be in my dining room any time soon.