Viewpoint: Her Royal Highness, Inc.

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We all, it seems, love Cinderella. look how many zillions of dollars Disney has made repackaging the theme of pretty-but-unusual-girl-gets-lucky: handsome prince marries a sea creature (The Little Mermaid), handsome prince marries maiden who's been dozing for a hundred years (Sleeping Beauty), newly handsome prince marries bookworm with eccentric dad (Beauty and the Beast), and even an ersatz grrrl-power variant, handsome princess marries thief with heart of gold (Aladdin). Funny, though: the curtain falls at the wedding. The implicit message is that the chase is more exciting than the prize. Afterward, you're just married, even if you do get to order the servants around.

Think back to those fairy-tale pictures of the virginal Diana swathed in white, riding away with her Prince Charles. Did it ever get any better, for her or for us, until a tragic death sanctified her? Indeed, the whole pageant of the Windsors since Diana's appearance 20 years ago has been a relentless procession of what Disney knows to leave on the cutting-room floor — more like a Bergman film, actually. Messy affairs and divorces, kids who can't quite find their way, meddling in-laws, as well as the occasional success story (like the plucky Queen Mum or heartthrob Prince William). Not only are they just like us — something royals have always been — but we see they are just like us. Then what good are they? Soap operas are fun — as long as you can change the channel. Monarchs who regularly disgust or bore their subjects risk having their show canceled.

Which brings us to Sophie Rhys-Jones. The last few weeks have been no fairy tale for Queen Elizabeth's newest daughter-in-law. She had her own public relations business before she married Edward in 1999 to become H.R.H. the Countess of Wessex. Her determination to keep working made some courtiers nervous, but she seemed so perfect for the post-Diana media fishbowl — a P.R. executive with stage presence, obviously delighted to be part of The Firm instead of throwing acid on it — that doubts were silenced. There was a little hiccup last year when she posed next to a Rover car her firm was promoting, but she quickly retreated. And then she fell for the oldest trick in the tabloid book.

An investigative reporter pretended to be the aide of a "sheik" eager to pay a P.R. firm $340,000 to bring fame to his (fictional) new hotel in Dubai and invited Sophie's business partner Murray Harkin to some meetings. Harkin chatted about liking "the odd line of coke" and offered to set up dinner parties with attractive male friends (he is gay). At their third meeting, Sophie came to clinch the deal.

She said nothing incendiary but did blab to a stranger about subjects best left for pillow talk with Edward: Conservative leader William Hague "sounds like a puppet," Tony Blair "doesn't understand the countryside" and "his wife is even worse," Blair's budget was "a load of pap." These are the standard opinions of well-bred Tories, and even the "sheik's" paper, the News of the World, took the deal when Buckingham Palace offered an on-the-record interview in exchange for the tapes. "My Edward is NOT Gay," blared the headline (which, unbelievably, the Palace approved); we also learned that Sophie is fertile but would consider medical treatment if needed. Thanks so much for sharing. Then, after rivals printed distorted bits of the tapes, the News of the World disgorged them anyway.

Harkin quit the firm and left the country. Sophie resigned her position for now. The truly serious revelation in the tapes was how keenly Sophie grasped that her title was a business magnet. The Queen gave both Sophie and Edward (whose career as a film producer has focused on royal subjects, which at first he had hoped to avoid) "her full support" in pursuing careers, but also set up a review to make sure that "Royal and business interests do not conflict." Public disclosure of business ties, as M.P.s now must do, is likely.

But a working H.R.H. is a dilemma with no good exit. Dr. Wessex, dentist, could always fill a waiting room with richer patients than Dr. Nobody. And Sophie has made her career in P.R., where access and glitz are the coin of the realm. Working guarantees she'll be criticized for trading on her title; not working guarantees she'll be criticized for sponging (though the Wessexes don't get any state money). The only way she can silence all her detractors is to entomb herself in tradition: open hospitals and make babies.

The problem for the Windsors is not this particular brouhaha but the cumulative effect of many. In 1984, 77% of British adults thought the country would be worse off without the monarchy, with 16% indifferent. Now only 43% think it would be worse off, with 41% indifferent. From deference to indifference in one generation is a dangerous trend. And William has not even had his first (public) girlfriend yet.