Page 3 of His Duchess in Disguise
“Oh, you did. And now she meets the criteria for being presented. I shall be the envy of everyone for having secured her to my circle first.”
“Your circle?” Emma asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Everyone at court has a circle of friends. The more influential, lovely, or well-spoken the members of your circle, the greater your standing.”
“But I’ve never been to court. I cannot imagine what anyone would see in me.” Emma felt quite bewildered and more than a little flustered between the quick costume change and the widow’s intense scrutiny.
“My dear,” said the widow, “You designed quite a lovely walking dress. It is no fault of yours that you did not realize that even though it might be appropriate for a country ball that you could never carry it off at court. I suspect that this means that you are quite clever. I am surprised, however,” and she raised her eyebrows at Mrs. Brown, “that your aunt did not give you better instruction.”
Mrs. Brown flushed a little, obviously embarrassed. Emma quickly interceded.
“I told her I would take care of it out of my allowance. Only . . .” Now it was her turn to flush a little pink.
“Only?” Mrs. Pearthorne quirked one eyebrow at her.
“Only there was this wonderful book of natural history and another about the language of flowers. Then I found a new book by the author of Sense and Sensibility. I simply could not resist them. After that, I hadn’t the price of silk yardage.”
“Tsk.” Mrs. Pearthorne clicked her tongue against her teeth. “I quite understand the exigencies of living on an allowance. I have a similar constraint since my dear Jemmie was torn from me. Perhaps I will be able to instruct you in some of the ways to look as if you shopped at the most tonnish establishments without straining your purse. But now we must hasten back to the coach for if we stand about talking, we shall indeed be late.”
They arrived in good time, for people were still entering the palace and being ushered down an immensely elegant hall. Emma looked all about her, trying not to stare. She had always thought the main hall at home quite grand, but this immense space was utterly awe-inspiring.
“We are fashionably late, and have missed the crush at the main door,” Mrs. Pearthorne pointed out. “And I cannot begin to tell you how envious everyone will be when I introduce you at Almack’s. Lady Jersey will be here tonight, and I am certain I will be able to wheedle a voucher from her for each of us.”
“No need for me,” Aunt Alicia began to say.
“Of course, there is need! While I would be more than willing to chaperone her, I am not of a sufficiently respectable age to manage it. You must come to keep us both in good stead.”
“Very well, I shall act as gooseberry for both of you. But do not expect me to hover over you. I believe I shall have some other friends in attendance tonight, and it will be a rare opportunity for me to visit with them. Mr. Brown and I are so seldom in London, this is quite an occasion for me as well as for Emma.”
“Fair enough. But if our behavior becomes outrageous, you will only have yourself to blame.” The merry little widow shook her finger at Mrs. Brown and grinned in a most unladylike manner.
Emma placed one white-gloved hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Mrs. Pearthorne drew Emma and her aunt to a line of young ladies who were slowly advancing toward a doorway to the Queen’s withdrawing room. As they went, Emma noticed that the young ladies went in one at a time, and then backed out of the room.
“What are they doing?” Emma whispered to Mrs. Pearthorne.
“They are backing out of the room. You must not turn your back on the Queen. And do not take up her time with aimless chatter. You want to make a good impression.”
When Emma went in, it was all she could do not to gape at the wonders she beheld. The walls were hung with tapestries, with gilt-framed landscapes hanging in front of them. The ceiling overhead seemed to be painted with a celestial scene made of sky, clouds, and winged beings. Chubby cherubs danced around the top of the dark wood wainscoting.
Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte, sat in an ornate chair, dressed in a dark gown with a gauzy white apron that was so filmy Emma knew right away that it never saw service even as protection against dust. Somehow, the gown helped the Queen look both regal and motherly all at the same time. Her retainers were clustered on both sides of her.
As Emma approached, she realized that far from looking grand as she had first thought, Queen Charlotte looked sad and a little tired. It was at that moment that Emma decided to truly be on her best behavior. When she reached just the right spot, one of the ladies in waiting gave her just the slightest nod, and Emma executed the best curtsy she knew how to make. The queen beckoned to her to approach.
When Emma drew near, she repeated the curtsy. Queen Charlotte put out her hand, drawing Emma even closer.
“You look very much like your mother,” Queen Charlotte said. “I met her once when we were both very young, before she was wed.” Then the Queen leaned forward and kissed Emma on the forehead.
Emma was so astonished, she scarcely knew what to do next. But one of the retainers slightly behind the Queen made little shooing motions, so Emma dropped another curtsy and almost whispered, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Emma then began backing away, which was not the easiest thing to do in the elaborate dress. The helpful retainer made little steering motions to her until she managed to back out of the door and away to the side so the young widow could take her turn.
Once Mrs. Pearthorne had made her way out of the withdrawing room, she also gave a sigh of relief. “That was not as much of an ordeal as I feared it might be,” she said. “I think there is a light supper laid out in the ballroom, with dancing to follow after. Shall we go see what might be had?”
Emma immediately assented. She realized that in her haste to be ready when her aunt and friend called for her that she had quite forgotten about eating. While making her curtsy to Queen Charlotte, she had been far too nervous to eat. Now she was ravenous.
Just then, Emma’s aunt spotted an old friend, and true to her word, went off with a cluster of older ladies, all twittering together like a flock of sparrows.
