‘I don’t know what to say.’ Clemmie’s voice was filled with amazement.
The footman stepped forward, opening the carriage door with a respectful bow. ‘Miss Clemmie, sir,’ he said, his voice deep and formal.
Clemmie turned to Oliver, her eyes sparkling. ‘This is incredible,’ she said, her smile wide as she took Oliver’s hand and stepped inside the carriage. He climbed in beside her, and the horses began to move. The nerves that had hit her earlier were now replaced by excitement. Not only was she going to the royal garden party, but she was doing it in a way she never could’ve imagined.
She turned to Oliver, her smile soft. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply. ‘For making this day so special.’
Oliver reached over, taking her hand in his. ‘You’re welcome.’
Clemmie barely had time to take in the admiring glances and waves from the gathered onlookers. She smiled and lifted a hand in response. The steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves echoed against the grand facades lining the street.
Her grip tightened on her clutch as the enormity of what lay ahead truly settled in. The carriage turned gracefully onto a wider street, where wrought-iron lampposts stood in neat rows along the pavement.
Then, suddenly, it came into view. Eldenbridge Palace.
Clemmie gasped softly, as the famous palace appeared before her. The gilded wrought-iron gates, with their intricate designand regal crests, shimmered in the sunlight, a symbol of timeless elegance. Beyond them, the palace itself stood proud and majestic. The long, sweeping driveway leading to the grand entrance was lined with perfectly clipped hedges, and uniformed guards stood at attention, their red tunics and bearskin hats striking against the stately backdrop.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Clemmie whispered, her voice barely audible over the rumble of the carriage wheels.
Oliver turned to her. ‘It is. But not as beautiful as you look right now.’
She glanced at him, her cheeks flushing, and couldn’t help but laugh nervously. ‘You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?’
‘Only when I mean it,’ he replied.
She playfully bumped her shoulder against his.
As the carriage approached the gates, Clemmie felt a fresh wave of nerves wash over her. She clutched Oliver’s arm slightly tighter. ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ she said softly. ‘I keep thinking I’ll wake up and realise it was all a dream.’
Oliver reached over, his hand covering hers. ‘It’s not a dream. This is real and you’re here because you deserve to be.’
The carriage slowed as it reached the security gate.
‘We need to leave the carriage here.’
Clemmie was helped down and walked alongside Oliver towards the gates, where a uniformed officer stepped forward to greet them. He checked their invitations, then nodded and stepped back, signalling for the gates to be opened. They creaked softly as they swung inward, revealing the full magnificence of the palace grounds. As they walked through the gates, she slipped her hand into Oliver’s.
‘Queen Charlotte awaits,’ said Oliver.
When they emerged into the palace gardens, the scene before them was nothing short of glorious. Ladies in elegant dressesand vibrant hats moved gracefully across the grounds, their laughter mingling with the soft hum of polite conversation. Gentlemen in tailored suits and morning coats nodded and exchanged pleasantries. They followed the path around the side of the palace, walking beside its towering stone walls. It was more stunning than Clemmie had ever imagined. The grounds stretched endlessly, a lush expanse of perfectly manicured lawns interspersed with winding paths, fountains, a rose garden and vibrant flowerbeds. A pavilion on the right provided shade for a few guests, while others strolled at a leisurely pace towards the heart of the garden. To their left, from a grand marquee came the lively sound of a military band. Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen’ drifted across the lawn, bringing a smile to Clemmie’s face. It was unexpectedly charming to hear such a cheerful tune in such a formal setting.
‘This is… extraordinary,’ she murmured, her eyes wide.
‘It is,’ Oliver agreed. ‘Wait until you see the rest. The gardens here are legendary.’
They moved further into the grounds, where a lake added to the tranquil atmosphere. Clemmie marvelled at the sheer scale of it all, the lake’s mirrored surface reflecting the deep blue sky, the rose gardens bursting with blooms of every shade. Guests strolled along the pathways, some pausing to admire the flowers, others simply enjoying the serene beauty of their surroundings.
As they approached the marquee, the delicious scent of freshly baked scones and delicate pastries wafted through the air. A long line of elegant tables stretched out beneath the marquee’s shelter, each laden with an array of afternoon tea delights. Uniformed attendants moved gracefully among the guests, serving tea, coffee and soft drinks with quiet efficiency.
Clemmie’s eyes widened at the sight of the spread. Finger sandwiches, neatly trimmed and filled with cucumber, smoked salmon or egg mayonnaise, sat alongside plates of golden sconeswith clotted cream and jam. Tiny cakes and pastries, each a work of art, tempted guests with their delicate designs.
‘I’m actually speechless,’ Clemmie said, her mouth watering as she accepted a small plate from one of the attendants. ‘Everything looks so perfect.’
‘It’s a tradition,’ Oliver said with a smile. ‘They’ve been doing this for generations.’
Clemmie quickly scanned the area. ‘Oliver, there’s no torte. I thought the royal kitchen were baking my torte to be served to all the guests as the garden party? What if they’ve forgotten or they’ve changed their mind?’
‘Don’t worry, they will be doing a special presentation for it later on.’
