Charlotte nudged her. “A true shame we can't marry one of those men there. He was so fit and ruggedly handsome!"
“A palace guard? Really Charlotte?” Lady Harrison said shrewdly, crossing her arms and making it clear that under no circumstances would she tolerate one for a son in law.
Lady Harrison’s expression was so severe that Elizabeth laughed loudly, hurriedly covering her mouth with her hand.
It was indeed a shame that guards and soldiers were not deemed suitable matches for ladies of the court. Even those who fought bravely in the war last summer, and won large purses from the crown. Even if a commoner amassed riches to rival kings, they would never be considered a noble—and would never be a fitting match for a woman born of noble blood.
Yes, it wasn’t fair. But Elizabeth had learned early on that life rarely was.
She sat up straighter, nervously smoothing her skirts as she beheld the royal palace.
It seemed to mock her in its perfection, appearing like something out of a fairytale with marless white stone walls and more towers and turrets than she could count.
Her mother snapped her fingers and the door beside her swung open. Their footman hastened to offer a hand as she climbed out of the carriage, swiftly followed by the others.
“Smile,” her mother hissed through gritted teeth.
Elizabeth did, smiling prettily as she followed the rest of their group towards the castle entrance.
Golden doors were encircled by an archway made of flowers carved into white stone. Marble pillars flanked the entryway, carved into motifs of leaves and blossoms at the bases and capitals. Gold pots brimming with pink roses stood on either side of the doors, and marble steps lined with gold led from the drive up to the palace entrance.
She lifted her skirts as she climbed the steps, trailing after the others. Guards in royal livery opened the ornate doors, admitting them inside.
The palace entrance took her breath away, with an enormous crystal chandelier and grand staircases of white marble trimmed in gold. Elegant statues and gold framed oil-paintings adorned the hall, and everything had been polished to a shine for the occasion.
A servant appeared, and escorted them down a hall and up a flight of stairs where another set of embellished golden doors awaited them—the royal ballroom.
Beyond the doors, she heard a booming voice announce her father’s name. The doors swept open, and her father strode through, walking proudly.
Next her mother was announced, followed by Lady Harrison, and then it was her turn.
“I will meet my true love tonight. I can feel it!” Charlotte said with a secret smile. “One of us will be married this year, I am certain. Could we ask for a more perfect night to fall in looove?" Charlotte simpered, pretending to swoon and faint.
Elizabeth snorted, an unladylike sound that she would have to rein in upon entry into the hall. Though Charlotte hoped to find her true love tonight, Elizabeth held no such ideas. She stopped believing in fairytales when she was a child.
Elizabeth schooled her expression into a demure smile as was custom—smiling more with her eyes than her lips.
“Lady Elizabeth Ashcroft!” the announcer boomed.
The doors swung open.
She approached the gold bannister, peering down at the crowded ballroom of well-dressed nobility below, feeling every eye riveted on her. She moved to stand before the top step, and lifted her skirts, falling into a deep curtsey. Rising, she placed a hand upon the railing and descended the grand staircase, offering the world a small smile.
Sweeping her eyes across the space, Elizabeth found her parents and strode to their side. She looked up at the landing, waiting as Charlotte was announced.
Charlotte appeared, grinning from ear to ear, and did a twirl on the landing for all the onlookers to ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ over. As Charlotte spun, the silk skirts of her dress flared outwards prettily, and someone behind Elizabeth sighed. Charlotte descended the stairs with a bounce in her step and came to stand by Elizabeth and their parents, giggling.
A horn bugled, signalling that all had arrived.
The nobility lined up to pay their respects to the queen.
When it was their turn, Elizabeth offered the queen a deep curtsey and a closed-lipped smile. Her father bowed, and her mother fell into a curtsey beside her.
A tall silver crown sat on Queen Rowena’s raven hair streaked with silver. She looked regal in a pale green dress and wore a shawl made entirely of pearls. It was incredibly ostentatious, but from the queen, Elizabeth had expected nothing less.
Queen Rowena smiled kindly, with a face that was rumored to have been extremely beautiful in her youth. The queen inclined her head regally, signalling that due respects had been paid, and they were permitted to rise.
After each noble family had given their formal greeting, the queen nodded to a group of musicians in the corner, and they began to play a merry tune.
