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Charlotte turned back from the window, a look of surprise on her face. ‘Surely I am not one of those?’

‘If the Earl intends to settle a substantial marriage portion on you then you will indeed be one of those heiresses.’

‘Despite my irregular birth?’

‘I think the nobility of your father’s line will matter more, and the Countess of Bucklebury’s patronage tells the world she accepts you as part of her family. A great-granddaughter in fact!’ The carriage had turned off the Bath Road and they were now travelling towards Windsor on a track that made the old springs creak as the wheels juddered in and out of the large ruts and ridges left by recent rains.

‘Look, I think we can just see the Castle.’ Leonora pointed across the low-lying green of the valley. The ancient grey crenellations, misty in the distance, contrasted with the pastoral vision before them: hazel, oak and apple trees clumped on the perimeter of a smallholding where a couple of pigs wallowed in mud.

The novelty of the journey was wearing thin and both young women longed to see Windsor for themselves, this growing town enriched by its royal connections. Soon the horses pulled up in Peascod Street, outside a pretty bow-windowed shop, its display dominated by an aquamarine pelisse edged in ermine.

Martin opened the door to hand the two young women out. Leonora had never seen such a fascinating mix of people promenading up the road towards the Castle. There were officers in their red jackets, women dressed in the height of fashion with their showy bonnets with plumes of bright feathers and pelisses of satin and velvet. They passed in a gust of chatter and laughter.

Martin did not seem amused. He tipped his hat. ‘Miss Leonora, Mr Fleming asked me to warn you that there is a barracks in Windsor which attracts a certain type of disreputable woman and some bawdy behaviour from the soldiers.’ His face was suffused with embarrassment at bringing up such an indelicate subject but the Manor bailiff, Ned Fleming, had known Leonora since she was a baby and felt a certain fatherly responsibility towards her.

‘Thank you, Martin, for your and Mr Fleming’s concern. I think Miss Blythe and I have so much business to conduct with the modiste we’ll barely have time to see any of the passing show.’

‘I’ll water and feed the horses at the Star and Garter tavern just down the street.’ He pointed to a large building three doors down. ‘We need to leave after three hours in order to get home by dusk.’

A bell tinkled as Leonora and Charlotte entered the shop and an elderly bird-like woman emerged through a curtain at the back. Mrs Marmery had intelligent eyes in a sharp lined face. Wearing a pea-green satin turban with a purple cockade, her thin body was not flattered by the fashions of the time and so she had chosen a beautifully tailored spencer of violet silk, fastened to the throat by silver braid sewn to make it look like a hussar’s. Her eyes flickered from Leonora to Charlotte, whom she approached, then dropped a quick curtsey. ‘I presume you are Miss Charlotte Blythe. I remember your grandmother well. You have a look of the Countess.’ Charlotte coloured and dropped her eyes while Mrs Marmery summoned a young assistant. ‘Would you like some tea after your journey?’

Leonora was feeling in great need of refreshment and inclined her head in acquiescence. ‘My name is Miss Appleby; I will be accompanying Miss Blythe to London. And thank you, Mrs Marmery, tea would be most welcome.’

The modiste motioned them to the sofa and said in a business-like way, ‘We don’t have much time to create your wardrobe, so I suggest we discuss the most important aspects of your apparel first. How many ball dresses and evening gowns would you like me to make?’

Charlotte removed her list from her reticule and handed it over. Mrs Marmery looked up with a speculative eye. ‘I’ve just had a bolt of gold silk gauze delivered from Paris. With your colouring, I think a ball dress in that would be most becoming.’ She clapped her hands and a young seamstress emerged blinking into the showroom. ‘Delia, please bring us the new gold gauze.’ This sparkling airy cloth was unrolled and whisked under Charlotte’s chin; it did indeed somehow intensify her dark eyes and the lustrous contrast of her fair hair.

Then followed a dizzying parade of fabrics of every weight and colour: Venetian crape, cambric, sarsenet, silky China crape, chambray, airy tiffany, jaconet, muslin, worked point gauzes and a variety of pretty workaday sprigged cottons. Luckily, Mrs Marmery was decisive and seemed to have an unerring eye for what most flattered her young client. The fabric chosen and detail of the pattern was noted down carefully in a book by Delia. Measurements were taken and accessories discussed.

Charlotte was beginning to tire of the rich cornucopia of fabrics, patterns and details, all of which needed rapid decisions. She turned to Leonora and said, ‘You too will need some special dresses.’

Mrs Marmery’s eyes sparkled. ‘I’ve just been looking at your colouring, Miss Appleby, and I have the perfect evening gown for you. It’s already made up for a client who then eloped before she could do the Season, so her heartbroken mama cancelled the order.’ She turned to the diligent young seamstress who had just finished sketching the detail agreed for the last gown for Charlotte and clapped her hands. ‘Delia, fetch the silver gown. I’d like to see if it fits Miss Appleby.’

The dress was carried into the room and both young women gasped. In Delia’s arms it looked like she had caught a wave of silver foam. Charlotte said in excitement, ‘It looks beautiful! Please try it on.’ Leonora was led behind a screen and the young woman helped her unlace her dress and slip into this new one. Leonora had never had much opportunity for fashionable dressing or even thinking about clothes. Now, as she stepped into the matching silk chemise and then slipped on the gauze overdress, she felt entirely different and straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

If Shakespeare was right that apparel oft proclaims the man, then she felt shaken enough by this new feeling to declare that clothing maketh the woman. She gazed at herself in the looking glass and barely recognised the image reflected back. The bodice fitted as if it had been made for her, lowcut and wide which flattered her breasts and neck and the creamy colour of her skin. The puff sleeves were ribbed with tiny tucks and the hem was lightly wired so it stood out from her ankles. She could not believe this vision in silvery gauze was herself.

Leonora, with a sudden shyness, slipped out from behind the screen to see Charlotte’s eyes fly open as she clapped her hands in pleasure. ‘You look ravissante, Leonora! You must have that lovely dress.’

Mrs Marmery’s face also lit up. She was a master of her craft and the pleasure of sending young women into Society looking as beautifully dressed as possible affirmed her pre-eminent place amongst the most skilled modistes. ‘Miss Appleby, it could not suit you better,’ she declared.

Leonora twirled and then stopped, embarrassed, shocked that her love for this garment and pleasure in her appearance displayed the very girlish sensibility she had so disdained. Mrs Marmery stepped forward and took Leonora’s hand. ‘Trust me, Miss Appleby, that design is most flattering. The bodice is the perfect proportion for your height and the low, wide neckline shows off your shapely bosom in a suitably modest but revealing way. No one could accuse you of looking vulgar, my dear.’

Leonora stole another look at herself in the glass and was astounded by how a fine gown could transform a woman’s idea of herself and her place in the world. For the first time she felt beautiful, even noble. She met Mrs Marmery’s amused eyes and said, ‘I’d be very pleased if I can purchase this gown. And could you make me two more to the same design; one in that cornflower-blue silk crape you showed us and a second in the pale rose-pink tiffany. I like the lightness of the fabric.’

Just as both young women were fading after the excitement of the day, they heard the blessed sound of wheels clanking on the cobbles and the clopping of horses’ hooves as Martin drew their coach to a halt outside the window.

Charlotte grasped Mrs Marmery’s hand. ‘Thank you, Madame, for helping me with my clothes for the Season. I no longer feel quite so unprepared.’

‘You will both be as well-dressed as anyone.’

‘Thank you for your help, Mrs Marmery, and Delia.’ Leonora saluted them from the door. They scrambled into the carriage with their gayly striped boxes complete with one dress each that was ready-made, together with a whole gallimaufry of ribbons, beads and braids, feathers, flounces and fur, with which to refurbish their old wardrobe of garments and bonnets.

As they headed back through the green valley of the Thames again, Charlotte leant back against the squab cushions and sighed. ‘I hadn’t realised what a difference lovely clothes make. I am no longer afraid of going to London; in fact, I’m quite excited, as long as I have you and Mrs Priddy – and Mrs Marmery’s creations as my shield.’

‘It’s quite a revelation. Even I felt positively beautiful. It’s rather shaming, don’t you think, when one has prided oneself on not caring about such things? How do we stop ourselves becoming the simpering Society ninnies we deplore?’ They laughed.

Charlotte was pensive for a while then said with some wonder, ‘Knowing who my father was and the family that I belong to has given me a centre I’ve never had before.’ She held her head up with pride.