Page 59

London

Tremors ran through Eliza as she waited in line to be presented. The sheer number of people packed into the Queen’s apartments surprised her. It made it uncomfortably warm, and the huge dress did not help matters.

The rooms were magnificent. Resplendent with red and gold furnishings, and so much gilt, the whole space gleamed and shone. Huge portraits, enormous vases and golden ornaments lay out on ormolu tables for all to admire, but Eliza remained focused on doing everything correctly rather than the gloriously elaborate room.

The rich, thick red carpet was soft beneath her feet, and the air was redolent with beeswax and lemon. It had been a pleasant smell when they first went into the room, but now with the heat, and the scent of a hundred different perfumes, it was making her head ache. She watched as the footmen bustled about, waiting for the Lord Chamberlain to announce the next person to be presented.

All the advice she had received swam in her head. Walk forward alone. Wait for the Queen to speak. Do not look at anyone but the Queen. Do not linger. Walk backwards after she has been acknowledged. On no account wobble or fall executing the perfect curtsey or instant social disgrace will ensue. Hart had kindly regaled her of tales of young ladies who got it wrong and never lived it down. She could not stop thinking about them and feared she would soon join their ranks.

Her stomach trembled and she could feel perspiration gather on her forehead. Mama would be furious if her face looked shiny, but there was not much she could do.

She risked a glance behind her, looking to a long line of girls in ridiculously huge dresses, mainly white, all with huge feathers in their hair.

They inched forward, and she could see the Queen.

‘Don’t forget to breathe,’ her mother hissed as another young lady made her curtsey.

Inch by inch, she arrived and stood waiting to be invited forward. Her heart thumped against her ribs so hard it hurt, and she stared fixedly at the Queen. No-one else. Eliza waited, waited… and then she was walking forward, alone, eyes firmly on the Queen. She prayed silently that she would find her uninteresting and she would not be required to speak.

Eliza inhaled before sinking into her curtsey, going down and down to the right depth and then slowly lifting herself up. When she had both feet on the ground with no wobble, she finally let out her breath.

The Queen looked at her and nodded. ‘Eliza Courtney. Hmm. Very pretty. Very pretty. You will do well.’

Eliza curtseyed again.

‘Your Majesty is most kind.’

With a regal wave, it was done. She was launched. Eliza inched backwards, keeping her eyes on the Queen at all times, feeling her way with her slippered feet, until she reached her mother.

‘Well done,’ her mother murmured, and Eliza shot her a grateful smile.

As they passed through the magnificent rooms beyond, Eliza bowed her head and curtseyed to a lot of young women, carefully making a mental note of those who looked down their noses at everyone and those with genuine smiles. Everyone was on display. It was unnerving.

‘Chin up,’ her mother murmured as she offered chilly, regal nods to people as they passed and accepted compliments on Eliza’s dress and presentation as her due.

Eliza lifted her chin, smiled, but with restraint, and glided through the salons, wondering how long it would be before she could go home and remove the court dress. It was enormous, heavy, and cumbersome, and she was too hot and still shaking. She saw Harriet and the rest of the Cavendishes. They all sent her encouraging smiles, and that helped. Lord Granville was there, and he winked at her, making her smile weakly.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions and invitations. It was cooler in the outer rooms, and Eliza felt she could at least breathe. She entered into the spirit of things as best she could, whilst remembering to be graceful and restrained.

When she finally arrived back at Portman House, she was aghast at the number of people who joined them there to carry on the celebrations. She spent time greeting everyone before escaping to her bedchamber to remove the huge court dress and change into the attire Mama had arranged for her. It was a relief to step out of the heavy contraption. She was deeply thankful for modern-day fashions for a simple, elegant empire line.

She stood in her chemise, as Millie laughed and draped the magnificent dress over a chair. ‘What a monster!’ she exclaimed, and Eliza had to laugh with her.

‘So, the Queen spoke to you,’ Millie said as she prepared the clothes Eliza was to change into. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘I believe so. She said I was pretty.’ Eliza blushed as she said it.

‘Well, you are, miss. Very pretty.’

Eliza hugged herself. ‘I met so many new people and it seems now that I am presented, we will receive lots of invitations.’

‘We’d best get all your dresses ready, then.’

A soft tap at the door surprised them both. Millie went to investigate. She opened the door a little and spoke in a soft murmur to the visitor. She turned back with a grin.

‘It’s Lady Harriet.’

‘Oh, how wonderful, do let her in.’