*Author's note: This is a story I've had in my head since I first saw the BBC film a few years ago. This is my reimagining of the wonderful story. Any dialogue you recognise is taken straight from the film.

So please review and let me know of any likes, dislikes, criticisms, mistakes, or prompts.

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Prologue

"There was a star danced, and under that I was born"

Margaret

I have been preparing for this moment for weeks. Numerous dress fittings and coaching sessions. Making, buying or borrowing slippers, fans, feathers and jewelry to accompany my gown. A dance master was brought in so that I might learn the proper way of walking gracefully and with strength; how to curtsey all the way to the floor and rise again without throwing myself off balance.

My alabaster gown has been made to the exact prescribed specifications. The train is seven yards in length. The veil is made of a gossamer tulle that hovers just so over the train. My headdress contains the approved three white feathers. The sleeves of the gown are short and edged with scalloped lace. The neckline is almost vulgarly low, but is trimmed with enough sheer lace to off-set this impropriety.

The train is heavy and cumbersome. I spend hours learning how to exit the room with my train circled over one arm, without turning my back on any of its occupants.

I am to be presented at court, to Her Majesty Queen Victoria.

I am nervous yet excited. This tiny moment will turn me from a schoolgirl into a young woman ready to embrace the world. I pray that I will not forget the steps, that I will not lose my composure. I will be graceful and elegant, if only for this once.

My Aunt is presenting her daughter, my cousin. My sponsor is my Aunt's mother-in-law whom I have never met before this moment. It adds to my nerves.

We wait for hours outside St. James Palace in the carriage, the sun beating down on the lacquered roof of the cab. Finally, we are lead inside the magnificent palace, to the Gallery. We are ordered to take our place in the line according to rank. My party is towards the back of the line, but it is no matter. I am here, I am ready. I want to be out in the world, I want to meet my destiny, expand, grow, throw myself into life with open arms.

I approach the Queen's throne, trembling with nerves. Despite her small squat stature, the dignified woman excludes a majesty and a confidence that can only come from knowing precisely who you are and you're place in the world. I envy her that feeling.

The Royal Family and other members of the aristocracy are lined up at attention either side of the Queen. My eyes briefly flit over the Prince Consort. He is as light and handsome as everyone says he is. He is smiling gently, not at me, but at the Queen.

I curtsey; deeply, humbly, my eyes lowered to the ground in reverence. I kiss the Queen's outstretched hand to acknowledge her, thank her for this opportunity. I curtsy to all those who stand behind her. I rise one final time and can't help smiling widely. I have done it.

I stretched my hand out elegantly for my train, gently winding it around my arm so that it is out of the way of my feet. Without taking my eyes of the Queen, I back slowly out of the room. I wobble slightly and a footman reaches out with ease to steady me. He has done this countless times before. He squeezes my arm lightly in reassurance. I am grateful.

I am finally a woman, ready to make my mark on the world. My mind races ahead, guessing, wondering at all that I can do.