Chapter 6 A Ritual Ordeal
Helena woke the third morning in May with an agitation that was equal parts apprehension and excitement.
She and Georgie were to be presented to the Queen later that same afternoon, and now that the long-anticipated moment was nearly upon her, she hardly knew whether she was more thrilled or terrified. Despite having been drilled repeatedly on protocol and made to practice both her curtsy and managing her yard-long train over and over, she was haunted by the fear that she might, with the whole court looking on, commit some mortifying gaffe such as stumbling over her own feet, or lurching awkwardly as she sank to or rose from her knee. She wanted so much to acquit herself with grace, she was almost sick with it.
Her Papa had decreed that no expense should be spared on her dress and accessories and so she was confident that, as regarded her appearance at least, she would have no occasion to blush. Her gown of virginal white was an exquisite confection of satin and lace with rows of flounces ornamenting the skirt and trimming the short puffy sleeves. Her head dress, set upon an elaborate coiffure of upswept coils and ringlets, had the requisite number of lappets and feathers, and the jewelry at her throat and wrist, while sparkling with diamonds, were the most delicate of the pieces she'd inherited from her grandmother.
At last, arrayed in all her finery and with her mother's comforting presence at her back, she descended the mansion's main staircase to the front hall where the rest of her family and not a few servants had gathered to witness her departure. She was gratified by the collective intake of breath that greeted her appearance and smiled to see her younger siblings' mouths agape and eyes gone round in wonder. Above their heads, she caught sight of her sister Penny's beaming face and basked for a moment in this dearest sister's pride and affection.
As she reached the bottom tread, Daphne stepped toward her, and, rendered almost shy by her sister's transformation, said, "You look like a princess, Lenny."
"You do!" Iris piped up behind her. "You're ever so grand!"
Jasper, very much on his dignity, came forward next and held out a bouquet of flowers. "These are for you," he said, with great solemnity.
Helena bent to take it from him. "Thank you, Jazz. They're lovely." She straightened and, thinking the little ceremony over, was surprised that Jasper not only did not retreat but leaned in toward her confidingly. She bent toward him again and prompted, "Yes?"
"Your feathers," he whispered, with a meaningful glance at her head dress.
"What about them?"
"They're tipped to one side."
Helena had to bite her lip so as not to laugh. "I know. Silly, isn't it? But that's how we're supposed to wear them. It's in tribute to the Prince of Wales."
Her father, looking very distinguished in his full court attire, appeared at her elbow then and announced it was past time they were leaving, particularly as they were to stop for Louisa and Georgie on their way to the palace. Once in Cavendish Square and these ladies handed into the carriage, there being no longer room for him, he hailed a cab to take him the rest of the way and left them to proceed alone. There was, at first, no dearth of excited chatter as the cousins exclaimed over and complimented each other on their toilettes, and then fell to soothing each other's fears that they would somehow disgrace themselves. In time, however, their carriage being caught up in a long line of vehicles and their progress reduced to a crawl, conversation began to lag, and they sat mostly silent while, along their route, the crowds gathered at the curb craned their necks for a look at them and sometimes broke into cheers or shouts quite as if they were spectators at a parade.
It was past four and they had been two hours in the carriage when at last they pulled up to the palace entrance and were helped down only to be obliged to join another interminable queue, this one of young ladies all dressed in strikingly uniform fashion with, by their side, their stately older sponsors. The line snaked through the Grand Entrance, up the Grand Staircase and the length of the Picture Gallery at a pace so excruciatingly slow that Helena had more than ample time to appreciate the magnificent proportions and opulent fixtures of the spaces she traversed. The richness of the wall hangings, the plush red carpets underfoot, the marble columns, massive chandeliers and gilded decorations, all proclaimed in unmistakeable terms the majesty of its royal resident.
As they inched ever closer to the throne room, Helena began to feel a trifle light-headed, whether from weariness, nerves or hunger she couldn't tell. Her mother had admonished her both at breakfast and dinner to eat heartily, but her stomach, then, had been too knotted to permit it, and now, empty, it was churning unhappily. She was parched, too, but, as refreshments were never served at these drawing-rooms, she had no choice but to endure and make the best of things. Her mother, sensing her discomfort, smiled in understanding, and, chafing her arm encouragingly, said, "Not long now, my love. Nearly there."
And, then, finally, they were at the head of the queue watching the pair before them make their measured approach to the Queen. Her mother handed their presentation card to a servant, and two pages took Helena's train upon their batons and spread it out behind her to its full length and width. She gripped her bouquet more tightly, and, heart hammering in her chest, straightened her spine and lifted her chin as she'd been taught.
"Lady Damerel," boomed the voice of the Lord Chamberlain, "presenting her daughter, Miss Helena Damerel."
Her mother gave her a nod of encouragement and Helena stepped forward, striving to keep her gaze fixed on her sovereign and herself unaware of the eyes trained upon her by the courtiers crowding the room. A movement on her right drew her attention nonetheless, and just for an instant she caught the heartening glimpse of her father's handsome face, his love for her and his pride shining in his eyes. Buoyed up by the sight, she crossed the remaining few feet to the Queen, sank without so much as a wobble into her curtsy and rose from it with equal grace.
The Queen lent forward and, with great condescension, brushed her lips against Helena's cheek. Helena had, of course, heard Her Majesty described as a diminutive woman, but even so she was amazed to discover that, even standing on a dais, the Queen's eyes were barely on a level with her own. Richly gowned as she was in figured white satin trimmed in ermine and bejeweled at the neckline and sleeve hems with diamonds, the sash of the Order of the Garter a vivid blue across her chest, Victoria had something of the look about her of a child playing dress-up. It struck Helena forcibly in that moment that, for all her undeniable presence and regal bearing, her sovereign was, at a few weeks shy of her nineteenth birthday, only very slightly older than herself. That she, at so tender an age, bore the weight of a great nation on her slim shoulders filled Helena with a new respect for her bordering on awe.
Her Majesty's smile was one of artless pleasure. "How very lovely you are, Miss Damerel! Is that not the case, Lord Melbourne?" she inquired of her great friend and Prime Minister, who gravely inclined his head. A merry light coming into her eyes, she continued, "I can safely predict you have a brilliant Season ahead of you, with no end of suitors vying for your hand and a splendid marriage by its end."
Helena felt her cheeks flame with color. "Your Majesty is too kind."
The Queen laughed indulgently. "I've put you to the blush, I see, but you may take my word, you are all the prettier for it. We should be pleased to see you at court again, Miss Damerel. You, as well, Lady Damerel," she added, with a gracious nod toward her subject. "We like to see beautiful faces about us."
"We should be honored, Your Majesty," came her mother's reply.
Victoria inclined her head again, this time in dismissal. Helena moved to her right and was about to embark on the tricky maneuver of backing away from the royal presence when, to her great relief, two pages came forward to gather up her train for her and drape it, once again, over her arm. They continued their steady retreat, the Lord Chamberlain intoning as they did so, "Mrs. Edward Harcourt presenting her daughter Georgina." Helena slowed, hoping to witness her cousin's curtsy, but she could not see for the on-lookers blocking her view. Finally, she stepped through a doorway and out of the throne room, her mother beside her and her father following close behind. The ordeal was over!
She found to her surprise that she was trembling, and was glad to feel her father's strong arm come about her. "I've never been so proud," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "For Her Majesty to single you out for such notice! Do you know, she's scarcely spoken above a word to anyone else! I was too far away to make out her remarks. What was it she said to you?"
That was the question on her cousins' lips, too, the moment the Harcourts rejoined them. "She talked to you ever so long!" Georgie gushed, not the least hint of envy in her manner. "When I'd kissed her hand, she had only a nod and a smile for me."
"I hardly know!" Helena replied, not liking to repeat the Queen's compliments. "I was so overwhelmed, all I recall is she was gracious and most kind."
"You must remember something more!" Louisa urged.
"Well, she did say she'd be pleased to see me and Mamma again at court but in so off-hand a way, I doubt she truly meant it."
None but those in the Queen's immediate vicinity had been privy to her exchange with Helena but Her Majesty's extraordinary condescension in speaking to her had raised a great many eyebrows and triggered a natural curiosity as to who, precisely, was Miss Helena Damerel and how she had contrived to win so marked an attention. In the days that followed, the drawing rooms of Mayfair were abuzz with pointed inquiries into Helena's lineage, dowry, age and appearance as matchmaking mothers of both daughters and sons attempted to weigh her potential either as a prospective bride for the latter or competition for the former.
For her part, Helena could not help but be aware of her sudden notoriety. That first week, wherever she went, whether it was for her morning ride in the park, afternoon drive with Georgie, or evening out at the theater, she caught people frankly staring at her and, sometimes, actually being so rude as to point her out to a companion and murmur some comment in his or her ear. If she had failed to notice these looks, Georgie was quick to comment on them, and there were, in addition, friends and relations eager to report she was a prime topic of conversation everywhere else they called.
Enid Carstairs and Callista St. Cyr were among this number. "Oh, Helena," Callie said, in her usual spritely fashion, "What a splash you have made! I do sincerely congratulate you! To have so impressed the Queen that she deigned to address you! That's no small feather in your cap."
"Everyone's mad with curiosity about you," Enid put in.
"And, as a result, I, who have the honor of your acquaintance, have been received everywhere with open arms and plied endlessly with questions. Now, never be distressed on my account!" she said, at Helena's stricken expression. "I assure you, I quite enjoy the attention. And, in any case, I can't tell them what they really want to know, which is what you and Her Majesty talked about."
She let the question hang, unspoken, but Helena stayed true to her course and gave only a vague answer.
Undeterred, Enid came at the subject from a different angle. "It's said the Queen predicted you'd be betrothed to a duke, or at the very least a marquess, by summer's end. Any truth in that?"
"No," Helena replied categorically, although this was, in fairness, a reasonable interpretation of the Queen's remark.
When she did not elaborate, Callie conceded defeat with a smile. "You're determined to be discreet, I see, which, unless I'm very much mistaken, can only mean you can't repeat Her Majesty's words without seeming to boast. Hah!" she cried in triumph as a rosy pink stained Helena's cheeks. "I've guessed it! There, now.." She reached out a hand, and, resting it lightly on Helena's, gave it a squeeze by way of apology. "We're done teasing you, I promise."
As if to bear her cousin out, Enid promptly changed the subject to the innocuous one of upcoming events, and asked whether Helena had received a card for Lady Bennington's tea. Would she be attending Lady Whitney's musicale evening? What of the Honorable Miss Chatterton's coming-out ball? Reassured of soon meeting Helena again at one of these functions, the ladies rose to take their leave.
"Before we go," Callie said, "I'm such a featherbrain, I only just remembered I meant to ask if you have any interest in touring the Royal Academy Art exhibition? It's always a horrible crush the first week, so Enid and I are planning to take it in next Wednesday. Her husband George will escort us, and I believe Simon and Percy will be coming as well. If you're not already engaged, we'd be glad for you to join us."
"Oh!" Helena said, barely able to contain her delight. "I should like it above all things!"
Venetia, when applied to for permission, did not make any objection but allowed she'd be easier if Helena's cousins Will Hendred and Georgina Harcourt were included in the party.
"Absolutely!" Callie said. "The more, the merrier! We'll consider it settled, then, shall we? Good-bye, dear Lady Damerel! We'll likely see you before, Helena, but, if not, then next Wednesday for certain."
And, at last, in seven days' time, Helena was all but guaranteed of seeing Lord Percy again! She could hardly wait.