We had lessons in dancing and deportment from Madame Duprey. We walked round the room carrying a small pile of books on our heads. “Shoulders back. Draw yourself in below the waist. One foot in front of the other. No, not like that, Morwenna. Just slightly.” And then there was the dancing. Sometimes I took the male part, sometimes Morwenna. “It is nécessaire to know where your partner should be at every second. That is better, Angelet. No, no, Morwenna, to the right. To the right. Ma foi, you will disrupt the entire cotillion.”
Poor Morwenna! She did not take to it as easily as I did. She was in despair. “I shall never be able to do it,” she said.
“Oh yes you will,” I assured her. “It’s easy. You just worry too much.”
I would go through the steps with her in our bedroom, for we shared one in Helena’s house which was not as big as the one in the square.
Helena was very kind and sympathetic. I believed it brought back her own days when she had been put through her paces and had been, I fancied, rather like Morwenna.
“What I don’t want to do is disappoint Pa and Mother,” said Morwenna. “I am sure they are expecting me to marry a duke at least.”
“Dukes are sparse on the ground,” I told her. “We’d be lucky to get an Hon or a mere knight.”
I could joke about it because I did not have to worry. If nothing came of my entry into high society I would just go back to Cador and everything would be as it was before. My parents would not harry me into making a brilliant marriage. As for Morwenna: it was just that they wanted so much for her; but I told her again and again that what they wanted most was for her to be happy; and if her father knew how worried she was, he would stop the whole thing.
“I know,” she said. “They are such darlings and so good to me always. It is just that I should like to make them proud.”
And so we went on. It was amazing how much practice had to go into the perfect curtsy. We would do it correctly one day and the next day it did not work. We were the despair of poor Madame Duprey, who, I suspected, was really plain Miss Dappry or something like that and had never been nearer to France than Folkestone. But the French had a reputation for elegance and so from necessity and the success of her career she must become one of them, if in name only.
Then we had our singing master, Signor Caldori, for girls must be able to sing and play the pianoforte. One did not need to be a Jenny Lind or Henriette Sontag, but one should be able to trill pleasantly.
We must have elocution lessons. These were particularly difficult for Morwenna who had a slight Cornish accent which had to be completely eliminated; we had to be able to talk freely without embarrassment on any subject which might be raised, and yet not to be over-bold or force our opinions on the company. One must never try to ape the men; one must preserve one’s femininity in all eventualities.
Then, of course, there were the dressmakers and what seemed like endless consultations. Grace was very good and helpful; she often accompanied us to the dressmakers and even dared make a few suggestions there. Our court dresses were made by the most fashionable dressmaker. “I don’t want any expense to be spared,” was Josiah Pencarron’s comment. “Everything’s to be of the best. I don’t want my girl to go to the Queen looking any less well dressed than any of the others.”
So eventually we were on our way to the Queen’s drawing room in our court dresses each with its train three or four yards long which seemed to take a mischievous delight in getting into awkward and even dangerous positions and tripping us up if we were not careful. Our hair had been specially dressed by the court hairdresser, with three white plumes arranged in it, and we fervently hoped these would stay in place until the ordeal was over; we had been stuffed into our corsets and so tightly laced that we became breathless. It was not so bad for me because I was fairly thin but it must have been agony for Morwenna. She endured it stoically as she did everything else.
And there we were in the carriage with Helena, among all the other carriages on their way to the Palace. People looked in on us—some laughing at us, some envious. There were children without shoes or stockings. I could not take my eyes from their red chilblained feet and I felt ashamed.
Helena pulled down the blinds of the carriage but that did not shut them out of my mind. I thought then of the wonderful work Frances and Peterkin were doing and that I might like to join them.
But then we had arrived.
Into the Palace we went, and there was the Queen, a tiny figure, most elaborately dressed, diamonds glittering on her person and jeweled tiara on her head. There could be no mistaking her. Small she might be, but I had never before seen a more regal air. Beside her was the Prince, formidable, severity in every line of his once-handsome face. He looked strained and tired; and I remembered how the press had attacked him during the recent war. They did not like him because he was a German and they were not fond of foreigners. No people ever were. The French had hated Marie Antoinette because she was an Austrian, I remembered.
I was there before Her Majesty. I was thankful that my curtsy would have won the approval of Madame Duprey herself. I kissed the plump little hand, glittering with jewels; I received the benign smile and I walked backwards with ease … and it was all over.
I felt I had been weighed in the balance and found not wanting.
I was now fit to mix in English society!
Our first ball! It was given by Lady Bellington, one of the leading London hostesses, for her daughter Jennifer. The Bellington residence was a mansion which had a small garden beyond which was the Park.
Helena, with my mother, Aunt Amaryllis and Uncle Peter, accompanied us. My mother told me not to worry if I did not dance all the evening. If we were sitting out we should indulge in animated conversation and give the impression that we were not in the least concerned about not being asked to dance. It was hard to imagine Morwenna engaged in animated conversation and this only added to her worries.
“No one will surely want to dance with me,” she declared. “And if they did I should forget half the steps. I don’t know which will be worse … having to dance or sit out.”
“All things come to an end,” I told her philosophically. “Tomorrow it will be something in the past.”
I was quite looking forward to it. I loved dancing for one thing; and I did find it amusing to be among these people, to watch the ambitious mammas’ eyes on the most eligible of the young men, calculating, trying hard to push forward their daughters without seeming to.
I exchanged glances with my mother; she knew what I was thinking: and I had said to myself, It doesn’t matter. If I sit out the whole evening they love me just the same. I gave up a little prayer of thanksgiving for my parents.
At the top of the wide staircase Lord and Lady Bellington received us graciously, Jennifer beside them.
We passed on.
The music was playing. Two middle-aged gentlemen came up to us and asked us to dance. From Helena’s description of her coming out days I guessed they were needy scions of good family who were given an evening’s entertainment in exchange for services rendered to the unpreferred.
They whirled us round. I wondered how Morwenna was getting on. I thought she might find this a good baptism for the middle-aged gentlemen would do their duty which would surely include being affable and helpful to a shy young woman.
In due course we returned to our party. We had broken the ice. We had danced.
A young man appeared. He bowed before us, his eyes on me.
“May I have the pleasure …?”