least, an
earl.’
Annabel chuckled inwardly. She wanted to make some flippant, comical remark about ensnaring a duke, no less, but she realized that the whole process of ‘coming out’ was a serious
business to Lady Cynthia. She had no wish to offend the lady, who was being so kind to her, so she bit back the retort and composed her face into sober, dutiful lines.
On the May afternoon when Annabel was to be presented, she was sitting in a queue of carriages on The Mall with Lady Cynthia beside her. ‘Now, can you remember everything
I’ve told you?’ Cynthia asked, seeming far more agitated than Annabel. The girl herself was serenely composed. Perhaps this was because she viewed the whole thing as rather a lark and
not to be taken too seriously. The idea that she was to be paraded in some kind of marriage market amused rather than angered her. But at least, she thought ruefully, it’s taking my mind off
Gilbert. He had been a bitter disappointment to her. So she tried to listen attentively as Cynthia went through the procedure with her yet again.
‘Once we get to the palace,’ Cynthia said, fanning her face vigorously, ‘and goodness knows when that’s going to be – oh, do go away!’ She broke off to wave
angrily at the curious faces peering in through all the carriage windows to see the debutantes in their finery. ‘Now, where was I? Oh yes. You’ll wait in an antechamber with all the
other girls. And I warn you, it can be dreadfully hot . . .’ On and on she went until Annabel found herself not listening. Instead, she was fascinated by the crowds of people in The Mall, who
were determined to be part of this special day.
Lady Cynthia had not exaggerated her warnings of the stuffiness of the room in which they had to wait.
‘You’d think they’d at least give us a drink,’ one girl, pressed up against Annabel, muttered. ‘And my flowers are wilting already.’
Each girl carried a bouquet, a fan and a lace handkerchief. Annabel’s posy was a small, neat arrangement, but the girl beside her had a large bouquet that she was finding difficult to
manage. Annabel opened her mouth to offer to help, but at that moment she was called forward. Picking up her train and carrying it over her left arm, as Cynthia had instructed, she walked with her
head held high and a slight smile on her lips out of the room, and she dropped her train to be spread out behind her by an official. Annabel was fortunate to be one of the first to be called
shortly after three o’clock.
‘Please remove your right glove,’ the man murmured. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward into the drawing room and moved towards Queen Victoria. As she curtsied, her name was
announced and she kissed the small wrinkled hand now resting in her own. She glanced up and met the eyes of the Queen and, suddenly, she understood the importance of the moment. To be received by
the monarch in such glittering surroundings was indeed an honour. Annabel smiled as she rose and moved backwards with several more curtsies until she reached the door of the anteroom. So much
preparation and practice had gone into what was over in a brief moment, and yet Annabel would not have missed it for the world.
‘And now,’ Cynthia said as their carriage headed back to her Mayfair town house, ‘the Season starts in earnest. I have several invitations for you already, but tonight, we will
dine quietly at home – we’ve both had enough excitement for one day. Tomorrow night, however, we will be attending your first three balls.’
‘Three?’ Annabel exclaimed. ‘In one night? How do we manage that?’
Cynthia chuckled. ‘It’s usual to attend a dinner party and then go on to a ball. If there is more than one being held, the etiquette is to go from ball to ball, having spent about
half an hour or so at each one and end up at the most prestigious. You’ll see how it’s done. And then,’ Cynthia was not finished, ‘the following day we are
earl.’
Annabel chuckled inwardly. She wanted to make some flippant, comical remark about ensnaring a duke, no less, but she realized that the whole process of ‘coming out’ was a serious
business to Lady Cynthia. She had no wish to offend the lady, who was being so kind to her, so she bit back the retort and composed her face into sober, dutiful lines.
On the May afternoon when Annabel was to be presented, she was sitting in a queue of carriages on The Mall with Lady Cynthia beside her. ‘Now, can you remember everything
I’ve told you?’ Cynthia asked, seeming far more agitated than Annabel. The girl herself was serenely composed. Perhaps this was because she viewed the whole thing as rather a lark and
not to be taken too seriously. The idea that she was to be paraded in some kind of marriage market amused rather than angered her. But at least, she thought ruefully, it’s taking my mind off
Gilbert. He had been a bitter disappointment to her. So she tried to listen attentively as Cynthia went through the procedure with her yet again.
‘Once we get to the palace,’ Cynthia said, fanning her face vigorously, ‘and goodness knows when that’s going to be – oh, do go away!’ She broke off to wave
angrily at the curious faces peering in through all the carriage windows to see the debutantes in their finery. ‘Now, where was I? Oh yes. You’ll wait in an antechamber with all the
other girls. And I warn you, it can be dreadfully hot . . .’ On and on she went until Annabel found herself not listening. Instead, she was fascinated by the crowds of people in The Mall, who
were determined to be part of this special day.
Lady Cynthia had not exaggerated her warnings of the stuffiness of the room in which they had to wait.
‘You’d think they’d at least give us a drink,’ one girl, pressed up against Annabel, muttered. ‘And my flowers are wilting already.’
Each girl carried a bouquet, a fan and a lace handkerchief. Annabel’s posy was a small, neat arrangement, but the girl beside her had a large bouquet that she was finding difficult to
manage. Annabel opened her mouth to offer to help, but at that moment she was called forward. Picking up her train and carrying it over her left arm, as Cynthia had instructed, she walked with her
head held high and a slight smile on her lips out of the room, and she dropped her train to be spread out behind her by an official. Annabel was fortunate to be one of the first to be called
shortly after three o’clock.
‘Please remove your right glove,’ the man murmured. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward into the drawing room and moved towards Queen Victoria. As she curtsied, her name was
announced and she kissed the small wrinkled hand now resting in her own. She glanced up and met the eyes of the Queen and, suddenly, she understood the importance of the moment. To be received by
the monarch in such glittering surroundings was indeed an honour. Annabel smiled as she rose and moved backwards with several more curtsies until she reached the door of the anteroom. So much
preparation and practice had gone into what was over in a brief moment, and yet Annabel would not have missed it for the world.
‘And now,’ Cynthia said as their carriage headed back to her Mayfair town house, ‘the Season starts in earnest. I have several invitations for you already, but tonight, we will
dine quietly at home – we’ve both had enough excitement for one day. Tomorrow night, however, we will be attending your first three balls.’
‘Three?’ Annabel exclaimed. ‘In one night? How do we manage that?’
Cynthia chuckled. ‘It’s usual to attend a dinner party and then go on to a ball. If there is more than one being held, the etiquette is to go from ball to ball, having spent about
half an hour or so at each one and end up at the most prestigious. You’ll see how it’s done. And then,’ Cynthia was not finished, ‘the following day we are
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