“Yes, thank you,” she said politely.
Justin looked from one to the other. “I was about to introduce her to you, sir. I did not realize the two of you had met.”
“We haven’t,” she said bluntly. “Nor do I know his companion. I believe Sir John interrupted a conversation I was enjoying a while ago, however.”
Justin experienced an unaccustomed collision of emotions. Although he felt a tickle of amusement, a surge of anger banished it, and much as he disliked Conroy, he did not think the anger he felt was in any way that gentleman’s fault.
Conroy smiled, bestowing upon Lady Letitia the sort of look that made Justin glad he did not have a sister.
Keeping his temper on a firm rein, he said, “In that case, let me introduce him properly, ma’am. This is Sir John Conroy, onetime close advisor to the queen, and his aide, Charles Morden.”
Conroy’s eyebrows snapped together, and his jaw clenched, but these signs did not move Justin. He had no cause to fear Conroy.
“Goodness,” Lady Letitia said, looking at the latter with widened eyes. “Do you no longer advise Her Majesty, Sir John?”
Conroy’s lips pressed to a thin line, and Justin knew from experience that the man strove to control a temper even more volatile than his.
“The queen has much to learn about her august position,” Conroy said grimly. “She inherited the throne at a very early age, as you must know.”
“She will celebrate her twentieth birthday next month, sir,” Lady Letitia said. “I am nearly that age myself. Do you think a sensible woman of twenty too young to take full responsibility for her duties?”
“What I think is not relevant,” Conroy said. “She is the queen. All I meant by my observation is that if she sometimes acts impulsively, we cannot wonder at it. In my experience—and I have known her nearly from the cradle—her intelligence generally outweighs her impulses. Therefore she will soon seek advice again from those she knows she can trust to act in her best interest.”
“I should think she would want what is best for the country,” Lady Letitia said demurely.
Seeing color leap to Conroy’s cheeks, Justin said quickly, “To be sure, that is always Her Majesty’s main concern. From what I have seen, she is wise beyond her years. I do not think we need fear she will act rashly.”
“Nor do I,” Conroy said testily. “So don’t think you can make mischief, Raventhorpe. Look here, I want a word with you. Forgive us, my lady.”
Letty watched the three men walk away, feeling oddly bereft. For a short time, while she had been chatting with Raventhorpe, she had seen others watching them with open curiosity. Some had even looked as if they might approach, and she had harbored a small hope that he would introduce her so that she could make some friends. It was not to be, however. As Sir John Conroy led him away, she saw the others turn back to their previous conversations.
She tried several times to approach other ladies of the court, but they haughtily kept their distance.
A gentleman approached her shortly before Lady Sutherland dismissed the queen’s ladies to change for dinner, but he wanted only to tell her that he had the honor to be her dinner partner. Turning on his heel the moment he had spoken, he neglected even to offer his name. By then she had come to understand that, although she had previously met only a few of the people in the room, everyone there knew exactly who she was and why she was there.
That thought would have depressed a less resilient spirit, but Letty had spirit to spare. Since her duty required only her presence that afternoon, she strolled about the room, looking at pictures and furniture, hoping she succeeded in looking occupied and undistressed by her isolation.
It occurred to her that no one had specifically informed her that she was to make one of the royal dinner party. However, since she apparently had a dinner partner, she felt it safe to assume that she was to do so.
Shortly before the queen withdrew to change for dinner, Letty saw Raventhorpe talking with a tall, blond young woman, whom she recognized as Susan Devon-Poole. She knew little about Miss Devon-Poole other than that she seemed to begin every sentence with “my goodness me,” but her apparent hauteur now, even while conversing with him, seemed equal to that of anyone in the room.
Aware of an odd disappointment that he had not returned to continue their conversation, Letty told herself she was being foolish. That he had spoken to her once did not mean he would do so again, much as she had enjoyed exchanging verbal thrusts with him.
When Victoria retired to her dressing room, her ladies and gentlemen followed suit. Letty easily found the stairway leading to her apartment, but to her surprise, Miss Dibble and Jenifry awaited her on the landing outside her door.
Had she not been so glad to see them, she might have wondered what they were doing there. As it was, she greeted them with unqualified relief.
“You cannot imagine how pleasant it is to see friendly faces,” she exclaimed. Only when both remained silent did she note their distress. “What’s amiss?”
“It’s really quite dreadful, miss,” Jenifry said grimly.
At the same time, Miss Dibble said, “To think such a thing could happen right in Buckingham Palace. I do not know how you will dress for dinner.”
Hearing distant, muffled noises from the depths of the stairwell, Letty said, “Tell me the worst quickly. Someone is coming.”
“Hopefully, it’s someone to clear away the mess,” Jenifry said.
“What mess?”
Miss Dibble grimaced. “I cannot even speak the words. I am surprised that you cannot smell it, Letitia. To think we were away less than a quarter hour!”
“I do smell something horrid. What is it?”
Jenifry said bluntly, “Slops. Someone emptied at least two basins on the floor whilst we were making ourselves familiar with the corridors and stairways.”
“One of the gentlemen’s valets very kindly showed us to a common room, rather like a servants’ hall,” Miss Dibble said. “It is for those of us who look after ladies and gentlemen of the court, but I expect we shouldn’t have gone so far.”
“Fiddlesticks,” Letty said. “How could you suspect that you had reason to guard my room?”
“Well, we will guard it after this,” Jenifry said angrily. “It’s a good thing we didn’t bring more of your clothing, Miss Letty. They threw your lilac gown right down in the mess. It will never come clean again!”
“Clearly, someone wants me gone,” Letty said, sighing. “Where is Lucas?”
Miss Dibble said, “I sent him to fetch a slavey to clean up the mess. That must be them now.”
The stairway doubled back on itself several times, so it was some time after Letty had first heard the voices that a hurried thump of feet on the carpeted flight below heralded the appearance of three men on the half-landing. The first was Lucas, and he led two menials with buckets, brushes, and pails. Bringing up the rear of the procession was the Duchess of Sutherland’s footman.
“Your man told me what happened, my lady,” he said quietly. “I informed her grace, who gave orders that you are to remove to another chamber. If your women do not want to go back inside to fetch what you need, one of these men can do so. You need only tell them what you require.”
Jenifry said quickly, “I’ll fetch your dressing case, Miss Letty.”
“No, you won’t,” Miss Dibble said sharply. “You’ll come back reeking of heaven-knows-what. Fortunately, there is very little there,” she said to the duchess’s footman. “One dressing case with her ladyship’s initials on it, and sundry articles of clothing. The latter items you can arrange to have properly cleaned and returned to her ladyship. Do not, under any circumstances, allow your people to take them into her new room without a thorough cleaning.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the footman said, signing to the menials to enter the room. Then he added quietly, “We will do our best to find whoever did this, my lady. I feel bound to tell you, however, that so far no one admits seeing anyone up he
re.”
“I know you will do what you can,” Letty said.
Less than ten minutes later, she sat comfortably at a proper dressing table in a room considerably larger than the first.
Jenifry, looking around, said flatly, “They must have given you the smallest chamber in the palace, that first one. I’ll wager you’ve been having a dreadful time of it downstairs, too, Miss Letty.”
“Not dreadful, exactly, but I cannot pretend they welcomed me. Except for one, if they spoke to me at all, they did so in a way that would have cast a more sensitive woman into quite a deep depression.”
“Poor Letitia,” Miss Dibble said sympathetically.
Letty grinned at her. “I expected you to say that it serves me right for all the worry I have given you.”
“I would never say such a thing,” Miss Dibble replied. “It is not my place to speak so to you. More than that, however, I do not condone rudeness in others, ever, as you should know, Letitia; and this goes well beyond rudeness.”
“It does indeed, ma’am; however, Papa warned me to expect small welcome, so their behavior downstairs did not shock me. Slops cast all over my bedchamber is another, more serious matter, certainly. Still, I do not think it will serve our purpose to make an issue of it. As Jen suggested, we will simply take care never to leave my room unlocked or unattended again.”
“In this instance, your lack of sensibility quite unnerves me, Letitia.”
“I should think you would be grateful for it, ma’am. Only think how trying it would be if I were to cast myself on your bosom, weeping and wailing and demanding to be taken home at once.”
“I do not think we could simply leave, you know,” Miss Dibble said judiciously. “One simply does not walk away from a royal appointment.”
“Certainly not,” Letty said, smiling fondly at her. “Moreover, all is not bleak, Elvira. I did meet someone who occasionally talked like a sensible man. You will never guess who he was, either.”
“Not being blessed with second sight, I am sure I cannot,” Miss Dibble said. “While you tell us, do let Jenifry arrange your hair more suitably for the evening.”
“It was Raventhorpe, but there is nothing more to tell,” Letty said, getting to her feet again. “In any event, before I say another word, I am going to take off this dress and loosen this devilish corset.”
“Letitia!”
“Well, I’m sorry if you don’t like the word ‘devilish’, but no other word aptly describes this thing, Elvira. Jenifry pulled my laces far too tight. Moreover, I have been standing or walking the whole time I’ve been away, and these shoes pinch my toes. I want to put my feet up on a stool and relax, if only for a few minutes. What I’d really like is a hot bath with lots of lovely French bath salts, but I daresay I should not take so much time.”
“I need only ring for a tub and hot water, Miss Letty,” Jenifry said. “That nice footman who brought us here said to let the servants know about anything you require, and after what was done to your room, I expect they’ll want to make amends. Of course, later we’ll make a list of what we need and bring our own things, but in the meantime—”
“First, we want comfortable chairs,” Letty said, turning so that Jenifry could unbutton her gown. “The only one we’ve got is that pole-backed one by the window, which looks amazingly like a device from the Spanish Inquisition. For now, just fetch me a stool.”
Jenifry chuckled, but Miss Dibble clicked her tongue. “That Catholic nonsense need not trouble us here in England, Letitia. I know your papa believes in religious tolerance. I do myself, when all is said and done, but any religion that can put its people through such dreadful ordeals as what they say the Inquisition did don’t bear thinking about in a civilized land. You just turn your thoughts to something more suitable, if you please.”
“Well, I did not mean to discuss the Catholic question, if that’s what you mean,” Letty said. “However, considering that it’s become a major issue here in England just now, Elvira, I think you had better not say such things where others can hear you. You are bound to offend someone if you do.”
“As if I don’t have better sense than that. If you are going to take off that gown, for heaven’s sake, be careful not to crease it. Hang it up carefully, Jenifry.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jenifry replied. “Miss Letty, there’s a footstool by the door. I’ll draw it right up for you; then I’ll go fetch a couple of cushions for that chair.”
“I can get the stool,” Letty said, kicking off the offending shoes and suiting action to words. Sitting in the chair, which proved to be as uncomfortable as it looked, she put up her feet with a sigh. When Jenifry returned minutes later with two cushions, she accepted them with thanks, adding, “It seems you’ve gotten to know that footman rather well in the short time we’ve been here.”
To her surprise, Jenifry reddened self-consciously. “He’s a knowing one, miss, and quite willing to offer his advice.”
“Most men like to do that, in my experience,” Letty said dryly, thinking instantly of Raventhorpe. “He is very handsome, too, is he not?”
Jenifry grinned. “He is that, miss, but not as handsome as the one what took us to see the common room. You should have seen him.”
Involuntarily both young women glanced at Miss Dibble, but she only shook her head at them, saying, “Ten minutes by my watch, Letitia. Then you simply must put your dress back on. They tell me the queen takes no more time than necessary to prepare for dinner, and you must not keep her waiting.”
Letty did not argue. Ten minutes later she took her place on the dressing stool and let Jenifry rearrange her hair with pearls and ribbons from the dressing case woven into the ringlets. Then she got back into her gown and shoes.
Drawing on her gloves, she picked up her lacy reticule and went downstairs, finding herself neither first nor last to return. Although no one spoke to her, she saw the young woman with whom she had conversed earlier and remembered that Sir John had addressed her as Catherine. Taller than Letty, she had hair the color of old guineas. When she saw Letty looking her way, she smiled briefly before turning to an older woman who had plucked at her sleeve.
Shortly thereafter, Letty’s dinner partner appeared, introducing himself as Althorn, as if the brief appellation were sufficient to tell her all she needed to know about him. His air of abstraction made normal conversation impossible, and she found herself watching for Raventhorpe. When he did not appear before queen and company went into dinner, Letty felt an unexpected stab of regret.
Dinner passed minute by crawling minute. Neither her partner nor the man on her left seemed to feel the least obligation to speak to her. After a quarter hour of finding that her conversational gambits fell on apparently deaf ears, she gave up.
Conversation buzzed around her, for the dining table filled the long room, with no fewer than twenty-five chattering diners on each side. Servants scurried to and fro, carrying huge platters, carafes of wine, and buckets of iced champagne. Letty drank water and sipped only occasionally from her wineglass, a trick her father had taught her the first time he allowed her to drink wine with her dinner.
“He who remains in control of his senses throughout a meal is the one who will remember the most of what was said and done there,” the marquess had told her. “He also will make fewer errors of judgment in his conversation during the meal or afterward.” Letty had long since taken that lesson to heart.
As instructed, she kept her ears open and paid heed to those around her, but she learned nothing that she could imagine was important or even interesting, politically or otherwise. She would not pass on anything to do with the queen, certainly, but what others said about party politics was fair game.
Generally, she found the evening more boring than any other in her memory. If she looked forward to the queen’s drawing room the next day, it was only in the hope that it would prove more eventful.
She had attended royal drawing rooms before, of course. Not only had her mother presented he
r to Victoria shortly after the young queen’s accession to the throne, but Letty and both of her parents had attended two coronation drawing rooms the previous year.
The next day’s event took place at St. James’s Palace, which the queen traveled in state with her suite, in three royal carriages, escorted by a party of Life Guards. Letty rode in the third carriage with two bedchamber ladies and another maid of honor. The two bedchamber ladies chatted to each other. The maid of honor stared out her window.
At St. James’s, a guard of honor from the Life Guards stood on duty in the courtyard, and members of the Queen’s Guard protected the color court. Martial music stirred the air, and as Letty knew from experience, bands of both royal regiments would play alternately throughout the afternoon.
Before the drawing room began, Victoria received a deputation from Christ’s Hospital in the royal closet. Then members of the royal family arrived with their attendants, and soon after that Victoria entered the throne room to take her place, standing in front of the throne, surrounded by her ladies.
The diplomatic presentations began, and when those with the entrée had come in, and the Countess of Kinnoull moved to present the lady mayoress of London, Letty began to see more familiar faces. Both the Russian ambassador and the Danish minister had dined with her parents in Paris. Each smiled when he saw her, and minutes later, she saw a pair of familiar, twinkling eyes that nearly moved her to leave her post in order to greet their owner. He clearly lacked her scruples, for he came to her at once.
“Herr Hummelauer, how delightful to see you,” she said when he took her right hand and bent over it, clicking his heels together as he did.
“Gnädiges Fräulein,” he murmured, kissing the air just above her hand, then looking up with his twinkle still firmly in place. “I hope I find you well.”
“You do, indeed,” she replied in his language.
No one seemed to be paying heed as she continued to chat amiably with the little man in German. He was the Austrian Chargé d’Affaires and a good friend of her father’s. When he excused himself, she was sorry to see him go, for the general presentations had begun. Again, time crawled at a snail’s pace.
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