Americans -- England -- Fiction; Girls -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
About twenty of us, this time, were let in at once. The last of the
preceding twenty were slowly and singly pacing after one another's
trains round two sides of this third big room towards a door at the
farther corner. There was a most impressive silence. As we got into file
I felt that the supreme moment was at hand, and it was not a comfortable
feeling. Lady Torquilin, in front of me, put a question to a gentleman
in a uniform she ought to have been afraid of--only that nothing ever
terrified Lady Torquilin, which made it less comfortable still. 'Oh,
Lord Mafferton,' said she--I hadn't recognised him in my nervousness and
his gold lace--'How many curtseys are there to make?'
'Nine, dear lady,' replied this peer, with evident enjoyment. 'It's
the most brilliant Drawing-Room of the season. Every Royalty who could
possibly attend is here. Nine, at the least!'
Lady Torquilin's reply utterly terrified me. It was confidential, and
delivered in an undertone, but it was full of severe meaning. 'I'm full
of rheumatism,' said she, 'and I shan't do it.'
The question as to what Lady Torquilin would do, if not what was
required of her, rose vividly before me, and kept me company at every
step of that interminable round. 'Am I all right?' she whispered
over her shoulder from the other end of that trailing length of
pansy-coloured velvet. 'Perfectly,' I said. But there was nobody to
tell me that I was all right--I might have been a thing of shreds and
patches. Somebody's roses had dropped; I was walking on pink petals.
What a pity! And I had forgotten to take off my glove; would it ever
come unbuttoned? How deliberately we were nearing that door at the
farther end! And how could I possibly have supposed that my heart
would beat like this! It was all very well to allow one's self a little
excitement in preparation; but when it came to the actual event I
reminded myself that I had not had the slightest intention of being
nervous. I called all my democratic principles to my assistance--none
of them would come. 'Remember, Mamie Wick,' said I to myself, 'you don't
believe in queens.' But at that moment I saw three Gentlemen of the
Household bending over, and stretching out Lady Torquilin's train into
an illimitable expanse. I looked beyond, and there, in the midst of all
her dazzling Court, stood Queen Victoria. And Lady Torquilin was bending
over her hand! And in another moment it would be--it was my turn!
I felt the touches on my own train, I heard somebody call a name I had
a vague familiarity with--'Miss Mamie Wick.' I was launched at last
towards that little black figure of Royalty with the Blue Ribbon
crossing her breast and the Koh-i-nor sparkling there! Didn't you
believe in queens, Miss Mamie Wick, at that moment? I'm very much afraid
you did.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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