Sir Peter and Mrs Perry came to join us and after a hasty breakfast the ladies and Sir Peter climbed into the waiting carriage, while Mr Perry, Mr Carlton and Dolly set off on foot. We’d barely turned into Whitehall when we came to a stop. Carriages filled the road ahead, making it impassable.
‘We’ll have to walk,’ said Sir Peter. ‘If we’re separated, go down Parliament Street and turn left into Palace Yard. Our box is on the second tier, to the front of the first house.’
I held my train over one arm to prevent it being trampled on as we shuffled along in the press of the crowd. All was good-natured, however, with a palpable air of excitement. As we approached Bridge Street we saw the raised and canopied processional route snaking its way from the north door of Westminster Hall, turning down Bridge Street, into King’s Road and thence to Westminster Abbey.
It took nearly an hour to walk the short distance to Palace Yard. Already the public had gathered at every window and even on roofs. Some must have camped there all night. Finally, we pushed our way to the tiered pavilions bolted to the front of the houses. An attendant took our tickets and we climbed the rickety steps to a narrow gangway leading to our box. It was disconcerting to look through the gaps between the boards to the ground below but, once seated behind a guard rail, I felt perfectly secure.
‘We have a splendid view of Westminster Hall from here,’ said Araminta. ‘Father had to pull a few strings to secure our seats but it was well worth it, don’t you think?’
‘It certainly was,’ I said. Our box afforded us not only a clear view to the front but also a limited view to our right where the raised walkway turned into Bridge Street.
‘The procession will pass directly in front of us after it leaves Westminster Hall on its way to the Abbey,’ said Dolly. ‘There’s nothing to do now but wait until ten o’clock when the King arrives.’
Araminta and I amused ourselves by looking at the ladies’ gowns and arguing over which was the prettiest, while Sir Peter and Mrs Perry used their opera glasses to spy out friends and acquaintances. The sun was hot and I was thirsty. An orange seller came along the gangway behind us but we couldn’t risk dripping juice on our gowns or staining our white gloves.
Dolly took a silver flask from his coat. ‘Brandy?’ he asked. I shook my head and he took a sip and put the flask away again.
I watched the crowd, my mind dwelling on the quarrel with Alessandro, wondering what I could have done to make him listen to me. And then there had been his dreadful accusation that Dolly had murdered Sarah… I glanced sideways at my fiancé, who toyed languidly with his opera glasses, looking for someone of interest in the sea of faces. It was a ridiculous idea; I’d never seen anyone look less like a murderer than Dolly did. I rubbed my aching temples. Alessandro had never lied to me but in this he must be mistaken.
I was beginning to fidget on my uncomfortable seat when I heard a commotion in the crowd in Bridge Street. There was a series of whistles and then a shout, ‘The Queen forever!’ I craned my neck to see what was happening. A black carriage, closely followed by a yellow state coach drawn by six bays, forced its way through the crowd.
‘Well, well! It seems the Queen has decided to attend the Coronation despite her lack of an invitation,’ drawled Dolly as the carriages proceeded slowly down Margaret Street and past Westminster Hall.
I caught a glimpse of the Queen’s white face and her feathered headdress at the carriage window. There were cheers and boos in equal measure as the two carriages turned towards the Abbey and disappeared from sight. I was afraid for her. It must have taken a great deal of courage to make that journey, especially since she’d received an uncertain welcome, so different from the ecstasy of the crowd when she was acquitted after her trial.
Nothing seemed to happen for a while but then the noise from the chattering crowd increased.
‘Look!’ said Mr Perry. He snatched the opera glasses from his mother’s hand and trained them towards the Abbey. ‘It’s the Queen!’
In the distance two figures walked into view and stopped by the West Door of the Abbey. It wasn’t possible to see more, even though we all took it in turns to strain our eyes with the opera glasses. Soon the carriages reappeared, stopped before the West Door and the Queen and her escort climbed back in. The carriages then trundled out of sight towards the Poets’ Corner door, where the Royal Family were expected to enter the Abbey.
The crowd was full of speculation and word was passed from person to person that the Queen had been barred at both the West and East Doors of the Abbey.
The carriages came around the corner again and stopped outside Westminster Hall. The Queen descended with her escort but the guards shouted and some of the crowd hissed and yelled as she approached the door. Pages clad in scarlet livery and carrying battleaxes surrounded the party. Raised voices drifted towards us on the breeze. There were cries of ‘Shame!’ and ‘Go back to Pergami!’ as the guards closed ranks.
Defeated, the Queen climbed into her yellow carriage again and, as the bells of Westminster pealed out, she was driven away.
‘That’s the last we’ll see of her!’ said Araminta, unfolding her fan and fluttering it before her face.
‘At least the spectacle kept us all amused until the main event of the day,’ said Dolly, over the cacophony of the bells.
I watched the crowd in silence, noticing the sun glinting off brilliant jewels and feathers bobbing up and down as people chattered in excited anticipation, while the thought of the poor Queen’s utter despair and humiliation almost brought me to tears. I hoped Lady Hamilton would comfort her.
The King was half an hour late. The crowd became restless as the sun grew hotter. Our box was in full sun and my bodice was too tight. Surreptitiously, I eased it under my arms, hoping my face wasn’t too unattractively flushed from the heat.
Smart carriages came and went and, at last, the procession emerged from Westminster Hall to loud applause from the crowd. First came the heralds with a joyful burst of sound as they announced their King. Seven herb-women followed, all chosen for their beauty and dressed in flowing white muslin as they strewed lavender, rosemary and flower petals along the processional route.
Dolly nudged me. ‘That’s the Lord Great Chamberlain holding the mace,’ he said, ‘and here come the princes of the blood, the Lord Chancellor, the King’s gentlemen and other officers of state.’
A collective gasp went up from the assembled company as the magnificent figure of the King appeared, nodding and bowing gracefully to his subjects. I was suffering from the heat but how much worse it must have been for the King in his ceremonial dress. Treading slowly and majestically, he wore a suit made of cloth of silver, lavishly trimmed with gold braid. His vast velvet train of scarlet and gold, trimmed with ermine, was carried by eight pages. He wore a black Spanish hat surmounted by sprays of ostrich feathers and a black heron’s plume. Whatever my private opinion of him might be, he looked every inch a King.
A swelling wave of cheers and applause came from the crowd along the processional route.
‘What a glorious show!’ said Mrs Perry, her eyes shining as the procession finally disappeared from sight.
‘And so it should be,’ said Sir Peter. ‘They say the King’s clothes alone cost more than twenty-four thousand pounds!’
Araminta’s eyes opened very wide.
‘The King wanted his Coronation to be a grander affair than Napoleon’s,’ said Dolly, ‘and I’d say he’s achieved that, wouldn’t you?’
The spectators settled down to wait while the Coronation took place out of sight inside the Abbey. Araminta and I joined the queue for the ladies’ retiring room in the house behind our box and later Sir Peter bought us all a slice of pie. Another trader sold us glasses of negus. Mrs Perry, her nose shining in the relentless sun, complained the negus had been disgracefully watered down but I was grateful to quench my thirst.
After an interminable length of time a roar went up from the crowd as the news filtered out of the Ab
bey that the King had been crowned. Some threw their hats in the air. A little while later the procession left the Abbey and returned with all pomp and ceremony to Westminster Hall for the Coronation Banquet. Once the dignitaries had disappeared, the crowd began to disperse.
‘I’m cramped from sitting so long,’ said Araminta as we queued to descend to the street, ‘but the celebrations aren’t over yet.’ The feathers in her headdress had wilted in the sun, giving her a rakish air. ‘You will both come with us to the Coronation Fête in Hyde Park this evening, won’t you? We’ll return to Northumberland Gardens for dinner and then go on to the fête.’
‘There’s to be a balloon ascent and a pair of elephants pulling a golden carriage in the opening parade,’ said Mr Perry.
‘How could we miss such an opportunity?’ said Dolly.
I gathered my crumpled train over my arm and we were jostled along with the happy horde. All around us was good humour and extravagant praise for the King. I clung to Dolly’s arm and reflected soberly on how fickle people were. Only a few months ago there had been fervent support for the Queen but now, humiliated and reviled, she’d been forced to retreat to lick her wounds while the King, puffed up with self-importance, held court amongst his sycophants.
The following morning, I slept very late. I found Aunt Maude waiting for me as I came, yawning, down to breakfast.
‘Your father is still abed,’ she said.
‘He wasn’t home when I returned late last night.’
‘I’ve seen the newspaper reports of the Coronation already,’ said Aunt Maude, ‘but I want to hear all about it from you.’ She poured me a cup of strong coffee.
‘It was a wonderful spectacle,’ I said, ‘though it saddened me to see the Queen turned away.’
‘A shameful thing!’ Aunt Maude shook her head sadly.
I sipped the hot coffee, feeling it revive me. ‘I wish she hadn’t tried to enter the Abbey. It was demeaning for her to be refused entry.’
‘She always was impulsive and strong-willed,’ said Aunt Maude. ‘She must have known the King wouldn’t allow her access and counted on her previous popularity, hoping the crowds would rally behind her. I expect she wanted to provoke him.’
‘I imagine you’re right.’
Some twenty minutes later I’d described all that I’d seen and Aunt Maude had exclaimed in wonder at it all.
‘And then,’ I said, ‘there was the Coronation Fête in Hyde Park. I shall never forget the elephants in the opening parade. I’d never seen real ones before and I’d no idea they were so big. They wore gold headdresses and the most beautiful, brightly coloured blankets decorated with glittering sequins. And I do wish you could have been there to see the balloon ascent. It made me dizzy to see it rising so high in the air.’
‘How wonderful to see the world from a bird’s-eye point of view,’ said Aunt Maude, ‘though I should have been terrified to be so far off the ground.’
‘There were Chinese lanterns in the trees,’ I said, ‘and an illuminated temple topped with a gold crown to commemorate the day. And at the end of the celebration there was a magnificent firework display that went on for at least twenty minutes. I daren’t think how much it all cost.’
‘I daresay the taxpayer will foot the bill,’ said Aunt Maude.
I sipped my coffee. Now the excitement of the Coronation was over there was little to divert my thoughts from my latest distressing meeting with Alessandro. I was sure he was mistaken about Dolly but regretted that my refusal to believe it had prevented us from making up our differences. I sighed deeply, my heart aching for Alessandro.
‘You look tired, dear,’ said Aunt Maude. ‘Shall we have a quiet day reading in the garden?’
‘We must hold a ball,’ said Father that evening after dinner, ‘in continuing celebration of the King’s Coronation. Will you arrange it as soon as possible, Emilia? Aunt Maude will assist you.’ He smiled. ‘And then the next big event will be your wedding, of course.’
My heart sank. ‘Hasn’t everyone had enough Coronation celebrations?’ I said, hoping he’d change his mind. I glanced at Aunt Maude, sitting beside me on the sofa, but her expression remained inscrutable.
‘Of course they haven’t!’ Father leaned back in his chair with a half-smile on his lips. ‘The King is delighted that, at last, his people have recognised him for the great man he is. Thankfully Caroline of Brunswick has completely fallen from favour. Turning up at the Coronation, and all that undignified tramping about trying to push her way past the doorkeepers, made her lose any credibility she might once have had. The expectation is that she’ll retreat to Italy and her lover with her tail between her legs.’
‘She was shamefully treated,’ I protested.
‘Nonsense! No more than she deserved.’ Father smirked. ‘She had the gall to write to the King, demanding to be crowned on Monday. Monday! She’ll be crowned on no day at all, as far as he is concerned. Anyhow, enough of that wretched woman! I shall inform the King that we’re arranging a ball in his honour. He may even grace us with his presence again.’
‘Is there a particular advantage to you if he attends the ball?’ I asked. I was sure that there must be.
Father pursed his lips. ‘He’ll be pleased to hear that I continue to be a loyal supporter. And then, as you know, he’s a great patron of the arts. He might be interested in my collection.’
I had an inkling of what was in Father’s mind. ‘And perhaps, if you were his agent, you might have the honour of procuring paintings or sculptures for his residences?’
‘I have excellent contacts with art dealers both here and on the continent,’ said Father, ‘and many satisfied clients.’ He smiled winningly. ‘You have a good eye yourself, my dear. Should there be something in particular the King has in mind, you would be well placed, while on your honeymoon in Italy, to be my eyes and ears when you visit the dealers to make enquiries.’
‘As I said before, Father, I’d prefer to visit Bath. Certainly Dolly doesn’t want to go to Italy.’ If Alessandro had known how much Dolly disliked foreign travel, he’d never have accused him of being in Pesaro when Sarah was murdered.
‘I don’t see why not,’ said Father, sounding distinctly peevish. ‘It’s not as if he’ll be paying for the honeymoon.’
‘Will you give me your guest list for the ball?’ I said, changing the subject to something less contentious. ‘I’ll talk to the printers and the musicians today and see how soon we can make arrangements.’
Father beamed. ‘Good girl! Let me know tomorrow so I can be sure to hold it on an evening the King is free.’ He stood up. ‘I’m going to my club now so don’t wait up.’
Aunt Maude sighed heavily after he’d left the room. ‘He has no idea how much work is involved in organising a ball.’
Over the following days she and I were kept fully occupied. I threw myself into making the arrangements to divert my thoughts from Alessandro. We visited the printers to find out how soon they could produce the invitations, called on the florists to discuss extravagant arrangements of exotic flowers, hired chairs and ordered a magnificent sugar-paste centrepiece for the supper table from Gunter’s. This was to be a Chinese temple, topped with a golden crown, similar to the one in Hyde Park at the Coronation Fête. There would be sugar models of elephants and spectators watching the balloon ascent and the whole arrangement would be set in a sugar-paste landscape representing the park.
Mrs Hope and Cook had discussed with us the elegant dishes to be provided for the supper and embarked upon a frenzied onslaught of additional cleaning and polishing. I interviewed and selected an opera singer to entertain us during the interval in the dancing and booked my dancing master to act as Master of Ceremonies.
At the end of a particularly busy day Aunt Maude and I drooped with exhaustion and could only pick at our supper.
‘Whatever’s the matter with you both?’ said Father, spearing another slice of cold beef. ‘Not sickening, I hope?’
I glanced at Aunt Mau
de’s wan face and had an idea. ‘We’ve run ourselves into the ground with preparations for the ball.’ I said ‘We’d like to visit Langdon Hall for some restorative country air.’
Father chewed contemplatively at his beef. ‘Is everything organised? It must be perfect for the King.’
‘We can do no more now until the last day or so,’ I said. All at once I couldn’t wait to escape, not only from the stifling heat in town but also from Father’s overbearing ways. ‘It would be such a pity if I were not well enough to act as your hostess.’
Father sighed. ‘I suppose there’s no real need for you to remain in town then,’ he said.
I glanced at Aunt Maude, demurely contemplating her untouched supper. ‘We shall return refreshed and ready to complete the final preparations for your ball.’
Chapter 28
The Dressmaker’s Secret Page 27
