her lips were slightly slack, faintly bedewed with saliva.
“Honoured, Madam,” was all he could find to say.
The other member of the posse was Lady Featherstonehaugh who gave him a wintery smile. “We are all waiting for Princess Amelia, then we can have some refreshment before the masque commences. I trust you are staying in the house tonight. Otherwise travelling back will be a nightmare.”
“I don’t as yet know what arrangements have been made, my Lady. But I assure you I won’t travel once darkness has fallen.”
“Very wise. These great country houses are all very well but at night the areas surrounding them are riddled with highwaymen.” She paused and looked at the doors at which a couple of liveried footmen had appeared. “Here comes the Princess now,” she added in an undertone.
In company with everybody else John gave a deep bow, then looked up, though not daring to use his quizzing glass.
He was looking at a woman who had once been a beauty but had now grown stout, with something of a huddle about her stance and bearing. Her face had become full of chins, while her eyes, formerly so pretty, had grown heavy-lidded and baggy. Yet there was still a sparkle about her, an air of being important and privileged. She also seemed, unless her looks belied her, quite kindly. Dressed in an elaborate gown of lilac silk, heavily embroidered with a myriad of silver flowers with diamond sparklers at their centre, she most certainly glittered as she came into the room.
Once, John was aware, she had been the chosen bride of Frederick II of Prussia, known as the Great, but though Frederick had pursued her with fervour, corresponding both with Amelia and her mother, his tyrannical father, who loathed his son, had refused to give his consent to the marriage. Eventually the disillusioned Frederick had been forced to marry a German Princess, Elizabeth-Christina, but he had never loved her and they did not produce an heir. Princess Amelia had never married but had had several affairs, the most notable of which had been with the married Duke of Grafton who, in fact, had two mistresses simultaneously, one the Princess, the other the wife of the Earl of Burlington. These ladies, together with his wife, had presumably worn him out because he had died some seven years ago in 1757. Gazing at her now, the Apothecary thought about her past and could not help but smile.
The Princess clapped her hands together. “Good people,” she said, her accent quite English despite the fact she had been born in Hanover, “the performance will begin shortly. Meanwhile please enjoy yourselves.” At this she waddled forward, smiling and gracious, obviously only too happy to have her house full.
Footmen bearing trays passed amongst the guests and John helped himself to a glass of champagne, stealing a glance at the watch Sir Gabriel had given him for his twenty-first birthday. It was half past two and the masque was due to start at three.
“She’s so full of life,” said Lady Theydon, her moist lips creasing into a smile. “Of course as I said to my husband recently, we all look to the Princess for an example of how to grow old. She’s so lively and full of fun. Don’t you agree, ladies?”
There was a general chorus of yeses.
“It was quite a job to persuade her to come to Gunnersbury for Christmas but I managed it, with my dear husband. And I’m sure you’ll agree that it is a lovely setting and looks so romantic under snow. Don’t you think so?”
Another chorus of agreement.
John, excusing himself, crossed to the window leading onto the balcony he had seen from outside. The sun was at a low ebb, not yet tinting the snow pink but instead giving it a golden glow. The great trees of the park bore their white decorations with magnificence though the formal gardens, apparently very beautiful, lay hidden beneath their covering. The sky was grey, almost blending with the rest of the landscape and as if to echo its colour the
“Honoured, Madam,” was all he could find to say.
The other member of the posse was Lady Featherstonehaugh who gave him a wintery smile. “We are all waiting for Princess Amelia, then we can have some refreshment before the masque commences. I trust you are staying in the house tonight. Otherwise travelling back will be a nightmare.”
“I don’t as yet know what arrangements have been made, my Lady. But I assure you I won’t travel once darkness has fallen.”
“Very wise. These great country houses are all very well but at night the areas surrounding them are riddled with highwaymen.” She paused and looked at the doors at which a couple of liveried footmen had appeared. “Here comes the Princess now,” she added in an undertone.
In company with everybody else John gave a deep bow, then looked up, though not daring to use his quizzing glass.
He was looking at a woman who had once been a beauty but had now grown stout, with something of a huddle about her stance and bearing. Her face had become full of chins, while her eyes, formerly so pretty, had grown heavy-lidded and baggy. Yet there was still a sparkle about her, an air of being important and privileged. She also seemed, unless her looks belied her, quite kindly. Dressed in an elaborate gown of lilac silk, heavily embroidered with a myriad of silver flowers with diamond sparklers at their centre, she most certainly glittered as she came into the room.
Once, John was aware, she had been the chosen bride of Frederick II of Prussia, known as the Great, but though Frederick had pursued her with fervour, corresponding both with Amelia and her mother, his tyrannical father, who loathed his son, had refused to give his consent to the marriage. Eventually the disillusioned Frederick had been forced to marry a German Princess, Elizabeth-Christina, but he had never loved her and they did not produce an heir. Princess Amelia had never married but had had several affairs, the most notable of which had been with the married Duke of Grafton who, in fact, had two mistresses simultaneously, one the Princess, the other the wife of the Earl of Burlington. These ladies, together with his wife, had presumably worn him out because he had died some seven years ago in 1757. Gazing at her now, the Apothecary thought about her past and could not help but smile.
The Princess clapped her hands together. “Good people,” she said, her accent quite English despite the fact she had been born in Hanover, “the performance will begin shortly. Meanwhile please enjoy yourselves.” At this she waddled forward, smiling and gracious, obviously only too happy to have her house full.
Footmen bearing trays passed amongst the guests and John helped himself to a glass of champagne, stealing a glance at the watch Sir Gabriel had given him for his twenty-first birthday. It was half past two and the masque was due to start at three.
“She’s so full of life,” said Lady Theydon, her moist lips creasing into a smile. “Of course as I said to my husband recently, we all look to the Princess for an example of how to grow old. She’s so lively and full of fun. Don’t you agree, ladies?”
There was a general chorus of yeses.
“It was quite a job to persuade her to come to Gunnersbury for Christmas but I managed it, with my dear husband. And I’m sure you’ll agree that it is a lovely setting and looks so romantic under snow. Don’t you think so?”
Another chorus of agreement.
John, excusing himself, crossed to the window leading onto the balcony he had seen from outside. The sun was at a low ebb, not yet tinting the snow pink but instead giving it a golden glow. The great trees of the park bore their white decorations with magnificence though the formal gardens, apparently very beautiful, lay hidden beneath their covering. The sky was grey, almost blending with the rest of the landscape and as if to echo its colour the
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