Sneak preview one.
“Good
afternoon, my lady,” the welcoming footman said, bowing. “Her Majesty is
expecting you in the Chinese Chippendale room. Allow me to escort you there.”
Oh crickey.
The Chinese Chippendale room. Why couldn’t she have chosen somewhere else? Any
other room in the palace would have done. But the Chinese Chippendale room was
her favorite, small, intimate and decorated with far too many Chinese vases,
priceless porcelain statues and her jade collection. There’s probably something
you should know about me: in moments of stress I tend to get a little clumsy. I
remember tripping over the footman’s outstretched foot when he bowed to usher
me inside once, thus propelling me rather rapidly into the room and nearly
butting HM in the stomach. I would be all too capable of turning around and
knocking a priceless Ming vase flying.
Still I put
on a brave face as I was escorted up the grand staircase to the piano nobile,
where the royal family actually lived and entertained. Along those never-ending
richly-carpeted hallways with marble statues frowning down at me from their
niches. Then a light tap on a door, the footman stepping inside and saying,
“Lady Georgiana, Your Majesty.”
I stepped past
him, carefully avoiding his foot, pushing the door into an unseen table or
tripping over a rug. I stopped in
surprise and thought I was seeing double. Two middle aged ladies with identical
waved gray hair, upright carriage and lilac tea dresses were sitting on the
brocade sofa beside the fireplace. My first thought was that I should have worn
a tea dress and the cashmere cardigan was inappropriate, but then one of the
ladies held out her hand to me.
“Georgiana,
my dear. How lovely to see you. Come and meet my dear friend.”
