Free The Bohemian Girl by Frances Vernon Page B

across her bosom and a veil on her head as in all the prints made of her since the Prince Consort’s death. Diana felt her diaphragm thumping inside her and her cheeks turning red. The Lord Chamberlain’sannouncement of her name was still sounding in her ears.
    Diana carried on. She had not, she thought, expected the Queen to look so ancient and so sad and bored, and yet so like her portraits. The Princess of Wales was beside her, the Prince of Wales was standing some way away, laughing in the way everyone said was rather German, and there was another royal lady, whom her mother had whispered was Princess Louise, Duchess of Argyll. Courtiers were everywhere and none seemed to be watching.
    The Queen smiled just as Diana manoeuvred into position before her, then put her face close to the girl’s and murmured something. Then Diana, still very hot, stepped backwards, did not trip, curtseyed to the other members of the Royal Family, and received a broad compliment from the Prince of Wales which angered Lady Blentham.
    In the supper-room, where there were in fact no refreshments, only a crowd of over-relaxed people, Diana turned to her mother and opened her mouth. ‘You did very well, darling,’ said Angelina, before her daughter could speak.
    â€˜Oh,’ said Diana, looking round. ‘It’s supposed to be the climax of one’s life, isn’t it, of one’s Season, at all events – rather like getting married. I supposed it was rather like that.’ She rubbed her cheek hard with her gloved knuckles. ‘Better than a ball in many ways. I –’
    Diana at times had a deliberate awareness of herself and her surroundings, which her mother said was unusual in a girl of her age. She wondered now whether she would ever have a daughter to present at Court, and what Court would be like in twenty years or so. She thought, quite unnecessarily, for it was so obviously true, that now this ritual was over she could never go back to the idle peace of the schoolroom. Because she was thoroughly free of the boredom of the schoolroom, adult parties would never be so interesting to her again as they had been these past few months. Holding her eyes wide, Diana thought suddenly that she must now think of something else to do, but she did not know what.
    â€˜Don’t scrub your face like that, Diana. You don’t want it to smell of cleaning-petrol, surely?’
    â€˜It’s been kissed, Mamma.’
    Angelina frowned. ‘My dear, I never expected you to be so ill-at-ease.’
    â€˜No. It’s – I had a very odd – vision, of a kind, when I was curtseying just now. I thought I was you, and that one of those men behind her – must be the Prince Consort. He wasn’t yet dead, was he, when you were presented?’
    Lady Blentham was quite pleased with this fancy of her daughter’s.
    â€˜No. I came out in eighteen fifty-eight, as you know. I can tell you that it was very much more difficult when one had to manage a crinoline, as well as a train!’
    Diana smiled with her mother.
    Friends came up to them, and separated them, and Diana had to listen to other girls’ descriptions of their fears and imaginings and what had actually happened. One very silly young woman, whose particularly strict mother was out of earshot, then mentioned the Prince of Wales’ appearance at the Drawing-Room, and spoke in a whisper about his involvement in the recent Tranby Croft scandal.
    Her attempt to shock raised Diana’s spirits to a point of high gaiety. She changed the subject in an obvious manner and, to illustrate a point about lawn tennis, took one of the plumes out of head-dress and threw it in the air. She watched it tumble down among the upturned pink faces of nice girls who, laughing, thought she must be very odd. Diana wondered then why she had done it but reflected that at least Lady Blentham had not seen, and would probably never know.
    *
    Violet peered up