Chapter 3 #2
Now it was Sophia’s turn. She clutched her train in her left hand, but an attendant rushed forward to take it from her.
Legs trembling, she walked to where the queen now stood, talking to one of her ladies-in-waiting.
As Lady Sefton presented her, Sophia dropped into a deep court curtsy.
She had not needed to be reminded to practice this over and over until the gesture was flawless.
She held herself perfectly still until the queen leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Only then did she allow herself to rise.
To her inexpressible relief, the queen smiled graciously but did not speak to Sophia.
It was then her turn to follow Dorothea, and she lifted her skirt just enough that she would not trip, inching back toward the door and taking care not to turn her back on the queen.
Another lady had been announced and was now curtsying deeply.
She had done it! She had successfully made her presentation at court. Breathless with relief, Sophia was nearly at the door, where hands would reach out to guide her until she could turn forward again.
A mild outcry sounded from the gallery. The gentleman usher attempted to pull her out of the Presence Room from behind, but Sophia’s heels bumped into something solid and she arched backward, her hands flailing to restore her balance.
Ushers on either side grabbed her elbows before she fell, and she remained frozen in this posture, her stricken gaze on the queen, who had turned toward the commotion.
Sophia had the presence of mind to drop into another curtsy as soon as she was brought upright, and that was when she saw the fabric of her sister’s gown and a slipper peeking out from underneath it.
She pivoted her head quickly in shock before remembering she must not turn her back on the queen.
In what seemed like an interminable amount of time, others hurried from behind to lift Dorothea and transport her inanimate form far enough so they could shut the door.
Once out of sight of the queen, Sophia whirled around and dropped to her knees beside Dorothea.
She tapped her face and tried to revive her, but she would not wake.
A commotion split the room as Miles, who had promised to meet them in the gallery after the presentation, hastened toward his wife, also dropping beside her, his face revealing his utter panic.
“She needs air,” he announced to the room at large, and wasted no time in lifting her into his arms and carrying her in the direction of the exit.
Sophia hurried after him. There were hushed murmurs and an occasional giggle, but she was sure the ladies did so more to give vent to their nerves than from malice. All she could think about was that her sister had fainted. She had not thought such a thing possible. Nothing ever overset Dorothea.
Felix stood in the Friary Court of St. James’s Palace, waiting for the admiral to meet him there.
A levee had been organized at the same time as the queen’s reception, and Felix was to be presented as a newly elected member of Parliament.
He was to stand before the king—or bow, rather.
As a lad, he had not been particularly ambitious.
He had known he would have an education, for his father, a scholar himself, considered such a thing indispensable.
But Felix assumed he would live in a plain house in Surrey and follow in his father’s footsteps as a vicar.
That, or take on some other gentlemanly occupation, such as solicitor or steward.
He had not aimed to reside in England’s most prominent city and make history through policy change.
Yet here he was, in London, a member of the Commons and now apparently about to rub elbows with the peers of the realm as they stood before His Royal Highness.
There was a commotion as people exited a palace door, and he turned to watch it.
It appeared a lady had fainted at her presentation.
He could hardly blame her, for such an ordeal must be extremely trying.
In fact, he felt fairly nervous himself.
Vaguely, he noted that her gown was plum colored, and even he knew anything but white indicated a matron rather than a maiden.
This unusual detail caught his interest, for a matron would be more experienced in the world and not normally subject to a nervous crisis.
A gentleman with a pinched face carried her down the stairwell, and behind him was another anxious face that made Felix take an involuntary step forward.
The small feathers in Lady Sophia’s hair bobbed up and down in the breeze as she came to the gentleman’s side and looked around.
She appeared to be searching for their carriage, although there were not many of those in the court at present.
Her eyes landed on Felix and, to his surprise, she hurried to meet him, hindered some by the large skirt of her gown. He strode quickly to her.
“Mr. Harwood, would you be so kind as to procure a carriage for us? My sister has fainted, and we must get her home.” Her voice was breathless, but there was no weakness in her tone.
Her entreating eyes and plea touched a chord in him, and he bowed. “Immediately, my lady.”
It was a shame he had already sent off his hired carriage with instructions for the groom to return at a set hour.
He wasted no time in exiting Friary Court and hurrying along Marlborough Road until he reached Pall Mall Street.
That was the likeliest place he would be able to find a hackney.
It took a frustrating amount of time to achieve his purpose, but he eventually flagged one down and called up to the driver. “To Friary Court.”
The driver furrowed his brows and tested Felix’s patience by taking his time to respond. “I expect they won’t let me in.”
Felix waved his hand impatiently. “I have official permission to be there, and I will ensure that they do. We must hurry. A lady is unwell.”
When they arrived at the gate to Friary Court, guards blocked the driver’s way. Felix had anticipated this and stepped out of the coach.
“Forgive me for this unusual mode of transportation. I have hired a carriage to attend to a lady who fainted following her presentation.”
The guards looked at his court dress and sword and moved to the side. Felix called to the driver to pull into the court and wait, then took a couple of steps forward before coming to a halt.
Near the palace wall, a crested carriage waited, and the same gentleman was settling the invalid inside of it.
Lady Sophia, more animated than he had ever seen her, reached in to say something to her sister before withdrawing and coming around the coach to give directions to the groom and footman.
The gentleman climbed into the carriage, and she hurried in behind him.
The door was pulled shut, and the coach clattered over the cobblestones and exited.
Felix swiveled around to the hackney driver, who gave him a knowing look and spit out a stream of tobacco.
“Not needed, then, I’m to take it?”
“I am afraid you are not,” Felix said with a rueful smile. “Here’s a coin for your trouble.”
He stepped aside as the driver turned his carriage and exited the court.
Felix’s thoughts were on Lady Sophia’s expression, so full of concern and animation—so far from her usual look of shy reserve or cold indifference.
There was clearly much more to her than what she showed to the world, and he wouldn’t mind seeing some of it.
“Harwood, there you are. It wouldn’t do to be late to the king’s levee.”
Felix smiled at Admiral Mowbray, explaining the cause for his delay.
They turned and began discussing the likelihood of Grenville’s affecting true change as they walked toward the state apartments.
For once when discussing politics, however, Felix’s mind was only partially engaged.
In all of Lady Sophia’s worry, he could not help but notice that she had called out to him for assistance without any reserve.
Would she have asked just anyone? Or was it that she trusted him?
“Mr. Harwood?”
“Pardon?” Felix asked, realizing his mind had wandered. The admiral repeated his question of whether he knew how he must act inside the palace.
“Indeed I do. I have educated myself on what the proper protocol is. You need have no fear on that head.”
“Excellent. Let us go up, then.” Admiral Mowbray moved toward the same door Lady Sophia had exited a quarter of an hour ago.
He briefly wondered if he should pay a call on Lady Sophia to find out how her sister fared, but it took no time to dismiss the idea.
Merely asking a person for help was not the same thing as inviting such intimacy as an unplanned call.
Perhaps, if luck were on his side, he might meet Lady Sophia at a social gathering in the near future where he could ask after her sister—and not be forced to wait until the season was half over before seeing her again.