"Has she?" I asked. "What did she say?"
"Well, he's no Prince George, but he sounds friendly enough. Really great men know how to connect with the common people, I've always thought."
I was stunned that, after discussing Charles Berry with Molly, Meg could have come away with any conclusion except that he was the worst sort of cad. Molly would not want to share the details of her ordeal, but surely neither would she deliberately paint a favorable picture of a man who had harmed her. There was no time for such thoughts at the moment; my mother had arrived.
We spoke very little as we left Berkeley Square, but I could see that she was pleased with my appearance. She had come for me in an open carriage, and ordered her driver to go slowly on the way to Paddington Station so that anyone passing by would have no difficulty in seeing and identifying us. More than one acquaintance appeared surprised to see us together. My mother bestowed on these people her chilliest smile, chatting with me the entire way. Once aboard the train, however, we sat in silence.
I had seen the queen on numerous occasions, but usually only for official events: royal garden parties and my presentation at court. Today, as we approached the palace, I thought about the last time I'd been in Her Majesty's presence, during her Golden Jubilee, when Ivy and I had watched the fireworks from the garden at Buckingham Palace. Neither of us was yet engaged, and she had been flirting shamelessly with a dashing member of the diplomatic corps. Bright flashes filled the sky with color that washed over the crowd below, only to fade and plunge us again into darkness. It was during one of these dark intervals that the gentleman standing next to me took my hand in his. The memory was so faint I questioned its veracity, but it kept tugging at me, until I was able to picture Philip's face, a questioning smile in his eyes as the light returned to bathe us.
"I am certain that I need not remind you to make no mention of your eccentricities when we are with Her Majesty," my mother said, jarring me back to the present. Before I was born, she had served as a lady-in-waiting to the queen, and the two of them had been on friendly terms ever since. It was only because of this that she had been able to arrange for today's meeting. I doubted very much that Queen Victoria made a habit of taking tea for the benefit of repairing ladies' reputations.
"I am grateful to you for doing this, Mother," I said. "There's no need to worry. I shall be graciousness itself."
A servant led us into a large sitting room in the queen's private apartments, where Lady Antrim, a lady-in-waiting, greeted us.
"Catherine, dear, it is so good to see you," she said. "And you, too, Emily. You are looking well." A door opened, and the queen was wheeled into the room. As always when I saw her, I was struck that a person of such small stature could have such a commanding presence. We all curtseyed and observed the formal niceties, then sat down at a heavily laden tea table.
"You are bearing the loss of your husband quite well, Lady Ashton," the queen said, accepting from a footman a plate full of dainty sandwiches.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I manage the best I can." Should I have listened to my mother and worn a dress of a more muted color?
"The pain of a widow stays with her forever."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Your mother has not brought you here for consolation, though your husband was the best sort of man. She tells me you have fallen victim to rumors of a most insidious sort."
"I have, ma'am."
"I do not doubt your virtue. Your mother would never have raised a girl of questionable morality. Yet it is essential that you guard your reputation as if it were your greatest treasure."
"Let me assure you, ma'am, that I do. I have never behaved in a way that should have led to these stories." My mother blanched slightly as I spoke.
"You would not be here, Lady Ashton, if I had any reason to doubt that. As queen, I have been attacked by ill-natured gossips more than once. The reprehensible nature of these people knows no bounds. I hope that news of your meeting with me does something to quell these rumors."
"Thank you, ma'am. I am most obliged." I knew at once that she was referring to the scandalous stories that had circulated about her relationship with Mr. Brown, the Scottish ghillie. Some people had gone so far as to claim that they had been secretly married. My mother assured me that was nonsense, but I always had wondered what the queen's true feelings were. A woman in her position would be so very alone, surrounded by people, but no one who was her equal; who but a spouse could offer her real companionship?
Without another word to me, she directed her attention to my mother. "Now, Catherine, have you given further thought to potential brides for Eddy? I cannot tolerate him remaining unmarried for much longer."
The eldest son of the Prince of Wales, Prince Eddy, had been embroiled in any number of scandals of his own and always suffered in comparisons with his younger brother, Prince George. It came as no surprise that the queen would want to see her grandson married.
"Of all the names we have discussed, my thoughts keep returning to Princess May. She's a sensible girl, well brought up, with a strong sense of duty."
"She's fairly pretty, too," Lady Antrim said.
"What are her interests?" I asked. "I don't know her well."
"Her interests?" Lady Antrim's face was blank.
I was about to question whether the lady's interests were compatible with those of the prince but stopped myself in time. Stopped myself from speaking, that is. I couldn't keep from wondering how the poor girl would feel to be thrust upon the prince.
"As I said," my mother replied. "She's a very sensible girl. No silly romantic ideas."
"I shall invite her to Balmoral in the fall," the queen said. "Your efforts in these matters never go unappreciated, Catherine."
I don't know that I had ever before seen my mother look so pleased. But, then, I suppose that I'd never really seen her in her element. Here her skills as a matchmaker were a valuable commodity, while to me they were anathema. I was glad that she had friends who acknowledged her talent.
"Bainbridge is a decent man," the queen said. "He might do nicely for your daughter."
I sat very still, willing myself to remain silent.
"He might. Although Hargreaves has a better fortune."
"He is invaluable to the palace," the queen said.
"And so handsome!" Lady Antrim exclaimed.
"His work will force his wife to spend much time alone," the queen said.
"Unless she were to travel with him," I said.
"A romantic notion, child, but hardly appropriate. It is best for women to distance themselves from all things political. Of course, there are times when we cannot avoid these matters entirely, but it is a distasteful thing for which we are not made."
How I longed to draw attention to her hypocrisy! How could she, queen and empress, say such a thing? I was thankful for my corset, which prevented me from gasping. My mother sat, frozen, looking at me. I smiled at her.
"I don't know that I've ever had the equal of these cucumbers, Your Majesty," I said, picking up another sandwich from a silver plate. "Are they grown in your garden?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," she replied. "You are a very diplomatic girl. Perhaps you would do well with Hargreaves."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"I expect that you will make your decision soon. I will not host another tea to save you. Do not forget that we women require male protection, and it is that which you need."
Before we left, I removed a scone from the table and, careful that no one should see me, wrapped it in my handkerchief and hid it in my reticule. Meg would have her treat from the palace.
The invitations began pouring in again almost from the moment I left Windsor. My reputation was not entirely restored; mothers of impressionable young ladies still viewed me as dangerous, and the grandes dames of society were not about to suddenly decide that they liked me, but no one would dare exclude me from a guest list so long as I had the backing of the ruler of all Britannia. My own parent had manipulated me with the mental dexterity of a genius. I was utterly indebted to her for her assistance, yet now I had been, in effect, commanded by the queen herself to marry. Truly, my mother was brilliant.