Reading this welcome letter over a dinner of stringy mutton and watery beans washed down with acid claret, Mr. Palfrey heaved a sigh of relief. All he had to do was to return to London and wait. Miss Barchester was a woman after his own heart. She had encouraged him that first day they had met by saying she was sure there was no such place as Brasnia and that poor Lord Arthur had been tricked by a scheming adventuress. Should that adventuress turn out to be Felicity Channing, then she would be unmasked in front of the Queen. Mr. Palfrey had quailed before the drama of this idea, suggesting a quieter exposure of the impostor, but Miss Barchester had overridden his protests.
Miss Barchester thirsted to take her place on the center stage of society, a place she felt had been snatched from her by Felicity. Never before had the cancellation of an engagement filled her with such fury. She had initially persisted in believing that Lord Arthur had not meant a word of it. All those previous jiltings had not even dented her superb vanity. But when she had returned to the hotel to find her father gleefully poring over plans for the new stables, she knew the engagement was definitely off. She had promptly sent a message to Mr. Palfrey, summoning him back, and had said she would help him in every way she could.
Mr. Barchester had grumbled most horribly over the amount of money it was taking to send his daughter to see the Queen. For he had had to pay a hefty bribe to get her invited and then there was the horrible cost of the court gown. He decided Lord Arthur should be made to pay for this extra expense. Besides, his daughter appeared to have a new beau in the shape of that fussy little man, Palfrey. Palfrey owned Tregarthan Castle. Mr. Barchester began to dream about an ornamental lake.
Miss Chubb cried with relief when Lord Arthur and Felicity returned to announce their engagement. Only Dolph was startled and disappointed to find that Brasnia did not exist. All the long day they had waited for the return of the couple while Miss Chubb had told Dolph long and fanciful stories about the bears of Brasnia, feeling it politic to expand on Lord Arthur's strange lies. Dolph felt cheated. Brasnia had sounded like a marvelous place, and he had more or less made up his mind to go there.
So there was one last hurdle, the Queen's drawing room, and then they could all settle down to plan Felicity's wedding and discuss the future of their servants.
Lord Arthur left the next day with Dolph. Felicity passed her remaining days in Brighton in a daze of happiness. She almost forgot that Mr. Palfrey was probably still in London.
But once she was back in Chesterfield Gardens, the full terror of meeting the Queen drove everything else, apart from Lord Arthur, out of her mind.
Dressing for the occasion took hours of work. The minimum amount of large feathers allowed on the headdress was seven. Carberry's, the plumassier, had sent round twenty-four, deeming that the correct amount for royalty, but Felicity refused to wear so many and settled at last for ten standing up from a garland of roses resting on a circlet of white pearls. The mixture of jewels, flowers, and feathers required for court dress seemed odd to Felicity, who was used to wearing the simple Grecian fashions of the Regency.
She was strapped into a tight bodice, and then an enormous hooped skirt, three ells long, was laced to her waist. The skirt was made of waxed calico stretched upon whalebone, which made it very wide in the front and behind, and very narrow at the sides. Over that went a satin skirt, and over that, a skirt of tulle, ornamented with a large furbelow of silver lace. Another shorter skirt, also of tulle, with silver spangles ornamented by a garland of flowers, went on top of all that and was tucked up at the hem, the opening of each tuck being ornamented with silver lace and surmounted with a large bouquet of flowers. Then a lady attending court was also expected to wear as many jewels as possible. Felicity had the Channing diamonds as well as the pearls about her neck, her headdress was finished at the back with a diamond comb, and diamond buckles were attached to her shoes.
Miss Chubb, also attired in court dress, was so huge that she had to turn sideways to shuffle out through the front door. Two carriages had been hired to take them to Buckingham House, for their enormous skirts would not allow them to travel together. So Felicity had no one to talk to as she waited and waited in the long line of carriages that crawled toward Buckingham House.
At last she and Miss Chubb entered the great hall of the Queen's residence. A double staircase rose up to the drawing room above. Those waiting to be presented went up by the left-hand staircase, and those who had been presented descended on the right.
Above the chatter of voices came the booming of the guns firing a salute in St. James's Park outside. At first Felicity and Miss Chubb had eyes only for the splendor of the display. Feathers of all colors were worn on headdresses. Jewels flashed and blazed. Ladies fidgeted and fretted, trying to protect their enormous gowns from getting crushed, and gentlemen in knee breeches and evening coats fiddled nervously with their dress swords.
As she began to ascend the staircase, Felicity sensed a malignant presence behind her. She wanted to turn around, but the great hoop of her gown prevented her from doing so. Then a familiar, tall figure ahead of her on the staircase turned and smiled, and she felt a great flood of delight and relief. For it was Lord Arthur, very grand in a dark blue silk coat and knee breeches. His black hair was powdered, and he carried a bicorne under his arm. His delight in the beauty of Felicity's appearance stopped him from noticing Mr. Palfrey and Miss Barchester close behind her.
All Felicity's fears left her. The masquerade was nearly over. One curtsey to the Queen among so many, and then she would be free to marry Lord Arthur.
By the time she and Miss Chubb had ascended the staircase, inch by inch, both were heartily tired of the long wait. And when it came their turn to be introduced, neither felt any nervousness at all as they sank down into low curtseys before Queen Charlotte, who surveyed them with great indifference and helped herself to a pinch of snuff.
Felicity was just backing away from the royal presence when a voice behind her cried, “Impostor!”
One look at the so-called Miss Chubiski had been enough to convince Mr. Palfrey.
There was a hushed silence.
Then Mr. Palfrey said, “Your Royal Majesty, my lords, my ladies, and gentlemen. This is not the Princess Felicity of Brasnia. This is Felicity Channing, my stepdaughter, who stole my jewels and ran away.”
Miss Barchester laughed. “She is nothing but a paper princess,” she said.
A paper princess! A great hissing and whispering set the feathers nodding and dipping. Queen Charlotte looked at the stricken Felicity with mild curiosity. Then she raised her hand. Two Yeomen of the Guard stepped from behind her throne.
Lord Arthur came to stand beside Felicity and held her hand firmly in his own.
“This is indeed Felicity Channing,” he said, “who is to be my wife. Your Royal Highness, let me tell you her story.”
“Better let me tell it,” said a portly man, waddling forward. “I am Mr. Guy Clough, tobacco planter. I carry on me the late Mrs. Palfrey's last will, which this man"-he pointed at Mr. Palfrey-"tried to destroy.”
“Pray go on,” said the Queen. “We have become interested.”
There were screams and yells from the staircase outside, where the guests who had not yet gained the drawing room, but who had begun to hear garbled whispers of an attempted assassination by a Turk, were beginning to push and shove.