A Matter Of Delicacy

The Dinner

     When I sat down with Sarah at dinner that evening, I relaxed – here was something I knew how to do. In my previous missions dinner with high status families had been a usual challenge and one that I knew how to tackle. We stood in regimental lines at the long table waiting for the Princess to arrive. The other ladies glanced at me and whispered to their neighbours, watching my every move. I tried to ignore them, spoke quietly to Sarah or stared at the elaborate table setting but I still felt my face going red. I looked out of place here, with the borrowed dress from last season and my different body shape.
     'Ignore them, they'll warm up to you soon enough.' Sarah patted my arm and smiled brightly at a woman opposite us who had been throwing me evil glances. 'They always do.'
     'In my experience, people are less friendly to outsiders than you think.'
     'Then you'll just have to show them that you're not an outsider.'
     We stood to attention as the doors opened and Princess Caroline came into the room, wearing a brown dress littered with ribbons and jewels until she shone in the candlelight. Her weak face did not stand out among the group of beautiful women she had surrounded herself with, but she managed them well, patting the arm of a favourite she passed and smiling warmly at another as she sat down at the head of the table. We followed in a mass of rustling and as dinner was served the talk began again quietly.
     I knew how to show these women I was one of them, my training had taught me that at least, but it was difficult making the starting move. Who would answer, how would they respond, would it be impolite in such an austere and singular setting? The Princess and her court was not the average one I'd lived in and her separation from the heart of London made the atmosphere close and elitist.
     Nevertheless I cleared my throat and looked over at the Countess of Exeter who had lent me the beautiful dress I was wearing, 'Countess, may I thank you for allowing me to borrow this dress for the evening, you saved me considerable anxiety.'
     The countess bowed her head slightly but no smile.
     Turning the charm up I looked around at the others who had been listening, 'while I'm sure everyone here would agree I do not wear it as well as you do, I am grateful that you let me borrow it. I feel much more at home here thanks to you.'
     Some women murmured around me and I saw Sarah beam out of the corner of my eye. The young Countess, only a couple of years older than me, finally smiled and raised her glass to me, 'you wear it very well Miss Wentworth, but thank you for your grace.'
      'The countess is right, Miss Wentworth,' the Princess broke in, her mouth full of chicken that I hadn't touched as of yet. 'You look beautiful – we may just make a society lady of you yet.'
     'I hope to make you proud Your Highness.' I glanced at Lady Bruce. She raised her glass silently to me and nodded. I smiled, feeling the slightest bit of pride.
     'Miss Wentworth,' an older woman with powdery skin and a scrunched pink dress, that made her look like a spinster trying to attract the eye of anyone around, lent forwards from across the table. 'Is it true that you were a personal bodyguard for Napoleon? One hears such stories and I just wanted to know if it was true - '
     'Lady Moore!' The Princess snapped, 'I am aware that your maids tattle about any drop of intrigue that is fed to them but for goodness sake have some common sense! Do you really think I would let a bodyguard of Napoleon into my house to protect me? Lord above, I might as well just slit my throat here and now to save the trouble. Of course she wasn't.'
     Lady Moore shrank into her chair and nodded minutely. Princess Caroline continued to tut and sigh for a moment while waving at a footman to pour more wine.
     'I never came into direct contact with Napoleon, Lady Moore,' I said gently, causing her to look up in surprise along with a few others who had been silenced by the Princess's snapping. 'But I did see him once when I was in France trying to get into contact with a noble under his control.'
     'You did? What was he like?' The small woman's eyes brightened, and her round cheeks grew rosy and pink.
     'He was not as short as people say,' I laughed to myself. 'A little shorter than some men perhaps but nothing out of the ordinary.'
     'But I heard he was only four foot!' A younger woman cried from a few seats down.
     'No! How would he lead armies if he was shorter than most of their rifles?'
     Lady Moore and Sarah laughed, and even Lady Bruce smiled slightly.
     'Was he as ugly as in the newspapers?' the girl asked.
     I sipped my wine and looked at the Princess. She was deep in thought over her chicken, the drink making her ashy cheeks redder than usual. Turning back to the girl who had spoken I cleared my throat, 'I cannot say he was handsome; his eyes were too close together and his mouth was a rather strange shape, but as men go he was better looking than plenty I've seen.'
     She giggled and nodded with me. 'The caricatures give him a horrible hooked nose.'
     'And why would you be looking at caricatures, Arabella?' Princess Caroline broke in sharply, silencing the conversation and making the girl blush. 'The only books you should be reading are the novels I lent you. What did I give them for, to use as a doorstop? I want no more talk of newspapers or that dreadful man again at this table.'
     The ladies around me bowed their heads or silently carried on eating and avoiding eye contact.
     The Princess carried on, 'now, Miss Wentworth, we must discuss your duties here and considering everyone in this room knows who you are it is sadly a necessity to inform them as well. We don't want them blabbering to the first man who pays them a compliment, should that ever happen to some of you.' She sent a pointed look to Lady Moore. 'As you all know, Miss Wentworth is here to protect me in a more secretive way than most people know. The guards cannot stay in my bedroom for the rest of my life so I need someone subtle and unnoticeable to stay by my side and protect me if need be. Miss Wentworth, you will be the daughter of an old friend of mine, a Mrs Wentworth who was living in Germany with her husband and yourself until they both died of typhoid. My dear friend's last wish was that you be brought up in England under my supervision and out of the goodness of my heart I took you in. You are here to be finished and get a taste of London society. Tell me, do you speak German?'
     'A little, enough to get by.'
     'Well I am from Germany so we will speak German when we need to be private. That will add to the story. Do you have it all?'
     As cover stories went it was a reasonably good one. Should people find out they would be unlikely to ask about two recently dead parents for fear of upsetting me and none of them would dare to question the Princess's kind actions to my poor orphaned soul. But as for me, it had too much drama. I could have been the daughter of a minor viscount who was owed a favour, a friend of a friend who had grovelled. All this dead parent back story would encourage sympathy and gossip and interest and that was the last thing we needed. But it was not my job to go against the Princess's wishes and if all I had to do was brush up on my German and look sad every now and again, I could do that.
    'Miss Wentworth? Do you understand?'
     I looked up at Princess Caroline who sat with her large glass of wine and an expectant expression. She was not the most appealing woman I had met, and I was even starting to miss the painfully dull but kind company of the Lorrises. But a deeper part of me, the part that Father had always said to listen to, was yearning for this new adventure, one that would challenge and push me, make me encompass new characters and societies. It was dangerous, it was exciting. I was already in love and I knew it.
     'Yes Your Highness, I understand.'