“Praise, my soul, the king of heaven,” the choir began to sing, and Ann knew, from the order of service she’d now memorized, that the processional had begun. She stood on her tiptoes, straining to see past the giants blocking her view, and was rewarded with the briefest flash of glittering white.
That was it, that was all she was going to see of the bride until the ceremony came to an end, and still her heart thrilled to it. No one at their end of the abbey could see or hear much, for that matter, and it was rather strange to sit so quietly and strain to hear what was happening at the high altar.
It startled her, a little, when everyone got to their feet again, but then the organ began to play the opening bars of the national anthem and they all sang, a choir of thousands of voices, and it sent shivers up her spine to know the subject of the anthem, the king himself, was listening.
Another hymn followed; Ann consulted her order of service and saw that the bride and groom had gone to sign the register. Yet another fanfare, and then, at last, the joyful chords of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” On and on it continued, measure after measure, and just as it was beginning to wear on her nerves she spied flashes of gold and red passing by. It was not Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip but the assembled clergy, the Archbishop of Canterbury included, and all the choristers as well.
“I’m going to crouch down,” Ann whispered in Miss Duley’s ear. “It’s that or stand on my chair.”
The last of the choirboys passed by, and behind them another man in clerical robes carrying a golden cross, and outside the cheers were growing louder and louder. To her left, she saw, people’s heads were bobbing up and down, and it made her think of the day of the royal visit to the workroom and the way they’d never quite managed to sort out their curtsies.
A gleam of white—the princess—and when everyone else strained high to see the bride Ann bent her knees a little. She saw the flowers she had embroidered on the lustrous satin of the gown, she saw the hundreds of blossoms she had appliquéd to the train, and she was wonderstruck at the magical way its crystals and pearls glittered and gleamed in the harsh glow of the electric lights. Again came the singing bells far overhead, and meeting them a swell of joyful voices as the princess and her husband emerged from the abbey, and Ann was grateful in that moment, grateful down to her toes. She had seen the princess in her gown, the gown she had helped to make, and her heart was full with the delight of it.
“My heavens,” Miss Duley said. “Wasn’t that splendid? Of course we’ll have to wait for the newsreels to see more.”
They waited and waited, and at last the stream of departing guests began to thin. “Shall we try to make our way out?” she asked, and when Miss Duley and Miss Holliday both nodded she followed them out into the central aisle and then to the door, but first she stopped to turn for one final look. It was something to remember, she told herself. No matter what happened in the years to come, she would never let herself forget this day.
“Well,” she said to the other women. “That was something, wasn’t it? Where are you off to now?”
“I’m going home,” Miss Holliday said. “My sister’s been listening on the wireless, and she’ll be keen as mustard to hear all the details.”
“And I’m going to a party in the parish hall at my church,” Miss Duley said. “At last I can tell everyone what I’ve been up to all these months. My friends all suspected but they knew better than to ask. I’m looking forward to setting a few things straight, I must say. Working us around the clock, my eye! As if Mr. Hartnell would insist on such a thing.”
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” Ann asked. It was only Thursday, after all, and they’d a mountain of orders waiting for them.
“You will, but if you feel like having a lie-in you go right ahead. You’ve worked yourself half to death over these past weeks, and it hasn’t escaped my notice how tired you’ve been. If you want the day off I won’t say a thing, and if anyone takes any notice I’ll go straight to Mr. Hartnell.”
“I’m fine, Miss Duley. Go and enjoy your party, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Miriam
November 20, 1947
Miriam arrived at Bruton Street at precisely nine o’clock, as instructed, and went straight upstairs to Mr. Hartnell’s office. She had with her a small kit of supplies she’d assembled the day before, for there didn’t seem much point in going to the palace without any means of actually effecting repairs. Ann had lent her a lidded wicker sewing basket, a smaller version of the one that sat in the sitting room and held their mending, and it was just big enough to hold everything Miriam might need: curved and straight needles, spools of thread, examples of each kind of pearl, bead, and crystal used on the gown and train, and two pairs of scissors.