“Go straight on in and ask for Flora. If you run into the king or queen along the way, don’t panic. Simply move to the side of the corridor and let them pass. Don’t say anything, but it’s fine to smile. Especially today.”
“Go on,” Monsieur Hartnell added, “and I’ll come by once the ladies have finished dressing.”
It was a bit disappointing not to see the princess at close quarters, and especially not to see her in the wedding gown itself, but Miriam could hardly blame her for preferring to have people she knew well in attendance on her wedding day. And it did mean that she would get to see a little more of this English palace that so few English people ever had the chance to visit.
As soon as she and Betty stepped out of the lift they knew exactly where they were meant to go, for the sounds of happy conversation and laughter were impossible to miss. They knocked at the door and went in, and it was a relief to find the room beyond was filled with young women and not King George in his shirtsleeves.
“Hello there,” Betty said. “We’re with Mr. Hartnell. Miss MacDonald asked us to come along and see if we might help. She said to ask for Flora.”
A young woman came bustling forward and shook their hands. “I’m Flora. The hairdresser just finished and we’re more or less ready to get the ladies into their gowns. Have you any experience as dressers?”
They both shook their heads. “I am an embroiderer,” Miriam explained, “and Betty is a seamstress. We are here in case any repairs need to be made to the gowns.”
“Oh, right. Well, Lady Mary Cambridge does need some help with her gown. Make sure it goes over her head, since she might catch a foot or tear it if she tries to step into it. Make sure that everything needing doing up is done up, and whatever you do, don’t force anything. I think she may have on some makeup, so have a care for that. If you get stuck, give me a shout. I’ll be roaming about.”
As she spoke she led them across the room, bypassing several of the bridesmaids and their dressers, until they were standing in front of a tall, dark-haired, and very pretty young woman who seemed, at least to Miriam’s eyes, a little unsure of herself. Perhaps she was nervous about the day ahead.
“Lady Mary, I have some girls from Hartnell to help you dress,” Flora said before hastening away.
“How lovely,” Lady Mary said, her expression brightening. “There wasn’t room in the car for my girl and”—here she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper—“I was going to be stuck with Pamela’s girl. The poor thing is all thumbs. The maid, I mean, not Pamela. And this isn’t the sort of frock one puts on by oneself, is it?”
“No, Lady Mary,” Miriam said, which seemed an awkward way to address the woman. Was she supposed to call her Miss? Ma’am? Madam? It was all so confusing.
“Where is the gown, my lady?” Betty asked.
“Hmm. I’m not so sure. Perhaps you might ask the girl who brought you over? She seems to be in the know.”
“Yes, my lady,” Betty said, and hurried away.
“So you’re from Hartnell? What do you do there?”
Miriam had fully expected to stand in silence until Betty returned with Lady Mary’s gown, so it took a few moments for her to produce an answer. “I am an embroiderer.”
“You made all those gorgeous flowers and stars and so forth?”
“Some of them. I did not work on your gown, however. Only the bride’s. Although the motifs are similar.”
“They’re jolly lovely. My father has been teasing me that we’ll just hold on to this frock and use it when I get married. ‘No sense in wasting hundreds of guineas on something new if you’ve already got one that’ll do perfectly well,’ he keeps saying. Silly old dear.”
It seemed imprudent to agree, so Miriam smiled and tried to think of a safely anodyne response. Fortunately, Betty chose that moment to return, the gown draped over her outstretched arms like a bejeweled cloud.
Lady Mary shrugged off her dressing gown, beneath which she wore a strapless brassiere and floor-length petticoat, and stood, shivering, as Betty unfastened the back of the gown. Only then did Miriam remember Flora’s warning about makeup. Lady Mary had on some lipstick, and possibly some rouge as well.
“I am sorry, Lady Mary, but I am nervous of marking the gown. Perhaps if we were to place a handkerchief over your face? It will also prevent your coiffure from being disturbed.”
“That is a good idea. Do you have a clean hanky?”