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Hester perked up. “Not the best combination for endearing yourself to others,” she admitted cheerfully. “Let us hope you’re right, and you got away with it.”
“Is it so very bad to be an attendant on the Queen?” asked Fenella in surprise. “I thought it was meant to be a position of honor.”
“That’s what they tell you,” said Hester darkly. “But I am not so easily fooled!” She cast another eye around the room. “There is no-one here yet who is of any import, so I shall not trouble myself to introduce you to any of their number.”
Nearby a throat cleared and both ladies turned. Stood before them was a stout matron and two blonde haired women, doubtless sisters from their strong similarity of feature, although one was far prettier than the other.
“My dear Lady Schaeffer,” said the older woman. “Well met. May I introduce to you Jane and Helen Cecil who are the nieces of Sir Phillip Cecil and making their debut at Court.”
Both girls curtsied.
“Oh it’s you Lady Morpington,” said Lady Schaeffer smothering a yawn. “How is that son of yours? Still giving you grey hairs?”
The other lady’s face tightened. “Indeed, poor Rodrey is still suffering from a severe malady of the chest and recovering at our country estate at present.”
“It is so dull here at court without him,” mourned one of the blonde ladies sorrowfully. “How I miss dear Rodrey.”
Lady Morpington looked gratified.
“Indeed?” said Hester sharply. “I understood this was your first visit to Court?” she quizzed the young woman, who colored hotly.
“You must excuse my sister,” interjected the other, prettier blonde smoothly. “We all grew up together and imagined we would be escorted to our court debut by our friend, who is sorely missed.”
Hester snorted. “You’re quite the diplomat,” she commented. “Which one are you?”
“Helen,” she replied composedly, dipping into another curtsey.
“Well I predict quite the career at court for you, Miss Cecil,” said Hester. Somehow, the way she said it did not sound like a compliment, Fen noticed.
“Will you not introduce us to your friend, Lady Schaeffer?” asked Helen Cecil boldly.
Hester’s eyebrows rose before she turned to Fen. “This is the Countess Vawdrey,” she said. “Fenella, these are Helen and Ethel Cecil.”
“Jane,” corrected the first blonde looking pained.
“And the Dowager Viscountess of Morpington.”
There were curtsies all round.
“I am glad to make your acquaintance,” said Fen, noticing the Cecil girls were staring at her rather hard.
“Forgive my curiosity, Lady Vawdrey,” simpered Jane Cecil. “But are those the famous Vawdrey pearls you are wearing?”
“Famous?” echoed Fen. She was sure no-one had ever described her modest string of pearls as such before. “I’m afraid not, these were my mother’s.” She touched them almost as if for luck.
“You misunderstand,” said Helen in a rather patronizing tone. “My sister meant –”
“How can they be Vawdrey pearls?” interrupted Hester Schaeffer loudly. “When my friend has just explained they belonged to her mother?”
There was an awkward pause.
“Apologies if my young friends offended,” said Lady Morpington with a stiff bow of her head.
“Not at all,” answered Hester swiftly. “Though you may need more vigilance, in curbing unruly tongues, my dear Lady Morpington.”
Lady Morpington turned an unbecoming puce, curtseyed and turned away. The Cecil girls followed after her, though they looked reluctant to leave and threw glances over their shoulders as they left.
“Impudence,” tutted Hester.
