An Indiscreet Princess by Georgie Blalock

Author:Georgie Blalock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-07-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

The engagement of the Princess and Marquis aroused the enthusiasm of the country.

The nation hailed with unfeigned pleasure the news that a Princess of the Blood Royal was about to wed a commoner, and that this was to be no mere State Alliance, but a “love match.” . . . The Esteem in which her Royal Highness is held has been evinced by the expression of goodwill and respect which have found daily utterance; and if any evidence were wanted of the national love which is felt for the Princess who to-day begins a new era in her life, that would be easily found in the countless tributes of regard which have come in during a period extending over several weeks . . .

—MORNING POST, MARCH 22, 1871

Windsor Castle, March 21, 1871

Louise stood in her wedding dress in her dressing room at Windsor Castle. Outside, bunting hung between the buildings of Eton and across every shop window. Crowds filled the streets, cheering each carriage that passed ferrying its regal guests to St. George’s Chapel.

“Who’s that?” Louise asked when an especially large cheer went up.

Sybil raised her lorgnette and peered through the window. “Emperor Napoleon, Empress Eugénie, and Louis-Napoléon.”

The dressers, maids, hairstylist, and royal jeweler had been dismissed after they’d finished, leaving Sybil and Louise a rare moment alone. The last few days had been a whirlwind of dinners, receiving guests in the sitting rooms, and meeting royalty and relatives. In a few minutes Louise would join Mama in the carriage to ride down the hill from the castle to St. George’s Chapel. Mama had insisted on joining Bertie in escorting Louise up the aisle to Lorne, who waited with his family in the Bray Chapel, to make Louise his wife.

Louise touched the blue-sapphire-and-diamond pendant Lorne had given her as a wedding gift. The stone’s hue matched the church ribbons, the bridesmaids’ dresses, and Lorne’s Colonel of the Argyllshire Volunteer Artillery uniform.

“No backing out now,” Sybil teased, adjusting the two daisy-shaped diamond pins, a gift from Leopold, Arthur, and Beatrice, holding the Honiton lace veil to Louise’s orange-blossom-and-myrtle wreath. The Devon lace makers hired to weave the veil had perfectly followed Louise’s design and carefully embroidered delicate sprigs of heather and myrtle and orange blossoms along the edges.

“I don’t want to.” This marriage meant freedom. Already she had a treasure trove of dresses and jewels to wear whenever and wherever she chose. Mama had promised her an annual stipend in addition to her settlement from Parliament, and apartments at Kensington Palace and the funds to redecorate them. She’d build the art studio she’d always dreamed of in the garden, and none of it would be possible if it weren’t for today.

“Good, because yesterday, in the High Street, I saw an advertisement for a Princess Louise perfume. I wonder what the people think you smell like.”

“Today it’s orange blossoms and myrtle.” They were part of her wreath, train, and dress, the sweet fragrance having settled since the first overpowering waft when the dresser had attached the flowers to her bodice and hem.

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