“Oh dear,” Anna said again.
Bertha had helped Anna into her turquoise evening dress, which seemed very grand to both of them as it shimmered in the light and flattered Anna’s figure with its expertly fitted bodice and softly flowing skirt, despite the modest simplicity of its design and lack of ornament. Bertha had set to work on her hair, brushing it until it shone and then twisting it into a knot high on the back of her head before curling the long tendrils she had left free to trail along her neck and over her ears and temples. She had been learning diligently from Elizabeth’s maid.
“Ooh, it looks ever so nice, Miss Snow,” she had said immodestly as she stood back to assess her handiwork. “All you need now is a prince.”
She giggled and Anna laughed.
“But I really would not know what to do with one, Bertha,” she said. “I would be quite tongue-tied.”
Though a duke was not of much lesser rank than a prince, was he? She had not seen the Duke of Netherby since that afternoon when he had taught her to waltz—though it was her dancing master who took the credit. She had still not decided whether he attracted or repelled her, and that was strange. Surely the two were polar opposites. But she did know that the waltz was the most divine dance ever created.
“You must be ever so frightened, Miss Snow,” Bertha had told her as she gathered up the brush and comb and curling iron. “You are going to be seen by all the nobs. But you are one of them now, aren’t you? Well, hold your head up high and remember what you used to tell us in school—that you are as good as anyone.”
“It is gratifying,” Anna had said, “to know that at least one of my pupils was listening.”
Cousin Alexander arrived with his mother soon after dinner to convey them to the theater in his carriage. He could very well be the prince of any fairy tale, Anna thought, especially in his black-and-white evening finery. And he was the perfect gentleman. He complimented both her and his sister upon their appearance and handed them all into his carriage with solicitous care before taking his place beside Elizabeth with their backs to the horses.
“You must be nervous,” he told Anna, smiling kindly at her. “But you have no need to be. You look elegant, and you will be surrounded by family.”
“Of course you are nervous, Anastasia,” Cousin Althea said, patting her hand. “It would be strange if you were not. I daresay some people will be at the theater tonight specifically because they have got wind of the fact that you will be there. Your story has caused a great sensation.”
“And if she was not nervous before climbing into the carriage, Mama,” Elizabeth said, “she is doubtless shaking in her slippers by now. Ignore us, Anna. I am very glad the play is to be a comedy. There is enough tragedy and turbulence in real life.”
Was she nervous? Anna asked herself. It was all very well to tell herself that she was as good as anyone. It was another to step into a theater filled with people who were apparently anticipating a sight of her as much as they were looking forward to watching the play. How silly, really.
There was a huge throng of people and carriages about the theater, but precedence was important in London, Anna remembered as a lane opened to allow the carriage of the Earl of Riverdale through, and miraculously a space cleared for it before the doors. The Duke of Netherby was waiting there with Aunt Louise, but it was Cousin Alexander who handed his mother and Anna down onto the pavement before taking Anna’s hand firmly through his arm and patting it reassuringly. He offered his other arm to his mother. The duke helped Elizabeth alight and escorted her and Aunt Louise inside to the crowded foyer and upstairs to his box.
He was dressed in a dark green tailed evening coat with gray knee breeches and embroidered silver waistcoat with very white linen and stockings and an elaborately tied neckcloth. His jewelry was all silver and diamonds, and his hair waved golden about his head. He was all grace and elegance and hauteur, and a path opened before him just as one had outside before the earl’s carriage.
He had once kissed her. No, he had not. He had comforted her. And he had once waltzed with her, and she had felt as though they were dancing upon the floor of heaven.