Celeste, Mama’s formidable French maid, was in charge, insisting that Molly apply the pumice stone vigorously to Margaret’s feet while she combed oils into her hair. More emollients were rubbed into her skin when she emerged like a boiled lobster from the tub, until she glistened like an eel and her nose twitched from the warring scents, and her protests that none of this was in the least necessary since her entire person would be covered with a court dress predictably fell on deaf ears.

Draped in a cotton shift which clung to her slick body, Margaret was next placed in front of the dressing table, where the triple mirror gave her far too much insight into Celeste’s machinations. The first layer applied to her face was a cold cream that Mama had insisted she use daily since coming to London in the vain hope it would fade her freckles. Though it was scented with rose water, Margaret was convinced she could smell the spermaceti, a substance taken from a poor whale’s head, every time it was applied. It had made no difference to her stubborn freckles, which meant that next Celeste dusted her face with pearl powder, and then dusted it again when Margaret sneezed violently. She lost track of the different preparations that then followed from the Celeste’s mahogany box of tricks. Her brows were plucked and coloured. Her lashes and cheeks were tinted. There were drops to make her eyes sparkle, and a beeswax pomade to make her lips shine.

Her hair took an age to tame into submission, by which time her neck and shoulders were stiff and sore with the effort of keeping still and her scalp prickled with pins. Next came the trussing up in the steel-boned cage of her corset, a painful and mortifying process supervised by Mama wielding her dreaded measuring tape. Another cage was donned next in the form of her crinoline; and finally it took both Celeste and Molly to manoeuvre her into the confection of lace, silk, and satin that was her court dress, with its prescribed short puffed sleeves and low-cut neckline. The long lace train was then fixed to her shoulders, and finally the lace veil was fixed to the back of her head with a painful assortment of combs and pins, topped with the two white feathers that all unmarried ladies being presented to the queen must wear. Her long white gloves were fastened tightly, which meant, she realised with dismay, that she would be able to eat absolutely nothing until her return for fear of spotting them. The white ostrich feather fan was attached to one wrist, her simple pearl necklace and matching bracelet fixed. Then she stood for an age while Mama and Celeste inspected, adjusted, consulted, and primped and Molly watched, her smile pained. Finally, with a flourish, Mama presented her first with a lace handkerchief, and then with an enormous bouquet.