Mama had not warned her that the Presence Chamber would be so crowded. There was a sea of courtiers, the most senior of whom was the Lord Chamberlain in his full wig and gown. In addition to the numerous lords in waiting in their silk knee breeches, there were equerries and gentlemen in waiting surrounding the royal party in full regalia, their chests swathed in sashes and braid, glittering with honours and medals. Ladies-in-waiting took up more space with their feathers and crinolines, making the passageway to the dais hazardously narrow.

“More slowly,” Mama hissed out of the corner of her mouth as Margaret began the short journey.

She didn’t see Louise at first, for her friend was standing to one side, partly obscured by her elder sister. But as Margaret got to within a step of the dais and Mama presented her, Louise adjusted her position and wiggled her eyebrows.

Margaret bit her lip as the nervous giggle formed. Dear heavens, surely Louise would not actually wink, as she had threatened. But, no, Louise prided herself on her public poise; she would never do anything so risky.

Margaret creaked carefully into her full court curtsy, reciting the instructions in her head. Drop low enough so that her knee almost touched the ground. Hold. Count to three. Bow for three. Eyes on the ground. Keep your balance. Hold on to your bouquet. Her knees trembled, and her nose itched with the urge to sneeze. She could feel Louise’s encouraging gaze on her, and Mama’s, too, which gave her the will she needed to remain perfectly in control. Was she close enough to the queen? Low enough for her petite majesty to reach her cheek? Goodness, how much longer must she hold this pose?

At last, the queen bent forward and brushed her cheek with the kiss, an honour reserved for the elite few. Finally, Margaret was permitted to rise, which she did as Mama had instructed, as if a rope were attached to her head pulling her straight up.

The closing stage of the ceremony required her to pay her respects to each of the royal party. Bertie was there, though no Alix, presumably excused because of her condition. Margaret made a deep curtsy to the Prince of Wales, and then moved on. Princess Helena was next, looking very unlike the Lenchen she knew, stiff and regal in her formal gown. Margaret reached Louise and despite herself, she smiled as she curtsied. Nothing could detract from her friend’s elegant beauty. The smile Louise bestowed on her as she rose from her curtsy was fleeting but warm, making Margaret glow with pride, for she had passed the test, and no-one had higher standards than Lou. Not even Mama.

“Well done.”

Another of Louise’s talents, her ability to speak with her mouth closed. Margaret dare not acknowledge the words, concentrating on making her way backwards out of the room, her gaze fixed towards the queen.