The empress of ice cream

Louise

Two days later I move into my apartments. Sumptuous and vast, the rooms echo when I walk across the inlaid floors. But I am touched to find that Charles has tried to make me feel at home: the bookcase I saw the workmen fitting is filled with French books. And - a thoughtful touch - they are not just novels, but works of philosophy, drama, mathematics. A brand-new harpsichord stands to one side, the music case stocked with pieces by Blancrocher and Chambonnieres. Next to it, the writing bureau already bears a neat stack of invitations.

As I look through them, the door to the apartment opens and two well-dressed young women come in. Seeing me, they curtsey.

‘Hello.’ I gesture at the empty rooms. ‘If you have come to visit me, I’m afraid you are a little premature. I have only just arrived myself’

The older of the two girls, a brunette, looks puzzled. ‘We have not come to visit. We are your ladies-in-waiting.’ She indicates her companion. ‘This is the Honourable Lucy Williamson, and I am Lady Anne Berowne.’

‘Ladies-in-waiting!’ I catch myselL‘Forgive me, you are very welcome. It is just that I was not expecting to have anyone wait on me. Rather the other way round, in fact. Please, take a seat.’ They are both very pretty: presumably that is all part of the Arlingtons’ design. The king \vill be even more likely to visit me if I am surrounded by attractive faces.

After an hour conversation is becoming stilted, not least because we are all now ravenously hungry.

‘Tell me,’ I ask Lucy, who is pale and fair, ‘what does one do to get some food in this place.>’

She looks even more confused than Lady Anne did earlier. ‘Is your chef not bringing lunch!*’

‘My chefl ’

‘Everyone at court has their own chef.’

‘Well, I have not appointed one as yet. Nor am I entirely sure how I would set about doing such a thing.’

‘Perhaps you would ask your steward to appoint one for you?’ Lady Anne suggests helpfully.

‘Perhaps, but I have not yet got a steward either. Or a butler, or a footman, or a dresser, or maids.’ And neither do I have the money to pay for them if I did.

‘Oh,’ says Lucy, whom I am quickly realising is the less clever of the two. ‘Does that mean we are not going to get any lunch?’

I sigh. ‘Perhaps the French ambassador will lend us some staff I will write to him.’ I stop. ‘I suppose I am going to need a servant, to take my note?’

The girls nod.

‘Lunch in France is often skipped by the ladies of the court,’ I say decisively. And perhaps by supper, I think, I will have worked out what to do.

But it is long before supper when a servant in royal livery enters and whispers something to Lady Anne. She spins round to face me. ‘The queen is coming.’

‘Now? Here?’

She nods, her eyes large.

’■Mon Dim' I say faintly. ‘What about Lady Arlington?’

‘On her way also.’

‘That is something, I suppose. What will the queen expect?’

Lady Anne shrugs helplessly. ‘She likes cards. And she will expect to be fed.’

‘Fed what?’

‘Supper,’ she says vaguely. Clearly Lady Anne’s upbringing has not included much household management.

‘For how many?’

‘She’ll bring her ladies-in-waiting. Perhaps a dozen all told. And if she is visiting, others may too.’

I think for a moment. ‘Send a message to Signor Demirco, the confectioner. Ask him to send ices for twenty. Tell him there is no time to lose.’