Coming Out

Chesterfield Hall
Bath, England
September 20, 1818

Miss Abigail Hawkins
Gessner House
Hamburg, Germany

My dearest Abigail,
How nice it was to receive your letter. I always enjoy reading your wonderful poems, but I do believe that these were your best yet. I’ve missed you so since your move to Hamburg, but I especially missed you last month when we journeyed to our London residence for my coming out. It was so exciting. I enjoyed every minute of it!

Mama had our dressmaker make me the most beautiful dress. It was covered in fine ornate lace and delicate embroidery. The skirt was a hoop skirt, of course, for I would not dream of wearing anything else. My bonnet was made of the finest ostrich plumes, covered with an impressive amount of feathers. I was covered from head to toe with necklaces, bracelets, and rings, (All made out of diamonds, of course) and a lovely fan completed the outfit. After the dress was finished, Mama scarcely let me look at it, so afraid was she that I would muss it.

When the day finally arrived, my carriage proceeded down Piccadilly on its way to St. James’s Palace where the Queen, as well as a host of other dignities, most of them friends of my Papa’s, awaited. There were about a dozen of us to be presented that day, so to the commoners, it must have seemed like a parade. Guns sounded while trumpets blared. My three footmen were adorned from head to toe in their finest outfits, each with a giant bouquet stuck neatly in their labels. I am so privileged to have three footmen; some poor souls have but two.

As we proceeded into the palace, I folded my train over my left arm. All of the ladies who were to be presented waited in the gallery until our summons to the Presence Chamber came. When the time came, I entered the room and made my way to the throne, upon which Her Majesty the queen sat. I let down my train, which was spread out immediately by the attendant lords-in-waiting. One of my footmen handed a card bearing my name to another lord-in-waiting, and then he announced me to Her Majesty. I made a very low curtsey, almost to the point of kneeling, during which I kissed Her Majesty’s hand. Afterward I arose and curtsied once more. Then I left the room, being careful not to turn my face away from Her Majesty.

That night we held a fabulous ball in our London residence. Everyone who was anyone was there. After all, Papa is the Duke of Chesterfield. The servants had decorated, baked, and cooked for hours upon end, and their efforts were well received. All the food was marvelous, and our ballroom looked fantastic. Most of the young men I had met before, and were of no interest to me, but I did meet one gentleman, Lord Derby, who was very dashing. He’s from Yorkshire, but right now he’s visiting distant cousins here in Bath, and he just happened to be in London at the time of the ball. We danced dance after dance. He is a splendid dancer, for I felt as if I was floating on air when I was in his arms. He has promised to come and see me here at home in Bath, but as of yet he has not made good that promise. Do not fear, however, for I expect him any day.

Now, my bosom friend, let us turn the attention to you. How are you? Is your sick horse improving? I do so hope he is on the mend, for I know what a shock it would be for you to lose him. Has your maid, Isabelle, recovered from her illness? I almost wish my maid, Marcella, would become ill. It might knock her down a notch or two, for she has become quite uppity lately. Do you have any advice on how to deal with her? I do hope so, for Marcella is so skillful that it would be a blow to lose her, but I do not know how I can put up with her airs any longer. I hope that all is going well for you and your lovely family. Please tell your Mama and Papa, that Lord and Lady Chesterfield bid them greetings.

As this letter has become quite long, I fear I must have bored you at some point, so I shall take my leave. Know that you are in my fondest thoughts and also in my brother Charles’. We hope to hear from you soon, and read more of your excellent poetry.

Sincerely Yours,
Lady Elizabeth Johnson
 

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