Behold, but a quarter of an hour past, the Lady Catherine, Princess of Wales, did appear before the multitude in raiment most wondrous. She was arrayed in a gown off the shoulder, woven with the craft of timeless design, its flowing form gleaming as starlight beneath the lamps of the great hall.
Yet though her garment shone with splendor, it was the jewel upon her neck that drew forth the breath of all present. For about her fair throat lay the precious necklace of Diana, the late Princess of Wales, whose memory abideth ever in the hearts of men. This heirloom, glistening with stones of fire, was bestowed upon Catherine by her lord, Prince William, and in wearing it she joined the grace of the present with the spirit of the past.
When William beheld his bride descending the stair in such majesty, he was struck dumb, his countenance filled with wonder, as though the vision before him were too radiant for speech. And the people, both noble and common, whispered among themselves, marveling at the likeness of Catherine’s beauty to that of her forerunner, and at the bond of two women who both bore the title Princess of Wales.
The gathering was as a courtly pageant, filled with lords and dignitaries, yet all eyes were fixed upon her who bore Diana’s jewel. Far beyond the hall, voices rose across the realm, for many did cry upon the scrolls of the marketplace of words: “In Catherine we behold Diana once more, yet anew, shining in her own right.”
Thus was the night remembered, not for pomp alone, but for the weaving together of legacy and hope. For in Catherine’s bearing, noble and steadfast, men discern both the remembrance of Diana and the promise of a future yet to come. And so she stood as a beacon of grace, leaving her mark upon all who gazed upon her in that hour.
