On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service

by Rhys Bowen

“How about ‘It’s lovely to see you, my darling?’” he whispered.

  “Of course it’s lovely to see you,” I whispered back. “But why creep in like this? I thought you were the odious Count Rudolf. You’re lucky I didn’t clobber you with that statue. I was thinking of doing so.”

  “Rudolf? Has he been creeping into your room?”

  “This is my first night here, but he certainly hinted earlier that it was convenient that our rooms were next to each other . . . so that we would be lying next to each other, as he put it.”

  “I’ll kill him,” Darcy muttered.

  “Don’t worry, I locked my door. And I was prepared to scream the place down.”

  “So I heard.” He grinned.

  We were now standing facing each other beside my bed. My greatest desire was to throw myself into his arms, but my heart was still racing from my fright and I was still angry that he had put me through this. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in a more conventional manner? You could have written, or even sent a telegram, or do you make a habit of creeping into ladies’ boudoirs at night?”

  “Only when I have to,” he replied. “You see, I can’t let anybody know I’m here. I’ve been spying on the place. I was completely taken aback when I saw you arriving today. I had no idea you’d be involved in this. What are you doing here?”

  “Not my idea, I assure you. I came out to be with Belinda. Her baby is due quite soon. Then the queen asked me to spy on the Prince of Wales. She had got it into her head that he was planning a secret marriage to Mrs. Simpson so she had me invited to this house party. But more to the point, what are you doing here?”

  Darcy crossed the room silently and closed the French doors.

  “More serious stuff than that, I’m afraid,” he said when he came back to me. “I considered staying hidden and not letting you know that I was here, but then I decided that you could be most helpful to me, someone actually in the house, in a position to overhear conversations.”

  I sat on the bed and he sat down beside me. “What’s going on, Darcy?” I whispered.

  “That’s what I’ve been sent to find out,” he said. “You might know that there has been an important international meeting in Stresa. Top-level men from England, France and Italy discussing what to do about the Nazi threat to Europe.”

  “I did hear something about it,” I said.

  He nodded. “It seemed too much of a coincidence that several high-ranking Germans just happened to be at a house party with Count di Marola, who is Mussolini’s top adviser, and with the Prince of Wales, immediately following that meeting.”

  “They might all be friends of Paolo and Camilla.”

  “Might, but they are not. I presume the Germans must have met in Berlin society, but no indication that they have met the Italians or the Prince of Wales before. So why now? That’s what I’ve been sent to find out.”

  “But how are you supposed to do that if you are not part of the house party yourself?” I asked.

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on them as closely as I dare,” he said.

  I stared at him and suddenly my face lit up. “You were the gardener who was watching me.”

  He nodded. “Quite right. I nearly dropped my rake when I spotted you.”

  “And I thought how good you looked without your shirt on. And I had to remind myself that I’m almost a married woman.”

  “I’ll remember that any future gardener needs to be over sixty,” he said dryly.

  “How on earth do you get away with pretending to be an Italian gardener? Your Italian isn’t that good, is it?”

  “Simple, my darling. I told the other gardeners that I have been lent from Countess Camilla’s house in England as she wanted the gardens to have a more English feel to them. People like gardeners seem to accept what they are told if it seems plausible. Of course, the only fly in the ointment has been that I’ve actually had to do some work.”

  “And developed muscles. As I’ve noticed,” I said, smiling at him. “But why go to such lengths? Why not write to Camilla and ask to be invited? She is some sort of relative of yours, I gather.”

  “For that very reason,” he said. “She knows who I am. People would be suspicious of why I was here. It might change their plans.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

  I was still trying to control my racing thoughts. My brain didn’t function well in the middle of the night, after several glasses of strong wine and with the man I loved only a few inches away from me. “High-ranking Germans?” I said. “Is Count Rudolf a high-ranking German?”

  “Let’s just say he moves in Hitler’s inner circle,” Darcy said, “and he’s the sort of person who knows what’s going on in Berlin. He most certainly picks up gossip to report back to the Nazis. They are quite ruthless, you know. People cross them and people disappear.”

  “So Rudi is Hitler’s little spy? Yes, I can see that,” I said. I was about to blurt out that he was also a blackmailer, but I changed my mind at the last second. I didn’t think that Darcy had a high opinion of my mother. And even though I didn’t think too highly of her myself, filial loyalty made me keep quiet now. I moved on instead. “But don’t tell me that boring German general is a high-ranking official!”

  “Top military strategist to Herr Hitler, so we’re told.”

  I frowned. “Military strategist? But they were disarmed after the Great War. Surely they can’t be planning any sort of military action now.”

  “They are busy rearming themselves at an alarming rate,” he said. “In fact, your mother’s beau, Max von Strohheim . . .”

  “He’s not a Nazi, is he?”

  “Maybe not one of them, but he’s getting awfully rich while his factories turn out tanks and guns.”

  I looked at him in horror. “Are you sure? I thought his factories made machinery and motorbikes and things.”

  “Oh yes, they do. But we suspect those legitimate enterprises are cover for the weapons.”

  “Crikey,” I exclaimed before I remembered that I had forbidden myself to say that word any longer. “I wonder if my mother knows? And Granddad—it would kill him if his daughter married a Nazi sympathizer. He still hates the Germans because my uncle, his only son, was killed on the Somme.”

  “Von Strohheim may be more opportunist than sympathizer,” Darcy said. “But he’s clearly important enough to Germany to be invited here.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “You said England just had a meeting with Italy to discuss ways to combat the Nazi threat. So Italy should be on our side. They don’t like the Germans.”

  “You forget that Mussolini is a fellow Fascist. Hitler looks up to him—admires him.”

  I thought about this. “Darcy, you keep saying ‘Hitler this and Hitler that.’ But he seems like such a funny little man to me. Surely he can’t really be dangerous.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you should underestimate him,” Darcy said. “He understands the German people. He knows how their pride was crushed with the defeat in 1918. He knows how they’ve suffered under reparations, how they’ve lost their life savings under devaluation. They want to believe in somebody. If he promises he’s going to make Germany great again, they’ll follow him.”

  “So you think this is a serious meeting between Hitler’s top chap and Mussolini’s man?”

  “I do.”

  A thought just occurred to me. “But the Prince of Wales? Where does he come into this?”

  Darcy shook his head. “We have no idea. We were as curious as you are when we learned that he was coming here. This isn’t his usual type of hedonistic party with beautiful people. He doesn’t seem to be a close friend of any of the participants. So this is where you can be really helpful to me. I can only overhear snatches of conversation out in the grounds or near open wi
ndows. You can overhear whole conversations. Nobody sees you as a threat. You can wander into rooms by mistake, claim to be looking for a missing book in the library.”

  I went to say “crikey” again but swallowed it back. “You want me to be a real spy,” was what I managed to say.

  “Something like that.” He took my hand. “I don’t think you’ll be in any kind of danger, or I wouldn’t ask you to do this. And I’ll be close by. I’m bunking with the other grounds staff in the cottages at the back of the property. You can actually get a glimpse of my roof from your balcony—which was how I knew which room you were staying in, by the way. I spotted you when you came out earlier, and then again, rather more flimsily attired. You should be more careful when you come out in your night attire, my lady. You never know who might see you.” His hand brushed mine, the gentlest of touches, but it sent shivers up my spine.

  I looked up at him and our eyes met. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “God, you look desirable tonight.” He sighed, his finger still casually stroking the back of my hand. “But I should probably be getting back. You need your sleep and so do I, although I can’t say the local gardeners work particularly hard. They seem to lean on their shovels and smoke for most of the day. But we do have to be up at six.”

  Now that he was actually here, beside me, and I could feel his warm breath on my cheek, I was reluctant to let him go. “So how can I get in touch with you if I need you?” I asked. “I can’t just casually stroll over to the gardeners’ cottages.”

  “Why don’t you leave a towel or something over the chair on the balcony?” he said. “That way I’ll know.”

  Something had just struck me. “How did you get up here in the first place?”

  “Climbed the wisteria. Good sturdy plant that.”

  “Goodness, Darcy, be careful, please,” I said, then I added, “Oh no, I’ve just thought of something. If you can climb up the wisteria to my balcony that means that other people could too, including horrible Rudolf.”

  He nodded. “You should probably keep your French doors shut—yes, before you say it I know you’ve been brought up to sleep with the windows open, but in this case . . .”

  “You’re right,” I said. “But if I close the French doors, how can you get in?”

  “I’ll tap, gently,” he said. “I’ll only be coming if you’ve summoned me.”

  I put my hand up to touch his face. “I feel so much better knowing that you’re close by,” I said. “I can tell Rudolf that if he tries anything I’ll summon my beloved to challenge him to a duel.”

  “Don’t do that,” he said hurriedly. “From what I’ve heard he really has been challenged to many duels in Berlin and Paris, and usually wins. He’s a good swordsman, and a good shot.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember now that he told me he enjoyed fighting duels. What are you good at that he’s not?” I asked.

  “Conkers,” he said. “I was the village champion in Kilhenny.”

  “Conkers at dawn, then.” I started to laugh.

  Without warning he took my face in his hands and kissed me. The kiss was full of the hunger and longing of being apart. We fell back together onto my pillow. I could feel his heart thudding against mine. Desire was singing in my head. Nothing mattered anymore. I knew that all I wanted was Darcy to make love to me. But at the same time that small voice of Rannoch duty started to whisper in my head that we were passing the point of no return and . . .

  Darcy raised his lips from mine. “We should stop right now, or I don’t think we’ll be able to,” he said breathlessly. “This is neither the time nor the place. Sorry, I got a bit carried away.”

  “You weren’t the only one,” I laughed uneasily.

  “I noticed.” He was eyeing me with amusement. “I’m beginning to think that we might need a chaperon for you when I’m away.”

  “There’s only ever been one man for me, Darcy,” I said. “I can’t wait until we’re married.”

  “Neither can I,” he said. “Oh, I see now. This was blackmail, was it?”

  I sat up, staring at him in dismay. Had he an inkling of what Rudolf had been doing? How had he found out? “Blackmail?” The word came out as a squeak. “What do you mean?”

  “The reason you came here. You do something for the queen and she makes sure you are given permission to marry. Tit for tat.”

  “I suppose that did cross my mind,” I agreed.

  He slid off the bed and stood up. “I must go. Take care of yourself.”

  I nodded, still reluctant to let him go. “You take care of yourself too. If the German Fascists are ruthless then I’m sure the Italians are too. You never know who else might be working here undercover.”

  “True,” he said. “But don’t worry. I’m always careful.”

  I crossed the room with him and he opened a French door. As he was about to leave I put a warning hand to halt him, and peered out first. No lights were burning. As far as I could see in the light of a waxing moon the other balconies were empty. I nodded to Darcy. He gave me a peck on the cheek, then swung himself over the railing with ease. I heard leaves flutter to the ground as he climbed down the creeper. Then I detected a soft footfall on the gravel beneath. I gave a little sigh and retreated into my bedroom.

  Chapter 14

  MONDAY, APRIL 22, 1935

  Now that I know Darcy is nearby I feel so much better about everything!

  The next thing I knew I heard the doorknob being jiggled. I jumped up, instantly awake and ready to fend off the amorous Rudi, only to find it was broad daylight. There was now a light tap at my door. I went over and turned the key. Gerda stood there looking disapproving.

  “I am sorry to disturb you like this, Lady Georgiana,” she said. “But I was not expecting to find the door locked. I bring your morning tea.” She placed the tray on the bedside table, went over to the French doors and drew back the curtains. “It will be a fine day, I think. A little mist but warm later.” She went over to my wardrobe and opened it. “The skirt and blouse are suitable for this morning, I think,” she said, bringing out two hangers. “It is a pity you did not bring trousers with you. Smart ladies wear them these days, even on occasions like this, you know. So useful if you go out in the boat.”

  “I’m afraid I possess no smart trousers,” I said. “Only tweeds suitable for tramping through heather on shoots.”

  She made a little noise of disapproval. “The skirt, then. I leave you to enjoy your tea. Ring for me when you wish to dress and I will assist you.”

  Of course there was no way I was going to summon her back to put on my blouse and skirt. I drank my tea, which was very weak by English standards, then I went down the hall to have a bath. Fortunately, I didn’t encounter Rudi or anybody else when I was in my dressing gown; in fact, the rest of the household seemed to be still asleep. I dressed, brushed my hair and went downstairs. The dining room stood deserted. Breakfast had not been laid and I wondered where it might be served. It also occurred to me that this gave me a good chance to do a little snooping on my mother’s behalf. If I was seen by the staff I could tell them I was looking for breakfast.

  I moved swiftly through the dining room, but the only hiding places were behind statues in niches. I realized then that Rudi could not risk hiding the photographs where the servants would routinely dust and clean. The hiding place had to be clever and not likely to be disturbed. I moved through to the elegant salon and poked around inside vases, behind paintings on the walls and under side tables. Nothing.

  I wandered through to the library. What a daunting room that was. He could have hidden the photographs between the pages in any of those hundreds of books. But then he’d have to remember which one, so there had to be some rhyme or reason to it. On the end of a row, maybe, or his favorite color, or a title that meant something to him. I stared at the book titles. They were either in Italian or Latin. I managed to
translate Dante’s Divine Comedy. Perhaps Rudi would have chosen something simple like that, I thought, and took it down from the shelf. The pages smelled old and musty and there was nothing tucked inside the book. I returned it and continued to browse, but gave up after a while. I couldn’t take out every single book. This needed more thought and, what’s more, I was decidedly hungry.

  It seemed to me most likely that he would hide anything important in his own bedroom, and if I could lock my door, presumably he could lock his. If Mummy could only lure him out onto the lake today, I might have a better chance. I came out into the hallway, listened for sounds of other people being awake and heard the clinking of cutlery. I followed those sounds to the lake view room and saw that a table had been laid with coffee and various types of rolls. It seemed as if we might not be getting a hot breakfast.

  I had just buttered a crispy roll and added apricot jam when I heard the sound of feet approaching and Paolo appeared, escorting his mother.

  “We just come from mass,” he said to me.

  “You did not wish to attend?” his mother asked with her usual critical frown.

  “I’m not Catholic,” I said.

  “But I am told you will marry a Catholic,” she said. “It is good to understand our habits. Are you already under instruction?”

  “Instruction?” I asked.

  “But naturally. Instruction in the faith is necessary before marriage. Our priest can instruct you while you are here.”

  The thought of being anywhere alone with that scary priest was not appealing and I couldn’t see Darcy getting up for morning mass every day either. “I am not sure I’m going to convert,” I said and saw her look of horror.

  “You will not take your husband’s religion?”

  “I’m really not sure,” I said hastily.

  Paolo seated his mother and poured her a cup of coffee, thus avoiding further interrogation. When his uncle Cosimo joined us and started a conversation in Italian with the dowager countess, Paolo came to sit with me in the bay window.

  “So how is our friend Belinda these days?” he asked, glancing over to see if the others were listening. “I think about her often. Such a fun-loving girl, wasn’t she?”