by Rhys Bowen
“Oh, rather. Elephants and tigers and things. And primitive customs—burning their dead on the steps of the Ganges. Disgusting habit.”
“So what will you do now, do you think?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“I understand that marriage is on the horizon, or so Fiona says.”
“Fiona would.” He glanced down at Hanni, who was now blissfully asleep. “It’s one of those dashed annoying things—both sets of parents decided it would be a good idea when we were infants. Oh, don’t get me wrong. Fiona’s a nice enough girl, but . . .” He let the end of the sentence die away.
“She will inherit Dippings one day,” I pointed out.
“That’s true. And there’s no shortage of cash there. Sorely tempting, but unfortunately not my cup of tea.”
The first fat raindrops pattered onto the car.
“Blast and damn,” Edward muttered. “Now we’re going to get wet. I took off the hood. I’ll just have to put my foot down and make a run for it.”
The engine roared as the motor car positively flew down the lane, wheels screeching at each corner. For a while it was exhilarating, but suddenly I became scared. He was driving so fast that he’d have no chance if we met a vehicle like a hay cart coming in the other direction. I was flung from side to side as he took the sharp bends. And I caught a glimpse of his face. It was alight with a strange, fierce exhilaration.
The storm broke in earnest when we were about ten miles from our destination. Thunder rumbled overhead. We were soaked through by the time we pulled up in front of Dippings. Servants rushed out with big umbrellas. There was a flash followed by a great clap of thunder as we went up the steps. Lady Cromer-Strode came out of the long gallery to greet us. “We were just finishing tea,” she said. “Oh, you poor dears, just look at you! You’re soaked. I’ll have the servants run baths for you immediately or you’ll come down with a chill. Edward what on earth were you doing driving with the top down in such weather?” Then her gaze fell to Hanni and her expression changed. “Your Highness,” she said, “I am so sorry. We had no idea how to contact you, you see, or we’d have brought you back at once. Such a tragedy.”
“What is such a tragedy?” I asked.
“Her Highness’s companion, the baroness. I’m afraid she’s dead.”
“Dead?” Hanni’s voice trembled. “You tell me that Baroness Rottenmeister is dead? Was there an accident?”
“No, my dear. It was natural causes. The doctor says it was a heart attack, sometime this morning. It was after the maid brought in her morning tea. She was of advancing years, wasn’t she?”
“But—but I had no idea.” Hanni’s bottom lip trembled like a child’s. “And I was rude to her last night. I quarreled with her. Maybe I made her upset and this caused the heart attack.”
I put an arm around Hanni’s shoulder. “I’m sure it was nothing you did, Hanni. People have little arguments all the time.”
“Yes, but now she has died and I can’t ask her to forgive me. I shall go to hell.” Hanni was trying hard not to cry.
“Come on,” I said, my arm still around her shoulders. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes. Irmgardt will run you a nice hot bath and perhaps Lady Cromer-Strode will be good enough to have some hot chocolate sent up to your room. Then you can have a good rest.”
“I do not wish to rest. I should have dreams. Old broad will come back to haunt me,” she said.
I tried not to smile as I led her upstairs.
“Georgie, what will happen now?” she asked. “They will want me to come home immediately.”
Oh, good Lord. I hadn’t thought of that complication. Of course her parents wouldn’t want her to stay on with no chaperone. I remembered that the queen was nearby at Sandringham House.
“I will visit Her Majesty,” I said.
“Must we do this today?”
“I’m afraid we must. Her Majesty would want to know about it and she’ll certainly need to contact your parents.”
“Then I will come with you. I will talk to them myself.”
“Oh no, I think it would be wiser if you stayed here. They would not wish to discuss your future in front of you.”
“You treat me as if I was a pet dog.” Hanni pouted. “I do not wish to go home.” She sneezed suddenly.
“Your parents will be even more angry if you catch a chill.”
I opened Hanni’s bedroom door and firmly escorted her inside. Irmgardt was sitting mending in the window. She jumped up with a look of horror on her face when she saw the princess. “Hot bath, Irmgardt,” I said. “Heiss Bad. Right away.”
She scuttled out of the room, while I helped Hanni out of her wet things and put her into her bathrobe as if she were a small child. She gave me a watery smile. “You are kind person, Georgie.” She was looking at me almost as if she felt sorry for me. She probably was sorry for me—the hopeless old maid at twenty-one!
“So did you know that the baroness had a weak heart?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “She always seems so healthy. She takes long walks. She has good appetite.”
That was certainly true. It did cross my mind that too much rich food at Dippings, after rather lean offerings at Rannoch House, might have contributed to her demise. I was glad that her death had been ruled a heart attack. Because if it hadn’t, it would have been the third suspicious death in a week.
Chapter 30
Mildred fussed over me when she saw the state I was in. By now I was feeling miserable and a little shaken and didn’t mind being fussed over. Neither did I mind being tucked up in bed with a glass of hot chocolate and some nice biscuits. Mildred had instructed me to stay there until she came to dress me for dinner, but after half an hour I was restored and ready to tackle my next unpleasant task. I asked the butler to make a telephone call on my behalf to Sandringham. He did so and I was summoned to the royal presence right away. Lady Cromer-Strode was happy to provide a car, luckily with a roof on it, as it was still coming down in buckets. The drive was only ten miles but it seemed like an eternity as I rehearsed what I was going to tell the queen. Of course it wasn’t my fault that the baroness had died, but I rather felt that she might see it that way. Too many unfortunate things had happened to the princess since she had been entrusted to my care.
Even under rainy skies the ornamental gardens of Sandringham at the height of summer are incredibly beautiful. The beds, laid out in their formal designs, were absolutely perfect. Not a bloom was out of place. The house was less perfect, in my opinion. It was one of those sprawling Victorian country homes that are a horrible mixture of styles, bits jutting out here and there, towers, turrets, cupolas, and a mixture of red brick, gray stone, white and brown decorative trim and seaside boardinghouse windows. But I knew that the king was particularly fond of the place, and that was all that mattered.
A footman bearing a large black umbrella whisked me inside. I was led through to a small sitting room and announced. I found the royal couple behaving like any other household on a Sunday afternoon. The king had his stamp collection spread out in front of him on a small table. The queen was in the middle of writing letters. She looked up and extended her hand to me.
“Georgiana, what a pleasant surprise,” she said. “I’m afraid you’re a little late for tea. Do sit down.” I attempted the usual kiss and curtsy with the usual clumsy nose-bumping results.
“I’m just replying to a letter from my granddaughter Elizabeth. Her penmanship is very pleasing for her age, don’t you think?” She held up a letter for me, written on lined paper in a neat, round childish hand.
“And what brings you here, my dear?” the king asked. “Surely not just to keep a couple of old fogies company?”
“I am so sorry to disturb you, ma’am, sir,” I said, “but I felt I should let you know right away. A rather unfortunate thing has happened.” And I related the news about the baroness.
“Good gracious. This is unfortunate,” the queen replied, glancing
across at her husband. “A heart attack, you say? I suppose they are sure of that?”
I stared at her in surprise. “What do you mean, ma’am?”
“It did just cross my mind that she might have taken her own life, out of guilt for letting the young person under her protection become involved in a murder investigation. These foreigners are known to have an exaggerated sense of duty.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, ma’am,” I said hastily. “The baroness did not strike me as that kind of person. She thought a lot of herself, for one thing, and also she was a Catholic. Don’t they consider suicide a mortal sin?”
“We all do,” the queen said. “But in certain cases it is understandable. We must notify the girl’s parents immediately. We haven’t yet received a reply to the letter we wrote a few days ago. We could perhaps use the telephone, of course. Do you think a telephone call would be the right thing to do, my dear?”
The king frowned then shook his head. “It’s not as if it’s a national emergency, is it? Never did like telephones. Damned annoying things. All the shrill ringing and then you can’t hear a blasted thing that’s being said on the other end and you end up shouting. No, I think a letter should suffice, May.”
“Then I will compose one immediately.”
“And what should happen to Princess Hanni, ma’am? She probably shouldn’t be sent home before the inquest, should she?”
The queen frowned. “No, that wouldn’t be the right thing to do. And as to that, have you made any progress?”
“I have learned a few interesting facts, ma’am, but I wouldn’t call it progress yet. I shall begin my investigation in earnest tomorrow.”
“What are you having the girl do now, May?” The king looked up from his stamps.
“Just keep her eyes and ears open. We are trying to avoid any embarrassment, you know, and Georgiana has a good head on her shoulders.”
The king snorted. “If we lived in a different sort of country, you’d be head of the secret police.”
“What rubbish. I merely find our own solidly loyal police force a little on the plodding side, that’s all. I don’t see that asking Georgiana to assist them in their investigation is so wrong.”
“They’ll certainly think it is. Leave the investigating to professionals and let the young girl enjoy herself the way young girls are supposed to.”
“If you think so, my dear.” The queen gave me a knowing look that indicated I was to take no notice of the king.
“So what should be done with the princess?” I asked.
“We could bring her here, of course,” the queen said, “although it’s remarkably dull for a young person and I don’t think I could prevail upon my son to entertain her. He’s being extremely perverse these days.”
“These days. He’s been perverse since he was born,” the king muttered.
“He was at Dippings last night, I take it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I thought so. And he had a chance to talk to the princess?”
“I don’t think he noticed her, ma’am, even though he was seated at dinner opposite her.”
“I take it the American woman was there.”
“She was.”
“With husband?”
“Minus husband this time. On business in America, so we are told.”
“You see, it is becoming serious, just as I told you.” The queen glanced over at her husband, then turned back to me. “And do you think my son is still smitten with her?”
“Like a puppy dog, rushing to her beck and call,” I replied. “She bosses him around shamelessly. She even calls him by his first name in public.”
The queen sighed. “Dear me. How utterly vexing. I had such hopes that the Prince of Wales might behave like any normal healthy male and show interest in such a charming young thing as Princess Hannelore. Tell me, Georgiana, is the princess happy at Dippings?”
“Very. There are lots of young people and she is having a good time.”
“Then let us leave her safely where she is until we receive word from Germany. We’ll give my little scheme one last chance before she has to go home.”
I thought of Lord Cromer-Strode and his rolls in the hay and his pinching of bottoms and wondered just how safe Hanni would be. But I couldn’t find a way to express this particular fear to someone as starchy as my austere relatives. Besides, the queen was still talking and one does not interrupt. “The Cromer-Strodes will be motoring up to London for our garden party on Wednesday so I will request that they bring Hannelore with them. She’ll enjoy that. And Lady Cromer-Strode is a good sort. She’ll make sure the girl is well looked after. Which will leave you free to pursue other things.” And again she gave me that knowing, frank stare.
On the way back to Dippings I wondered if I should catch a train to London that night. I certainly had no wish to face Gussie or Darcy again, if they were still there. Actually I didn’t want to endure another jolly evening in company. Then I realized that, of course, it would not be a jolly evening. There had been a death in the house, so presumably no dancing, cards or gramophone would be allowed. Oh, golly, would one be expected to wear black? I had only brought light colors with me. But then I suspected that was true of all the guests. It was midsummer, after all, and the only person wearing black had been the now deceased baroness.
The rain looked as if it might be easing up as we drove through Little Dippings. There was a definite brightening to the western sky, as if the setting sun were trying to break through.
“Do the trains run on Sunday evenings?” I asked the chauffeur.
“Oh no, your ladyship,” he replied. “No trains at all on a Sunday from Dippings Halt. Tomorrow morning at eight is the first one.”
So I was trapped whether I liked it or not. I shifted uneasily on the leather seat of the Rolls. I had felt as if I had been walking on eggshells ever since Hanni arrived, and now I felt that I might snap like an overwound watch spring any moment. I suppose the news of the baroness’s death had been a final straw. Three deaths in one week—my grandfather would say that was too much of a coincidence. And yet the baroness’s death had been ruled a heart attack—I presumed by a competent doctor. And anyway, who would want the baroness dead, apart from Hanni?
I almost smiled as I remembered Hanni’s gangster talk of “taking out the old broad,” then remembered how distraught she had been on receiving the news. She had found the baroness annoying, that much was obvious, but that didn’t mean she wished her dead. And besides, she had been in a car with me when the baroness had died. Of course Irmgardt had still been in the house. . . . Ridiculous, I said to myself as we swung through the gates into Dippings.
The butler himself came out with a large umbrella to meet me.
“You are just in time for supper, my lady,” he said. “Lady Cromer-Strode thought just a simple meal, given the distressing circumstances.”
“The baroness’s death, you mean?”
“Precisely, my lady.”
“Very sad,” I said. “I understand she was dead when the maid took her tea in this morning?”
“Oh no, my lady. She was alive and well when the maid delivered her morning tea.”
“That would be Irmgardt, the princess’s maid?”
“No, my lady. It was your own lady’s maid, Mildred, who kindly volunteered to take up her tea, seeing that you had already left for the day. It was when the baroness did not appear for breakfast that our parlor maid, Mary Ann, went to summon her and found her dead. The poor child has been quite distraught all day. A very sensitive little thing.”
“I take it a doctor was called?”
“Oh, indeed. Her ladyship’s own physician, Doctor Harrison. But he was too late to do anything, of course. He said it was a massive heart attack and there was nothing anybody could have done, even if they had been with her. Very sad for the princess, to have lost her companion.”
“Very sad indeed,” I agreed as we stepped into the entrance hall and heard the sound of v
oices coming from the dining room. Among them I detected Hanni’s light chatter. She sounded as if she’d recovered from her shock quite well. “Are we changing tonight for dinner, do you know?” I asked.
“Only if you have brought a more somber color with you, my lady.”
I didn’t think I had but I went up to my room to see what miracle Mildred could produce. Knowing her she had probably managed to dye one of my outfits black in time to wear. Then I froze, halfway up the stairs. Mildred! I had forgotten all about her. What on earth was I going to do with her if I went back to London? I couldn’t bring her to an empty London house from which the cook and butler had mysteriously disappeared. Suddenly she felt like yet another millstone around my neck. Why on earth had I hired her in the first place? Trying to do the right thing, as usual. I wished I had been born more like my mother, whose one thought in life was to please herself and the rest of the world be damned.
She wasn’t in my bedroom when I went in, but the butler must have alerted her because she came flying in breathlessly a minute after me.
“I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t know when you’d be returning or whether Their Majesties would ask you to dine with them.”
“It was just a brief visit to inform them of the baroness’s death,” I said. “I understand that you were the last person to see her alive.”
“I was, my lady. And I feel terrible now. Perhaps there was something I should have noticed, something I should have done.”
“The doctor said it was a massive heart attack and nobody could have done anything,” I said, “so please don’t distress yourself.”
“She was snoring, you see. I tapped her quietly and told her that her tea tray was on the bedside table. She muttered something in German, but I don’t speak the language so I have no idea what she said, and given her temperament, I thought it wise not to startle her, so I tiptoed out again.”
I nodded.
“But now I’m asking myself whether she was trying to tell me that she felt unwell or I should fetch a doctor, and of course I didn’t understand.”