As he was leaving, he was approached by a gentleman he recognized from Her Majesty’s court.
“My Lord Donnelly, might I have a word with you?” the gentleman asked.
“Certainly. How may I be of service?”
“Her Majesty requests your attendance at the palace tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Is that convenient?”
“Tell Her Majesty it will be my great pleasure to attend.”
“My Lord,” the man said, nodding and turning away.
A royal summons? Not unheard of but a surprise, nonetheless, as he could see no reason for her request.
* * *
The next morning, he appeared at court dressed in the appropriate formal wear and on time.
He was ushered to the Queen’s morning chambers where he was announced. The room fronted the palace and was spacious but sparsely furnished. The sun streamed in though large windows, but the queen was shaded by a wall that backed her desk where she sat reading the daily papers sent to her from parliament.
Crossing the room to her Majesty, Robert stopped, bowed, and waited for her to speak first. It was also customary for him to remain standing during the interview.
“My Lord Donnelly,” she addressed him, “It is a pleasure to see you again. And how is your charming sister?”
“Very well, Your Majesty. She sends you her warmest regards. She has hopes of seeing you again soon.”
“And that is exactly why I have summoned you. I remember so fondly our stay at Balfour last summer. I remember how delightful it was sipping champagne in your Roman temple by the lake. And as I was longing to get away from London I wanted to see how you felt about another royal visit?”
“It would be my greatest pleasure and honor to welcome you. Have you set a date?”
“I know it is rather sudden but we were hoping to escape the palace in late June. Would that be convenient?”
“My only commitment is to the fete I host each summer at Balfour. I believe it is the last Saturday of June.”
“That sounds delightful. I have not visited a fete in years. When I was a young girl, I used to escape the family’s summer confines and walk anonymously amongst the village folk each summer at our local fete. I even participated in a tug of war once. Fell flat on my derrière. Mamma had a fit when I returned with a muddy frock.”
“Your Majesty… How very daring of you.”
They both laughed.
“Everyone sees me as this rather prudish matron, but I am a married woman and I have my less formal side, shall we say.”
“As I have witnessed. The warm side of a lovely lady.”
“Not that I do not have my trials and tribulations…”
“I understand parliament has been a particular thorn in your side regarding Albert’s memorial.”
The queen nodded. Then she picked up a paper from her desk.
“Which brings me to my second request.”
“However I might be of service,” Robert replied.
“I have an honors investiture for a gentleman in your neighborhood and I thought it might be a nice gesture if we were to hold it at Balfour during my stay. What would you say to that?”
“During the fete, perhaps?”
“Lovely idea. A little pomp and pageantry for the locals. I like that.”
“And who is the gentleman in question?”
The queen picked up her lorgnette and examined the paper. “Professor George Browning of St. John’s College, Cambridge. Might you have heard of the fellow?”
“Indeed I have, Your Majesty. He was a lecturer from my university days. And he is a current acquaintance through his daughter Diana, with whom I have a professional relationship.”
The queen smiled. “A romance, perhaps?”
“Alas, not so. The lady in question is engaged to be married. Our relationship is strictly professional. We have a business arrangement.”
It certainly would not do to tell Her Majesty of his budding career as a novelist.
“Lord Donnelly, you are not married are you?”
“Not yet.”
“Pity. A handsome and prosperous young gentleman as yourself should be setting an example to the sometimes shiftless lower classes. Marriage is a respectable institution that must be upheld by the aristocracy as a model of social propriety. Should it not?”
“Most certainly, Your Majesty.”
* * *
“Oh, Robert, how could you?” Amelia demanded. “How are we to prepare for a royal visit in two weeks? Do you have any idea of the work involved?”
Robert and Amelia were at dinner later that evening in their London house. Robert just beamed at her. “But Amelia, my dear, you are so competent. I have no doubt you and the staff can accomplish miracles in half the time.”
Amelia nervously pushed the food around on her plate with her fork. “But it is not just a royal social visit but a formal investiture as well.”
“That is to be held at the fete, and since I am managing that, I shall take full responsibility for organizing that event.”
Amelia took a sip of her wine. “I do not suppose you ran into the Viscount of Berwick at the Lords yesterday, did you?”
“I did. And it seems you accepted a dinner engagement for us for next Wednesday without consulting me.”
“It seemed harmless enough. And I know you so enjoy the company of the Bradfields. Ann is so bright and charming and Chester is always good for a laugh or two.”
“Well, I do not see how it is possible for us to attend now, do you?”
Amelia frowned. “And why not?”
“Well, as you yourself said, we have a royal visit to prepare for. And only two weeks to organize it. I think we must return home immediately tomorrow morning.”
‘But… oh, Robert, you are a terrible person. How you vex me with your idiosyncratic behavior. I have not done but one third of my shopping, and I have scheduled ever so many teas with old friends. Now you are saying we must abandon London?”
“But my dear Amelia, I could hardly refuse her Majesty’s request for a visit, now could I?”
Amelia sighed and pointed to the footman to serve her another glass of Burgundy.
Robert had become curious lately about Amelia’s relationship with the Viscount and asked, “My darling sister, you seem to have a close and reoccurring relationship with Ludlow Russell. I see you riding off in the direction of his estate quite frequently. Are the two of you courting?”
Amelia looked at him over the rim of her wine glass—her eyes penetrating. “What would make you think that? He is a neighbor with whom I share certain interests. We amuse each other. That is all.”
But she looked away, which Robert took to be a sign that she was lying. After all, he had known her all his life and knew her ways.
“The Viscount said the strangest thing to me when he invited us to his dinner party,” Robert continued cautiously.
“And that would be?”
“He remarked upon my interest in contemporary literature and hinted at my particular interest in new books coming out in the autumn. Rather strange do you not think? It makes me think that he somehow knows about my book. You have not said anything to him about me being published, have you?”
“Of course not. I would never betray a family secret. You know that.” Again, she did not look Robert in the eyes.
Robert continued to study her and then asked. “Do you remember when we were children? I think I must have been about seven and you were fourteen. I seem to remember that I had done something quite naughty…”
She laughed. “Yes, you were playing with Father’s watch—the one that played music when you opened it.”
“Yes. That was the incident.”
“And you were swinging it by its chain from the balustrade above the entryway staircase, pretending it was an incense censor.
“Like we saw at the Catholic service when we visited Italy with the parents that summer.”
“Yes.”
“And I d
ropped it.”
“Smashing it into oblivion.”
They both smiled as they recalled the incident.
“And what did you do?” Robert asked.
“I told Father it was I who had dropped it,” Amelia said shyly.
“Yes, you did. And what did he do to you?”
“Confined me to my chambers for a month. No riding. No playing. No friends visiting.”
“Because you protected me from punishment.”
Amelia smiled and wagged her head. “No, Robert, not because he thought I broke the watch. He knew it was you. He punished me because I had lied to him.”
Robert was aghast. “I did not know that. Then why didn’t he punish me as well?”
“I suspect because you were the heir apparent—the favored male child.”
“Oh, Amelia. I am truly sorry about that.”
“And what good does that do?” she asked bitterly. “It is all in the past. Our parents are gone and you have become the head of the family.”
“And Amelia, what do you want for yourself? You are thirty-seven and unmarried.”
“And destined to become a spinster… is that what you are saying?”
Robert could see he had probed a sore spot. “Not at all. You are an attractive and strong woman. Certainly, there must be many men who would be more than interested in courting you, and you have a substantial living to bring to a marriage.”
“Then where are the offers of marriage?” she asked, as the footman refilled her wine glass for the third time.
“I suspect that your very strength might intimidate some men,” Robert said honestly. “You need someone of equal strength to match you in marriage.”
“No one wants a harpy, is that what you are saying?” she asked, rising from her place at the table and finishing off her glass of wine.
“Amelia…”
“Then let me clearly state that I am not about to change. If men find me intimidating that is too bad for them. I am quite content being who I am and will make no excuse for it. And all I will add is that Ludlow Russell takes me for who I am and respects me for it.”
“Then you and Russell are courting?”
“Perhaps.”
* * *
Balfour Hall could certainly accommodate a royal visit. It had many times before—from as early as the seventeenth century with the first visit from King Charles the Second. But the task of preparing for a royal visit was enormous. Not only did Victoria need to be catered for but also her large retinue of attendants and servants. And it could not be considered a proper house party without inviting other selected aristocratic guests (list provided by the Queen’s primary attendant) and their servants, as part of the royal couple’s entertainment.
The first order of business for Robert and Amelia when they returned from London was to confer with the bevy of cooks to plan meals for the entire occasion. And again, not only were the meals for the guests to be planned for, but also the menu for all of those attending to the guests.
Amelia had her own personal staff to help organize her side of the preparations, while Robert could call upon many of his household staff and local dignitaries to help with the organization and setup of the fete.
One morning, shortly after they returned from London, Robert was conferring with one of his groundskeepers about public access to the park where the fete was to be held when Sithens appeared in the blue drawing room.
“Milord, there is a gentleman from the Queen’s household who wishes to see you.”
Robert was somewhat distracted by his current task and said, “Please take him to the library, ask if he needs refreshment, and tell him I shall be with him shortly.”
“Very good, Milord.”
After his meeting with the groundskeeper, he went directly to the library.
“Robert Donnelly,” Robert introduced himself.
“Sir Gerald Conty,” the gentleman said. “I have been asked by the Queen to help organize the investiture during her attendance at Balfour.”
“Ah. Excellent. I had no idea where to begin with that.”
Sir Gerald was a middle-aged, slender, and quite elegant man. He dressed impeccably and one could tell he was used to moving comfortably in aristocratic circles.
“I am happy to work directly with you or with your staff—whichever works best for you.”
“And will you be staying with us until the Queen’s arrival?”
“I am quite content at a local inn.”
“Not at all. You must be our guest.”
Sir Gerald nodded. “Most gracious of you. And if there might be a room where I can set up my operation...”
“You will have a suite of rooms at your disposal.”
“Excellent. Then if I might be shown to my rooms I shall begin my work. And with whom shall I liaison?”
“That would be me, as I am organizing the fete where the investiture will be held.”
“Then perhaps we might have a meeting later this afternoon?”
“I shall seek you out. And you shall be notified of meal times. Anything else you need, just ring your bell.
Sir Gerald nodded and was led away by Sithens.
Chapter 18
“More, more!” Miriam and Geoffrey shouted out as Diana paused in reading her Christmas story.
“Cannot a lady have a sip of tea?” she asked.
“If you must. But we want to know what happens to Tommy. Does he get the tripe for Christmas dinner?” Geoffrey asked.
“And does Doris get the Christmas tree?” Miriam wailed.
“Patience. Patience.” Diana insisted as she took a sip of her tea and a bite of her scone, clotted cream, and strawberry jam.
“Now then… onward,” Diana said and carried on reading the story.
Once again, Tommy loaded up the coal buckets and this time carried them successfully to the butcher’s rooms.
Misses was waiting. “And about bloody time too.” She said as she started throwing coal onto the dying fire even before Tommy had set the buckets down on the hearth.
Tommy stood back to take a breath and rub his elbow which was still hurting from the fall.
“You best be going,” Misses said, “You still got work below. No time to dawdle, young’un.”
“Yes, Misses,” Tommy said and limped back down the stairs to the shop.
Meantime, Doris was on Regent Street with her few bunches of flowers. There was a cold wind from the North and her thin coat gave her little protection. She sheltered in a doorway as best she could, but her potential customers could not see her there. So, reluctantly she ventured out to the middle of the sidewalk and held up her bouquets to be examined by the ladies passing by.
“Flowers. Lovely Flowers, only sixpence for a lovely bunch of flowers,” she called out in her weak voice.
Fortunately, she had already sold all but two bunches. She figured if she could sell these last two, she would be able to run to the shop that had the cheapest Christmas trees and perhaps get a good deal, as it was Christmas Eve and the shop owner might let her have one on the cheap.
An elderly lady stopped. “May I,” she asked holding out her hand for a bunch of flowers. Doris handed her a bouquet.
The lady studied them. “Hmm. Not very fresh, lass. I will only give you a tuppence for it.” The lady handed her two pennies and walked on.
Doris was too cold and tired to protest.
“Ah, horrible mean lady,” Miriam insisted.
“What happens next?” Geoffrey asked.
“Then let me continue.”
Doris was so sad. She turned away and thought it was not worth it. She would never get enough money together for the tree. She was ready to toss away her last bouquet and walk home when she heard a kindly voice ask, “Little girl. How much is your lovely bouquet?”
Doris turned to see who was speaking to her. The woman was young, with the most piercing eyes that seemed to look right into Doris’ soul.
“May I see your bouquet please?
” the woman asked.
For one instant Doris hesitated, after what had just happened with the other lady, but it was for only an instant and she handed the flowers to the woman.
Diaries of a Heartbroken Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 73