by Rhys Bowen
“I’m sure whatever she has prepared will be fine,” I said, hopefully. “And can you please arrange for someone to come and light the fire in my bedroom, if I’m to eat up there. The whole place is rather cold and gloomy.”
“I know.” She made a face before she remembered to whom she was talking. “Sorry, my lady, but I’ve been sent over from Buckingham Palace where everything’s ever so nice.”
“It’s only for a couple of weeks.” I gave her an encouraging smile and she smiled shyly in return. She bobbed another curtsy and off she went. I retreated to my room and after a meal of hearty soup, grilled fish and a steamed pudding, I was feeling much better. Queenie also tucked in with relish. “Well, the grub’s not bad,” she said. “I’ll take the trays downstairs to the kitchen, shall I?”
“No, I’ll have somebody come up and fetch them. A lady’s maid does not carry trays in a palace.” This, of course, was not true, but I wasn’t going to let Queenie out of my sight.
Chapter 8
NOVEMBER 3
KENSINGTON PALACE, APARTMENT 1
Dinner with royal aunts I’ve never met. What could be more terrifying?
At seven thirty I presented myself, dressed in my burgundy velvet evening dress, at the door of apartment 1A. The annoying thing about Kensington Palace was that the apartments were all separate units and not connected by internal corridors. That meant another walk in the rain with an umbrella protecting my face but the hem of my skirt getting decidedly wet and muddy. The maid who opened the door did not let her expression betray that I looked windswept and bedraggled, but she did let me pause in front of a hall mirror while she took my coat and brolly.
This apartment had the feel of being inhabited for a long time. It was also old-fashioned but felt warm and cozy. It had that smell I associated with old ladies—lavender and furniture polish and pomades.
“Her Royal Highness is waiting to welcome you in the drawing room,” the maid said and walked ahead of me.
“Lady Georgiana Rannoch,” she announced and I stepped into a very Victorian room. Although large it felt cluttered and the décor was decidedly eclectic with Victoriana in the shape of stuffed birds under glass competing with interesting pieces of sculpture. A fire roared in the grate and seated beside it were not one but two elderly ladies who also looked as if they had stepped straight from the Victorian era. One had a beaded shawl around her shoulders. The other was dressed in a long, tight-waisted black dress with a high lace collar around the neck. Her face was remarkably unlined, however, and her eyes bright and intelligent. They lit up when she saw me.
“Georgiana, my dear, how lovely to meet you at last,” she said.
I went over to her and curtsied. “How do you do, ma’am.”
She laughed. “Oh goodness gracious, we don’t go in for stuffy court formality here. I’m your great-aunt Louise and that’s what you can call me.” She studied me. “Yes, I see a remarkable resemblance to your father. What a charmer he was, even as a little boy. Such a pity he died so young.”
I nodded. I had hardly known him since he spent most of his time on the Riviera, but he had always struck me as a warm sort of person. A fun sort of person who liked to laugh.
“And this is your other great-aunt, my sister Beatrice,” she said. “She was also interested to see a great-niece she had never met.”
I gave her a little curtsy. “How do you do, ma’am,” I repeated. One can never be too careful with royals. This one did not contradict and tell me to call her “Great-Aunt.”
I took the seat Princess Louise indicated and was offered a glass of sherry on a silver tray.
“You also live in the palace here, do you, ma’am?” I asked Princess Beatrice. “Is your apartment close by?”
“On the far side of the building,” Princess Beatrice said. “Actually it is the very same apartment that our dear mama lived in as a child. I moved into it when she died in 1901, with my dear husband and children. My husband is no longer with us and my children are leading their own lives, but it gives me consolation to know that Mama was happy there as a young girl.”
I nodded with understanding.
“The only drawback is the constant tramping of feet as visitors go around the state rooms above my head,” she said. “You’ve discovered that certain rooms are open to the public, I take it?”
“I saw schoolchildren waiting to tour the palace today,” I said.
She gave a tired little smile. “Of course, it is only during the day. On the whole I enjoy seeing them. It can be rather lonely at times and I like seeing young fresh faces. We are glad that you have moved in here, and we’re most anxious to meet Marina, aren’t we, Louise?”
“We are,” Princess Louise said. “When she has settled in we’ll have a luncheron or a sherry party to introduce her to the rest of the aunts in this Aunt Heap, as your wicked cousin calls this place.”
Princess Beatrice leaned toward me. “Tell me,” she said, “have you met David’s mysterious lady friend?”
“I have and she’s no lady.”
“You mean his friend is really a man?”
I laughed. “No, ma’am. I meant that she is N.O.C.D. Not one of us. A brash American divorcée. Trying to divorce for a second time, so one gathers.” (Perhaps I should explain that N.O.C.D. is shorthand for Not Our Class, Dear, but one could hardly say that to a royal aunt.)
“An adventuress!” The two aunts exchanged a look.
“Well, nothing can come of it in the end,” Princess Louise said. “He certainly can never marry a divorced woman. Not as head of the Church of England.”
“He was such a charming little boy,” Princess Beatrice said wistfully. “Of course, his father rather favored him and gave him too much leeway, I always thought. And was too harsh on the second son. The poor little chap stuttered, you know, but his father couldn’t see that his shouting and bullying only made the stammer worse.” She paused and pulled her shawl more tightly around her. “But I rather think the second boy will end up showing more mettle than his brother. He’s married a lovely girl. She brings the two little daughters to visit occasionally, doesn’t she, Louise?”
Louise chuckled. “And that little Margaret Rose—she’s a firecracker. My, she’s going to be a handful when she grows up. She asked me if princesses could still have people’s heads chopped off.”
I laughed but I noticed that Princess Beatrice hardly smiled. “I’m going to have a word with that boy,” she said. “The Prince of Wales, I mean. It’s about time he learned that duty and family come before anything. He has been born to a great heritage. If Mama saw the way he was carrying on now, she’d turn in her grave. And Papa—he’d give the boy a horsewhipping and tell him to buck up or else, wouldn’t he, Louise?”
“I expect he would. But times have changed, Bea. There has been a great war. Young people ask themselves if anything really matters, because life is so precarious, don’t they, Georgiana?”
“Maybe those who remember the war. I was too young and things certainly matter to me.”
“You’re a good girl.” She nodded. “A credit to the family. Our mother would have approved.”
I had been looking around me. “This is an interesting room, Great-Aunt Louise,” I said. “Are those sculptures modern or from classical times?”
She gave a delightful peal of laughter at this. “Not modern by your standards. I did them as a young woman.”
“You are a sculptress? They are wonderful.”
She nodded in appreciation. “I did have a certain talent. I had to give it up. It requires too much strength to chisel away at marble. Do you have artistic talents?”
“None at all; in fact I’m not sure I have any talents,” I said.
“You should never sell yourself short,” she said. “Young women are brought up to prize modesty. I think one should shout one’s abilities from the mountaintops.
”
She looked at my face and laughed. “My mother approved of my sculpting, but not of my views. I have always been a great champion of women. I championed the suffrage movement, you know, and I had a woman doctor for years before it became fashionable.”
When I looked surprised Princess Beatrice added, “She had to keep it from dear Mama, of course. She would never have approved.”
“You young people are so lucky,” Princess Louise said wistfully. “In our day a girl was never allowed out unchaperoned, was she, Bea? A match was made for her. No career was possible for a girl of good family.”
“It’s not much easier these days to find a career,” I said. “Too many unemployed men.”
“Ah yes,” she said. “I see men sleeping in the park when I go for my early morning walk. It distresses me. Such a sad time for so many. But let us not dwell on sad things. You are here to celebrate a wedding in the family.”
A gust of wind moaned down the chimney, sending sparks and soot out into the room. I remembered what I had seen that afternoon.
“Tell me,” I said, “is the palace haunted?”
The two great-aunts exchanged a look. “Oh yes, extremely haunted.” Louise gave me a mischievous grin. “You’ll bump into ghosts everywhere you go. Most of them royal, of course. Our ancestors, keeping an eye on us. I don’t think any of them is malicious, so nothing to worry about.”
“I saw a woman this afternoon,” I said. “She wore a long white dress and her hair was piled on her head in pretty little curls.”
“Ah, that would be Princess Sophia,” Princess Louise said, glancing across at her sister for confirmation. “We’ve both seen her, haven’t we, Bea? George the Third’s daughter. Never allowed to marry, poor girl. Kept secluded here all her life. They say she had an incestuous affair with her brother the Duke of Cumberland, and also had an affair with her father’s equerry. Either way, she produced an illegitimate child. The baby was whisked away and the whole thing was kept hushed up, but I think she walks the halls looking for that child, or maybe for the man who fathered it.”
I thought of poor Princess Sophia, spending her life in this seclusion, and then having her child taken from her. No wonder she wandered the halls.
“Most of the other ghosts prefer the royal state rooms,” Princess Beatrice said. “So we don’t encounter them often. But the clock tower is supposed to be haunted.”
“The clock tower?” I asked.
She nodded. “At the entrance to the courtyard behind us. Several times I’ve seen a strange light glowing there. But I’ve lived here long enough that ghosts no longer bother me. They do result in a large turnover in servants throughout the palace, I’m afraid. The lower classes are not used to meeting our ancestors on staircases.” She chuckled again. She really was delightful.
We had a good dinner of mulligatawny soup, roast pheasant and apple dumplings, a pleasant evening, and as I said good-bye I wondered why I had never thought of visiting the aunts before. I supposed because I had spent my formative years far away in a Scottish castle and we’d never been introduced. And it’s not quite as easy to drop in on a royal person as it would be if my aunts had been ordinary.
“Do you find it lonely or restricting living here on your own?” I asked.
“Oh no, dear,” Princess Louise said. “Beatrice and I have each other and the nieces close by and if I want to get out, I just walk through the park to Harrods or a concert at the Albert Hall. And if I want to go farther afield I jump on a number nine bus. Nobody knows who I am. It’s quite refreshing.”
I thought that people might just notice an old woman in Victorian garb, but I nodded and smiled. A maid was sent to find my things.
“I can’t think why we’ve never met you before, Georgiana,” Princess Beatrice said and got a warning look from her sister.
“I’m afraid my mother left us and I was stuck alone in the nursery at Castle Rannoch,” I said.
“But you must have been down in London when you were presented.”
“Of course,” I said.
“She wouldn’t have wanted to waste her time visiting elderly relatives, Bea,” Princess Louise said. “She would have been fully occupied with parties and balls and such.”
“But you didn’t find yourself a husband during your season?” Beatrice asked.
“I’m afraid not, ma’am.”
She patted my hand. “Never mind. A nice healthy-looking girl like you will be snapped up soon enough. You’ll see, the next wedding we celebrate in the family will be yours.”
“I hope so.” I gave her a smile.
The maid appeared with my coat and brolly.
“Take Lady Georgiana out through the back door, Phyllis,” Princess Louise said. “She can go home by the courtyard and won’t have to walk in that dreadful wind.”
I kissed both great-aunts dutifully on the cheek without knocking either one of them over. Then I followed the maid down a narrow hall and was let out into a dark courtyard. Here it was quite still, apart from the drip, drip of rain. It was also quite dark. No lights shone out from windows, except for one on the second floor that must have been mine. But the heavy curtains were drawn and only a sliver of light showed. I put up my brolly and picked my way over the slippery cobblestones. As I approached the archway at the end of the courtyard I was relieved to see some sort of lamp was glowing, illuminating the dark shape of the building around it. As I drew closer a cold wind rushed at me and high above a clock began to chime ten.
The haunted clock tower, I thought. At that moment the light vanished and I was left in total darkness. I have to confess I plunged through the archway and ran all the way to the front door.
Chapter 9
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 4
KENSINGTON PALACE, LONDON
Princess Marina arrives today. I hope she won’t be as awful as her cousin!
The next day the apartment was full of hustle and bustle as we awaited the arrival of Princess Marina. Men appeared with large flower arrangements. Shelves were dusted. Fires were lit. Servants were in evidence and a good luncheon was served in the dining room. Civilization had come to apartment 1. I knew that the boat train was due in about four, so I made myself look as presentable as possible and went to the long salon to await the princess’s arrival. Countess Irmtraut was already there.
“I did not see you at dinner last night,” she said. “You were unwell?”
“No, I dined with my great-aunt, Princess Louise,” I said. “She has the apartment next to this one.”
“Ah yes, I am told that this house is full of old royal ladies, but they do not invite me. I am not related to them, I suppose.”
What was I supposed to say—that I was sorry she wasn’t related to the English royal family? When I said nothing she went on, “So why are you not a princess yourself if these ladies are your aunts?”
“My grandmother was Queen Victoria’s daughter. The offspring of a princess do not inherit her title. My grandfather was a duke, so my father was also a duke, and I’m merely a lady.”
“Hmph,” she said, obviously weighing whether a mere lady might rank below her. She looked out of the window. It was still as dreary and blustery as November can be in England.
“I hope Marina had a good journey. I do not think the Channel would have been smooth.”
“Probably not. But it’s only an hour, isn’t it? One can endure most things for an hour.”
“It will be longer if she comes from Hook of Holland,” she said. “And rougher. I am always seasick, even on fine days. I have the delicate constitution of my ancestors.”
I was extremely glad that Major Beauchamp-Chough joined us at that moment. “Won’t be long now,” he said. “The princess will be tired from her long journey, so I propose we let her rest until the motorcar comes for you at seven.”
“The motorcar?” Countess Irmtraut ask
ed.
“The princess has been invited to dine with her new family,” the major said.
“We are to accompany her?” Irmtraut asked.
“Only Lady Georgiana, since she is a family member,” he said curtly.
Irmtraut glared at me.
At that moment there was the crunch of tires on gravel and a Daimler drew up outside. Major B-C jumped up and strode briskly to the front door. We heard his big voice booming, “Welcome to Kensington Palace, Your Highness. Inclement weather, I’m afraid. I hope the Channel wasn’t too rough.”
“Quite big swells. Rather exciting, actually,” answered a woman’s voice. And they came through into the room. From what I had been told—that the family had lived in exile with relatives and were rather poor—I had formed an image of a shy, rather dowdy young girl, a younger, fresher-faced version of Irmtraut. Instead into the room strode this tall and beautiful young woman. She was dressed in the height of fashion with a fox-fur-trimmed coat, beautifully cut, and a daring little hat perched on one side of her head. She gave a radiant smile when she saw Countess Irmtraut and held out her hands.
“Irmtraut. You’re here. How good of you to come.” They kissed on the cheeks.
Prince George came into the room behind her. “Hello, Georgie,” he said, giving me what I interpreted as a slightly warning look. It was saying clearly, “You’ve seen me at a naughty party. Please forget about it.”
“Hello, sir,” I replied. “May I offer my heartiest congratulations on your upcoming wedding.”
We exchanged the briefest of looks of understanding and he smiled.
“My dear,” he said to Marina, “this is my cousin Georgiana I told you about. She has volunteered to stay with you here and show you around London.”
“Georgiana, how delightful.” She held out her hand to me. “How kind of you to give up your time to introduce me to London,” she said. Her English was perfect and almost accent free. “I still have so much shopping to do for my trousseau. I’ve been away from Paris and the good shops for too long. Most European cities are too dreary and old-fashioned for words, especially Copenhagen, where I was staying. You can take me to the most fashionable shops in London. We’ll have such fun.”