Alice-Miranda Holds the Key 15

by Jacqueline Harvey

  She was hoping to see Daisy soon too. Granny Bert had moved into Pelham Park some time ago and was apparently wreaking havoc with Matron Bright and her nurses. It was only after the old woman had almost burned down Rose Cottage that she’d agreed it was probably time to go into care, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t resisted it all the way. Granny Bert sang quite a different tune once she had sampled the Pelham Park food and questioned what on earth she’d been thinking to avoid the place for so long. Alice-Miranda wondered if she and her mother could pay Granny a visit while she was home from school.

  She heard the bedroom door creak open, followed by a small gasp.

  ‘Darling, where are you?’ Cecelia called, a note of panic in her voice.

  ‘I’m here, behind the curtains, Mummy,’ came Alice-Miranda’s muffled reply.

  Cecelia rushed over and pulled them aside, worried that her daughter had somehow got herself tangled. ‘Goodness, are you all right?’ she asked, tying back the voluminous fabric with the silver tassled rope.

  ‘I was watching the sun rise,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘It’s going to be a lovely day and I was thinking how much I’d like to say hello to Bony and Chops.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m still a bit cross with Bonaparte,’ Cecelia confessed.

  ‘Now, Mummy, we’ve been through this. And what have you always told me about making amends?’ Alice-Miranda said, batting her eyelashes. ‘Besides, we can’t punish Chops just because you’re upset with Bony.’

  ‘You do raise a good point, darling.’ Cecelia gave her daughter a hug. ‘Come on, then. Hop back into bed and I’ll get you some breakfast.’

  ‘I’d really like to come downstairs, if I may?’ the child asked. ‘I feel a lot better. My head is absolutely fine and my ankle isn’t even hurting much, although the colours are rather spectacular.’

  Cecelia considered the proposal. She knew that once Alice-Miranda began to improve she was going to be impossible to contain. ‘All right, I’ll help you get dressed. And how would you feel about being my offsider for the day?’

  Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Yes, please! But do you promise we can stop by the stables and say hello to Bonaparte?’

  ‘Well, I have a list of jobs as long as my arm what with the open day and garden party coming up, but we should be able to squeeze in a very quick visit. And I might have a small surprise for you later on, if things go to plan,’ Cecelia said mysteriously.

  The child’s eyes widened and she felt a flutter in her tummy. ‘What is it?’

  Cecelia grinned and tapped the tip of Alice-Miranda’s button nose. ‘Oh, no you don’t. If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise and that’s no fun at all.’

  Jemima Tavistock flicked through another of the dozen interior design magazines piled up beside her at the breakfast table.

  A man in a grey suit with matching coloured hair walked into the room. ‘Would you like a fresh pot, ma’am?’

  ‘Good grief, no,’ she sighed. ‘If I drink any more I’ll turn into a puddle of tea.’

  The butler gave a slight nod and began to clear the plates.

  ‘Oh, Prigg,’ Jemima said, flipping her magazine shut, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you to run some errands. I need you to find me some horses.’

  The man seemed almost at a loss for words. ‘Horses, ma’am?’ he repeated.

  ‘It seems ridiculous to have perfectly beautiful stables standing empty,’ Jemima explained. ‘I’ll need a riding instructor too. And a dog. Better make it two. Or perhaps four. Find out what sort of hounds people prefer around here and hunt down a reputable breeder. But I don’t want anything too cutesy. I’d rather have proper country dogs with a bit of a bite to them.’

  Prigg’s top lip seemed to curl involuntarily as he contemplated her requests.

  Jemima’s thoughts wandered to Chessie and what she might be up to. Her heart ached every time she spoke to the girl, who would just cry and cry. The headmistress had told Jemima very early on that the only way the child would ever get over her homesickness would be to leave her to get on with things, so that’s exactly what she’d done. But it hadn’t been easy. That reminded her to call the school to inform them of the change of plan. Mrs Fairbanks would be apoplectic and Chessie would be terribly upset, but what was Jemima to do? It was just too risky to have Chessie around at the minute – at least not until things were sorted out.

  Prigg cleared his throat, bringing her crashing back to the moment.

  ‘Oh yes, there’s one more thing. Please phone Ms Highton-Smith and tell her that I’ll be paying her a visit this morning,’ Jemima said.

  Prigg recoiled at the proposition, almost dropping his tray in the process. Never in his life would he have dreamt of making such an audacious call. ‘Perhaps you would like to invite Ms Highton-Smith over for tea. She hasn’t been to Bedford Manor in such a long time and has always had a great affection for the house and the family,’ he said, once he had regained his composure. ‘I think the last time Ms Highton-Smith was here, she asked Lord Tavistock to join her and Mr Kennington-Jones on their table for a gala dinner Her Majesty was hosting. I can ask Mrs Mudge to whip up a batch of scones and I think she’s already baked a lemon curd cake this morning.’

  Jemima rolled her eyes. She desperately wanted to see the inside of Cecelia’s house. Everyone said it had the most tasteful decor, and she could use some ideas for her own remodelling. ‘But I’d prefer to go over there,’ Jemima whined. Although, the thought of entrees to spectacular social events, with the Queen no less, held quite an appeal too.

  ‘Might I suggest that an invitation to Ms Highton-Smith would no doubt be repaid in due course,’ said the butler.

  Jemima was about to object but thought better of it. Prigg was a prickly old pear at the best of times and she needed to have him onside rather than off. When her husband inherited Bedford Manor, she hadn’t realised he would also stand to gain the staff who had served his parents for years. As well as the butler, there was Mrs Mudge the cook, Mr Wilson the gardener, and a couple of lads who helped out around the property. Considering the size of the place, though, it all seemed a bit light on. She had half a mind to employ a maid or two.

  ‘Could you make the call then?’ Jemima asked.

  Prigg looked at his watch and then back at Lady Tavistock.

  ‘All right, wait another hour in case she’s a late sleeper,’ Jemima relented. ‘But don’t forget.’

  Cedric Prigg doubted that Ms Highton-Smith would be available at such short notice, but at least it would keep Lady Tavistock and her braying at bay for a little while. She’d have no doubt found some other amusement by the time he relayed the bad news.

  Saddled with a formidable list of errands, Cecelia and Alice-Miranda set off to the village early that morning. While the woman’s mind was still awhirl with thoughts about the food-poisoning outbreak, she absolutely had to get back on top of the preparations for the garden party. She didn’t want to let anyone down. Although it was held at Highton Hall, the annual event saw just about everyone in the village pitching in and either supplying goods or tending a stall. Having evolved from simply opening the house to the public for the day, it now comprised of house tours, a giant tea party on the lawn and a farmers’ market with delicious local produce.

  Cecelia had raised money for various charities over the years, and this year she was thrilled that the garden party would see the relaunching of an organisation close to her heart. The Paper Moon Foundation supported several of the largest children’s hospitals in the country as well as smaller children’s wards in rural areas. She and Hugh had both been longtime patrons of the charity until the man running it made off with the funds a couple of years ago. He’d been sent to jail, albeit with a lighter sentence, but the money had never been recovered and it had taken all this time to get things up and running again.

  Cecelia had just hopped into the car, having made her last stop at the patisserie. Alice-Miranda had managed to accompany her mother on all their ot
her errands in the village but, as Pierre’s was a bit of a walk and they were taking some things back to the car, she’d elected to stay put for this last excursion.

  ‘Well, that was odd,’ Cecelia said as she turned the key in the ignition.

  Alice-Miranda buckled her seatbelt. ‘What was, Mummy?’

  ‘I just spoke to Mr Prigg from Bedford Manor. He called Pierre’s while I was there. Apparently, the poor man had rung around half the shops in the village trying to hunt me down,’ Cecelia said, shaking her head in puzzlement.

  ‘How peculiar. Why didn’t he call your number?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘He phoned the Hall and Shilly told him we were in the village, but she was in such a fluster that she hung up before the man could ask for it,’ Cecelia explained with a laugh. ‘Anyway, we’ve been invited to morning tea with Lady Tavistock.’

  Alice-Miranda clapped her hands. ‘Wonderful! I’ve been so looking forward to meeting her. I hope she loves Bedford Manor as much as old Lord Tavistock did. You know, I’ve got just the perfect dress to wear. Which date does she have in mind?’

  ‘Lady Tavistock would like us to come today. Now, actually.’ Cecelia raised her eyebrows. ‘But I said I’d call Mr Prigg back after I spoke to you. What do you think, darling?’

  Alice-Miranda’s eyes lit up. ‘I’d love to go if you’ve got time. It doesn’t matter about my dress.’

  Cecelia glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘We have got a lot more done than I’d anticipated,’ she conceded, ‘and it does seem cruel to drive by when we’re so close. I’ve been meaning to invite Lady Tavistock over too – she must think me a dreadful neighbour.’ Cecelia bit her lip. ‘Perhaps it will take my mind off things for a little while longer.’ She nodded firmly. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Good decision, Mummy.’ Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘You’d better let Mr Prigg know we’re on our way.’

  Twenty minutes later, and armed with a beautiful bouquet of irises, Cecelia turned down the long driveway into Bedford Manor. Although their properties were adjacent to one another, the entry to the manor was about a fifteen-minute journey on the road to Penberthy Floss. Alice-Miranda had been there on numerous occasions, usually passing through on Bonaparte when she and her father or Aunt Charlotte went riding. Old Lord Tavistock had barely been around in the last few years, preferring to stay in the city. Alice-Miranda had been sad to hear that he’d passed away quite suddenly, especially having seen him not that long ago at Aunty Gee’s jubilee celebrations. She’d giggled at his vigorous playing of badminton, but had felt sorry for the man when Aunty Gee had thwacked him in the shin with a boules jack. His wife had died many years before and Alice-Miranda couldn’t remember her at all. Their only child, Anthony, was the Lord of Bedford Manor now and had recently married.

  They drove through another set of iron gates and up the gravel driveway to the decorative Italianate mansion with its formal border of roses and hedges and sweeping central lawn.

  ‘I think I’d forgotten what a gorgeous estate Bedford Manor is,’ Alice-Miranda sighed. ‘Do you remember how I used to make up stories about a princess who lived here? At one point I decided she’d been stolen away by a fierce dragon and that it was up to me and Boo to rescue her – except that I was still much too small to ride Boo on my own.’

  Cecelia chuckled at the memory. ‘Oh yes, it was one of your favourite tales. What was the princess’s name again?’

  Cecelia hopped out and walked around to help Alice-Miranda from her seat.

  ‘Zinnia,’ Alice-Miranda answered as she carefully stepped onto the gravel drive. ‘Because Mr Greening had just planted that lovely garden full of zinnias and I thought it was the most perfect name for a princess.’

  The front doors swung open and Cedric Prigg strode out.

  ‘Good morning, Ms Highton-Smith,’ he said, smiling wryly at Cecelia. ‘Lady Tavistock is so pleased that you could come at such short notice.’

  ‘Hello Cedric. We’re glad we could too,’ Cecelia said, watching as Alice-Miranda wheeled herself around on her crutches. ‘I’m only sorry you had to chase me around the entire village. Shilly’s a touch distracted at the moment, I’m afraid.’

  The man noticed the child was missing a shoe and saw the bandage poking out from the bottom of her trousers. ‘Oh dear, what have you done to yourself, miss?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s not very bad, Mr Prigg,’ Alice-Miranda assured him. ‘How are you? Are you still enjoying your trainspotting? I wish we could see the rail line from our house. It must be marvellous to watch the carriages rushing to and fro and to be able to judge the time of day from which engine is whooshing by.’

  The butler was somewhat taken aback. He’d told the child about his love of trains a couple of years ago, but he never imagined for a second that she would recall their conversation. ‘Dear girl, I am as well as can be expected and I’m pleased to report that the morning train to Nibley Green is running on time,’ he added with a wink.

  Alice-Miranda smiled and hoped he was in good health as his answer seemed rather ominous. She thought he looked a bit pink around the edges, though much better than the last time she’d seen him puffing and panting, having just been in the sack race with Mrs Mudge at the village fair.

  ‘Please, come this way,’ Mr Prigg directed, leading them in through the vast foyer.

  They passed a grand marble staircase and entered a room on the right, which Alice-Miranda remembered Old Lord Tavistock calling the Great Room. She’d thought it had deserved its name because there were all sorts of interesting things scattered around, such as a stuffed peacock under a dome and a curious cabinet that opened out in all directions and which seemed to contain a never-ending supply of games. When she was very little, Alice-Miranda and Lord Tavistock had played a particularly energetic game of Chinese chequers that he had procured from the cabinet. She wondered if the new Lady Tavistock had discovered its treasures yet.

  ‘Please take a seat while I inform Lady Tavistock of your arrival,’ Mr Prigg said. He gave a slight bow then left the room, closing the doors behind him.

  Cecelia helped Alice-Miranda onto one of the sofas. She pulled over an ottoman for her daughter to rest her ankle on when the doors opened to reveal a statuesque blonde wearing four-inch heels and a beautifully tailored red dress. It had a fitted bodice and a swishy layered skirt that skimmed the tops of her knees. Her lipstick matched perfectly.

  ‘Hello, you must be Cecelia,’ she purred as she stalked over. Lady Tavistock glanced at Alice-Miranda, who was seated on the sofa. ‘I didn’t realise you’d have your daughter with you. Hello there.’

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Lady Tavistock,’ Cecelia replied, offering her hand and the bouquet of irises. ‘Yes, someone had a nasty accident at school last weekend and is now home until next term.’

  ‘Hello Lady Tavistock, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Alice-Miranda,’ the child said, shaking the woman’s hand.

  ‘Do you enjoy it?’ Lady Tavistock asked, taking a seat.

  Alice-Miranda blinked, then realised the woman was asking about school. ‘Oh, yes,’ she gushed. ‘We have the most amazing lessons at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale and our teachers are incredible. Recently we had a fantastic week, exploring all manner of scientific and technological things – we had to build towers and solve problems and perform lots of experiments. I can’t tell you how many wonderful opportunities I’ve had since I’ve been there.’

  ‘How interesting,’ Lady Tavistock said, a faraway look in her eyes.

  ‘Lady Tavistock, I do apologise for our appearance too,’ Cecelia said, gesturing to their attire. ‘We’ve come straight from running errands in the village and hadn’t expected to be calling on you. I hope you’ll forgive us.’

  Cecelia was dressed in dark jeans and a green silk blouse while Alice-Miranda was in a pair of loose-fitting overalls and a floral shirt. They were hardly what you’d have called shabby, but compared to Lady Tavistock’s finery, they both looked a little on th
e casual side.

  Lady Tavistock frowned. ‘Please, don’t be silly. I must apologise for inviting you at such short notice. But it occurred to me this morning that perhaps you might like to pop over and, with Anthony away until tomorrow evening, I’m rather tired of rattling around here on my own.’

  Cecelia studied the woman more carefully for a moment. ‘Have we met before?’

  Jemima swallowed hard. ‘No, I’m sure I’d remember. And please, call me Jemima. We’re neighbours and I’m certain we’re going to be good friends.’

  Mr Prigg walked through, carrying a silver tray laden with cups and saucers, a teapot, some fluffy scones and a cake.

  Lady Tavistock looked at Alice-Miranda. ‘How did you hurt yourself?’

  ‘I fell off my pony, Bonaparte. It was a silly accident,’ Alice-Miranda said, glancing at her mother, who was still not feeling overly generous towards the beast.

  ‘We have a lovely stable here,’ Jemima said. ‘I’m planning to buy some horses soon too. My daugh–’ She stopped herself and turned to Cecelia. ‘How do you take your tea?’

  ‘Do you have a daughter?’ Alice-Miranda asked eagerly, leaning forward in her seat. ‘I’d love to meet her.’

  Jemima looked away across the room as if she were thinking about something else entirely.

  Cecelia smiled at Mr Prigg uncertainly. ‘I’ll have it white with one sugar, thank you.’

  The butler nodded and poured the tea, then offered everyone something to eat before disappearing out the door. Alice-Miranda decided she’d leave it for now. Perhaps there was something the matter and it was none of her business to pry.

  ‘Are you enjoying Bedford Manor?’ Cecelia asked between sips.

  ‘It’s lovely, but we have major renovations in mind,’ Jemima said with a sigh. ‘I can’t stand the decor. It’s so old-fashioned. For a start, I’d like to do something about those ceilings. They’re a bit much, aren’t they?’ Jemima raised her brows skywards at the painted frescos of Greek gods and goddesses.