The Autumn Palace

by Ebony McKenna

  ‘We don’t get the fancy sandwiches either,’ Hetty said, ‘just cheese or jam for us, but it’s nice all the same to be here. It’s a bit like playing dressing-up, don’t you think?’

  Ondine smiled. ‘Quite!’ She took another cheese sandwich and pretended it was chicken and avocado. A tuft of white fluffy mould clung to the side of the cheese. Back at her family’s pub, she’d eaten mouldy cheeses all the time – but they were proper mouldy, with a mottled blue coating. This was hard yellow cheese and all kinds of wrong.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a guest at another table slip a dessert fork into her handbag. Stealing cutlery? Ondine picked up one of the spoons at her place setting and turned it over. The maker’s stamp indicated sterling silver. The good stuff.

  As politely as she could, Ondine tried to get her great aunt’s attention. She coughed a little into her closed hand. That did nothing. So she made a ‘psst’ sound, which also achieved nothing. Finally she threw caution to the wind and said, ‘Aunt Col, may I give your pet ferret some cheese?’

  That got her attention. And Shambles’s. Ondine quickly excused herself from Hetty, and took the slice of the expired cheese to Shambles. When she reached them, she murmured to him, ‘Show the mouldy bit to Col. Meanwhile, there’s a nicked fork in the blue bag.’65

  Ondine quickly made her way back to Hetty, whose eyes were as round as the saucers beneath their teacups. ‘The Duchess doesn’t normally allow pets in here. Your great aunt must be very special.’

  ‘You have no idea,’ Ondine said and added a giggle.

  Across the room, Shambles disappeared under the tables. A few moments later, he appeared at Ondine’s feet with a silver fork in his mouth. Ondine leant down and held out her hand as he deposited the cutlery in her palm. He disappeared again and a few moments later reappeared with a teaspoon. Ondine cast a glance around the room, pretending to admire all the finery. What she really did was check nobody was looking her way, then she snuck the extra items beside her cake plate.

  The side doors opened to announce a new arrival. Hetty gave a high-pitched shriek as Lord Vincent walked in.

  Ondine hissed, ‘Calm down.’

  Such was her excitement, Hetty sat there and silently vibrated in her chair. Try as she might, Ondine couldn’t stop her eyes rolling towards the ceiling.

  Looking relaxed and charming, Vincent made the rounds of the room, shaking hands with guests and making small talk. Between Hetty’s gasps, Ondine made out a few words. Something along the lines of Vincent standing in for his father, who was unavailable.

  More squeaking from Hetty. ‘He’s coming over here,’ and, ‘OhmygoshI’mgoingtodie.’

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ he said, his face showing no sign of upset at the fact that Ondine had scored a seat in here. If anything, he seemed almost . . . pleasant. It had to be an act, especially considering the way he’d treated her last time.

  Hetty giggled.

  Knowing all eyes were on them, Ondine played along. ‘Good afternoon, My Lord.’

  ‘I have a pony!’ Hetty gushed.

  Ondine slapped her palm to her forehead.

  Vincent turned the charm on full blast. ‘Really now? Are you kindly taking care of one of my father’s horses?’

  ‘Eeeee –’ Hetty said, furiously nodding her head.

  ‘Then I thank you for your troubles. I hope we can have the stables repaired soon.’

  Please pull yourself together, Ondine silently begged. It reminded her of how she’d lost her head over Vincent way back when, but surely she hadn’t acted quite as silly as Hetty.

  Hetty grinned and made a weird sound in the back of her throat.

  Vincent smiled again and said, ‘It was a pleasure meeting you,’ then he moved on.

  It was impossible to get anything coherent out of Hetty while Vincent was in the room. After what felt like half an hour, but was probably only a few minutes, he finished his circuit of the room, spoke a few words to his mother and left.

  ‘Ahhhhh,’ Hetty said with a too-loud sigh. ‘Isn’t he amazing?’

  Ondine coughed water into her nose and grabbed her napkin. By the time she finished, Hetty still wore a double-glazed expression.

  ‘Come on, snap out of it,’ Ondine said.

  As if her words had done the trick, Hetty suddenly remembered where she was and her hand came up to her mouth. ‘I have no idea what I just said then. Tell me I didn’t say anything stupid.’

  ‘He seemed impressed you had a pony.’

  Hetty buried her face in her hands. ‘I want to die.’

  At that moment, the Infanta walked in with Biscuit tucked under her arm. Try as she might, Ondine couldn’t see if the dog’s teeth were growing back yet.

  The Infanta wore a sky-blue tailored suit, several years out of date, and eye shadow to match. On her face she wore an imperious, you-started-without-me look.

  The Duchess put down her glass of wine. ‘Anathea, you’re not in the diary. To what do we owe thish unecshpected shurprise?’66

  It was only mid-afternoon, but Ondine heard the slur in Duchess Kerala’s words and wondered how much she’d had to drink.

  The Infanta kissed the top of one of the female guests’ heads and said, ‘Hello, dear.’

  It must be one of her daughters, Ondine thought. It also happened to be one of the women stealing cutlery. Then the Infanta looked at the Duchess. ‘Since when do I need an appointment to see my sister-in-law?’

  Ondine had been thinking the same thing. Afternoon tea was a regular event, and they seemed to have spare tables – or at least enough spare seats to invite school children. So why was there no spare seat for Anathea?

  Unless her distaste for Anathea ran so deep Kerala went to extraordinary lengths to make sure there were no spare seats?

  An uncomfortable silence cloaked the room. Nobody wanted to say anything, probably because nobody knew what to say. The Duchess drained her wine glass and touched a hand to her hair, as if to set it in place. A stalling tactic – there was no way her dark lacquered hair had come the slightest bit loose. She turned to her social secretary, who handed over a leather-bound diary. The Duchess flicked a few pages forwards and backwards, pursed her lips and frowned.

  ‘I have shpace at three tomorrow afternoon. Can it wait until then?’

  ‘After midday? What’s the point?’ the Infanta said.67

  The cold look between the Duchess and the Infanta dropped the temperature in the room by ten degrees. Biscuit wriggled in the Infanta’s arms and made a ‘ru-ru-ru-ru’ berserker bark, trying to get at Shambles.

  Ondine feared for her beloved.

  Shambles stood up on Old Col’s lap and made his own, ‘ru-ru-ru-ru’ sound back at the dog.

  Biscuit yelped and tried to burrow into the Infanta. Everyone, including Ondine and Hetty, laughed. The distraction helped break the icy tension in the room. The Duchess accepted another glass of wine from the waiter.

  Old Col spoke up, ‘Did I mention, Your Grace, that I can read tea leaves? I’m very good.’

  The Duchess smiled and appreciated the diversion for what it was. The Infanta still didn’t have a seat and nobody offered her one. While the waiters brought out pots of freshly brewed tea, Anathea and her crazy dog took their leave.

  Old Col poured tea and the conservatory regained the atmosphere of a garden party.

  ‘My niece is proficient at reading palms,’ Old Col said. ‘Ondine, would you be so kind as to share your gift?’

  ‘Really?’ Hetty said. ‘Wow, you should have told me! I’ll get you to read mine later.’

  ‘I’m not that good,’ Ondine said.

  ‘You’re too modest,’ Old Col said.

  With a flagging heart, Ondine approached the Duchess.

  ‘I will need both hands, Your Grace,’ Ondine said. Inside, she trembled, but she did her best to control it.

  The Duchess put down her glass of wine and gave her palms to Ondine. The nail on her left pinkie finger was so long it
had started to curl inwards. It mildly grossed Ondine out to see the yellow stains underneath it. This close, she could see Duchess Kerala’s blue eyes, but they didn’t shine. If anything, they looked cold and calculating.

  ‘Thank you. You’re right-handed.’ Ondine had seen the Duchess make a note in her diary with her right hand, so it wasn’t guess work. ‘That means your left is the life you were given, and the right is the one you’ve made for yourself.’

  Then Ondine made the mistake of looking at those soft, pampered palms. Instantly she regretted it, because she didn’t like what she saw. Clean, simple lines on the left hand, but a right hand filled with complicated scribbles, slashes and crossings out. As if her present life was trying to scratch out the past. The words ‘secret’, ‘deceit’, and ‘danger’ immediately came to mind.

  Looking up, Ondine saw Old Col give her a satisfied nod.

  Ondine summoned every ounce of diplomacy she possessed and began the reading. ‘You are so generous, Your Grace, and so concerned for the welfare of others it almost reduces you to tears.’

  The Duchess smiled and said, ‘Go on.’

  Complete mince, as Shambles might say, but it seemed Ondine’s kind words met with approval. She really wanted to say, ‘I think you’re as cunning as a sewer rat,’ but that would do her no good at all. Meanwhile, others at the table drank their tea, swilled their cups and turned them upside down on their saucers. Old Col looked for omens in the mush.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ondine saw one of the guests offering Shambles the last piece of mortadella68 from her plate.

  Ondine felt even more uncomfortable as she continued with the reading. ‘I see your marriage continuing happily, for a great many years into the future.’

  The Duchess gave Ondine an unreadable look, as if she’d told her something she hadn’t wanted to hear. Her tone stayed deadpan. ‘A charming divershion, I’m shure.’

  Ondine’s stomach dropped to the floor. Old Col must have read the distress in her face because she made a timely interruption: ‘Some tea, Your Grace?’

  Thank you, Aunt Col, Ondine silently said. She looked about the room and saw Hetty serving tea to several women seated nearby. It seemed everyone here wanted to know their futures. From under the table, Shambles liberated a cake fork from another handbag. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  The early evening chill teased Ondine’s skin as she dashed towards the crepe myrtles. Her feet came loose in the pretty sandals, so she kicked them off on the grass and ran in bare feet, her skirts swishing and swooshing around her knees. The swirling wind blew leaves and petals off the branches, making her feel like she was inside a snow-globe.

  Joy burst through the gloom the moment she saw Hamish standing there. ‘Oh, sweetheart!’ she cried and wrapped her arms around her beloved.

  He felt stilted as he returned the hug. Worry wormed through her. This was not the warm welcome she’d expected.

  ‘It’s g-good to s-see you.’

  She was wearing a gorgeous dress, but Hamish’s smart clothes felt damp and stuck to his skin. The twig snapped. ‘You’re freezing!’

  ‘I’m a wee bit wet, lass.’

  ‘Oh, my stars, what happened?’

  ‘I left me clothes behind the trees fer next time, but they goat smothered in dew.’

  ‘Oh, you poor darling. I should have brought you a coat or something. Or a mug of soup.’

  ‘Not the d-dog soup, I hope,’ Hamish said.

  When Ondine kissed him, his lips felt so cold it shocked her. She trailed kisses over his cold cheeks, doing her level best to warm him up.

  Old Col interrupted. ‘We’d best keep this brief, the Duke will be wanting information soon. Ondine, what news do you have?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about how sick everyone was after eating the soup. It couldn’t all be dog germs. If the Infanta is in the kitchens at night, maybe she’s putting something else in the food, not just the dog spoon.’

  ‘Aye.’ Hamish held Ondine close to him, as if she were a hot-water bottle. ‘The Infanta is bonkers.’

  Old Col nodded. ‘The Duke is right to think she is up to something. But we have no proof yet. Afternoon tea today provided more information. The tea leaves were very good. The Infanta’s eldest daughter has not lodged her income tax for the past seven years. One of the Duchess’s friends and the Infanta’s other daughter are stealing silverware and selling it on Bee-Bay.69 The visiting ladies from the hospital charity lie about their age, but that’s a small thing. They’re also terrible gossips and tell all their friends at the bowls club about who has come in for what type of surgery and how often.’

  Surprise jolted through Ondine. ‘You got all that from tea leaves?’

  ‘No. But I have excellent hearing. Eavesdropping is one of my hobbies,’ Old Col said. ‘Now, Ondine, what did you really see in the Duchess’s palms?’

  Ondine gulped. ‘I didn’t like it one bit. I mean, I was just telling her what she wanted to hear, but at the same time, I felt she was hiding something. This horrible feeling came over me and I felt a bit sick.’

  ‘That could be the alcoholic fumes from her breath,’ Hamish said.

  Ondine laughed. Hamish was still cuddling her and it felt wonderful.

  ‘The Duchess certainly likes the sauce,’ Old Col said. ‘But I’m fairly sure the Duke is aware of that. We should keep an eye on her, but my gut feeling is to hold off saying anything about her to the Duke at this point. If we sully the reputation of the woman he loves, without real proof, we’ll be out of here faster than you can sneeze.’

  ‘But surely the ledger I told you about, surely that’s proof she’s up to no good,’ Ondine said.

  ‘Aye, lass, but mebbe he doesn’t want us to know she’s goat a savings account. I think he wants us snooping intae other people’s affairs, nawt his.’

  The cool wind blew around Ondine and the warmth from Hamish evaporated. She turned to find him transformed into Shambles, standing on top of a pile of crumpled clothes.

  ‘But I was enjoying that,’ Ondine said.

  ‘Me, too, lass, but Col’s right. We need more proof, and I’m going tae get it.’

  Did he need to get it right now? She’d been so happy to see him as himself again.

  Col smiled with approval. ‘Excellent idea, Shambles. Follow the Infanta and see what she’s up to in the kitchens.’

  ‘Be careful,’ Ondine added, ‘Biscuit’s teeth may grow back any moment.’

  ‘Aye, lass. I shall blend intae the shadows.’ He gave her a ferrety wink and dashed off.

  ‘Don’t be sad, dear,’ Col said as Ondine headed back across the lawn to pick up her shoes. ‘He’s doing his job.’

  ‘Yes, but does he have to enjoy it quite so much?’

  62 This book has two chapter thirteens because there is so much bad news.

  63 Compared to Ondine’s schooling and laundry work, Old Col and Hamish have scored the much better deal so far. Sampling food, opening mail, eavesdropping, partaking in a little gossip. All far too easy. However, they do have the burden of the Duke’s welfare on their shoulders, and they need to find out who is plotting his downfall. And they might want to hurry up with that, because things are about to get a lot worse.

  64 Brugel is famous for its lace-iron work. Lace-iron is a process of super-heating iron until it bends, giving it a stretch so it becomes thin, but not so thin that it breaks, and lacing it together to create a decorative flat surface. Many unwary customers are fooled into buying shoddy knock-offs made from a flat circle of iron with a lace pattern stamped into it.

  65 If you need to keep your voice low while getting a message to someone, murmuring is far more effective than whispering. Whispering involves far too many ‘esses’ and people will overhear you and want to know what you’re talking about.

  66 If it was expected, it wouldn’t be a surprise. The Infanta’s arrival at meal times was one of those ‘known unknowns’. You know she’ll turn up at some point, you just don’
t know when.

  67 In other words, the Infanta thinks the Duchess is a drunken lush. If you want to talk about anything sensible with her, you’d best do so early in the day before she’s had too much to drink.

  68 A type of inexpensive processed ‘meat’ with huge portions of fat. Each slice is so full of fatty chunks it resembles crazy paving.

  69 Brugel’s answer to e-Bay, where the auctions work in reverse. The seller nominates a high beginning price, then reduces it by increments. The first bidder to put their (electronic) hand up ‘wins’ the bid. Many Brugel estate agents try the same technique, with mixed results.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At this point in time, the chances of the words ‘model student’ and ‘Ondine de Groot’ being used in the same sentence were slim. However, when it came to laundry work, she excelled. Growing up in her family’s hotel had given her all the training she needed for long working hours and little free time.

  ‘Thank you, Ondine, you doing great job,’ Draguta said as they folded the clean clothes into neat bundles.

  Ondine grinned. ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Here. Take sheets and towels to Infanta and make up room.’

  Ondine accepted the bundle of linen and headed up the stairs to the Infanta’s wing.

  ‘You took long enough,’ the Infanta said as Ondine arrived.

  ‘My apologies, My Lordship,’ Ondine said, using the correct form of address this time. She looked around the Infanta’s rooms for an empty surface so she could put down her linen, but there were none. It looked like burglars had ransacked the place, but surely if they had, the Infanta would have been screaming the house down and calling for the police? Then Ondine realised the Infanta had opened the door herself.

  ‘Ma’am, where is the butler?’

  ‘She quit. Rude girl.’70

  ‘I see,’ Ondine said, looking around. In his basket, Biscuit lay on his back, paws akimbo, snoring contentedly. A pang of jealousy shot through Ondine at how much she’d love to trade places with the dog. She spotted a small patch of clear space on the floor and put her linen down. Then she headed for the bed and began stripping it.