Alice-Miranda on Vacation

by Jacqueline Harvey

  “We had a talk and I can assure you he’s done nothing wrong. He asked me not to say anything and I promised.”

  “Come on,” Jacinta begged. “That’s not fair. I told you about the argument at the cottage.”

  “No, Jacinta, I made a promise.”

  “Leave it, Jacinta,” Millie interrupted. “We’re going to a party, and I for one plan to have a wonderful evening.”

  “He’s probably lying—just so you won’t suspect anything,” Jacinta huffed and rolled her eyes. “He’s far too good-looking to be trusted, you know.”

  Alice-Miranda smothered a smile and tried to distract her friend. “Have you chosen a dress?”

  “Yes—what do you think of this one?” Jacinta held up a beautiful mauve silk with a pretty round neckline and layered short sleeves that looked like petals.

  “It’s lovely.” Alice-Miranda walked to her wardrobe and began to look through her own clothes.

  “What do you think of this one for me?” Millie picked up an emerald-colored dress with a fitted bodice and organza skirt. There were delicate ribbon bows appliquéd around the hemline. She held it against her.

  “That color looks amazing with your hair,” Alice-Miranda enthused. “You should definitely wear that—it’s splendid.” She turned back to the wardrobe, and pulled out a pink dress with a wide white sash around the middle. It had a long layered skirt.

  “And you should definitely wear that one.” Jacinta nodded at Alice-Miranda.

  The girls took turns having showers and helped each other get dressed. Cecelia appeared in the most gorgeous floor-length pink gown—empire line with a black bow sitting just under the bust and the most amazing ruffled sleeves. The girls all commented that she looked like a supermodel. Hair was then dried and styled and the girls were ready to head downstairs.

  Hugh Kennington-Jones met the girls in the hallway. “Look at you lot! Turn.” His finger pirouetted, motioning for the girls to do the same. “Lovely, lovely, lovely. You too, darling.” He took Cecelia’s hand and kissed it gently. “Beautiful.”

  Hugh looked rather dashing himself. He was a striking man, with olive skin and thick salt-and-pepper hair. Dressed in a stylish tuxedo, he looked every inch the lord of the manor.

  It was quarter to six. In the drawing room spirits were high as Mr. and Mrs. Greening, Mrs. Oliver and Millie’s grandfather, Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Shillingsworth allowed themselves to be waited on by the staff that had been hired especially for the evening. Lily and Heinrich were there too, and Daisy and Granny Bert. Poppy and Jasper were wandering around the room admiring the myriad bits and pieces that had been collected over hundreds of years. Alice-Miranda’s grandmother had yet to join the party, but it was her trademark to be late.

  Mrs. Oliver turned and saw the girls and Hugh and Cecelia at the door. “Don’t you all look lovely!”

  “Such pretty dresses,” Mrs. Greening added.

  “Is that really my granddaughter over there?” Ambrose squinted.

  Millie playfully poked out her tongue, then ran to give the old man a hug. “It’s not my usual style, I know,” Millie said, and curtsied. “But it is fun to dress up once in a while.”

  Alice-Miranda walked over to Jasper but was immediately pounced upon by Poppy.

  “Where’s Lucas?” Jacinta asked as she joined them.

  “He didn’t come,” Jasper replied. “Said something about it not being his thing.”

  “That’s a pity,” Jacinta said, and frowned. “I thought I might have talked him into it this afternoon.”

  At that moment Charlotte and Lawrence appeared in the doorway. Charlotte was beautiful in a blue Grecian-style gown, and Lawrence looked every inch the movie star in his tuxedo.

  “Well, here comes the birthday girl,” Granny Bert bleated.

  “It’s not until tomorrow, Granny,” Charlotte said. “But I’m so glad everyone could be here tonight to celebrate. This is wonderful.”

  She moved around and said hello to everyone, introducing Lawrence too. Jacinta noticed Daisy standing on the other side of the room. Her lips were pursed and she kept looking around, as if expecting to see someone. Jacinta wondered if it might have been Daisy she had overheard in the garden.

  “Hello, Granny Bert, this is my friend Millie,” said Alice-Miranda.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Sophie,” Granny replied. “Perhaps you’d like to come and visit me. Alice-Miranda says that she will but she doesn’t. Would you be a dear and ask that waitress over there to bring me another glass of lime and soda—I’m rather parched,” Granny complained. “Oh, and bring me my purse, Alice-Miranda—I’ve left half my lipstick on the side of that glass. It’s meant to stay on all day. Those cosmetic companies tell such lies.”

  “I see Granny is her usual happy, mixed-up self,” Jacinta commented to Alice-Miranda.

  “Wait until the dancing starts—then she’ll really get going,” Alice-Miranda giggled, and headed off to find the waitress.

  When Granny Highton-Smith finally arrived, Hugh walked to the center of the room. He tapped the side of his glass with a spoon and the crowd fell silent.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for sharing this auspicious occasion, that being the eve of my beautiful sister-in-law’s birthday. I won’t tell you which one because a lady never tells her age and if her brother-in-law reveals it, he will be in serious trouble with all female members of the family—and if you haven’t noticed, I am a little outnumbered.”

  There was a titter of laughter around the room.

  “And so, let’s raise a toast to our darling Charlotte.”

  “Darling Charlotte,” the room echoed.

  “And now, might I suggest we head to the dining room. I don’t know about you lot but I could eat a horse,” Hugh laughed.

  “That’s probably what you’ll get,” Mrs. Oliver tutted, still not quite over the fact that she hadn’t been allowed to cook for the occasion.

  The group moved through to the main foyer and the dining room—where the doors were still closed.

  “Goodness me, Shilly,” Hugh called. “I know you’re always worried when we have new staff in, but did you really need to lock the place up?” He threw her a dramatic curious glance. Charlotte was standing beside Hugh and Lawrence as he pushed open the giant cedar doors.

  “SURPRISE!” the room erupted.

  Charlotte was speechless. “Oh my goodness!” She turned to her sister. “However did you arrange all this?” She hugged Cecelia.

  “Well, we thought you wouldn’t mind,” Cee whispered.

  “Mind? This is amazing.” Charlotte took a step forward. “Hello, everyone—hello.”

  The room grew noisy as the guests talked among themselves. Charlotte moved around to greet everyone. “Wow—I can’t believe you’re here.… I thought you were still overseas … and you knew about this for how long?”

  Alice-Miranda and the girls had been charged with the job of making everyone feel at home. Millie headed straight for a lady wearing a black gown and a ruby and diamond tiara.

  “Hello, I’m Millie.” She curtsied. “What a lovely tiara.”

  “Aren’t you a darling?” the woman replied. “Please call me Aunty Gee. It’s very nice to meet you, Millie.”

  Millicent studied the woman’s face carefully and decided that she must be Mrs. Oliver’s sister—they could have been twins.

  The room buzzed. For the moment nobody noticed the handsome stranger talking with Daisy in the corner. Only Granny Bert recognized Mr. Blunt, the man who had been writing the book about the Hall. She thought it was lovely that the Highton-Smith-Kennington-Joneses had invited him. They must have approved of his work.

  The room was bustling with over one hundred guests. Old family friends mingled with Charlotte’s school pals and the rest of the household. Young Max looked dashing in his borrowed tuxedo, even though he kept tugging at the bow tie and complaining to Cyril that it felt like a straitjacket. Shilly looked stunning in a navy blue gown, which was c
omplemented by a Cartier diamond necklace borrowed from Granny Highton-Smith. Mrs. Oliver wore a striking black Valentino dress with a long strand of South Sea pearls. Mrs. Smith had selected a fire-engine-red Chanel frock, which Granny had worn once before to the opera. The entire staff looked magnificent.

  Mrs. Oliver could not remember ever laughing so much, as Ambrose McLaughlin-McTavish kept her well and truly amused. Mrs. Smith seemed to have her hands full too, as she received more than her fair share of attention from crusty old Lord Gisborne.

  “So tell me,” Lord Gisborne said. “I hear that Mrs. Oliver’s been busy in the cellars lately.”

  “Oh yes, she’s a trick.” Mrs. Smith fiddled with the stem of her champagne flute. “I’ve never known such a talent—well, except perhaps Alice-Miranda. Did you know that Mrs. Oliver has perfected the Freeze-Dried Foods formula? I think Mr. Kennington-Jones is just about to sign contracts to have it shipped all over the world. My goodness, the woman could almost single-handedly bring an end to malnutrition and starvation. She’s a genius,” Mrs. Smith went on. She was far more talkative than usual.

  “Fascinating,” Lord Gisborne said. “And I hear she does all this work in the cellars, right here under the Hall?”

  “Oh yes—she has an amazing setup. There’s a laboratory and a kitchen and computers—you name it, it’s all down there.”

  “I’d love to see it sometime. I hope she has those formulas locked away safely.” He grinned like a shark in a school of sardines. “I can’t imagine how valuable they must be.”

  “Oh yes,” Mrs. Smith began. “She stores them all up here.” She tapped her finger to the side of her head.

  “What?” Lord Gisborne’s charm had left the building. “She doesn’t save them anywhere? What sort of an idiot is the woman?”

  Mrs. Smith was taken aback.

  “Dolly Oliver is just about the smartest person I know,” Mrs. Smith protested indignantly. “And you, sir, are just plain rude.” She turned on her heel and harrumphed as she strode away.

  Lord Gisborne reached into his pocket and fiddled nervously with his phone.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Percy, put that awful thing away,” Aunty Gee chided. “It’s Charlotte’s birthday party.”

  Lord Gisborne did as he was told, then skulked off to another corner of the room, where he hid behind a potted palm.

  In the opposite corner, Rupert Blunt reached into the top pocket of his coat and retrieved his mobile phone.

  “Change of plans, Daisy,” he whispered. “Come with me.” He grabbed her hand and led her through the crowded room.

  Granny Bert spied them together. “Oh, I just knew he was perfect for her,” she remarked to Cecelia.

  “Who are you talking about, Granny?” she asked.

  “You know him, dear. The lovely man who’s writing the history of the Hall, Mr. Blunt.”

  Cecelia shook her head, wondering what on earth she had missed.

  Rupert Blunt did not let go of Daisy’s hand until they were out the front door and safely hidden on the western veranda.

  “Curses, curses, curses!” He sat down on a bench seat, clutching his head in his hands.

  “What’s the matter now?” Daisy whispered. Her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill onto her perfectly made-up face.

  Blunt looked up. “Well, apparently the silly old goat doesn’t have the formulas written down anywhere, does she? She keeps them all in her head, can you believe it?” He stood up and began to pace. “This changes everything.”

  Daisy stared out into the moonlit garden, her hands clenched together. “Maybe you should just stop it now. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Shut up, woman. I need to think,” he snapped. “It was meant to be simple—in and out—no complications.” His eyes narrowed. “Now it looks like we’ll need backup. It’s just as well I have you … for insurance.” Blunt’s handsome face had taken on the appearance of a viper set for the kill.

  Around the same time, Alice-Miranda, Millie and Jacinta had headed outside too. Alice-Miranda wanted to see if Lucas had changed his mind about coming over—it would be just like him to be lurking about in the garden somewhere. She led the girls around the corner of the veranda, where they spotted Daisy gazing out into the darkness. Then they caught sight of the tall man striding up and down—a look of thunder on his face.

  The three girls stopped in their tracks. “Who’s that with Daisy?” Jacinta whispered.

  “I don’t know. But he doesn’t look very happy,” Alice-Miranda replied. “Let’s go and say hello—I can’t imagine why anyone would be upset at a party, especially one as lovely as this.” She skipped toward them. “Hello, Daisy. And hello—my name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones and I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr.…” She offered her tiny hand.

  “Hmph?” he grunted. “Hadn’t you girls best go inside? It’s getting late and you never know what might be out here.”

  “Well, that’s silly,” Alice-Miranda laughed. “There is nothing out here to hurt us. I’m sorry, sir,” Alice-Miranda tried again, “I don’t think we’ve met before. My name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones.”

  “I’m not deaf,” Blunt snapped. “I heard you perfectly well the first time.”

  Millie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know who invited you to this party, but I’m sure that Alice-Miranda’s parents are not friends with anyone as rude as you,” she blurted.

  “Millie!” Alice-Miranda rebuked. “I’m very sorry, sir; my friend didn’t mean to upset you.” She decided to change tack. “I love your dress, Daisy. That dandelion color looks so beautiful with your eyes.”

  Daisy managed a nervous half smile in reply. “Thank you, sweet girl,” she whispered.

  The man began to tap his foot on the flagstones. “That’s enough chitchat. Now run along. I’m sure your parents must be missing you.”

  “Oh no, not at all. They’re having a lovely time inside with all our friends,” Alice-Miranda cooed. “It’s such a wonderful party, isn’t it? I’ve never seen so many beautiful dresses in one place—well, except for when Mummy took me to Paris for the fashion shows last year and Mr. Valentino gave us a lovely tour of his salon.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Blunt interrupted. “You girls need to go. Now.” His steely voice sliced the air.

  Alice-Miranda’s strange feeling had well and truly returned.

  “Girls, please go inside,” Daisy gulped.

  The man grabbed Daisy by the hand, and with cyclonic speed, he wrenched her around the corner and they were gone. By the time the girls ran to see, they had both disappeared.

  “He’s foul,” Jacinta said.

  “I agree.” Millie nodded. “Do you think he could have been one of the people you heard having the argument in the garden at Rose Cottage this afternoon? I think Daisy looked scared of him,” she added.

  “He does seem a little bit upset,” Alice-Miranda said. “Gosh, grown-ups can be complicated at times.”

  Alice-Miranda was now quite sure that Daisy was hiding something. She just needed to work out what it was.

  “Mrs. Oliver,” Aunty Gee interrupted, “may I steal you away, dear?”

  “Of course, ma’am.” Mrs. Oliver excused herself and left Ambrose talking with Mrs. Smith.

  “I’ve heard about your remarkable work. FDF is sheer brilliance. I was rather hoping to get a tour of your laboratory—if you don’t mind?”

  “It would be my pleasure. What about tomorrow morning?” Mrs. Oliver asked.

  “Well, I’m afraid I have to be getting back to town rather early. Frederick is throwing some dreadful garden party. I’m sure that he’ll regale us with his latest theory on organic gardening … terribly dull, dear, but I can’t bunk out of it at this late stage,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  Mrs. Oliver checked her watch. “Would you like to have a look now? We could duck off for a few minutes.”

  “That would be lovely,” Aunty Gee a
greed. She turned to the tall, bulky man standing beside her. “Dalton, why don’t you go and keep Mr. McLoughlin-McTavish entertained while I steal Dolly?”

  The man gave a hint of a bow and turned back to find his charge.

  Behind the potted palm, Lord Gisborne had been listening to the ladies and their chatter. He retrieved the phone from his top pocket and began tapping in a message.

  The two ladies set off for the cellar, out the kitchen door and along the veranda. They teetered on their high heels down the narrow stairwell to the bottom, where Dolly punched in the alarm code. There was a whoosh of air and a loud clunk as several bolts released.

  “Good to see you have security, my dear. I imagine quite a few rogues would like to get their hands on your invention,” Aunty Gee commented as she walked into the cavernous room.

  Mrs. Oliver flicked the light switch and the place glowed.

  “What a marvelous setup.” Aunty Gee walked around studying the beakers and flasks.

  The two ladies chatted about the process Mrs. Oliver used and how many failed attempts she had made before things came right.

  “I imagine there’s a secret ingredient or two.” Aunty Gee smiled.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And are you working on anything new?”

  “Well, actually, I am—but I haven’t shown anyone yet, not even Mr. Kennington-Jones. Would you like to be the first to see it?” Mrs. Oliver was as eager as a child in a lolly shop.

  “I’d be honored,” Aunty Gee replied.

  “Oh dear, I’ve left the key to the vault upstairs. Do you mind if I pop up and get it?”

  “Of course, dear,” Aunty Gee agreed. “I’ll just have a wander. I promise not to touch anything.”

  Mrs. Oliver scurried as fast as she could manage up the stairs and into the side sitting room, where she had a secret box containing a number of keys.

  In the cellar, Aunty Gee waited patiently for her to return. She observed the complex chemistry equipment and wandered around the vast kitchen with its numerous appliances. She heard footsteps on the stairs and then the lights went out.