A Royal Pain (10 page)

“My dears, it’s raining cats and dogs out there,” she said as my grandfather-turned-butler helped her off with the coat. “Positively miserable, so I thought I’d better come straight to you and cheer you up with good news.”

“How kind of you,” I said, “but you haven’t met my guests.”

I led her into the morning room and presented her.

“Miss Belinda Warburton-Stoke,” I said. “A great pal of mine from school.”

“How do you do.” Belinda executed a graceful curtsy.

“How strange.” The baroness stared at Belinda. “You bear a strong resemblance to somebody.”

“I have relatives all over the place,” Belinda said breezily. “How are you enjoying London so far?”

“So far it has been raining and we have sat alone in this house,” the baroness said.

“Oh, dear. You’ll be taking them out today, won’t you, Georgie?”

“Yes, I thought maybe the National Gallery, since it’s raining, or the peeresses’ gallery at the House of Lords.”

“Georgie, how positively gloomy for them. Take them shopping. Take them to Harrods or down Bond Street.”

“Oh,
ja
. Let us go shopping.” Hanni’s face lit up. “This I like.”

“All right,” I said slowly, wondering if royal protocol would force me to buy things for the princess. “We’ll go shopping.”

Belinda opened her handbag. “Georgie, I came to see you because the invitation arrived this morning.”

“Invitation?”

“To Gussie’s party, darling. Here.” She handed it to me. It was impressively large.

This was most tiresome. I really wanted to go, but I shouldn’t take a visiting princess to an evening of possible debauchery, and I could hardly go off and leave her.

“I don’t think I can go,” I said. “I mean, I couldn’t leave Her Highness.”

“Bring her along,” Belinda said cheerily. “Give her a taste of the London smart set. I understand that a prince or two might be in attendance.”

“I really don’t think—,” I began, but Hanni peered over my shoulder and gave a squeak of delight.

“Young men and dancing,” she exclaimed. “Yes, this I should like.”

“Good, then it’s all settled then. Wednesday at eight,” Belinda said. “I’ll call for you. Must fly, darling. I’m working on a new design.”

I escorted her out into the hall.

“You were running an awful risk,” I hissed at her. “The old dragon almost recognized you.”

“Nonsense, darling. One never recognizes servants. They are invisible.”

“You were a scream, pretending to be my maid.”

“I did a jolly good job too, I can tell you. And sorry about yesterday. I fully intended to come, but the truth was that I didn’t get back to my own bed until five (he was divine, darling), and then I simply slept until five in the afternoon, when it was time to wake up for another party. So being a maid simply fell by the wayside.”

“That’s all right. The princess has a maid with her who has been press-ganged into looking after both of them. And Binky has sent me a little money to engage a new maid for myself and the agency is supposed to be rounding up suitable girls.”

“Choose one who isn’t talkative,” Belinda said. “Nothing is worse than waking up in the morning to chatter, chatter when they bring in the tea. And then you never know to whom she will spill the beans about certain people who stayed the night. One does have a reputation of sorts, you know.”

“That wouldn’t apply to me,” I replied. “My maid might die of boredom.”

“Things will change, you’ll see. You’ve only been here a couple of months. Once you’re in with our set it will be party after party. And this little do of Gussie Gormsley’s is just the thing. Everyone will be there, I can assure you.”

“Are you sure I should bring the princess to a wild party?”

“Oh yes.” Belinda grinned. “What better way to introduce her to life outside the convent? So until then”—she kissed my cheek—“toodlepip.”

And she was gone, running down the front steps and out into the rain.

Baroness Rottenmeister insisted on coming with us to Harrods. I was rather reluctant to go there, as Harrods had been the site of one of the humiliations of my life. I had served behind the cosmetics counter for all of three hours before being sacked. But today I would be going as myself, accompanied by a princess and a baroness. I didn’t anticipate any problems.

Hanni was like a small child in a toy shop the moment she entered the store. She danced from counter to counter uttering little squeaks of joy. “Oh, look. Rings. Necklaces. And lovely handbags. Oh, look, lipsticks.” I had to admit that her vocabulary was quite impressive in this area and I wondered how she would have encountered English words like “cosmetics” at the convent. Maybe there were interludes between gang fights in those American movies. Maybe the gangsters’ molls talked about their cosmetic preparations. We passed from accessories to the dress department.

“Oh, zat is a beautiful dress. I must try it on.” Hanni was almost embracing it and a shop assistant was bearing down with a gleaming look in her eyes. “I have no sexy dress to wear to party. Just boring German dresses.” She glanced at the tag. “ It is only twenty-five pounds.”

“That is the belt, madam,” the assistant said, appearing miraculously behind her. “The dress is three hundred guineas.”

“Three hundred. Is that much?” Hanni asked me innocently.

“Much,” I said.

“I try anyway.” She beamed at the assistant, while I tried to think of a way to tell her I had no money without general embarrassment. Perhaps the baroness had her checkbook with her.

“Is the young lady visiting from abroad?” the assistant asked me.

“She is Princess Hannelore of Bavaria,” I said and noticed the woman’s demeanor change instantly.

“Your Highness. What an honor. Let me bring you some other dresses to try on.”

We spent a happy half hour, with Hanni looking more delightful in each successive dress and me feeling more ill at ease about who was expected to pay for them.

“I believe you’ve seen all our evening gowns now, Your Highness,” the assistant said.

Hanni waved her arms expansively. “I will take them all,” she said.

“No, you can’t.” The tension burst forth from me, louder than I had intended.

“Of course not,” the assistant said, beaming at Hanni. “One would never expect you to have the inconvenience of carrying the dresses with you. We will have them delivered in the van this afternoon.”

“Does the baroness have money from your father to pay for these dresses?” I asked.

“I do not.” The baroness almost spat the words.

“Then I’m afraid you can’t have them,” I said.

“We will telephone my father.” Hanni was pouting. “He will want me to have fashionable dress for meeting king and queen, not boring German dress.”

“German dress is not boring,” the baroness said, her face now beetroot red. “You should be proud to wear German dress. Come, Hannelore. We go now.”

I gave the shop assistant a remorseful smile as Hanni was ushered out. We had almost reached the front entrance of the store when I felt a tap on my arm. It was a man in a frock coat and he was frowning. “Excuse me, madam, but were you intending to pay us now for the princess’s purchase or should we send a bill?”

“Her purchase?” The dresses were surely still hanging in the fitting room.

“The handbag, madam.” He indicated Hanni’s arm, which was now tucked through the strap of a delightful white kid purse. “Fifty guineas.”

“Your Highness?” I grabbed Hanni before she stepped out into the street. “I think you forgot to put back the handbag you were examining.”

Hanni stared down at her arm in surprise. “Oh yes. So I did.” And she handed it back to the floorwalker with a sweet smile. I sat in the taxi home watching Hanni as she pouted. Had she really forgotten the handbag or was she intending to sneak it out of the store?

“I must marry a rich man very soon,” Hanni declared. “And so must you, Georgie. Will there be rich men at the party we go to?”

“Yes, I think there will.”

“Good. Then we will each choose one.” She paused, thoughtfully. “Will the beautiful man who saved us yesterday be there, do you think?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, hoping that he wouldn’t. I had seen Darcy’s eyes light up when he saw Hanni. “And men are not described as beautiful. They are handsome.”

“He was beautiful,” Hanni said wistfully.

I had to agree that he was. Probably the most beautiful man I was ever going to meet.

Chapter 10

That night Mrs. Huggins served toad in the hole and rice pudding. It was nursery food at its plainest and the baroness stared in horror when it was put before her.

“Toad in ’ole?” she asked, imitating Granddad’s Cockney. “Toad? This is like frog, no? You bake frog in this pooding?”

“It’s just a name,” I said, although I was so tempted to let her think she was eating a baked toad. “We have a lot of quaint names for our food in English.”

“I like toad in ’ole,” Hanni said. “It tastes good.”

And so it did. Like a lot of plain food, toad in the hole is delicious if well cooked, and I’ve always had a weakness for sausages.

“If is not frog, then what is it?” the baroness demanded of my grandfather.

“It’s bangers, ducks,” my grandfather said, smiling at Hanni. Those two had set up an immediate bond.

“You mean ducks that have been shot?” the baroness asked. “It does not taste like duck.”

“Not ducks. Bangers,” Grandfather said patiently.

“He means sausages. English sausages.”

“But this is food for peasants,” the baroness said.

“I like,” Hanni muttered again.

The baroness went to bed early in a huff, muttering “no bathwater, no heat and toads to eat,” all the way up the stairs.

I was still pondering how I was going to slip out to carry out my assignment with Mrs. Bantry-Bynge on Wednesday morning. Then, overnight, a brilliant idea struck me. I hadn’t heard from the agency about my new maid. I could claim I was going to interview candidates for the post. This brilliant scheme was frustrated by a telephone call while we were eating breakfast on Tuesday morning. It was the domestic agency; they had found a highly suitable person for the position if I might have the time to interview her.

“I’m afraid I must leave you to your own devices this morning,” I said as I came back into the breakfast room. (It was kippers this time. The baroness complained about the bones.) “But I have to go and interview a new maid.”

“What happened to your other maid?” the baroness asked. “Where has she gone? I thought she was good.”

“Good, but unreliable,” I said. “She went out on Saturday night and didn’t turn up again. So I took your advice and decided I had to let her go.”

She nodded. “
Gut.
One must be firm at all times with servants.”

“So if you will excuse me, I need to interview her replacement. Maybe you would like to take a tour of the National Gallery. There are fine paintings there, I believe.”

“It is raining too much,” the baroness said. “And the princess needs to rest before our dinner at the palace. She must look her best.”

“But I feel fine,” Hanni complained. “I want to go see London. Meet people. Have a good time.”

“The princess will rest,” said the baroness. “She will write letters home.”

“Okay.” Hanni sighed.

I set off for the domestic agency feeling as if I were about to sit for a stiff examination. Hiring servants wasn’t something I did every day—in fact I’d never done it before.

“I believe we have finally found a suitable maid for you, my lady.” The woman at the desk was quite intimidating in her immaculate gray suit and white jabot. A cross between a hospital matron and school headmistress and with an air of more refinement than I could ever hope to achieve. She looked distinctly pleased with herself. “This is Mildred Poliver.”

A woman in her forties rose to her feet and dropped a curtsy. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, your ladyship. It would be an honor to serve you.”

“I’m sure you’d like to ask Miss Poliver some questions,” the headmistress lady said.

“Oh yes. Of course.” I tried to sound efficient and breezy, as if I interviewed servants on a regular basis. “Um—what experience do you have, Miss Poliver?”

“I have been a leedy’s maid for twenty-naine yahrs,” she said in the sort of refined accent that those born to the lower classes seem to think sounds upper-class. “My last position was with Brigadier Sir Humphry Alderton. Do you know the Humphry Aldertons by any chance?”

“Not personally.”

“A faine family. Very refained.”

“So why did you leave?”

“They were returning to India and I had no wish to go to that country. I can’t abide the heat, you see.”