Heirs and Graces (A Royal Spyness Mystery) (6 page)

“Don’t start on that again, Mother,” he said. “You know my sentiments. And I don’t see why I can’t leave my fortune as I choose. I’d much rather a new concert hall or theater than the continuation of a dreary dukedom.”

“Fortunately you have no choice in the matter,” she said in a clipped voice. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable when Cedric looked out of the window and said, “Good God. What on earth is that?”

An estate car had drawn up and out of it stepped Queenie. She was wearing a red hat that looked like an overturned flowerpot and an old overcoat made of the spiky fur of God knows what kind of animal—hyena would be my best guess. The dowager duchess turned to the window and raised her lorgnette in surprise.

“Oh, it’s my maid with the luggage,” I said.

“Your maid? You let her go around looking like an oversized hedgehog with a flowerpot on its head?” Her Grace demanded.

“She will be wearing her uniform underneath, but I haven’t yet got around to buying her a new overcoat,” I said, not wanting to confess that I had no money for such items.

“Oh, she’s new, is she?”

“Fairly,” I said.

“Then, my dear, the sooner you take her in hand and train her, the better,” Her Grace said. “You can’t let maids ape their betters in fur coats. It simply isn’t done. And a coat like that . . . well, it reflects on you in the end. I will ask the housekeeper if we have a suitable discarded black overcoat in the servant’s cupboard that she can wear if she has to leave the building again.”

Queenie was now looking up at the imposing façade, her mouth wide open, as an estate worker hauled my trunks from the back of the vehicle. I rose to my feet. “I think I had better go and show her where to put my things.”

“And be firm about suitable attire,” the dowager called after me. “It is never wise to give servants any leeway in the matter of individuality or they abuse it, as your girl has done.” She pronounced the word “gell,” as did all the women of her era, and she wagged a finger at me. “Their job is to be invisible and to conform at all times.”

I hurried out to bustle Queenie away from the dowager’s critical eyes and up the stairs.

“Blimey,” she said as we entered my bedroom. “We ain’t half fallen on our feet ’ere, eh, miss? Now this is how real toffs are supposed to live. Not like your bloomin’ sister-in-law and her one piece of toast per person.”

“Queenie, remember what I have told you?” I said. “If you can’t speak politely of your betters, I might have to let you go.”

“Garn,” she said, digging me in the ribs. “I know you can’t afford a proper maid.”

“I’m sure I could find one less improper than you,” I said with a frown. “Now, please unpack my things. Ask the servants where you can find an ironing board and iron and make sure everything is well pressed. Oh, and Queenie—remember, one does not iron velvet on the right side, and please, no more burn marks on my white blouses.”

“Bob’s yer uncle,” she said.

At the door I remembered something and turned back. “Oh and one more thing—this is a great household of the highest social order. The servants here will be well-trained and refined, so please do try to behave like a real lady’s maid and don’t let me down.”

“Don’t worry, me lady. I can talk posh and walk around with me bleedin’ nose in the air with the best of ’em if I want to.”

“And Queenie—no swear words.”

I left her to it and went downstairs again. As I approached the Long Gallery, I heard Cedric’s clipped voice saying, “Exactly why is she here, Mother? This had better not be one of your little schemes.”

Chapter 6

KINGSDOWNE PLACE

Instead of entering the Long Gallery, I turned quickly on my heel and went down the front steps and out into the fresh air. A stiff breeze had now come up and the sun had vanished behind a bank of rather threatening clouds. I wondered if I was being foolish in striking out across the grounds but I didn’t want to be part of the unpleasantness in the Long Gallery. If I’d known my presence would cause disruptions in the family, I wouldn’t have come. Then I corrected that sentiment. I would still rather be here than up in bleak Scotland with Fig.

I followed the edge of the lake, admiring the easy way the swans drifted across the black water, until I came to a little stream that entered, bubbling over rocks. I heard the sound of rushing water and followed the stream down from the lake until I came to a series of pretty cascades in a rocky glen. It reminded me of my native Scotland until I realized that this whole landscape must be an artificial creation as such glens are not normally part of the Kentish scenery.

Above the cascades I spotted a round, white temple, half hidden amid dark yew trees. Some former duke with an eye for the dramatic had obviously been at work here. I was finding my way out of the cascade glen when I heard the distant sound of a clock chiming noon. I remembered what the dowager duchess had said about changing for lunch and realized I had better get back.

As I crossed the lawn I heard voices behind me—young voices. Before I could turn around, one of them called out, “You there!”

I stopped and turned to look back. Two children, a boy and a girl, were running together up the slope toward the house, followed by a worried, youngish man in a tweed jacket who was striding out to keep pace with them. They were around ten or eleven, both with pale blonde hair and rather surly faces.

“Yes, you.” It was the boy addressing me. “I left my history book on the bench under the big oak tree. Go and fetch it for me.”

The worried-looking man had caught up with them. “Really, Nicholas, you can go back and get it yourself,” he said. “You can’t expect people to fetch and carry for you.”

“Of course I can. What else is she doing right now?” the boy demanded. “And I’d be late for luncheon if I went to fetch it myself, and you know that makes Grandmama cross.”

Initially I had been too stunned to react. Now I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. “Do you always order around your grandmother’s guests?” I said.

“I say—you’re not a guest, are you?” His expression faltered. “We thought you were her new companion. She was talking about finding a new companion when she went up to town and we saw you arrive with her, so naturally we assumed . . .”

“Never assume,” I said. “I’m actually Lady Georgiana Rannoch, and your grandmama invited me to stay.”

“You’ve really put your foot in it this time, Nick,” the girl said, nudging him and looking pleased at his red face.

“Sorry,” the boy said easily. “But my father is a Russian count, you know. He had to flee for his life during the revolution. And my grandfather was a duke, so I have to get used to ordering people around.”

“My grandmother was a princess,” I said, “and my great-grandmother was Queen Victoria, so I think I win on that count. And my cousins the king and queen are always most polite in the way they address their staff.”

He turned beet red now. “Crikey,” he said. “Then you’re royal. Does one have to call you ma’am?”

I was very tempted to say yes. And that he had to bow every time he saw me, but since he was now squirming with embarrassment I said, “Actually I’m not an HRH, I’m only a lady. And since we are social equals it would be fine for you to use my first name.”

“Oh, jolly good,” he said. He stuck out his hand. “I am Nikolai Gregorovitch, son of Count Streletzki, formerly of Russia.”

“And I am Ekaterina,” the girl said, holding out her hand too. “But Uncle Cedric said it was pretentious to have such names and we have to be called Katherine and Nicholas.”

“It probably is easier if you’re to go to school in England,” I said.

“But so ordinary, don’t you think?” Nicholas said. “Our father was not at all ordinary.”

“He was a very handsome man,” Katherine added.

“So you’re Irene’s children,” I said. “Don’t you have another sister?”

“Sissy,” Nicholas said. “It’s really Elisabeth but everyone calls her Sissy. It was too cold for her to be out today, and none of the servants was free to push her wheelchair.”

“Wheelchair?” I asked.

“She fell off her horse and broke her back,” Katherine said. “Now she can’t walk. It’s terribly boring for her.”

“Poor thing. It would be. Perhaps I can keep her company while I’m here.”

“Mummy wants to take her to Switzerland where there’s a good doctor, but Uncle Cedric says it would be a waste of time and cost too much money,” Katherine said. “I don’t think he likes us very much and he doesn’t really want us here.”

“I think it would be a waste of money too,” Nicholas said. “I mean, we all know she won’t walk again. The money should be spent sending me to a decent school.”

“What about me?” Katherine said. “I want to go to school too.”

“There’s no point in educating girls,” Nicholas said. “Uncle Cedric said so. They only get married and don’t do anything useful.”

“I’m as clever as you!” Katherine said. “In fact, I’m cleverer. Uncle Cedric is stupid.”

“Both of you stop talking such rubbish and hurry up,” the man said. “Or your grandmother will blame me again. And she’ll make you go without your pudding.”

They ran on ahead at this dire news. The man gave me an embarrassed grin and held out his hand. “I’m Carter, the tutor, my lady. They’ve been running wild for years before I was engaged. No sense of discipline or decorum, and hopelessly uneducated. You’ve heard the family history, I suppose. Their mother dotes on them. Their father alternately spoiled them and ignored them, and of course then deserted them. So it’s no wonder that Nick’s such a confused little boy. His uncle, the duke, isn’t exactly helping to provide a good male role model. So I’m trying to do what I can, but it’s uphill work.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do to help while I’m here.”

“You’re most kind, my lady,” he said and gave me a very nice smile.

As I came into the hallway, I saw Huxstep sorting the post, which had just arrived.

“Did you have a good walk, my lady?” he asked. “A brisk morning. I hope you were not too cold without your overcoat.”

“I come from Scotland. This is considered a balmy day,” I said.

He managed a polite twitch of the mouth as he carried the tray of letters through to a study. I went upstairs and changed into a kilt and white blouse, which, while not fashionable, were at least clean and presentable. I had just finished dressing when a gong sounded. We were being summoned to luncheon. I gave my hair a final brush then set off down the hallway. As I approached the staircase, two elderly ladies were coming toward me, arm in arm, from the other direction. They looked at me in surprise.

“I say, we’ve got a visitor. How jolly,” one of them said. My mother’s phrase “mutton dressed as lamb” came to mind. The one who had spoken was wearing clothes that would have been risqué ten years ago—a flapper dress that showed too much leg, long strings of beads and far too much makeup. “Did you come down from town with Edwina?”

“Er—yes,” I said.

“You see, what did I tell you? The spirits never lie,” the other one said. She was still dressed in the fashion of the good old days, such as my grandmother would have worn—a long, black dress with a high collar, an impossibly small waist and several rows of good pearls around her neck. Her luxurious, gray hair was piled high on her head in coils and held in place with tortoiseshell combs. She was looking at me with interest. “They said a stranger was coming into our midst, didn’t they?”

“We thought that meant the boy from Australia, didn’t we?” the painted one said. “Didn’t the spirits say the stranger in our midst meant danger?”

“Oh dear, yes. The cuckoo coming into the nest. How worrying.” She peered at me. “But this young lady doesn’t look at all dangerous, does she? Quite charming, in fact. What is your name, my dear?”

“Georgiana Rannoch.”

“You see, I knew. The spirits said something about being reunited with an old friend, and I used to know her grandfather, the old duke. What a terrifying fellow he was. There was some talk of my marrying him, but then the queen snapped him up for her daughter. I was rather relieved, actually. Much happier with poor Orlovski.” She held out her hand to me. It was shrunken and wrinkled like a claw, and absolutely dripping with rings. “How do you do. I am Princess Orlovski, Edwina’s sister.”

“How do you do, Your Highness,” I said, not quite sure if I was supposed to curtsy.

“And I am the Countess Von Eisenheim, the youngest sister,” the painted one said. “By far the youngest. Actually Mummy and Daddy’s afterthought. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’ve come to visit. Life is so incredibly dull here after the society of Vienna and Paris that one was used to. Our sister’s husband became an awful stick-in-the-mud in his later years, and his son is even worse. The only people he invites down here are dreadful, common young men who are artists or writers. We haven’t had a decent ball in years, have we, Charlotte?”

“Not in years,” the princess said with a sigh.

While we talked we had been making our way slowly down the broad staircase, the sisters arm in arm and taking little, careful steps. We had just reached the bottom when Huxstep appeared in the foyer and sounded the gong again.

“The second gong, Charlotte. We mustn’t be late,” the painted one said, and they picked up the pace to a speed that made me fear for them—flying down the steps on dainty, little feet. They arrived safely, however, and I followed them into the dining room. The dowager duchess had already taken her place at the far end of an enormous table that would easily have seated fifty.

“Ah, Georgiana. Do come and sit down. Over here beside me. You’ve met my sisters, I see. Charlotte had a narrow escape from Russia when the revolution broke out. Her husband, the prince, wasn’t so lucky.”

“Hacked to pieces in front of my eyes,” the princess said. “I’ll never get that image from my mind. Never. And I was to be next, but a loyal retainer snatched me up into a carriage and galloped off with me. I left with the clothes on my back, nothing more.”

I gave her a sympathetic nod.

“And Virginia came to live with us after the war. Her late husband’s money was in German banks and of course it became worthless.” The duchess gave me a knowing look. “Until then she had been quite the merry widow, hadn’t you, Virginia?”

“I’ve had my moments, Edwina,” Virginia said. “Oh yes, I’ve certainly had my moments.”

“And I’d prefer that you didn’t recount them to my grandchildren in such detail,” Edwina said. “I was shocked to the core at what Katherine came out with the other day.”

Virginia laughed. “Oh, yes. That little incident with me and a regiment of Hussars. She was rather impressed with it, I could see.”

The duchess gave an embarrassed cough. “Speaking of my grandchildren, I see they are late again. As is their mother.”

“No we’re not, Mama. Right on the stroke of one.” A younger woman came into the room, followed by two subdued children. She was more than slim; she was gaunt, with her collarbones showing above the neck of her dress. She looked flustered and her forehead was creased in a worried frown. “Go and sit down, children,” she said.

They scrambled into their seats.

“Where is Elisabeth?” Edwina asked.

“Not feeling too well today, Mama. Nanny is having a tray sent up to her room.”

“She needs to get outside more, Irene. You can’t mollycoddle her like this. Good, fresh air every day.”

Huxstep, the butler, appeared behind the dowager duchess. “Should I have the soup brought in, Your Grace? Will His Grace and friends be joining you?”

“I have no idea, Huxstep,” she said. “My son does not consult me in his comings and goings. So yes, please do go ahead and have the soup served. If they come now, they will just have to miss the first course.”

Tureens were brought in by two footmen, and a clear consommé was ladled into the Royal Doulton bowl in front of me. I sensed Irene looking at me with interest and I nodded a smile.

“How do you do,” I said. I was about to introduce myself when the dowager duchess said, “Irene, Nicholas, Katherine—you haven’t met our guest. Georgiana Rannoch—her grandmother was very kind to me when I was a young lady-in-waiting to the old queen. I’ve invited her to stay for a while.”

“We already met her outside,” Nicholas said, as if scoring a point.

“Really, Mama, you’re wasting your time, you know,” Irene said.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“If you’re thinking of her as a potential bride for Cedric, there is no chance.”

“I assure you I have no interest in becoming Duchess of Eynsford,” I said. “My taste in men is very different.”

“I agree with you, my dear,” Virginia said. “Why would one want to look twice at an unattractive man when there are so many handsome ones in the world?”