Heirs and Graces (A Royal Spyness Mystery) (8 page)

Chapter 8

KINGSDOWNE

I came out into the hallway and was just making my way back to the main staircase when I met the housemaid Elsie coming toward me with a tray on which there was a teapot and cup.

“Countess Streletzki has another of her migraines,” she said. “And she’s a great believer in chamomile tea.”

I started up the stairs with her.

“I wonder if it would be all right if I visited the countess’s daughter Elisabeth,” I said. “It must be awfully lonely for her, stuck in her room all the time.”

“It is, poor thing,” she said. “And such a sweet-natured child she is too. Let me just deliver this to the countess and I’ll take you up to the nursery.”

“I won’t be disturbing her lessons, will I?”

“Oh, no, my lady,” she replied. “Miss Sissy is supposed to rest after luncheon.”

I waited until Elsie returned from delivering her tray to Irene, and then she led me up another flight of stairs and along the full length of a hallway. Now that we were no longer on the important floors, the décor was not as grand. The walls were whitewashed and plain with the occasional vase in a niche. Elsie tapped at the very end door then opened it.

“Miss Sissy?” she asked. “Are you resting?”

“Why should I rest? I’ve done nothing all day to make me tired,” said a clear voice.

“I’ve brought you a visitor.”

“Oh. I don’t know if I’m well enough for visitors,” she said hastily.

“I promise not to stay long and tire you,” I said and stepped past Elsie into the room. “I just wanted to say hello and introduce myself. I’m Georgiana Rannoch, and I’m staying here for a while so I thought you might like some company.”

The girl was sitting in a bath chair at a window, a rug over her knees and a shawl over her shoulders. There was a strong resemblance to the other two children but her face was less sullen and much prettier; she was older than I thought she’d be—around fifteen, maybe. Almost white-blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, and when she saw me her face broke into a charming smile.

“How lovely. Please, do come in,” she said. “I thought the visitor might be Grandmama or one of my aunts, and I do find them so tiresome. But another young person—well, that’s quite different.”

I noticed that this was a corner room with tall windows on two sides, giving a spectacular view over the estate. From the front window, where Sissy now sat, one looked down on the forecourt, the lake, driveway and lawns. Out of the side window, one could see the cascades and the temple peeping out of the trees of the glen before the formal grounds gave way to thick woods, all the way down to the valley. Smoke was rising from unseen chimneys, curling up into the cold air.

“You have a lovely view here,” I said.

“I know. At least I can get a glimpse of what is going on. I just saw Uncle Cedric and his funny young men going down past the cascades. I expect they are going down to the village.”

“The village?”

“My brother says there’s a footpath on the other side of the glen. It’s a shortcut to the village and a perfect way to sneak off unobserved. But do come and sit down.”

I pulled up a chair from the writing desk and sat in the window, facing her.

“So do tell me—what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Everyone seems surprised that there is a guest in the house,” I said. “Do you not get many visitors?”

She shook her head. “I’m told that in the old days, my grandparents used to entertain very grandly all the time, but then my grandfather became ill and died. And now the house belongs to Uncle Cedric, and he only invites his type of people. I think they look quite fun, but I’m never allowed to meet them.”

“Why not?”

She made a face. “Not suitable, that’s what Mummy says. Too common, for one thing, and of a different moral standard from us. I’m not quite sure what she means or how she knows about their moral standards.”

I thought I should probably not elucidate.

“Your grandmother invited me,” I said. “And anyway, you are to have another young person in the house from Saturday onward. Your cousin is arriving from Australia.”

“The heir? He’s actually coming?”

“He is.”

“I wonder what he’ll be like.” Her face was hopeful but guarded. “They say he’s young.”

“He’s twenty, so one gathers.”

“I wonder if he’s good-looking. Uncle Johnnie was very good-looking, from his photographs.”

“So what do you do all day?” I asked.

“When I’m not having lessons, I read a lot.” She held up the book on her lap. “Sherlock Holmes. Mr. Carter lent it to me. It’s very good. Mr. Carter is very kind, and he’s a really good tutor too. He’s awfully brainy, you know. He’s a scientist really; an Oxford man. He was planning to be a professor. But he was badly shell-shocked in the war and he can’t take any kind of noise or upset, so he’s had to settle for teaching boring old us. Nick and Kat are awful to him, and it’s impossible to learn with them around. Nick thinks if he’s bad enough, he’ll be shipped off to school, but Uncle Cedric doesn’t want to pay for him, and we have no money.” She looked up at me. “You’ve heard about our tragic circumstances, of course?”

I nodded.

“It’s terrible for Mummy, because she was brought up to be so proud and she’s so embarrassed that Daddy bolted and left her penniless. She hates being dependent on Uncle Cedric but what choice does she have?”

“I’m also penniless, so I know how she must feel,” I said.

“Are you? Golly.” She looked at me in silence then said, “At least you’re young and pretty and healthy. Someone will marry you. No one will ever want to marry me.”

“Oh, surely—you mustn’t think like that.”

She tossed her head proudly. “Who’d want to marry a penniless cripple?”

“You may walk again.”

“Mummy has heard about a doctor in Switzerland who can work miracles with cripples like me, but it costs an awful lot of money and Uncle Cedric won’t pay for it.” She turned to stare out of the window. “So there’s no hope, really.”

I wanted to say something encouraging but I couldn’t think of any words that would ring true to her. I was in a similarly hopeless situation myself, except that I could still use my legs and I did have Darcy.

Suddenly she leaned forward as a man came running up the hill toward the house. He was dressed like a countryman—old corduroy trousers, a jacket patched at the elbows, a shapeless cloth cap on his head and big boots. When he came close to the house he stopped and looked up at it, frowning. As we watched, the butler came out to him. We couldn’t hear voices but the young man was obviously in a state of great agitation. He waved his arms a lot while the butler tried to put a calming hand on the man’s shoulder. He shrugged it off, turned away and stomped off down the driveway.

“What was that all about, I wonder,” I said.

Sissy shook her head. “I’ve no idea. I couldn’t see him clearly but I think it looked like William, who was one of the footmen here. He was very angry, wasn’t he?”

We went on talking for a while, about how she’d loved to ride and hunt and the ways that she filled her days since the accident. “Mr. Carter tries to teach us science, of course,” she said. “Nick and Kat are quite keen on doing horrid chemistry experiments but I’m useless.”

Her loves were literature, languages and painting. She showed me some of her watercolors, which were good.

“You should show these to your uncle,” I said. “He sees himself as a patron of the arts.”

She laughed. “Oh, I’m afraid my tame little efforts are not what would impress him at all. He likes modern art with great splotches of color. You know, they look like a spilled nursery meal. Or what he really likes is to take strange photographs of people’s nostrils or toes.”

There was a tap on the door as we watched Cedric and his retinue return to the house, and in came a well-padded and pleasant-looking nanny.

“Ready for your tea, Miss Sissy?” she asked, then stopped. “Oh, I see you’ve got company. How lovely for you.”

“This is Lady Georgiana, Nanny. She’s going to be staying here.”

“What a treat,” Nanny said. She turned to me. “Miss Sissy gets awfully lonely stuck up here.”

“I suppose there is no lift to take you downstairs?”

“There isn’t,” Sissy said. “Someone has to carry me. And Mummy doesn’t like anyone uncouth, like the gardeners or grooms, handling me. So it’s hard. But I have a nice tea in the nursery with the twins and Mr. Carter, don’t I, Nanny?”

“You do, my love,” she said.

Far below, a gong sounded.

“That’s downstairs tea,” Sissy said to me. “I suppose you’ll be going down now.” She looked wistful. “Or you could always join us, if you like. We have a jolly tea up here, you know.”

“Why not,” I said, thinking how much nicer it would be to avoid the formality of tea below, with its added risk of dropping crumbs or squirting cream. I walked behind Nanny as she wheeled the bath chair through to an adjoining room. With a big bookcase, desks, a globe on the front table and currently a science experiment set up with test tubes and Bunsen burners, this was now the schoolroom. But one could see that it had been the nursery. There was still a lovely old dollhouse in a corner; ragged, stuffed animals in an old wagon, and a magnificent rocking horse had pride of place in one of the windows. Nick and Katherine were seated at a low table on which there was a tray of sandwiches, scones and a Victoria sponge.

“Here we are. Here’s Miss Sissy and a visitor for you,” Nanny said, parking the bath chair beside the table and then picking up the teapot. “Help yourself, my lady. And you others, go easy. I expect sandwiches to be eaten before you attack that cake.”

“Oh, but, Nanny, it does look awfully good,” Katherine said. “I don’t know if we can bear to wait that long.”

“You need to learn patience, young lady,” Nanny said. “Now, you make a good impression on our guest, or they’ll hear about it downstairs.”

“You wouldn’t tell, would you, my lady?” Nick asked.

“Only if you were about to blow up the house,” I said, smiling. “And you can call me Georgie.”

“Whizzo,” Nick said, and started attacking the sandwiches as only an eleven-year-old boy can.

“So where is your tutor?” I asked.

“We’re done with lessons for the day. He’s always glad to make a quick getaway.” Nick grinned. “Back in his own room—recovering from a morning of us, I expect.”

“Actually, they were jolly good lessons today,” Kat said. “We were doing wizard science experiments. He let us use the Bunsen burners, and he showed how you could start a reaction with potassium.”

“And we made volcanoes yesterday,” Nick said, “Only we can’t let him see that we’re enjoying things. He has to think that we’re beyond hope and that we should be sent off to school.”

“You want to go to school?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” Katherine said. “It’s deadly dull here with no friends and only boring old Nick.”

“I am not boring. I’m more interesting than you!” Nick said angrily.

“I find you both boring and I’m stuck with you,” Sissy said. “At least you’ll be able to get out one day.”

“Maybe you will too,” Katherine said kindly. “Maybe you’ll go to that doctor.”

“Maybe.” Sissy stared out of the window.

I actually had a jolly time with them and promised I’d visit again.

“I know how hard it can be, stuck up in a nursery,” I said. “I went through the same thing when I was a child. At least you have each other.”

“And we find ways to sneak around,” Katherine said with a wicked grin. “You’d be amazed at some of the things we overhear that aren’t meant for our delicate little ears.”

“Shut up, Kat,” Nick said, giving her a dig in the ribs.

I went downstairs and came out into the Long Gallery at the same time as Huxstep.

“Ah, there you are,” the dowager duchess said. I thought she was addressing me and sounded cross, but then she went on, “I saw some kind of altercation going on, Huxstep. You were outside with someone who was gesticulating a lot. What on earth was that about?”

“It was William, Your Grace. You remember the footman whom the duke recently dismissed.”

“And what did he want? His job back?”

“He wanted to speak to you, apparently, Your Grace,” he said. “He had just found out that his parents’ cottage is to be razed to the ground to make way for the new amphitheater. They have lived there all their lives, Your Grace. William was most distressed.”

“My son intends to destroy that row of cottages?” she asked incredulously. “That is an outrage, Huxstep. Those cottages have been part of this estate since the sixteenth century. And where does my son intend to put the tenants who currently live in them?”

“Nowhere, Your Grace. He told them, apparently, that they had been living on the grace and favor of this family for too long and this was now the twentieth century and such customs were outmoded.”

In the manner of the true aristocrat, her face remained composed. “We shall see about this,” she said coldly.

Chapter 9

KINGSDOWNE

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to dinner that night, fearing a gigantic family row. I was even more reluctant to go down once I started to dress.

“I’ve laid out your best frock, my lady,” Queenie said demurely.

“Thank you, Queenie.” I looked at the gown, wrap, gloves and stockings all laid out neatly on my bed. This was obviously the new and improved Queenie. Kingsdowne was already rubbing off on her.

“And where are my shoes?” I asked innocently.

“’Ere’s one of ’em,” she said, handing me a slim, satin slipper.

“And the other?” I asked with growing unease.

“Ah, well. You know how you wanted all your stuff out again at the last minute to go gallivanting on the town with Miss Belinda? And then you made me pack it again next morning?”

“Yes. . . .” The dread was clutching at my throat.

“One of the shoes must have rolled under the bed and I didn’t see it.”

I stared at her in open-mouthed horror. “You mean I only have one evening shoe?”

“’Fraid so.”

“Queenie, you idiot. What am I going to do?”

“It’s a long frock. Nobody will notice.”

“They’ll notice if I walk with one high-heeled shoe on and one off,” I said. “I have no other high-heeled shoes suitable for evening. I’m doomed.”

“You could wear your bedroom slippers, I suppose.”

“They are fluffy. They have feathers around them.”

“Better than nothing,” she said. “Or I could sneak in to someone else’s room and nick a pair of shoes for you.”

“You will do nothing of the kind,” I said. “I’ll have to wear my black town shoes and just pray that nobody looks down. And I’ll write to Mrs. Tombs in the morning to have the other shoe sent on. Knowing her, she has probably thrown it out with the rubbish.”

“Sorry, miss,” she said. “But I did have it all packed up lovely when you wanted it opened up again.”

I sighed.

I timed my arrival in the anteroom for sherry so that I came in with Princess Charlotte and her misnamed sister, Virginia. Safety in numbers. I tried to bend my knees a little so that the gown hung over my shoes. But a glimpse of myself in the long, gilt mirror showed that I looked extremely strange, like a walking duck. The sisters did not appear to notice anything wrong with me and led me over to the sherry decanter. I swigged down a couple of glasses to boost my courage.

“Irene will not be joining us,” the dowager duchess said, coming over to take a glass of sherry that the footman had just poured. “Another of her migraines, I fear. That poor girl does suffer so.”

“It seems to me that her migraines are most convenient,” Virginia said almost to herself, but Edwina heard her.

“What a cruel thing to say, Virginia. Just because you have been blessed with the constitution of an ox, you could at least have a little sympathy for those of a more delicate nature.”

“A healthy amount of sex. That’s what the girl needs,” Virginia said, knocking back another glass of sherry in one gulp. “So she’s lost one man. So what? Plenty more fish in the sea. Did I weep and wail when my husband found himself a Viennese ballet dancer? Of course not. I simply moved on to bigger and better things. And I do mean bigger and better.”

“Virginia. You go too far,” Princess Charlotte said. “We have young and innocent ears in this room.”

“Nonsense. She needs to know what life’s all about. If Irene hadn’t been such a pathetic virgin when she came to Paris, she’d never have fallen for Streletzki.”

Mercifully, we were saved by the dinner gong. We went through, just four of us, myself and the three weird sisters.

“I see that Cedric is not going to grace us with his presence,” Edwina said. “That really is too bad of him, especially on your first evening here, my dear. But never mind. We’ll enjoy a good evening without him, won’t we?”

“We could have a séance afterward, do you think?” Princess Charlotte suggested. “Our guest could find out what the spirits have in store for her.”

“Really, Charlotte. This séance nonsense has to stop,” Edwina said. “You are becoming obsessed. And if the two of you behave this way when John’s son arrives, then he’ll think he’s come to a lunatic asylum.”

Cedric’s young men came to join us as we went in to dinner. It wasn’t the easiest meal I have attended. Edwina behaved as if they weren’t there, and the three elderly ladies focused their attention on me, peppering me with questions. Princess Charlotte offered to find out what the spirits had in store for me, and Virginia tossed off the names of so many men in so many countries with whom she had enjoyed wild affairs that my mother’s autobiography would have read like a girl’s school story in comparison.

* * *

IN THE MORNING,
we got news that Cedric had gone up to town again and was staying in his club, obviously waiting for his mother’s wrath to diffuse. Wise man. While he was gone, the household entered into preparation for the arrival of the young Australian. A prime suite of rooms, facing the lake, was prepared for him. Servants whispered about him. The dowager duchess remained impassive but one could tell that she too was a little excited. I suspected that, for her, it would be like seeing her beloved son again. Cedric returned but kept well away from his mother. I’m not sure if they had a confrontation but I did hear his voice once saying loudly, “It’s my house now and you’d better not forget it.”

Not the most pleasant of men. I was rather glad no young woman was going to be stuck with him.

The day of Jack’s arrival approached. We had eaten luncheon and the sisters had retired for their afternoon siesta. I was sitting in the Long Gallery with the dowager duchess, halfheartedly reading the
Horse and Hound
when we heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel.

“Here they are,” she said, rising to her feet.

A lovely Rolls-Royce motor came up the drive. “Our solicitor’s motorcar,” she said. “He obviously does very well for himself writing wills.”

The Rolls-Royce drew up. Footmen descended on it like ants on a dead beetle. The chauffeur hurried around to open the back doors of the motorcar. A most distinguished-looking, silver-haired man, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, extracted himself from one side. Then a young man got out and stood waiting, his back toward us. He was tall and well-built with a shock of black, curly hair not unlike Darcy’s.

“I thought he’d be fair like Johnnie,” Edwina said. “He’s a strapping lad for twenty, isn’t he?”

Then he turned toward the house and I let out a little gasp. It wasn’t a young Australian I was looking at. It was Darcy himself.

“Oh, no,” I heard the dowager duchess say. “Of course that’s not he. I expect that’s his escort. Here he comes now and he’s the spitting image of John. I’d know him anywhere. We must go to welcome them.”

And she almost broke into a run. I was breathing so fast that I stood rooted to the spot. What on earth was Darcy doing here? When we’d parted right after Christmas, he had told me that he thought he’d have to go back to Argentina. So how had he become involved with a young Australian boy? I watched the duchess descend the steps to them, shake hands with the solicitor, then nod to Darcy. Finally she held out her hand to a rangy lad dressed in a plaid shirt, khaki trousers and a bush hat. He shook the hand, looking around with wonder, as if he was observing creatures from Mars.

“So what do you think of your first glimpse of Kingsdowne?” I heard the dowager duchess’s voice as they came up the steps into the house. “Is it how you imagined it?”

“Strike me,” he said. “It’s bigger than the bloomin’ hotel we stayed in. How many people actually live here?”

“Just us. Just the family.”

“Only one family? What a waste. You could rent out rooms. Make some money.”

“We have no need to make money, young man,” the duchess said in a clipped voice. “We have all we need to live in the lifestyle to which we are accustomed.”

The voices were coming closer. “Stone the flamin’ crows!” I heard Jack exclaim. “Look at that ceiling. They don’t have any clothes on. That wouldn’t be allowed at home.”

“It’s a fresco by a famous eighteenth-century artist,” Edwina’s voice replied. “In the classical period, they frequently painted nude figures.”

“My oath,” he said. “My old gran would have boxed my ears if she caught me looking at smutty pictures like that.”

The dowager countess was now entering the Long Gallery. Her face was a stony mask.

“I saw some funny little cows as we came up the track.” The Australian came into view beside her. “Is that how small cows are here in England?”

“Cows?”

“Yeah. Skinny, brown, little things among the trees.”

“Those are deer. We have a famous deer herd here at Kingsdowne.”

“Oh, are they good tucker?”

“Tucker?”

“Yeah. We shoot the roos at home. Usually feed them to the dogs but the tails make good eating.”

“We keep the deer to be ornamental, not to eat.”

“You wait till there’s a drought year. Then you’ll be glad enough to eat them.” The young man had come out of the shadows of the foyer. He had sandy, sun-streaked hair poking out from under his hat, bright-blue eyes and tanned skin. He almost walked with the rolling gait of the sailor and he wore riding boots.

“Ah. Here you are, Georgiana, my dear.” Her Grace looked relieved to see me. “John, let me introduce you to our houseguest, Lady Georgiana. She comes from a most distinguished family, and she will be staying with us for a while.”

“Good day,” the young Australian said with a nod as he tipped his hat. “And my name’s not John. It’s Jack.”

“Jack is only a nickname for John—which was your father’s name and is more suitable for a future duke,” the duchess said. She looked around to see if the rest of the party was following into the room. “And may I present the family solicitor, Mr. Henry Camden-Smythe.”

“How do you do?” I said in what I hoped was a steady voice. We shook hands.

The duchess now turned her attention to Darcy. “And I’m afraid I don’t know your name, young man, but I’d like you to meet Lady Georgiana.”

“Darcy O’Mara,” Darcy said. “Lady Georgiana and I are already acquainted.” He took my hand and held it, his eyes smiling into mine.

“O’Mara? Lord Kilhenny’s son. Of course. Your father had a fine racing stable, I remember.”

“Not anymore, I’m afraid,” Darcy said.

The duchess sighed. “I heard. How my husband loved to go to Ascot. Nothing is the same anymore.”

Darcy was now deemed to be acceptable, which was more than could be said for the Australian heir.

“Do sit down,” the duchess said. “Tea will be served shortly. I expect you’re hungry.”

“Too right,” the boy said. “I haven’t had a decent-size meal since I left home.”

He sank into one of the armchairs, not looking at all intimidated by his surroundings. I took a seat on the sofa and Darcy slid into place beside me. I glanced at Darcy and he winked. He didn’t seem as shocked to see me as I was him.

“Are you expecting rain, John?” the dowager duchess asked.

“Rain? No. Looks quite fine to me.”

“I wondered, because you are wearing your hat in the house, so I thought you might be afraid the roof would leak.”

“Oh, no. Looks all right to me,” he said easily.

Edwina rang the bell and the butler appeared. “Huxstep, would you please find His Grace and tell him that our guests have arrived, and would he please come to welcome them.” She turned back to Jack, who still hadn’t taken his hat off. “So you have come from the Australian countryside. Quite different from this, I’d imagine.”

“Too right,” he said. “Where I come from, we run one sheep per acre. No rain, see. And the bloody rabbits and roos eat what grass there is.”

I saw the duchess stiffen at the swear word but she kept quiet. A trolley was wheeled in, and tea was placed on the table in front of us.

“Please do help yourself,” the duchess said.

Jack looked at the tiny sandwiches and cakes. “Is this all you have for tea here?”

“It seems quite adequate to me,” Edwina said. “What do you have at home?”

“Oh, usually a roast and two veg. Sometimes it’s a meat pie.”

“That would be what we eat for dinner,” Edwina said stiffly.

“You have another meal after this then?”

“We most certainly do. At eight o’clock. And we dress for it, John.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to sit down in your underwear.” He grinned.

“I mean formal dress. Dinner jacket. Do you have one yet?”

“I think so. They took me shopping and bought me some poncy clothes.”

We all looked up as Cedric came into the room.

“Ah, this is your uncle Cedric now, John,” she said. “He is the current Duke of Eynsford. You are his heir.”

“Right-oh.” Jack didn’t get up but stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, mate.”

Cedric looked rather green. “Mother just called you John. Is that your name then?”

“No, just Jack. The blokes on the station called me Jacko, or Blue sometimes.”

“Blue? Why was that?”

“On account of my red hair.” He looked around at the silence. “Aussie joke, I suppose,” he added.

“But you were christened John, surely?” Edwina said.