Royal Blood Page 12

  “Vanished? As in just melted away, you mean?”

  “No, merged back into the darkness, I suppose, but when I finally turned on the light he was no longer in the room. And what’s more there’s a large chest in the room and inside it was a cape still damp with snowflakes on it. Explain that.”

  “My dear, how frightfully thrilling,” Belinda said. “If I didn’t have other diversions to occupy me, I’d volunteer to sleep in your room tonight. I have always wanted to meet a vampire.”

  “So you believe me?”

  “I’m more inclined to believe it was some young count or other, one of Nicky’s groomsmen, who made a mistake and got the wrong room when he went to visit the lady of his choosing. It’s easy to do in a place like this.”

  “I suppose you may be right,” I said. “I’m going to watch when they set out hunting to see if I recognize him. Whoever it was certainly wasn’t at dinner last night. And he didn’t look—you know—earthly.”

  Belinda put her hand on my shoulder. “Georgie, I was only joking in London about vampires, you know. You don’t really believe in them, do you?”

  “Belinda, you know me.”

  “I do and that’s what worries me. Until now I’d have said you were one of the most levelheaded people on earth.”

  “I know and I’d agree with you. But I know what I saw and I know the absolute terror that I felt.”

  “A nightmare, maybe? Understandable in a place like this. Darling, isn’t it all too delightfully gothic?”

  “But what about the wet cape in that chest? If you want gothic, you should see the chest in my room. Come up and I’ll show you.”

  “If you insist,” she said. “Very well. Lead on, Macduff!”

  Chapter 15

  Bran Castle

  Somewhere in Transylvania

  Thursday, November 17

  I led her up the stairs and pushed aside the curtains. Belinda looked around the room and of course her gaze first alighted on the portrait on the wall.

  “I say. He’s not bad, is he? And look at that sexy open shirt. I wonder how long ago he lived.”

  “He still lives. That’s the whole point, Belinda. I swear he was my vampire last night.”

  A wicked smile crossed her face. “In that case I may well volunteer to change rooms with you. I wouldn’t mind being bitten by someone like him.”

  I looked at her and realized she was still joking. “You still don’t believe me, do you?”

  “I think the logical explanation is that you fell asleep with that portrait staring down at you and you had a little fantasy dream about him.”

  “All right, I’ll prove it to you. Look, here’s the chest.” I stomped across the room to it. “And I bet the cape is still damp. See?”

  I flung it open triumphantly, then stopped. The chest was completely empty.

  “An invisible cape, how unique,” Belinda said.

  “It was here, I swear. And when I first came up here I saw someone crawling up the wall.”

  “Of this room?”

  “No, the outside wall of the castle. Just over there.”

  “But that’s impossible.”

  “That’s what I thought. But this—whatever-it-was—climbed up the wall over there and then disappeared.”

  Belinda put a hand on my forehead. “No, you don’t have a fever,” she said, “but you must be hallucinating. This isn’t like you, Georgie. After all, you grew up in a gloomy place like this.”

  “We had a couple of ghosts, but no vampires, at Castle Rannoch,” I said. “I asked Siegfried and Matty about them. Siegfried made light of it but Matty was definitely cagey. You don’t think she’s been bitten and become undead, do you? And that’s why she looks so gorgeous? She’s sold her soul or something?”

  Belinda gave that delightful tinkling laugh again. “I think it was more likely to be that expensive cure at a spa, and watching her weight. She has hardly eaten a thing since I’ve been here.”

  “Well, I think of myself as a sane, rational person but I’ve been uneasy since I got here. Before I got here, in fact. I think someone was following me on the train. And someone’s been watching me from the shadows here.”

  “How deliciously dramatic, darling,” Belinda said. “What a change from your boring existence in London. You wanted adventure and now you’ve got it. Who do you think could be following you?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. I can’t think why anybody would be interested in me. Unless vampires are particularly attracted to virgins. Dracula was, wasn’t he?”

  Belinda laughed again. “In that case my blood will be quite safe. You know, maybe someone is actually following that horrible woman who is chaperoning you. Perhaps her husband has paid to have her bumped off en route. I know I would.”

  “Belinda, you are so wicked.” I had to laugh too now.

  Belinda slipped her arm through mine. “Listen. It sounds as if the men are assembling for their hunt.” The sound of barking dogs echoed up from down below, mingled with the shouts of men. “Let’s go down and watch them and see if your handsome vampire really is still alive and among them. We’ll see if you can pick him out in daylight, shall we? Of course, if he’s going hunting then he’s definitely not a vampire. They can’t tolerate the sunlight, you know.” She led me down the stairs to a gallery where we could overlook the front hall. A good-sized party of young men had assembled, the fur hats and traditional green jackets making it hard to tell the masters from their servants.

  “There you are, plenty of counts and barons and whatnots, all single and all related to you, I suspect. Take your pick.”

  “I don’t see my vampire,” I said, studying the young men, some of whom were actually quite presentable as aristocrats go. “That proves it, doesn’t it? He’s not a normal young count staying at the castle. Now you have to believe me.”

  “I believe that the local red wine is stronger than you’re used to and it gave you vivid dreams,” Belinda said. “I say, they’re not a bad-looking bunch on the whole, are they? Of course, Anton looks wonderful in his fur hat, doesn’t he? So masculine and primitive. I wanted him to take me hunting with them, but I was told it was boys only. Spoilsports. I love shooting things, don’t you?”

  “Actually I don’t. I don’t mind grouse because they are so stupid, and I love hunting on horseback but I’m always relieved when the fox goes to earth.”

  “So what shall we do now?” Belinda looked around the deserted hallways.

  “I’ve got to go and have a fitting for my dress,” I said. “You can come and keep me company.”

  “I might,” she said. “It’s too bad I’m not still designing dresses or I could have picked up ideas.”

  “You’re not? You’ve given up your dress design business?”

  “Had to, darling.” She frowned. “Couldn’t afford to lose any more money. Nobody wanted to pay me, you see. They’d always say breezily ‘Put it on my account’ and when the time came to pay, they’d come up with every excuse in the book. One woman actually told me I should be grateful I was getting free advertising from her wearing my creation and I should be paying her. So I’m now unemployed like you. Maybe I’ll be glad to be a maid, soon.” She looked up at me with a grin. “So tell me, did you find a suitable maid and bring her with you?”

  “I have a maid, but I can’t say that she’s suitable. Actually she’s completely hopeless. She got my head stuck in the armhole of my dress last night, I found her sleeping in my bed when I came to my room and she forgot to come and wake me this morning.”

  “Where on earth did you find her?”

  “She’s a relative of my grandfather’s neighbor Mrs. ’uggins.”

  “Well, then, serves you right,” Belinda said.

  “She means well,” I said. “I’m actually quite fond of her in a way. She’s been put in a situation quite remote from her normal life and she hasn’t had a single bout of tears or panic. But I’ll have to find out about that morning tea. I really do expect
that much.”

  As we passed the stairs leading down to the kitchens we saw the young lady in question coming up, wiping the crumbs off her uniform.

  “Oh, whatcher, miss,” she said. “They don’t half eat funny food here, don’t they? Cold meat with garlic in it for breakfast. Whoever heard of such a thing? But the rolls were nice.”

  “Queenie, what happened to you?” I said coldly. “I was waiting for you to bring me my morning tea and to dress me.”

  “Oh, blimey, sorry, miss,” she said. “I knew there was something I was supposed to be doing when I went down to the kitchen. But then I saw other servants having breakfast so I decided to tuck in too before it all went. I wasn’t half hungry after missing me supper last night.”

  I felt rather guilty about this. I should really have made sure that she had had something to eat, but I remembered Lady Middlesex’s admonitions about being firm with servants. “In future I expect my tea tray to be brought up to me at eight, is that clear?” I asked.

  “Bob’s yer uncle,” Queenie said.

  “And you are supposed to call me ‘my lady,’ remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting that one too, don’t I? My old dad said I’d forget my head if it wasn’t joined to my shoulders.” She shook with laughter at that. “So what am I supposed to do now?”

  “Go up to my room and see which of my clothes need pressing. I’ll want to wear a different dress for the banquet tonight.”

  “Righty-o,” she said. “Where do I find an iron?”

  “Ask the other servants,” I said. “I have no idea where irons are kept.”

  I left her trudging up the stairs and rejoined Belinda, who had been watching from the shadows.

  “Darling, utterly clueless,” Belinda said. “If she were a horse, one would have to have her put down.”

  “You are wicked,” I said.

  “I know. It’s such fun.” She blew me a kiss. “Enjoy your clothes session. If the other bridesmaids are anything like Matty used to look, you’ll be the star and all the men will notice you. Toodle-pip.”

  She blew me a kiss.

  I found the small salon where a bevy of seamstresses were working away with a clatter of sewing machines while a formidable and unmistakably French little woman in black stalked up and down, waving her arms and yelling. A cluster of young girls stood and sat near the fire, some of them in their underslips, while the little woman took measurements. The other girls seemed to know each other and nodded politely to me. Matty came over, took my hand and introduced me in German, then in English.

  “My dearest friend from school” she called me, although this was a slight exaggeration. But I didn’t correct her and returned the smile she gave me. Why was I suddenly so popular when she hadn’t contacted me once since we left Les Oiseaux?

  The dresses turned out to be quite lovely and frightfully Parisian chic—a sort of creamy white, long, simple and elegant with a smaller version of the bride’s train behind them. What’s more, contrary to Belinda’s prediction, the other bridal attendants were attractive girls, cousins from German royal houses. One of them was a tall, slim blond girl who looked at me with interest as if she knew me and came over to me.

  “You are Georgiana, ja? I was supposed to go to England last summer but I became sick.”

  “You must be Hannelore,” I said, light dawning. “You were supposed to stay with me.”

  “Ja. I heard about this. It must have been shocking for you. When we are alone you must tell me all.”

  I was glad to find that her English in no way sounded like an American gangster movie.

  Matty came over to us, wearing her bridal gown, still pinned along the sides. “How do you like the dresses?”

  “Lovely,” I said, “and your bridal gown is absolutely gorgeous. You’ll be the prettiest bride in Europe.”

  “One has to have some compensations for getting married, I suppose,” she said.

  “Don’t you want to get married?”

  “If I had my way I’d like to live the bohemian life of an artist in Paris,” she said. “But princesses aren’t allowed any say in the matter.”

  “But Prince Nicholas seems really nice, and he’s good-looking too.”

  She nodded. “Nicky is all right, as princes go. He’s kind and you’re right. It could certainly have been worse. Think of some of the absolutely awful princes there are.” Then she chuckled. “I gather my brother asked you to marry him.”

  “I turned him down, I’m afraid,” I said.

  “At least you had the option of saying no, which is of course what I would have done in your shoes. Who would possibly want to be married to Siegfried, unless they were desperate.” She laughed again, and again I felt that she was forcing herself to be lighthearted. “So how is your room?”

  I couldn’t very well say gloomy and vampire ridden, could I? I was formulating a polite answer when she went on, “I gather they gave you the room next to Siegfried’s. Maybe they were hoping some sparks would fly!” She chuckled again. “I always used to have that room when we came to the castle for the summer holidays. I love the view from that window, don’t you?”

  “It’s rather snowy at the moment,” I pointed out.

  “In the summer it’s lovely. Green woods and blue lakes and far away from the city and all the stuffiness of court life. I used to ride and swim with none of the rules of court life. It was blissful.” And a dreamy expression came over her face.

  “There’s an interesting portrait on the wall of the room,” I said. “A young man. Who is he?”

  “One of the ancestors of the family that owned this castle, I suppose. I’ve never really thought about it,” she said. “Castles are always full of old portraits.” And she moved on to another subject.

  I hadn’t realized until the end of that day how much I missed the company of other young women and what fun we’d had at school. There was a lot of giggling and chatting in various languages, mostly German, of which I spoke little, but Matty was ready to translate for me. She looked the fairy-tale princess in her wedding dress with a train yards long, which we were to carry, and a veil falling around her, topped by a coronet.

  By the time we had finished, the men came back from their hunt, exhilarated because they had shot a huge wild boar with fine tusks. I was ready for a cup of tea, but instead coffee and cake were offered. I’m sorry but if you’re born British there is no substitute for afternoon tea. It’s in our genes. The cake was rather rich and I began to feel sick. I suppose it was tiredness as I hadn’t really slept for two nights. I went up to my room, only to find no sign of Queenie. I was now becoming annoyed. It would soon be all over the castle if I had to go and look for her every time I wanted something. I was half tempted to yank on that bellpull and send whoever came to seek out my maid, but I decided that she was probably in the servants’ quarters wolfing down cake and it would be quicker to find her myself. So I went down stair after winding stair and then that terrifying wall-hugging flight with no banister. I tried to remember exactly where I had bumped into Queenie this morning, ducked under an arch and started down a straight flight of well-worn steps. As I turned into a dark hallway at the bottom I could hear the clank of pots and pans and the murmur of voices. Then suddenly I started as I saw a figure crouched in a dark corner. The figure looked up at me and gasped.

  “Oh, Georgie. You startled me.” She put her hand up to her mouth and attempted to wipe it hastily. “Don’t mention this to anyone, please. I can’t help myself. I try, but it’s no good.” It was Matty. Her mouth was bright red and sticky and she had blood running down her chin.

  Chapter 16

  Still Bran Castle

  Thursday, November 17

  I couldn’t think what to say. My only thought was one of flight. I turned and went back up those stairs as quickly as possible. So it was true. She was one of them. Maybe half the castle was populated with vampires and that was why there was so much tiptoeing around at night. I was actually relieved
to find my room still empty. I got into bed and pulled the covers around me. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be safe and at home and among people I could trust. I’d even have settled for close proximity to Fig, which shows you how low I was feeling.

  Tiredness overcame me and I drifted into a deep slumber, only to be shaken awake by Queenie.

  “Miss, it’s time to get ready for dinner,” she said. “I’ve run you a bath and put a towel in there.”

  This was a great improvement. My little talk this morning had obviously worked wonders. I bathed, came back to my room and let Queenie help me into my green satin dinner dress. I looked at myself in the mirror and somehow it hung wrongly. It had been a classic long evening gown before, smooth over the hips and flaring out to a gored skirt, but now it seemed to have a bump on one side, making my hip look as if it were deformed.

  “Wait,” I said. “There’s something wrong with this skirt. It never bunched up like this before. And it seems awfully tight.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Yes. Well . . .”

  I looked up at her face. “Queenie, is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “I didn’t think you’d notice,” she said, toying with her apron. “I had to fiddle with the skirt because it got a bit scorched when I ironed it. I’m not used to ironing nice stuff like this and the iron must have been too hot.” Then she demonstrated how she’d sewn the skirt together over a patch that had two big iron-shaped scorch marks on it. One scorch mark I could understand, but what had made her go back to repeat the mistake?

  “Queenie, you are hopeless,” I said.

  “I know, miss. But I do try,” she said.

  “I’ll have to wear the burgundy again,” I said with a sigh, “unless Belinda’s got something she can lend me. Run down to her room, tell her what you’ve done and ask her.”

  I waited impatiently, wondering how a dressmaker might be able to repair the damage in one of my few good dinner dresses. Almost immediately Queenie reappeared, her face scarlet.