On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service Read online

  I wondered where I’d find writing paper and the obvious answer was Paolo’s study. I was about to go in, when I heard voices inside. Men’s voices, this time talking in animated Italian. That had to be Paolo and his uncle and I had no way of knowing what they were saying. Had the uncle been briefing his nephew on what they had discussed in the temple? I thought it unlikely. But something had clearly rattled one of them. I tried to catch the odd word, but they were delivered with such speed and force that I had to admit defeat and leave.

  There was no sign of anyone else and I couldn’t hear any other voices so I wasn’t sure where to go next. As I wandered into the long gallery, I was pleased to find that coffee and cake were being served. A fire had been lit in the black marble fireplace, making the place feel quite cheerful. I went over to the table to help myself to coffee and cake and was about to take them to the sofa near the fire when a voice said, “So? You have recovered?”

  And there was Paolo’s mother, sitting in a corner, her knees wrapped in a rug and a cup of coffee in her hand. She eyed me with that birdlike stare. “You took to your bed with a headache,” she said. “But here you are, up and about again. Well enough to walk in the grounds. My daughter-in-law was worried about you.”

  “I am quite recovered, thank you,” I said. “It must have been the approaching storm that brought on my headache. I am susceptible to changes in the weather.”

  “I thought that was just old women like myself,” the dowager countess said. “I feel every drop of rain in my bones. But I am glad you made such a miraculous recovery.”

  The way she stared made me feel that she suspected an ulterior motive had kept me from going to the island with the others and I realized, with a shock of horror, that she had also stayed home and had presumably noticed me searching frantically while she was tucked away in a corner chair. It occurred to me that perhaps she thought I was planning to help myself to one of the family treasures. I couldn’t think of anything reasonable to say to her so I gave her a bright smile and took a sip of my coffee.

  To my great relief I heard the sound of voices coming down the stairs and the Prince of Wales came in, with Mrs. Simpson’s arm tucked through his. Clearly there was no more pretense that they were not a couple.

  “Ah, coffee. What a good idea,” Mrs. Simpson said. “Just what I wanted. You can pour me a cup, David.”

  If anyone at home in England had heard this they would have fainted with shock. Not only was she ordering the heir to the throne around but calling him by his family-only name and not addressing him as sir. But it didn’t appear to have upset him. “Right-o,” he said and went over to the serving table like a good boy.

  Mrs. Simpson sat herself down on the sofa next to me. “And how are you, Georgiana, honey?”

  “Much better, thank you. The headache is gone.”

  She nodded. “You didn’t miss much. Some old villa on an island and a few walls. Frankly I think that Italy is clearly overrated. Give me the French Riviera any day, where the food is better and the streets are cleaner. I still can’t believe that we came here when we had an invitation to join friends on a yacht in Monte Carlo. What an incredibly dreary group this is.” She looked up as the prince handed her a coffee cup. “Don’t tell me you are actually enjoying yourself here, David. Can we not make our excuses and leave? You’ve been called home on urgent family business? Your father’s health has taken a turn for the worse? You’ll think of something. I’ll go and tell my maid to pack.”

  “Hang on a moment, Wallis,” the prince said. “We can hardly walk out on a house party after one day. It simply isn’t done.”

  “Honey, you’re royal. You’re practically a king, for God’s sake. They’re damned lucky to have you for even one day. They’ll probably dine out on this for years. ‘Do you know, the Prince of Wales came to stay with us once?’ ‘The Prince of Wales? Lucky you.’”

  David came to perch on the arm of the sofa beside her. “I’ll see if I can arrange a car to take you shopping tomorrow in Milan. Will that make you happy?”

  “A car to take me to Monte Carlo and Bender’s yacht would make me happy,” she said. “But I guess a day shopping in Milan will appease me for a little while.” She turned to me, right when I had just taken a bite of gâteau. “You must be bored out of your mind here, Georgie. No young people. No dancing. No music. No wonder you feigned a headache.”

  I still had a mouthful of chocolate cream and was attempting to swallow so I just gave her a smile.

  “I don’t know what Queen Mary was thinking when she wanted you to join your cousin at this place,” she went on, now putting a hand on the prince’s knee. “Did she assume there would be eligible men for you to meet? Well, I suppose there is that German count. He’s quite a catch, I suppose, but I don’t think there’s any family money there. In fact, from what I’ve heard . . .”

  I never did find out what she had heard, as my mother came into the room, followed by Max, chatting with Camilla.

  “Oh good, you’ve found the coffee and cake,” Camilla said. “I thought we should eat something as our picnic on the island was cut short and poor Georgiana only had broth for her luncheon. Aren’t we lucky we made it back in time? Can you imagine being caught out in an open boat right now?”

  As if to reaffirm this there was an almighty crack of thunder overhead. Mummy let out a little scream. The dowager countess crossed herself.

  “Don’t worry,” Max said, putting an arm around my mother. “These storms in the mountains can be quite fierce but they rarely last long. And we’re quite safe here.”

  “I just hate thunder,” Mummy said. “I always have. As a child I used to hide under the bed.”

  “It is your delicate nature, mein Schatz,” Max said, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

  Delicate nature, I thought, trying not to smile. My mother was as tough as old boots. I glanced across at her and tried to picture her married to Max, spending the rest of her life in Germany. Was that really what she wanted? If it were me, no amount of money and privilege would make me want to spend my life among people with whom I had nothing in common. Darcy and I would never be rich, but at least we would laugh together and teach our children to ride and hunt and gather conkers and play sardines in the castle. Just thinking these thoughts made me feel all nostalgic. To know he was so near and yet I couldn’t speak to him was unbearable. Let’s just get this over with and go home, I thought.

  “Some cake, Schatzi?” Max asked my mother.

  “Oh no, thank you, darling. I have to watch my figure,” she said.

  “Leave that to me. I like to watch your figure all the time,” he said. Really his English had improved by leaps and bounds.

  “Silly boy.” She playfully slapped his hand, then came over to me, perching herself on the arm of the sofa beside me so that she and the Prince of Wales sat as bookends. “Are you feeling better, my darling?” She slipped an arm around my shoulder. “I was so concerned when Camilla said you had elected to stay home because you had one of your headaches. I know how terrible they can be. Utterly devastating. So were you successful?”

  I glanced up at her, wondering how she dared to ask the question in public.

  “Successful?”

  “In getting rid of the nasty old headache, I mean?”

  “Not entirely,” I replied, giving her the answer I knew she was angling for. “I’ve tried to find—ways—of making it better, but as yet I haven’t succeeded.”

  She nodded, understanding. “What a pity. So annoying . . . when these headaches strike. Then you must let your mama take care of you.”

  “You are fortunate to have such a devoted mother,” Camilla said. “My mother wouldn’t have turned a hair for anything less than a thunderbolt hitting me.”

  “Please don’t speak of thunderbolts.” Mummy shuddered. “Just listen to it growling away out there.”

  �
��It will soon pass, but it is suddenly chilly, isn’t it? I’ll have them light the fire in the dining room and maybe we’ll have our after-dinner coffee here, rather than the salon. We should play cards. Paolo adores that and I gather you are rather a whiz at bridge, Mrs. Simpson.”

  “I do quite like a game of cards,” Mrs. Simpson had to agree.

  “I prefer roulette,” Mummy said. “A game of chance. More exciting.” She stopped talking abruptly as Rudi came into the room.

  “What is it you find exciting, my dear Claire?” he asked, moving calmly and elegantly across the room to the food table. “I came in too late to hear your confession.”

  “A game of chance, Rudi. I enjoy a game of chance.”

  “So do you often win, at this game of chance?”

  “Frequently enough.”

  “A lady after my own heart,” he said, bringing his cup of coffee back to the group by the fire. “I also enjoy a game of chance and I also win most of the time.”

  I could feel the air between them was electric and wondered if the others in the room noticed it.

  “We have no roulette wheel at the villa,” Camilla said. “It will have to be bridge or whist, I’m afraid. Not as exciting. But we have enough for three tables.”

  • • •

  WE FINISHED OUR coffee and cake and one by one people went up to change for dinner. I took my cue from the others and was about to go up the stairs when my mother popped out of a doorway and grabbed me.

  “Well?” she hissed at me.

  I looked around. Nobody in sight. “I did my best,” I said. “I looked everywhere I could think of. I even started going through books in the library, but there are thousands of them. I tried to get into his room, but the door was locked. That must mean he has something to hide in there, mustn’t it? Normal people don’t lock their doors when they are staying with friends.”

  “Hardly friends, darling,” she said. “I don’t think he knows these people any better than we do, and frankly we are not friends with anyone here. I’ve no idea why Max insisted on coming unless it was to get on the good side of that dreary general. But Max isn’t usually like that. He doesn’t need favors. People ask favors of him.”

  “Anyway, I searched for you, everywhere I could think of except for Paolo’s study. But if Rudi and Paolo aren’t bosom friends he’d hardly hide photographs in there, would he?”

  She was still holding on to my forearm, her long fingernails digging in. “What about that little pavilion place? I told you he goes out there sometimes, didn’t I?”

  “Only to smoke, I suspect. I did check it out and it smelled of cigar smoke. Besides, there was nowhere one could hide anything.” Apart from under the table, I added to myself.

  “Damn,” she muttered, squeezing my arm even harder. “So what do we do now? How do we get into his room? Find another key that fits?”

  “I tried mine and it didn’t,” I said. “I presume the maids must be able to get in to clean.”

  “Perhaps you could disguise yourself as a maid,” she said.

  I gave her an exasperated look. “Honestly, Mummy, do you think the servants wouldn’t notice if I went down to the butler and asked for the key to clean Rudi’s room?”

  “I’m feeling desperate, darling,” she said. “I have to do something. We have to do something. Couldn’t you climb up to his balcony?”

  “Not being a cat burglar, the answer to that is no. The wall looks quite smooth and there is no creeper like there is up to my balcony. Besides, if he’s locked his door he will surely keep his French doors shut.”

  She gave a big, dramatic sigh. “I don’t know what to do. I had such high hopes you’d find something.”

  My mother had always had the knack of making me feel like a hopeless failure. This was beginning to rankle. “I managed to find a way to stay behind and search for you,” I said. “I did do everything I could, you know.”

  Another dramatic sigh. “Yes, I’m sure you did. But I’m so close to facing ruin. The end of happiness.”

  “Are you sure the photographs are as bad as you think they are?”

  “Oh yes, darling. Frightfully bad. Absolutely scandalous. You’d blush if you even had to look at them.”

  “Then the only answer I can see is to confess to Max, claim that Rudi tricked you, got you drunk, drugged you, and it was the only time you’ve been unfaithful to him.”

  I could see her considering this, then she shook her head. “I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. It would break Max’s heart. Somehow we have to get into that room. You wouldn’t like to creep down to the servants’ quarters in the middle of the night and see if you can locate the duplicate key, would you?”

  “Frankly no, Mummy.”

  “Then I’ll just have to do it myself,” she said and swept up the stairs, every part of her body showing indignation.

  Chapter 18

  MONDAY, THEN TUESDAY, APRIL 23RD

  AT VILLA FIORI

  Golly, this day seems to have gone on forever. All I want to do is to go to bed, lock my door and sleep. But I have to stay awake in case the storm dies down and Darcy comes to visit.

  Gerda appeared with another dress for me—this time midnight blue and backless. When I protested that I couldn’t possibly wear another of the contessa’s dresses Gerda shook her head. “But you cannot wear the velvet that you brought with you. It is ruined, I think. I told the contessa and she quite agrees that you must look elegant in front of your cousin and his lady friend.”

  So I allowed myself to be made elegant and glamorous again. If Darcy could see this, I thought as I stared at myself in the mirror. Dinner that night was another rich, elaborate affair with wild mushroom soup followed by lake fish, venison and tiramisu, then rounded off with fruit and cheeses. Mummy made a big effort to be bright and witty at her end of the table. Mrs. Simpson was silent, sullen and clearly bored at hers.

  “Camilla, Wallis would like to go shopping tomorrow,” the prince said. “Is there any way we can have a car to take us into Milan?”

  “Of course,” Camilla said. “I’ll come with you, if you like. I know where the best shops are. Is it leather you are looking for?”

  “Leather, gold, anything to cheer me up,” Mrs. Simpson said.

  “The more expensive it is, the more she brightens up,” the prince said.

  I sat quietly, observing and trying to cut my leg of venison without shooting it off the plate, but I noticed two things. One was that the priest had not joined us for dinner tonight, so we were no longer thirteen. That had to be a better omen, didn’t it? And the other was that when the prince made a joke Klinker had smiled. So he did understand English after all. I wondered if he was perhaps the one who had been sent by Herr Hitler to keep an eye on all the other Germans.

  We had coffee and liqueurs in the long gallery, which had warmed up nicely by now. Then Camilla had card tables set up at intervals. The prince and Mrs. Simpson were invited to play with Camilla and Paolo. The general and Klinker got my mother and Max. I hoped they didn’t notice that my mother was known to cheat. That left Rudi, me, Uncle Cosimo, the dowager contessa and the priest, who came to join us. Almost immediately the dowager announced that she considered playing cards to be sinful. She glared at the priest and then of course he had to say that he wouldn’t be playing either. That left three of us. It was suggested that we played three-handed whist, but Uncle Cosimo preferred pinochle. I had no idea how to play that, so I bowed out, leaving him to play against Rudi.

  I sat for a while looking at the fire, feeling sleepy, then when they were all occupied, I slunk out and went up to bed. It had been a long and stressful day. The storm had still not abated. I could hear the rain drumming on my patio and the wind rattled the shutters. For a fleeting instant the room was lit with a lightning flash. There was no way that I could expect Darcy to come to my room tonight. He’d be
drenched and would risk being struck by lightning if he climbed to my balcony. I’d just have to wait until morning to try to meet him.

  I went to the little writing desk, found paper and envelopes and wrote him a note, asking him to meet me as soon as possible as I had something important to tell him. I didn’t dare say what this was, just in case it got into the wrong hands. But I did write Urgent on it. I was just about to get undressed when I sneezed. Golly, I hope today’s soaking was not going to give me a cold, I thought. When I looked around for my handkerchief I realized I had left my evening purse downstairs, where we had had coffee. How annoying. I wondered if I could creep down to retrieve it without anyone noticing me.

  As I opened my door another door nearby closed, just down the hall from me. I froze, standing in my doorway, as someone moved silently along the hallway, keeping to the edge, as if not wanting to be seen. At first I thought it was one of the maids, then she came closer to the lamp at the far end and I saw that it was Camilla. And I realized that she must have just come out of Rudi’s room.

  I gave her enough time, then I followed her downstairs. I was curious to know whether Rudi had been in his room as well, but he was still seated at the card table, engrossed in his game with Paolo’s uncle. What’s more, Camilla was now back at her table, calmly playing bridge. Or at least she seemed to be calm, until Paolo said, “Why did you play the king, Camilla? You know that they must have the ace!” in an exasperated voice.

  “I’m sorry. I must be rather tired tonight,” she said.

  Nobody paid any attention to me as I found my purse and carried it back up the stairs. So she had crept into Rudi’s room when he wasn’t there. Why was that? And how did she get in? I wondered if he had left his door unlocked for her and if she had maybe left him a note telling him what time she might be paying him a visit. When I thought of the stiff and upright Camilla it all seemed rather improbable. But it did let me know that if she had found another key, then maybe I could too.