On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service Page 28

  “It’s perfect,” I said. “A perfect little person.”

  “Boy or girl?”

  I hadn’t thought to look until now. I looked. “A boy. You have a little boy.”

  She looked crestfallen. “A boy? No. What can I do with a boy? I could handle a little girl. Look after her. But not a boy. I simply couldn’t raise a son.”

  “Then you’d better take him back to the nuns, I suppose,” I said.

  “If only you and Darcy were married, you could raise him for me,” she said.

  “But we’re not, Belinda, and thinking about this logically now, I’m not sure that starting married life with someone else’s child is the best idea. If we couldn’t have children, it would be a different matter . . .” I broke off, wondering why I had been so dense until now.

  “What?” she asked, seeing my face.

  “I think I might have a solution that would suit everybody,” I said.

  “What kind of solution?”

  “I can’t tell you now, but if it works, it would be good.”

  Chapter 32

  WEDNESDAY, APRIL 24

  AT BELINDA’S LITTLE HOUSE IN SAN FIDELE

  I broke off at the sound of shrill voices and several women crowded into the room. I backed away, as they obviously knew what to do. In no time at all Belinda and the baby were cleaned up and he was settled down happily in her arms.

  “Look at me,” she said. “Did you ever think I’d look maternal?”

  “Wonders will never cease,” I said.

  Darcy took me aside. “You won’t want to leave her, will you?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t, now. I hope you understand.”

  He took my hands. “I should be getting back to London anyway,” he said. “Let me know when you’re coming back.”

  I nodded, feeling tears stinging at the backs of my eyes at the thought that he was going and I didn’t know when I’d see him again. “I never know where to write to you,” I said.

  “There’s always Princess Zou Zou’s house,” he said, smiling down at me in a way that melted my heart. “And I’m sure she’d be delighted for you to stay there. She must have finished her round-the-world race by now.”

  “Yes, I hope so,” I said. “I wish you didn’t have to go. I wish I could come with you, but I can’t.”

  He took me in his arms and kissed me. I felt the longing in that kiss. Not long now, I thought, and we’d finally be married and all this separation would be over. But then I reminded myself that he’d still be going away, never telling me where and for how long. It was something I’d have to live with, I supposed.

  I watched him walk up the lane, then I went back in to Belinda. “I’ll be gone for a little while,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ll hurry back.”

  Then I set off down the hill.

  Camilla was surprised when I found her writing a letter in the long gallery.

  “Georgie, you’re back. Did you forget something?”

  “No. I came back because I needed to talk to you. Can we take a walk where we won’t be overheard?”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied cautiously. “Is this something about Rudi and the letter?”

  “No, something quite different. Much nicer.”

  We went out to the gardens and walked in silence for a while. Then I told her the real reason I had come to Stresa. “My friend is of a good family,” I said, “and of course she can’t keep the baby. It just seemed—well, it’s a little boy. And I thought of what you had told me. And I wondered . . . Paolo would have a son to carry on the title.”

  “I don’t know what to say, what to think,” she said. “I’m stunned.”

  “You’d have a chance to rear a child from day one,” I said. “Just like your own baby.”

  I saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “It does sound wonderful,” she said. “I’m not sure that Paolo would agree to it. He is from an old and proud family.”

  “You can only ask,” I said.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I can only ask.”

  We turned and walked back in silence, past the little octagonal pavilion, past the swimming pool. As we approached the house she turned to me. “This friend of yours—it’s Belinda, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I said, not being able to lie on such a solemn occasion.

  “It’s—it’s not Paolo’s child, is it?” Her voice wavered.

  “You knew about Belinda and Paolo?”

  “Oh yes. He told me how fond he was of her. I knew he’d have married her if she’d been a Catholic, and had a less damaged reputation.”

  “No, it’s not his child. That was over a long time ago.”

  “I see. And the child’s father?”

  “An American. A cad. Promised her the moon and left her in the lurch.”

  “Poor Belinda,” she said. “I always thought she’d come to a bad end. She took risks, didn’t she?”

  “Always,” I agreed.

  “I remember catching her climbing out of the dorm window.” She smiled.

  “That was one of the lesser risks she has taken,” I said. “But she didn’t deserve this. She was sure he planned to marry her.”

  “Could I come and see the baby?” she asked.

  “Not today. She’s just given birth and I’m sure she’s exhausted. Also she won’t want to see anyone when she’s not looking her best.”

  “I understand. And I’ll have to talk it through with Paolo first. He may not want to. Men are funny about adopting. But she’s nearby, is she?”

  “She’s in San Fidele, just up the hill.”

  “How amazing. And we never bumped into each other.”

  I didn’t say that Belinda had taken good care that they never met. I went back to her and found her and the baby asleep. A few days later Camilla came to visit. I had prepared Belinda in advance, but even so the meeting was an awkward one. Camilla took the baby and held him, gazing down at him with wonder. “So tiny,” she said. “And so perfect.”

  And so it was arranged. Camilla and Paolo came to see the baby and instantly fell in love with it. At least Camilla did and Paolo didn’t seem to object. The baby and a nurse went down to Villa Fiori. I stayed with Belinda for a few days, looking after her until she had regained her strength and until Francesca returned. Belinda had decided to stay on for a while in the little house. So that she could get some dress designing done in peace, was how she put it. I suspected it might be that she didn’t feel ready to come back to society in England yet, but also so that she could visit her child. I didn’t think this was the wisest thing. Would she be brave enough to face Paolo just to catch a glimpse of her baby? And if she saw him growing and looking adorable wouldn’t the yearning to keep him become stronger? I didn’t express these thoughts; instead I said, “You must come back to England soon, Belinda. I’ll want you to help me get ready for my wedding. You must design my wedding dress, you realize.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I’ll come back soon.”

  On the night before I was due to return to England we sat out on her terrace, watching the lights across the lake.

  “I did the right thing for him, didn’t I?” she said.

  “Of course you did. He’ll be raised in a noble family with adoring parents. You couldn’t have planned a better future for him.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, of course. Actually I’m glad it was a boy, Georgie. If it had been a girl, I would have been tempted to keep her and that would have made my life so complicated.”

  “It’s all for the best, Belinda. Of course you are going to feel some regret at this stage. After all, you carried him around for nine months. But now you are free to get on with your life.”

  There was a long pause and then she said, “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I was really in love with Paolo and now he has my baby and I come away
with nothing.”

  “You come away with a bright future,” I said. “Your grandmother has left you enough money to launch your dress designs, or to travel, or to do what you want to.”

  “I wonder if I’ll ever find happiness, the way you and Darcy have,” she said in a wistful voice.

  “Of course you will. Just be a little more careful in future.”

  She looked at me and laughed. “That respected aphorism: If you can’t be good, be careful; and if you can’t be careful, keep your knees together. Right?”

  “Absolutely.” I laughed with her.

  • • •

  THE TRIP BACK to England, on the first of May, went smoothly. I arrived at Victoria Station to blustery rain. Now I really know I’m home, I thought. I telephoned Princess Zou Zou’s residence and found that she had returned, Darcy had already been to see her and she was dying to see me. So I had a place to stay in London until I decided what to do next.

  • • •

  ZOU ZOU GAVE me a lovely warm welcome and had a pretty little room on the top floor all ready for me. “Far enough away from the rest of the house in case Darcy comes to visit,” she said with a knowing wink.

  The next day I paid a courtesy call on Queen Mary. The Mall and Buckingham Palace were being decked out for the Royal Jubilee and flags fluttered around me in a stiff breeze.

  “I hear that your stay in Stresa did not go exactly as planned,” the queen said as I took a seat beside her.

  I wondered for an awful moment whether she had heard about Belinda, but she went on, “A German spy was murdered at the very house in which you were staying, so I’m told. How very disagreeable for you.”

  “It was, ma’am. But I’m happy to report that a certain American lady is still officially married to her latest husband.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it,” she said.

  “Although she is in the process of filing divorce papers.”

  She sighed. “Of course she is. But I wonder what made my son attend that particular gathering, then. They didn’t sound like his kind of partygoing crowd.”

  “I got the impression he wished he hadn’t accepted the invitation,” I said. I had debated with myself whether I should say anything at all about the meeting I had overheard. I could hardly say, “Your son appears to be very pro-German, which might be a problem one day.” Because Queen Mary, the king and myself all came from a German background. Finally I had decided against it. The British government knew what had taken place. That would have to suffice.

  I had more important things to think about. I was just debating how to broach the subject when she said, “Oh, and about your proposed wedding . . .”

  “Yes, ma’am?” I asked.

  “I understand that Parliament will see no problem with accepting your withdrawal from the line of succession. We can start to plan a summer wedding for you.”

  “Thank you so much. That is good news.” If it had been anybody other than Queen Mary, I would have hugged her. But one does not hug a queen.

  Historical Note

  There is no historical evidence that the meeting in this book ever happened. But the international conference between Italy, England and France to discuss ways to combat the Nazi threat really did take place in Stresa in 1935. When I read that, I thought it was strange as Mussolini was a big fan of Hitler and a fellow Fascist. So immediately I thought, I bet there were other meetings going on behind the scenes. And I knew that the Prince of Wales was also impressed by Hitler, so I thought, “Why not?”

  About the Author

  Rhys Bowen, a New York Times bestselling author, has been nominated for every major award in mystery writing, including the Edgar®, and has won many, including both the Agatha and Anthony awards. She is also the author of the Molly Murphy Mysteries, set in turn-of-the-century New York, and the Constable Evans Mysteries, set in Wales. She was born in England and now divides her time between Northern California and Arizona. Visit her online at rhysbowen.com, facebook.com/RhysBowenAuthor and twitter.com/RhysBowen.

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