Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding Read online

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “That woman likes to live on the edge too much,” he said. “I hope she doesn’t come a cropper one day. And I wish she’d go and visit my father again. He’s quite grumpy and clearly missing her, but he won’t say anything, the old fool.”

  “You think he should propose marriage to her?”

  “At least tell her how he feels about her.”

  “He thinks he has nothing to offer her,” I pointed out.

  “Well, he doesn’t, does he? She’s rich and has a huge circle of friends and a London house and he has a drafty old castle in Ireland. Hardly a lure for most women.”

  “Falling in love is not always rational,” I said. “We don’t always choose the most suitable man.”

  “I know. You could have been a princess.”

  “Prince Siegfried, you mean? Don’t remind me. Odious man. Do you know he told me that once I produced an heir he’d never bother me again.”

  “Well, of course I’m going to be the same way,” Darcy said.

  “Careful, I might hold you to that,” I said.

  He laughed and caught my wrists. “Not you. I think you are looking forward to a good roll in the hay as much as I am.”

  He pulled me toward him, his eyes now holding mine. I shook him off. “Not now, Darcy. I must look a wreck.”

  “You look just fine to me,” he said. “But I must admit it’s a trifle too tempting to find you in your nightgown with the top buttons undone. . . .” One hand moved toward my neck. I pushed the hand away. He chuckled, gave me a quick peck on the cheek and left me alone.

  When I had washed and dressed I came downstairs to find that Darcy was standing at the bar in Zou Zou’s drawing room, helping himself to a gin and tonic. Clotilde was hovering in the doorway. “Is zere somsing I can bring for you, my lady?” she asked. She gave me a look that said that she was going to pretend she hadn’t seen a man creeping into my bedroom.

  “Drink?” Darcy asked as I came over to take one of the armchairs around the fireplace.

  “It’s a bit early for me,” I replied. “Oh, and I have to go up and change soon. I’m afraid I’ve agreed to have dinner with my mother at Claridge’s.”

  “Oh, so Mummy is in town, is she?”

  “Yes. We’re going trousseau shopping together.”

  “Her wedding must be coming up.”

  “In two weeks,” I said. “I hope she buys me something suitable to wear as maid of honor. I imagine it will be horribly fashionable.”

  “Judging by the way Germany is going these days, you’ll either have to wear a dirndl or a military uniform,” he said. He looked up, suddenly serious. “It’s getting bad, Georgie, and it’s going to be worse. Your mother should think very seriously about whether she wants to live there.”

  “She likes Max and his money,” I said. “I’m sure she doesn’t think that politics will touch her.”

  “It will touch everybody,” he said. “I don’t believe anyone will be safe if they express an opinion that goes against Hitler and his crooked ideology.”

  “Mummy is a survivor,” I said. “She knows how to charm men. She’ll have Hitler eating out of her hand.”

  “Possibly,” he said. “He is susceptible to beautiful women, especially blondes.”

  “Then it’s lucky she’s made an appointment to have her color touched up,” I said wickedly.

  “Make sure you stay well clear of Hitler and his cronies when you are there,” Darcy said. “You look like their ideal of a true Aryan woman.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m going over for the wedding and then coming straight home again. Besides, I don’t speak German so we won’t get very far in conversation.”

  “And speaking of weddings,” he said. “What still needs to be done for ours? We’ve agreed on a time and place, haven’t we?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “It’s getting complicated. Queen Mary seems to want to invite the crowned heads of Europe and hold it at Westminster Cathedral or the Brompton Oratory. And Fig would have a fit if she had to entertain the crowned heads of Europe afterward.”

  “That’s not what you want, is it?”

  “No, you know it’s not. I want a small wedding with just friends and family. But the queen has indicated she wants to be invited, so that makes it rather more formal whatever we do.”

  “Good God,” he said. “I hadn’t counted on a royal wedding, but then I suppose they are your relatives so I should have expected it. This will take some thinking about. I’m surprised they didn’t insist on Westminster Abbey with a Catholic priest allowed in at the end to give his blessing.”

  “They did, actually.” I laughed. “I had to point out that it wouldn’t be considered a sacrament for you if you weren’t married in a Catholic ceremony.”

  “Well done! You are getting the terminology.”

  I sighed. “I rather wish we had managed to elope when we tried to.”

  “Me too,” he said. “Then we’d be an old happily married couple by now and you’d be bringing me my slippers and pipe and slaving away in the kitchen to cook my favorite meals. . . .”

  I leaned across and slapped him. “It’s not too late to call it off, you know!”

  He grinned. “But we should be doing something about finding a place to live. I know you don’t want to spend the whole year at the castle in Ireland and I don’t blame you. My father is hardly the most cheerful of individuals at the best of times and I’ll be away quite a bit. We need a pied-à-terre in London so that I can come home and see you when I’m passing through.”

  “You make yourself sound like a migratory swallow,” I said. “I hope you plan to do more than pass through my life occasionally.”

  “Of course. But I do need to earn money if I’m to support a wife and family, and I seem to be picking up more and more assignments from certain quarters.”

  He could be so infuriating. He had never actually told me what he did, but from people he associated with and what I had gleaned it was all rather hush-hush. “Darcy,” I said. “When we’re married will you tell me where you are going and what you are doing?”

  “Sometimes,” he said and gave me that oh-so-charming grin. “When I can.”

  “So are you a spy?”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked. “I am a fact gatherer. I find facts for people who want them.” The grin faded. “Now, about this flat in London. I’m afraid it won’t be Belgravia or Mayfair. Not what you are used to.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. “I wouldn’t want anything too big or grand for just the two of us. I’m sure there are plenty of charming little places like that one you stayed at in Chelsea once.”

  “I’ll take a look at some advertisements and arrange to go and see some likely properties with you, shall I?”

  “That would be good,” I said. “I’m really looking forward to a home of my own. It seems as if I’ve been unwanted baggage in someone else’s house for as long as I can remember.”

  He looked concerned. “Oh, I’m sure Zou Zou doesn’t think of you as unwanted baggage. She’s quite happy to have you staying here until the wedding, and me too, when I’m in town.”

  “I know. She’s more than kind, but it’s not the same, is it?”

  “No, it’s not,” he agreed. “Here’s to a home of our own.” He raised his glass to me.

  Chapter 6

  FRIDAY, JUNE 21

  EATON SQUARE

  I’ve been putting off the dreaded moment when I have to meet a priest to give me instruction about marrying a Catholic. I have to make sure he understands I don’t want to convert—just know what I’m letting myself in for.

  But I’m so glad that Darcy is back in London and we’re actually going to be choosing our new home. How exciting!

  At three o’clock I set out, wearing what I hoped was a suitably subdued outfit—a cotton skirt and white blouse with a small black bow at the neck—determined to find a priest to set up instruction. The closest Catholic church was the Brompton Oratory. When I went up the steps and into that vast and grand interior with its marble pillars and loads of statues and side altars I decided instantly that I did not want to walk up this aisle. It felt cold, like a mausoleum. I thought fondly of village churches I had visited—simple affairs with sunlight streaming in through tall leaded panes and vases of flowers on the windowsills. That was where I had always dreamed my wedding would be. . . . I sighed.

  I looked up as I heard feet coming toward me. The priest was tall and thin, with a hollow face and hooked nose, his black robe flapping out around him as he hurried in my direction. He looked like a vulture descending upon me and I almost fled on the spot.

  I was about to speak to him when he called, “Ah, there you are, you naughty girl. So what do you have to say for yourself about missing your catechism class?”

  I froze in horror until I realized he wasn’t speaking to me. He swept past to a young girl who was looking about as terrified as I was. That was enough for me. I’d wait until Darcy could come with me! I tiptoed out again and fled back to Eaton Square.

  As I entered the front hall I nearly tripped over an enormous pile of boxes and was delighted when Zou Zou herself came out of the drawing room. She was looking as glamorous as ever in wide black trousers and a black-and-white-striped jacket. Her dark hair was today in an impeccable chignon, even though she must have recently been flying her little aeroplane.

  “Let’s take these boxes to the spare bedroom, Clotilde,” she called out, then noticed me. “Georgie, my dear one, how are you? I can’t wait to show you what I’ve brought you back from Paris. Come, let us help Clotilde with these.” She picked up a ridiculously small box and went up the stairs. I followed carrying as many as I could without dropping them. For all I knew they contained Lalique crystal! Zou Zou placed her box on the dressing table in the bedroom. “Just put those on the bed, darling. They are all clothes,” she said. “I’ve been so naughty, but how can one resist when they make such lovely, lovely things in Paris. You should have seen me trying to take off with my little plane stuffed with all of this!” She laughed merrily.

  Clotilde arrived, her arms piled with the remainder of the boxes. “Where shall I put, Your ’ighness?” she asked.

  “Oh, just anywhere for now. I want to show Lady Georgiana what I have bought,” Zou Zou said. She started untying the ribbons on one cardboard box after another. “Is this the one? Oh no, that’s the new black evening dress.” She held it up for me. “I had to buy it because I heard that Mrs. Simpson bought one just like it and it does so enrage her if anyone wears the same dress as her.”

  I laughed. “Zou Zou, you are naughty.”

  “I know, but isn’t it fun? And somebody should annoy her. She spends enough time annoying everyone else.”

  She was untying more packages as she spoke. “Oh yes. Look at this, Georgie. I saw it and immediately thought of you.” She held up the most gorgeous royal blue silk pajamas with a halter top. I had admired such items so much on other women. I assumed she had bought it for herself until she said, “Go on, try it on. It’s about time you stopped looking like an innocent schoolgirl.” She frowned as she observed what I was wearing. “Particularly right now. Why on earth do you look as if you are training to be a nun?”

  “Because I’ve just come from church,” I said. “I’m supposed to go for instruction before they’ll let me marry Darcy.” I looked up at her. “But I saw a terrifying priest and lost my nerve.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “The Oratory.”

  “Well,” she said, as if indicating what could I expect if I went there? She patted my cheek. “Don’t worry, my sweet. I know a dear little Polish priest who adores me and will do anything for me. I’ll arrange for him to come to the house.”

  “Really? You are an angel,” I said.

  “Anything for you and my darling Darcy,” she said. “How is the dear boy?”

  “Well. Out looking for a flat for us at this moment.”

  “Exciting,” she said, “although I shall miss having two lively young people about the house.”

  “You make it sound as if you are ancient,” I said.

  “Sometimes I feel ancient,” she said, brushing back an imaginery strand of black hair with a dramatic gesture worthy of my mother. “Come on. Don’t keep me in suspense any longer. Try it on.”

  I was still a little hesitant to take off my clothes in front of another woman, especially one like Zou Zou, who probably had Parisian underwear on. I unbuttoned the blouse and stepped out of the skirt and petticoat. I was right. She took one look at my brassiere. “Darling, it’s a wonder you’ve managed to lure any man with underwear like that. Or does Darcy rip it off so quickly that he doesn’t notice?”

  “I’m in dire financial straits, Zou Zou. I’ve had no allowance since I came out. Occasionally Mummy treats me to something, but . . .”

  “Then you must let me completely kit you out for your future life,” she said as she helped me step into the pajamas and hooked up the halter behind my neck.

  “Zou Zou, I couldn’t possibly let you . . .” I stammered. “I can’t even accept this gorgeous creation. It far too sophisticated and haute couture for me.”

  “Silly girl.” She gave my bottom a playful slap. “I love spoiling people. Take a look at yourself.”

  She spun me around to face the mirror in the wardrobe.

  “Golly,” I muttered. I looked quite different—svelte and, dare I say it, sexy.

  “I knew it would be perfect,” she said, beaming at me. “And wait until you see what else.” She was rummaging among the other packages. “Ah.” She held up the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen. It was a long evening gown, ice blue, and it shimmered. “I decided we really needed to update your evening attire. That burgundy velvet has seen many better days.”

  She unhooked my pajamas, almost as fast as an impatient lover, and then slipped the ice blue creation over my head. I think I gasped. It draped perfectly, giving me just enough curves, but the overall effect was long and lithe.

  “Oh good show,” she said, clapping her hands. “I told Elsa that it would be right for you.”

  “Elsa?” I asked.

  “Elsa Schiaparelli.”

  “Schiaparelli?” I squeaked. “This came from Schiaparelli?”

  “Where else, darling?”

  I turned to her. “Zou Zou, I don’t know what to say. What a lovely, lovely wedding present.”

  “I’ll have to have a special party before the nuptials so that you can dazzle everyone.” She took my hand. “After all, we will be almost family.”

  “Darcy’s father hasn’t proposed or anything, has he?”

  “Of course not. Stupid man,” she said. “I may have to drag him to the altar one day.”

  “Do you really want to marry him?”

  “Well, I do adore him,” she said. “And I love popping over to Ireland to see him and my racehorses, but I have to confess I like my freedom too. And this house. So it may just drag on as living in sin. But let’s leave that for now. This is all about you. And my first task must be to find Father Dominik and bring him here.” She walked to the door. “I’ll call Clotilde to help you out of that dress and I’m off to hunt him down.”

  Zou Zou must have been partly magic because within an hour she had returned with a fat and panting little priest whom she had clearly made run all the way to Eaton Square. She had to sit him down with a glass of lemonade before he could even talk. Then he turned to me. “Her Highness, she says you wish to marry a Catholic boy,” he said in heavily accented English. “You need the blessing of a priest. Is that right?”

  “I’m supposed to have instruction,” I said.

  “You belong to the Church of England?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You go to church?”

  “Sometimes.” I couldn’t lie to him.

  “You are confirmed?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, Church of England.” He gave a wonderfully expressive gesture. “That’s close enough. Only difference—no pope. So I see no problem. You know about Father, Son and Holy Ghost? And you let your husband teach children to be good Catholics, no?”

  “Oh yes,” I said.

  He spread his hands. “Well, good. That’s all we need. I give my blessing.” He stood up, giving the sign of the cross over me. “May your marriage be long and fruitful,” he said. He turned to Zou Zou and said something in Polish. She laughed and escorted him to the door. When she returned she was still smiling.

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  “He said he hopes to be repaid with a good dinner at my house!” She came over and put a hand on my shoulder. “You see, my darling, it is all very simple if you know the right people.”

  “Zou Zou, you are a miracle worker,” I said.

  She smiled modestly. “I do my little best.”

  Chapter 7

  SATURDAY, JUNE 22

  EATON SQUARE AND VARIOUS AWFUL FLATS

  I feel so much better now that the Catholic instruction business is all taken care of. Zou Zou is a marvel. And now I’m about to go and see flats with Darcy. So exciting. I can’t wait for a home of our own.

  “Well, I think I might have found something at last,” Darcy said. “It wasn’t easy. I had no idea how expensive London is these days. But I’ve a list of a few possibilities. Are you ready?”

  “Of course I’m ready,” I said. “And it doesn’t have to be too posh, you know. I love my grandfather’s dear little house and it’s on a very ordinary street.”

  He took my hand. “Let’s go, then. The first one is in Bayswater.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” I said. “Close to Hyde Park. I wonder if we’ll be able to see the park from our windows.”