On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service Page 5

  Chapter 5

  THURSDAY, APRIL 11

  So it seems I shall be spying for the queen again. Crikey! How do I get myself into these things? The problem is that one just can’t say no—at least I can’t seem to say no.

  I was deep in thought as I walked back to Rannoch House. The rain had eased up and I was too frugal to pay for a second cab fare. The queen had seemed genuinely worried about me as I took my leave of her.

  “Could you not hire a maid for your trip?” she asked. “I hear there are agencies for such things these days. I do worry about your traveling alone, Georgiana. In my youth a young girl never went out without her chaperon. Do you have nobody in your circle of acquaintance who would want to accompany you?”

  “Please don’t concern yourself, ma’am,” I said. “I shall be vigilant and really I should be quite safe in a first-class compartment to Italy.”

  But walking back I started to worry. I had traveled across the Continent before, but each time I had been accompanied. When I went to school in Switzerland one of the mistresses had escorted us from Victoria Station. When I went to Nice I had my maid with me and made friends with Madame Chanel and Vera Bate Lombardi on the train. And when I had to go to Romania for the royal wedding, the queen herself had provided a chaperon—the formidable Lady Middlesex. I wondered if she might take it upon herself to provide one again this time. All the more reason to make my journey as rapidly as possible.

  And then I had a brilliant idea. My grandfather had been in poor health recently, his lungs suffering with the London smogs. I could take him with me. A few weeks on an Italian lake would be a marvelous tonic for him, and he could keep an eye on me on the journey. As quickly as this idea popped into my head I began to see the complications. My grandfather was a retired Cockney policeman. Could he share my first-class compartment? Would he want to? And when I arrived at Belinda’s villa, would there be somewhere for him to stay? She had described it as small, after all. Then I brushed these doubts aside. It should be no trouble to find him a room in the village nearby. He’d be fed good food by one of Francesca’s relatives and he’d be breathing good mountain air. And he would be near me, which was always a treat. I found myself smiling as I let myself into Rannoch House.

  Fig’s head poked out of the drawing room door as I was taking off my mack. I hadn’t quite realized how much it was still raining and my reflection in the hall mirror was rather that of an orphan in the storm.

  “Goodness, Georgiana, must you always arrive looking like a drowned rat?” she demanded. “I do hope you were looking slightly more civilized when you met the queen.”

  “Oh yes. I took a taxicab there,” I said. “But the rain seemed to have eased up when I left the palace so I decided to walk.”

  “You’d better come in and warm up by the fire,” she said. “We can’t have you going down with pneumonia.”

  I thought this was rather touching for Fig until she added, “You’d upset our plans if we had to stay here longer, taking care of you. It’s bad enough having Binky with a cold. I just hope that doesn’t go to his chest.”

  I nodded. “His cough sounded nasty this morning. I don’t think you should attempt to travel back to Scotland until he is fully healed.”

  “Ah, but you forget we have had central heating installed at the castle now. What a treat it will be not to freeze all the time.”

  “You’ll still have to keep the windows open, remember,” I said to her. “Family tradition and all that.”

  This time I did allow myself to grin as I went ahead of her into the drawing room and took a seat in one of the armchairs beside the fire. The remains of tea were still on the low table. It crossed my mind that such sloppiness would never be allowed when Hamilton was in charge.

  “So what exactly did the queen want of you?” Fig asked as she took the other armchair. She had probably been dying to find out since I came home.

  “Mainly to discuss my marriage.”

  “Have you actually been given permission to marry? That Darcy person is still a Catholic, isn’t he? And Binky assured me that you are not allowed to marry a Catholic.”

  “I’m going to renounce my claim in the line of succession and never be queen,” I said, smiling at her. “That’s all it takes.”

  “Ah,” she said. “So when will this wedding take place, do we know?”

  “This summer, I hope. Darcy is away at the moment so we’re not able to make any decisions.”

  “And does one take it that you’ll want to be married from Castle Rannoch?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Good Lord, no. Too far from anywhere. Although I do hope Binky will allow me to be married from this house, and you’ll come down for the wedding.”

  “We’ll have to see about that.” She was clearly trying to come up with a reason why this would not be possible, so I added, “My dear friend the Princess Zamanska has already offered to arrange things at her place on Eaton Square, but I think it’s only right that one marry from the family home, don’t you?”

  “Oh yes. Of course.”

  There was another silence. Fig stared into the fire, which now needed coal added to it. Clearly she was right when she said the servants were not up to snuff.

  “Should I ring for someone to put coal on the fire?” I asked.

  She sighed. “I presume one could learn to do it oneself.” And she grabbed the tongs, lifted a piece of coal from the scuttle and placed it on the fire. “Really not so hard,” she said. I didn’t think it was likely to keep the fire going for long.

  “So you’ll be off soon, then?” she asked.

  “Yes. I’ll arrange for my ticket to Italy and be off in a few days,” I said.

  “Staying with a sick friend, you said?”

  “Yes. Oh, and the queen wanted me to run a little errand for her while I’m there.”

  “Really, what kind of errand?”

  “Oh, just something she wanted me to check up on when I’m in Italy.”

  Fig was glaring at me now. “Why is it she asks you of all people to perform little tasks for her? Why not someone else? Why not Binky?”

  I could hardly say that my brother was sweet but clueless. Diplomacy won out. “I expect it’s because I’m rather footloose at the moment and have nobody depending on me,” I said.

  This pleased her. “Ah yes. Of course. She wants to make sure you’re given some sort of useful employment rather than mooning around in other people’s houses.”

  While she was feeling pleased with herself I thought I might ask, “I don’t suppose you have a maid to spare, do you? The queen was quite upset that I’d be traveling without a maid.”

  “A maid to spare?” she demanded, her voice now shrill. “My dear girl, have you seen the dire straits in which we are now living? I have had to put coal on a fire by myself!”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Silly of me. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  “There are domestic agencies,” Fig said. “I’m sure they’d have a girl on the books who would love the chance to travel to Italy.”

  “Rather out of my budget, I’m afraid,” I said.

  “I don’t know how you will staff a household when you marry. I gather the O’Mara fellow is as penniless as you are.”

  “We have the castle in Ireland where we are welcome,” I said. “I expect we’ll make do with a little flat in London.”

  “A little flat?” She looked horrified.

  “Or, failing that, go to live with my grandfather,” I said, knowing that always got a rise out of her.

  “Your grandfather? The ex-policeman in Essex?”

  “He’s the only living grandfather I have, and he has told me I’d always be welcome with him.”

  “But Georgiana . . .” She was spluttering now. “A member of the royal family, living in Essex of all places. Think of the scandal. Think of the sh
ame.”

  “But I won’t be a member of the royal family when I marry,” I said. “I’ll be like any other Essex housewife. You can come and visit and I’ll serve fish and chips from the corner shop.” I looked at her face and added, in case she was about to have a stroke, “I am just joking, Fig. Just joking.”

  I did, however, think it wise not to add that I was planning to take him as my valet to Italy.

  • • •

  THE NEXT MORNING I went out after breakfast and caught the District Line out to Essex and my grandfather’s neat little semidetached house in Hornchurch. The weather had brightened up, spring was in the air and I felt quite cheerful and hopeful as I walked up the hill from Upminster Bridge Station. It was always like a tonic to see my grandfather. If I ever had a proper home of my own I would invite him to live with us, I thought. I pictured him playing with my children—all remarkably good-looking with dark curly hair, naturally.

  I already had a big smile on my face as I rang the doorbell. The smile vanished as it was opened by his neighbor, Mrs. Huggins. She was wearing a flowery pinny over a bright green jumper and her hair was tied up in a scarf with curlers poking out from it. Hardly the most welcoming sight. I took an involuntary step back.

  “Oh, hello, Mrs. Huggins,” I said. “Is my grandfather all right?”

  “Right as rain, ducks,” she said, giving me a broad grin. “Come on in and take a load off your feet. You’ll cheer the old geezer up no end. Talks about you all the time, he does. Ever so proud.”

  As I stepped into the tiny front hall she yelled, “Albert! Get down ’ere and take a butcher’s hook at what the wind just blew in.”

  I heard footsteps across the landing and my grandfather came down the stairs, cautiously, one step at a time. He was wearing his dressing gown and slippers, but his face lit up when he saw me.

  “Lord love a duck,” he said. “What a sight for sore eyes, eh, Hettie? We was just talking about you and wondering if you was still at that castle in Ireland. What an adventure, eh? We read all about it in the papers. Make us a cup of tea, Hettie, love, and we’ll go through to the parlor.”

  The parlor was something new. Usually when I visited him we sat in his tiny kitchen and chatted. But today a fire was burning in the front room and it looked as if it had been newly polished and spruced up.

  “So how are you?” I asked. “I see you’re still in your nightclothes. I hope you haven’t been ill again.”

  “Just a spot of the usual,” he said. “Chest ain’t too good, you know. But can’t complain. I’ll be seventy-five next birthday. Already passed my allotted threescore years and ten.”

  “Don’t say that,” I said. “You have to be around for a long time, to play with my children.”

  He gave a sort of tired smile. “We’ll have to see about that, ducks. Ain’t for me to decide, is it?”

  “Let’s not talk like that, Granddad. Anyway I’m here because I’ve come up with a super idea for you. How would you like to go to Italy? I’m going there in a few days and I think the Italian sunshine would do you a world of good. I could pay your fare and we’d be staying in a village on a lake. Good food and mountain air. What do you say?”

  He was not looking as enthusiastic as I thought he would. “Dear, oh, deary me,” he said. “I can’t say I’m not tempted. Especially spending time with you, but . . .”

  “Then let yourself be tempted. Come with me,” I said. “I’m not traveling with my maid and I’d love a strong male to keep an eye on me.”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” he said. He was looking distinctly uncomfortable now. “You see, I’m sort of busy in the coming weeks. Got a lot on my plate, so to speak.”

  “Busy doing what?” I demanded, not pleased at being given the brush-off.

  “Getting myself hitched,” he blurted out.

  “What?” I really didn’t think I’d heard right.

  He nodded. “That’s right, ducks. Me and Mrs. Huggins. We’re going to tie the knot.”

  “Granddad, no,” I exclaimed. “You can’t mean it.”

  He glanced toward the door and I realized I’d forgotten that she was in the house, probably listening in at this moment.

  He lowered his voice. “It seemed like the easiest thing,” he said. “I mean, she’s over here a lot of the time, taking care of me when my old chest plays up. She’s always making me food. And now her landlord wants to raise her rent so I thought, ‘Why not? What’s the harm in it?’”

  What could I say—that I thought Mrs. Huggins was an awful old woman and I certainly didn’t want a stepgrandmother who opened the door wearing curlers in her hair? It sounded so petty.

  “Well, if you’re sure that’s what you want,” I said. “If you really think she’ll make you happy . . . ?”

  He gave me a sheepish smile. “I have to confess it gets a bit lonely sometimes, after your grandma died. Just me and the wireless in the evenings. I could do with a bit of company. A friendly face. Someone to share a late-night cuppa with. And since she’s a good woman and wouldn’t think of moving in with me without doing it proper with a license and all, then I suppose marriage is what it has to be.”

  We both looked up as Mrs. Huggins came in, carrying a tray. She had rather a smug look on her face. “I suppose he’s told you, then?”

  “He has. I should congratulate you both. I hope you’ll both be very happy.” I was proud of myself for my restraint and good acting.

  Mrs. Huggins nodded. “I hope you’ll be able to come to the wedding, your ladyship,” she said. “Add a touch of class, having you there.”

  “Of course I’ll be there,” I said. “It’s not right away, is it? Only I’ll be in Italy for the next few weeks.”

  “No, not right away, my love,” Granddad said. “We thought we’d wait until June. More chance of good weather and we can have the reception in the back garden.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “I’ll be back by then. And planning my own wedding, I hope. And you’d jolly well better come to that.”

  “You getting married too, fancy that.” Mrs. Huggins put down the tray on the low table. “Where will it be held? Westminster Abbey, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  “Not the abbey, I’m afraid,” I said. “Because my husband-to-be is a Catholic. So it will have to be in a Catholic church.”

  “Marrying one of them Catholics?” Mrs. Huggins looked at my grandfather, shaking her head. “What do the king and queen think about that?”

  “They are both grateful to my fiancé for saving their lives once,” I said, determined not to share any of the complications of my upcoming nuptials.

  “He’s a good lad, your Darcy.” Granddad was beaming at me. “Take good care of you, he will.”

  “Just like you’ll take care of me, Albert.” Mrs. Huggins laid her hand over his.

  “That’s right, love. Now how about pouring that cup of tea?”

  Frankly I couldn’t wait to drink my tea and be gone. I certainly didn’t object to my grandfather marrying again. Actually I’d never met my grandmother. She must have died when I was in my teens, but in those days my mother’s side of the family was kept well away from Castle Rannoch. But Mrs. Huggins did not fit my image of the warm grandmother and certainly not what I wanted for my grandfather. She was uncouth, crude and, I suspected, grasping. How could she possibly make him happy?

  I stood up when I’d finished my cup of tea that was both too sweet and too strong. “I really have to be getting back to town,” I said. “I have a lot to do before I go to Italy.”

  “Italy? Fancy that,” Mrs. Huggins said, nodding to Granddad. “It’s amazing how the upper classes get around, isn’t it? She talks about it as easily as if she was going to Southend.” And she gave a cackling laugh.

  “She wanted me to go with her,” Granddad said. “Thought it might be good for my chest.”

&
nbsp; Mrs. Huggins was still laughing. “You? In Italy with the toffs? Don’t you go getting any ideas above your station, Albert Spinks. You’re staying put, right here beside me.”

  As they both walked me to the door she asked, “Will you be taking that great-niece of mine with you?”

  Oh golly, I’d forgotten for the moment that Queenie was related to her.

  “No, actually she’s staying with Darcy’s relatives in Ireland. She’s learning to be a cook.”

  “Well, blow me down,” Mrs. Huggins said. “Learning to be a cook. Hear that, Albert? And she ain’t burned down the kitchen yet?” She cackled again.

  “No, actually she’s proving to be quite good at it,” I said.

  “Wonders will never cease,” Mrs. Huggins said. “So you’ve got yourself a new maid now, have you?”

  “I have an Irish girl when I’m at the castle, but I’ll be traveling alone,” I replied.

  “You want to get yourself one of them French maids,” she said. “That’s what the other toffs have, isn’t it? Although maybe she wouldn’t want to let Darcy loose in a house with a French maid, eh, Albert? Know what they say about them French? Hot-blooded, eh?” And she gave him a dig in the ribs.

  Granddad was looking at me. “You go inside, Hettie. I’ll walk her down to the corner,” he said.

  “Make sure you’re back for the wedding,” Mrs. Huggins said. “We’ll have a good old blowout on the back lawn.”

  As soon as we were suitably away from the house Granddad took my arm. “You’re not too happy about this, are you?”

  “It’s not what I want,” I replied. “If you think she’ll make you happy then I will try to be happy for you.”

  “I don’t know, it seemed like a good idea,” he said. “And when I heard they wanted to raise her rent or throw her out she was in such a state that I thought this might solve things all around.”

  “But you don’t love her?”

  He chuckled. “At my age love don’t come into it, ducks. She’s a decent old stick and she’s a good cook. I don’t think I can ask for much more.”