Heirs and Graces (A Royal Spyness Mystery) Read online

  “Here we are. Here’s Miss Sissy and a visitor for you,” Nanny said, parking the bath chair beside the table and then picking up the teapot. “Help yourself, my lady. And you others, go easy. I expect sandwiches to be eaten before you attack that cake.”

  “Oh, but, Nanny, it does look awfully good,” Katherine said. “I don’t know if we can bear to wait that long.”

  “You need to learn patience, young lady,” Nanny said. “Now, you make a good impression on our guest, or they’ll hear about it downstairs.”

  “You wouldn’t tell, would you, my lady?” Nick asked.

  “Only if you were about to blow up the house,” I said, smiling. “And you can call me Georgie.”

  “Whizzo,” Nick said, and started attacking the sandwiches as only an eleven-year-old boy can.

  “So where is your tutor?” I asked.

  “We’re done with lessons for the day. He’s always glad to make a quick getaway.” Nick grinned. “Back in his own room—recovering from a morning of us, I expect.”

  “Actually, they were jolly good lessons today,” Kat said. “We were doing wizard science experiments. He let us use the Bunsen burners, and he showed how you could start a reaction with potassium.”

  “And we made volcanoes yesterday,” Nick said, “Only we can’t let him see that we’re enjoying things. He has to think that we’re beyond hope and that we should be sent off to school.”

  “You want to go to school?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Katherine said. “It’s deadly dull here with no friends and only boring old Nick.”

  “I am not boring. I’m more interesting than you!” Nick said angrily.

  “I find you both boring and I’m stuck with you,” Sissy said. “At least you’ll be able to get out one day.”

  “Maybe you will too,” Katherine said kindly. “Maybe you’ll go to that doctor.”

  “Maybe.” Sissy stared out of the window.

  I actually had a jolly time with them and promised I’d visit again.

  “I know how hard it can be, stuck up in a nursery,” I said. “I went through the same thing when I was a child. At least you have each other.”

  “And we find ways to sneak around,” Katherine said with a wicked grin. “You’d be amazed at some of the things we overhear that aren’t meant for our delicate little ears.”

  “Shut up, Kat,” Nick said, giving her a dig in the ribs.

  I went downstairs and came out into the Long Gallery at the same time as Huxstep.

  “Ah, there you are,” the dowager duchess said. I thought she was addressing me and sounded cross, but then she went on, “I saw some kind of altercation going on, Huxstep. You were outside with someone who was gesticulating a lot. What on earth was that about?”

  “It was William, Your Grace. You remember the footman whom the duke recently dismissed.”

  “And what did he want? His job back?”

  “He wanted to speak to you, apparently, Your Grace,” he said. “He had just found out that his parents’ cottage is to be razed to the ground to make way for the new amphitheater. They have lived there all their lives, Your Grace. William was most distressed.”

  “My son intends to destroy that row of cottages?” she asked incredulously. “That is an outrage, Huxstep. Those cottages have been part of this estate since the sixteenth century. And where does my son intend to put the tenants who currently live in them?”

  “Nowhere, Your Grace. He told them, apparently, that they had been living on the grace and favor of this family for too long and this was now the twentieth century and such customs were outmoded.”

  In the manner of the true aristocrat, her face remained composed. “We shall see about this,” she said coldly.

  Chapter 9

  KINGSDOWNE

  I wasn’t exactly looking forward to dinner that night, fearing a gigantic family row. I was even more reluctant to go down once I started to dress.

  “I’ve laid out your best frock, my lady,” Queenie said demurely.

  “Thank you, Queenie.” I looked at the gown, wrap, gloves and stockings all laid out neatly on my bed. This was obviously the new and improved Queenie. Kingsdowne was already rubbing off on her.

  “And where are my shoes?” I asked innocently.

  “’Ere’s one of ’em,” she said, handing me a slim, satin slipper.

  “And the other?” I asked with growing unease.

  “Ah, well. You know how you wanted all your stuff out again at the last minute to go gallivanting on the town with Miss Belinda? And then you made me pack it again next morning?”

  “Yes. . . .” The dread was clutching at my throat.

  “One of the shoes must have rolled under the bed and I didn’t see it.”

  I stared at her in open-mouthed horror. “You mean I only have one evening shoe?”

  “’Fraid so.”

  “Queenie, you idiot. What am I going to do?”

  “It’s a long frock. Nobody will notice.”

  “They’ll notice if I walk with one high-heeled shoe on and one off,” I said. “I have no other high-heeled shoes suitable for evening. I’m doomed.”

  “You could wear your bedroom slippers, I suppose.”

  “They are fluffy. They have feathers around them.”

  “Better than nothing,” she said. “Or I could sneak in to someone else’s room and nick a pair of shoes for you.”

  “You will do nothing of the kind,” I said. “I’ll have to wear my black town shoes and just pray that nobody looks down. And I’ll write to Mrs. Tombs in the morning to have the other shoe sent on. Knowing her, she has probably thrown it out with the rubbish.”

  “Sorry, miss,” she said. “But I did have it all packed up lovely when you wanted it opened up again.”

  I sighed.

  I timed my arrival in the anteroom for sherry so that I came in with Princess Charlotte and her misnamed sister, Virginia. Safety in numbers. I tried to bend my knees a little so that the gown hung over my shoes. But a glimpse of myself in the long, gilt mirror showed that I looked extremely strange, like a walking duck. The sisters did not appear to notice anything wrong with me and led me over to the sherry decanter. I swigged down a couple of glasses to boost my courage.

  “Irene will not be joining us,” the dowager duchess said, coming over to take a glass of sherry that the footman had just poured. “Another of her migraines, I fear. That poor girl does suffer so.”

  “It seems to me that her migraines are most convenient,” Virginia said almost to herself, but Edwina heard her.

  “What a cruel thing to say, Virginia. Just because you have been blessed with the constitution of an ox, you could at least have a little sympathy for those of a more delicate nature.”

  “A healthy amount of sex. That’s what the girl needs,” Virginia said, knocking back another glass of sherry in one gulp. “So she’s lost one man. So what? Plenty more fish in the sea. Did I weep and wail when my husband found himself a Viennese ballet dancer? Of course not. I simply moved on to bigger and better things. And I do mean bigger and better.”

  “Virginia. You go too far,” Princess Charlotte said. “We have young and innocent ears in this room.”

  “Nonsense. She needs to know what life’s all about. If Irene hadn’t been such a pathetic virgin when she came to Paris, she’d never have fallen for Streletzki.”

  Mercifully, we were saved by the dinner gong. We went through, just four of us, myself and the three weird sisters.

  “I see that Cedric is not going to grace us with his presence,” Edwina said. “That really is too bad of him, especially on your first evening here, my dear. But never mind. We’ll enjoy a good evening without him, won’t we?”

  “We could have a séance afterward, do you think?” Princess Charlotte suggested. “Our guest could find
out what the spirits have in store for her.”

  “Really, Charlotte. This séance nonsense has to stop,” Edwina said. “You are becoming obsessed. And if the two of you behave this way when John’s son arrives, then he’ll think he’s come to a lunatic asylum.”

  Cedric’s young men came to join us as we went in to dinner. It wasn’t the easiest meal I have attended. Edwina behaved as if they weren’t there, and the three elderly ladies focused their attention on me, peppering me with questions. Princess Charlotte offered to find out what the spirits had in store for me, and Virginia tossed off the names of so many men in so many countries with whom she had enjoyed wild affairs that my mother’s autobiography would have read like a girl’s school story in comparison.

  * * *

  IN THE MORNING, we got news that Cedric had gone up to town again and was staying in his club, obviously waiting for his mother’s wrath to diffuse. Wise man. While he was gone, the household entered into preparation for the arrival of the young Australian. A prime suite of rooms, facing the lake, was prepared for him. Servants whispered about him. The dowager duchess remained impassive but one could tell that she too was a little excited. I suspected that, for her, it would be like seeing her beloved son again. Cedric returned but kept well away from his mother. I’m not sure if they had a confrontation but I did hear his voice once saying loudly, “It’s my house now and you’d better not forget it.”

  Not the most pleasant of men. I was rather glad no young woman was going to be stuck with him.

  The day of Jack’s arrival approached. We had eaten luncheon and the sisters had retired for their afternoon siesta. I was sitting in the Long Gallery with the dowager duchess, halfheartedly reading the Horse and Hound when we heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel.

  “Here they are,” she said, rising to her feet.

  A lovely Rolls-Royce motor came up the drive. “Our solicitor’s motorcar,” she said. “He obviously does very well for himself writing wills.”

  The Rolls-Royce drew up. Footmen descended on it like ants on a dead beetle. The chauffeur hurried around to open the back doors of the motorcar. A most distinguished-looking, silver-haired man, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, extracted himself from one side. Then a young man got out and stood waiting, his back toward us. He was tall and well-built with a shock of black, curly hair not unlike Darcy’s.

  “I thought he’d be fair like Johnnie,” Edwina said. “He’s a strapping lad for twenty, isn’t he?”

  Then he turned toward the house and I let out a little gasp. It wasn’t a young Australian I was looking at. It was Darcy himself.

  “Oh, no,” I heard the dowager duchess say. “Of course that’s not he. I expect that’s his escort. Here he comes now and he’s the spitting image of John. I’d know him anywhere. We must go to welcome them.”

  And she almost broke into a run. I was breathing so fast that I stood rooted to the spot. What on earth was Darcy doing here? When we’d parted right after Christmas, he had told me that he thought he’d have to go back to Argentina. So how had he become involved with a young Australian boy? I watched the duchess descend the steps to them, shake hands with the solicitor, then nod to Darcy. Finally she held out her hand to a rangy lad dressed in a plaid shirt, khaki trousers and a bush hat. He shook the hand, looking around with wonder, as if he was observing creatures from Mars.

  “So what do you think of your first glimpse of Kingsdowne?” I heard the dowager duchess’s voice as they came up the steps into the house. “Is it how you imagined it?”

  “Strike me,” he said. “It’s bigger than the bloomin’ hotel we stayed in. How many people actually live here?”

  “Just us. Just the family.”

  “Only one family? What a waste. You could rent out rooms. Make some money.”

  “We have no need to make money, young man,” the duchess said in a clipped voice. “We have all we need to live in the lifestyle to which we are accustomed.”

  The voices were coming closer. “Stone the flamin’ crows!” I heard Jack exclaim. “Look at that ceiling. They don’t have any clothes on. That wouldn’t be allowed at home.”

  “It’s a fresco by a famous eighteenth-century artist,” Edwina’s voice replied. “In the classical period, they frequently painted nude figures.”

  “My oath,” he said. “My old gran would have boxed my ears if she caught me looking at smutty pictures like that.”

  The dowager countess was now entering the Long Gallery. Her face was a stony mask.

  “I saw some funny little cows as we came up the track.” The Australian came into view beside her. “Is that how small cows are here in England?”

  “Cows?”

  “Yeah. Skinny, brown, little things among the trees.”

  “Those are deer. We have a famous deer herd here at Kingsdowne.”

  “Oh, are they good tucker?”

  “Tucker?”

  “Yeah. We shoot the roos at home. Usually feed them to the dogs but the tails make good eating.”

  “We keep the deer to be ornamental, not to eat.”

  “You wait till there’s a drought year. Then you’ll be glad enough to eat them.” The young man had come out of the shadows of the foyer. He had sandy, sun-streaked hair poking out from under his hat, bright-blue eyes and tanned skin. He almost walked with the rolling gait of the sailor and he wore riding boots.

  “Ah. Here you are, Georgiana, my dear.” Her Grace looked relieved to see me. “John, let me introduce you to our houseguest, Lady Georgiana. She comes from a most distinguished family, and she will be staying with us for a while.”

  “Good day,” the young Australian said with a nod as he tipped his hat. “And my name’s not John. It’s Jack.”

  “Jack is only a nickname for John—which was your father’s name and is more suitable for a future duke,” the duchess said. She looked around to see if the rest of the party was following into the room. “And may I present the family solicitor, Mr. Henry Camden-Smythe.”

  “How do you do?” I said in what I hoped was a steady voice. We shook hands.

  The duchess now turned her attention to Darcy. “And I’m afraid I don’t know your name, young man, but I’d like you to meet Lady Georgiana.”

  “Darcy O’Mara,” Darcy said. “Lady Georgiana and I are already acquainted.” He took my hand and held it, his eyes smiling into mine.

  “O’Mara? Lord Kilhenny’s son. Of course. Your father had a fine racing stable, I remember.”

  “Not anymore, I’m afraid,” Darcy said.

  The duchess sighed. “I heard. How my husband loved to go to Ascot. Nothing is the same anymore.”

  Darcy was now deemed to be acceptable, which was more than could be said for the Australian heir.

  “Do sit down,” the duchess said. “Tea will be served shortly. I expect you’re hungry.”

  “Too right,” the boy said. “I haven’t had a decent-size meal since I left home.”

  He sank into one of the armchairs, not looking at all intimidated by his surroundings. I took a seat on the sofa and Darcy slid into place beside me. I glanced at Darcy and he winked. He didn’t seem as shocked to see me as I was him.

  “Are you expecting rain, John?” the dowager duchess asked.

  “Rain? No. Looks quite fine to me.”

  “I wondered, because you are wearing your hat in the house, so I thought you might be afraid the roof would leak.”

  “Oh, no. Looks all right to me,” he said easily.

  Edwina rang the bell and the butler appeared. “Huxstep, would you please find His Grace and tell him that our guests have arrived, and would he please come to welcome them.” She turned back to Jack, who still hadn’t taken his hat off. “So you have come from the Australian countryside. Quite different from this, I’d imagine.”

  “Too right,” he said. “Wh
ere I come from, we run one sheep per acre. No rain, see. And the bloody rabbits and roos eat what grass there is.”

  I saw the duchess stiffen at the swear word but she kept quiet. A trolley was wheeled in, and tea was placed on the table in front of us.

  “Please do help yourself,” the duchess said.

  Jack looked at the tiny sandwiches and cakes. “Is this all you have for tea here?”

  “It seems quite adequate to me,” Edwina said. “What do you have at home?”

  “Oh, usually a roast and two veg. Sometimes it’s a meat pie.”

  “That would be what we eat for dinner,” Edwina said stiffly.

  “You have another meal after this then?”

  “We most certainly do. At eight o’clock. And we dress for it, John.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to sit down in your underwear.” He grinned.

  “I mean formal dress. Dinner jacket. Do you have one yet?”

  “I think so. They took me shopping and bought me some poncy clothes.”

  We all looked up as Cedric came into the room.

  “Ah, this is your uncle Cedric now, John,” she said. “He is the current Duke of Eynsford. You are his heir.”

  “Right-oh.” Jack didn’t get up but stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, mate.”

  Cedric looked rather green. “Mother just called you John. Is that your name then?”

  “No, just Jack. The blokes on the station called me Jacko, or Blue sometimes.”

  “Blue? Why was that?”

  “On account of my red hair.” He looked around at the silence. “Aussie joke, I suppose,” he added.

  “But you were christened John, surely?” Edwina said.

  “I don’t think I was christened anything. The parsons don’t come around too often out where I was.”

  “Not christened?” I thought Edwina might faint. She swallowed hard then took a good sip of tea. “My dear boy. We must remedy that. I’ll contact the vicar immediately.”

  “Did your mother ever speak to you about your father?” Cedric asked.