Malice at the Palace (6 page)

I
T WASN'T UNTIL
I was alone in my new room that I thought about the woman in the long sweeping white gown. I should have asked the major whether Kensington Palace was haunted. I had been brought up at Castle Rannoch where the servants certainly had enough tales of ghosts, but I had never encountered one personally. I found myself looking around uneasily.

“Buck up,” I said to myself. Surely no Rannoch should be scared of ghosts, especially as they were likely to be my own ancestors. I wondered how Queenie would react, however. Golly, I hoped none of the ghosts was headless. . . .

Then the reality of Queenie being in the same building as Countess Irmtraut and Major Beauchamp-Chough hit me. I couldn't risk her arriving and bumping into one of them. So, much as I was loath to go back out into the rain, I decided I had to be in that taxicab with her when she arrived with my luggage from Rannoch House. I trudged home in the rain, feeling thoroughly miserable and wondering why I had agreed to this assignment, in a cold gloomy house where I was clearly not wanted or needed. Then, of course, I knew why. Because one does not say no to the queen.

When I arrived at Rannoch House I was pleasantly surprised to find Queenie waiting for me with my bags ready packed. Maybe she was finally trying hard to be a proper lady's maid. Hamilton secured us a taxicab and it pulled up at the entrance to our apartment at Kensington Palace.

Queenie eyed it critically. “It ain't as nice as that place we stayed with the duke in Eynsford, is it?” she asked. “Rather dowdy, if you ask me.”

“Nobody is asking you, Queenie,” I said. “Whatever we think, it's a royal palace and you must be on your very best behavior. You must promise to stay in my room or your room and not go wandering around. There will be royal persons who would be horrified to meet you. To them servants are supposed to be invisible and have perfect manners.”

“There's quite a lot of me to be invisible,” she said with a grin. “But I'll give it a try, miss.”

All went well until we were inside and Queenie saw the stairs. “Bloody 'ell, miss. I ain't supposed to lug your bags up all them stairs, am I? What do they think I am, a ruddy porter or a donkey?”

“I'll see if I can find a footman to help you,” I said and shooed her up the stairs to my quarters.

No footman was to be found, but in the end I did manage to collar a gardener and soon Queenie and bags were installed in my room.

“What about our dinner then?” Queenie's thoughts were never far from food.

“Remember I told you that we have luncheon in the middle of the day and dinner at night,” I said.

“Your sort may do. We have our dinner at midday and our tea in the evening,” she said. “And right now my stomach wants dinner.”

“I'd like you to unpack my things first, then we'll go up another flight of stairs and locate your room,” I said. I wasn't going to risk her wandering alone, not even once. “I'll go and find out about meals while you unpack.”

Queenie sighed. I went downstairs again and looked for signs of life. I opened doors to a gloomy salon, a library, a smaller sitting room that would be charming once a fire was lit, and finally a dining room. A mahogany table stretched the length of it, big enough to seat thirty. But no signs of food. I pictured Countess Irmtraut sitting alone in her room eating her pickled herring and was wondering if I'd also have to send out for something to eat, when a maid appeared.

“Begging your pardon, Your Highness.” She dropped a curtsy. “I didn't know anyone would be in here.”

“That's all right. And I'm a lady, not a highness,” I said. “Lady Georgiana. I was looking for luncheon.”

“There's only the countess here at the moment, my lady,” the girl said, “and she has a tray sent up to her room.”

“Well, I'm now staying here too, and I'd also like to eat,” I said.

“Should I set the table for you then, my lady?” She looked worried.

I thought of eating alone in that cold, dreary dining room. “I could also have a tray sent up, if it's easier,” I said. “And maybe one for my maid.”

“Very good, my lady. Is there anything special you'd like Cook to prepare for you?”

“I'm sure whatever she has prepared will be fine,” I said, hopefully. “And can you please arrange for someone to come and light the fire in my bedroom, if I'm to eat up there. The whole place is rather cold and gloomy.”

“I know.” She made a face before she remembered to whom she was talking. “Sorry, my lady, but I've been sent over from Buckingham Palace where everything's ever so nice.”

“It's only for a couple of weeks.” I gave her an encouraging smile and she smiled shyly in return. She bobbed another curtsy and off she went. I retreated to my room and after a meal of hearty soup, grilled fish and a steamed pudding, I was feeling much better. Queenie also tucked in with relish. “Well, the grub's not bad,” she said. “I'll take the trays downstairs to the kitchen, shall I?”

“No, I'll have somebody come up and fetch them. A lady's maid does not carry trays in a palace.” This, of course, was not true, but I wasn't going to let Queenie out of my sight.

NOVEMBER 3

KENSINGTON PALACE, APARTMENT 1

Dinner with royal aunts I've never met. What could be more terrifying?

At seven thirty I presented myself, dressed in my burgundy velvet evening dress, at the door of apartment 1A. The annoying thing about Kensington Palace was that the apartments were all separate units and not connected by internal corridors. That meant another walk in the rain with an umbrella protecting my face but the hem of my skirt getting decidedly wet and muddy. The maid who opened the door did not let her expression betray that I looked windswept and bedraggled, but she did let me pause in front of a hall mirror while she took my coat and brolly.

This apartment had the feel of being inhabited for a long time. It was also old-fashioned but felt warm and cozy. It had that smell I associated with old ladies—lavender and furniture polish and pomades.

“Her Royal Highness is waiting to welcome you in the drawing room,” the maid said and walked ahead of me.

“Lady Georgiana Rannoch,” she announced and I stepped into a very Victorian room. Although large it felt cluttered and the décor was decidedly eclectic with Victoriana in the shape of stuffed birds under glass competing with interesting pieces of sculpture. A fire roared in the grate and seated beside it were not one but two elderly ladies who also looked as if they had stepped straight from the Victorian era. One had a beaded shawl around her shoulders. The other was dressed in a long, tight-waisted black dress with a high lace collar around the neck. Her face was remarkably unlined, however, and her eyes bright and intelligent. They lit up when she saw me.

“Georgiana, my dear, how lovely to meet you at last,” she said.

I went over to her and curtsied. “How do you do, ma'am.”

She laughed. “Oh goodness gracious, we don't go in for stuffy court formality here. I'm your great-aunt Louise and that's what you can call me.” She studied me. “Yes, I see a remarkable resemblance to your father. What a charmer he was, even as a little boy. Such a pity he died so young.”

I nodded. I had hardly known him since he spent most of his time on the Riviera, but he had always struck me as a warm sort of person. A fun sort of person who liked to laugh.

“And this is your other great-aunt, my sister Beatrice,” she said. “She was also interested to see a great-niece she had never met.”

I gave her a little curtsy. “How do you do, ma'am,” I repeated. One can never be too careful with royals. This one did not contradict and tell me to call her “Great-Aunt.”

I took the seat Princess Louise indicated and was offered a glass of sherry on a silver tray.

“You also live in the palace here, do you, ma'am?” I asked Princess Beatrice. “Is your apartment close by?”

“On the far side of the building,” Princess Beatrice said. “Actually it is the very same apartment that our dear mama lived in as a child. I moved into it when she died in 1901, with my dear husband and children. My husband is no longer with us and my children are leading their own lives, but it gives me consolation to know that Mama was happy there as a young girl.”

I nodded with understanding.

“The only drawback is the constant tramping of feet as visitors go around the state rooms above my head,” she said. “You've discovered that certain rooms are open to the public, I take it?”

“I saw schoolchildren waiting to tour the palace today,” I said.

She gave a tired little smile. “Of course, it is only during the day. On the whole I enjoy seeing them. It can be rather lonely at times and I like seeing young fresh faces. We are glad that you have moved in here, and we're most anxious to meet Marina, aren't we, Louise?”

“We are,” Princess Louise said. “When she has settled in we'll have a luncheron or a sherry party to introduce her to the rest of the aunts in this Aunt Heap, as your wicked cousin calls this place.”

Princess Beatrice leaned toward me. “Tell me,” she said, “have you met David's mysterious lady friend?”

“I have and she's no lady.”

“You mean his friend is really a man?”

I laughed. “No, ma'am. I meant that she is N.O.C.D. Not one of us. A brash American divorcée. Trying to divorce for a second time, so one gathers.” (Perhaps I should explain that N.O.C.D. is shorthand for Not Our Class, Dear, but one could hardly say that to a royal aunt.)

“An adventuress!” The two aunts exchanged a look.

“Well, nothing can come of it in the end,” Princess Louise said. “He certainly can never marry a divorced woman. Not as head of the Church of England.”

“He was such a charming little boy,” Princess Beatrice said wistfully. “Of course, his father rather favored him and gave him too much leeway, I always thought. And was too harsh on the second son. The poor little chap stuttered, you know, but his father couldn't see that his shouting and bullying only made the stammer worse.” She paused and pulled her shawl more tightly around her. “But I rather think the second boy will end up showing more mettle than his brother. He's married a lovely girl. She brings the two little daughters to visit occasionally, doesn't she, Louise?”

Louise chuckled. “And that little Margaret Rose—she's a firecracker. My, she's going to be a handful when she grows up. She asked me if princesses could still have people's heads chopped off.”

I laughed but I noticed that Princess Beatrice hardly smiled. “I'm going to have a word with that boy,” she said. “The Prince of Wales, I mean. It's about time he learned that duty and family come before anything. He has been born to a great heritage. If Mama saw the way he was carrying on now, she'd turn in her grave. And Papa—he'd give the boy a horsewhipping and tell him to buck up or else, wouldn't he, Louise?”

“I expect he would. But times have changed, Bea. There has been a great war. Young people ask themselves if anything really matters, because life is so precarious, don't they, Georgiana?”

“Maybe those who remember the war. I was too young and things certainly matter to me.”

“You're a good girl.” She nodded. “A credit to the family. Our mother would have approved.”

I had been looking around me. “This is an interesting room, Great-Aunt Louise,” I said. “Are those sculptures modern or from classical times?”

She gave a delightful peal of laughter at this. “Not modern by your standards. I did them as a young woman.”

“You are a sculptress? They are wonderful.”

She nodded in appreciation. “I did have a certain talent. I had to give it up. It requires too much strength to chisel away at marble. Do you have artistic talents?”

“None at all; in fact I'm not sure I have any talents,” I said.

“You should never sell yourself short,” she said. “Young women are brought up to prize modesty. I think one should shout one's abilities from the mountaintops.”

She looked at my face and laughed. “My mother approved of my sculpting, but not of my views. I have always been a great champion of women. I championed the suffrage movement, you know, and I had a woman doctor for years before it became fashionable.”

When I looked surprised Princess Beatrice added, “She had to keep it from dear Mama, of course. She would never have approved.”

“You young people are so lucky,” Princess Louise said wistfully. “In our day a girl was never allowed out unchaperoned, was she, Bea? A match was made for her. No career was possible for a girl of good family.”

“It's not much easier these days to find a career,” I said. “Too many unemployed men.”

“Ah yes,” she said. “I see men sleeping in the park when I go for my early morning walk. It distresses me. Such a sad time for so many. But let us not dwell on sad things. You are here to celebrate a wedding in the family.”

A gust of wind moaned down the chimney, sending sparks and soot out into the room. I remembered what I had seen that afternoon.

“Tell me,” I said, “is the palace haunted?”

The two great-aunts exchanged a look. “Oh yes, extremely haunted.” Louise gave me a mischievous grin. “You'll bump into ghosts everywhere you go. Most of them royal, of course. Our ancestors, keeping an eye on us. I don't think any of them is malicious, so nothing to worry about.”

“I saw a woman this afternoon,” I said. “She wore a long white dress and her hair was piled on her head in pretty little curls.”

“Ah, that would be Princess Sophia,” Princess Louise said, glancing across at her sister for confirmation. “We've both seen her, haven't we, Bea? George the Third's daughter. Never allowed to marry, poor girl. Kept secluded here all her life. They say she had an incestuous affair with her brother the Duke of Cumberland, and also had an affair with her father's equerry. Either way, she produced an illegitimate child. The baby was whisked away and the whole thing was kept hushed up, but I think she walks the halls looking for that child, or maybe for the man who fathered it.”

I thought of poor Princess Sophia, spending her life in this seclusion, and then having her child taken from her. No wonder she wandered the halls.

“Most of the other ghosts prefer the royal state rooms,” Princess Beatrice said. “So we don't encounter them often. But the clock tower is supposed to be haunted.”

“The clock tower?” I asked.

She nodded. “At the entrance to the courtyard behind us. Several times I've seen a strange light glowing there. But I've lived here long enough that ghosts no longer bother me. They do result in a large turnover in servants throughout the palace, I'm afraid. The lower classes are not used to meeting our ancestors on staircases.” She chuckled again. She really was delightful.

We had a good dinner of mulligatawny soup, roast pheasant and apple dumplings, a pleasant evening, and as I said good-bye I wondered why I had never thought of visiting the aunts before. I supposed because I had spent my formative years far away in a Scottish castle and we'd never been introduced. And it's not quite as easy to drop in on a royal person as it would be if my aunts had been ordinary.

“Do you find it lonely or restricting living here on your own?” I asked.

“Oh no, dear,” Princess Louise said. “Beatrice and I have each other and the nieces close by and if I want to get out, I just walk through the park to Harrods or a concert at the Albert Hall. And if I want to go farther afield I jump on a number nine bus. Nobody knows who I am. It's quite refreshing.”

I thought that people might just notice an old woman in Victorian garb, but I nodded and smiled. A maid was sent to find my things.

“I can't think why we've never met you before, Georgiana,” Princess Beatrice said and got a warning look from her sister.

“I'm afraid my mother left us and I was stuck alone in the nursery at Castle Rannoch,” I said.

“But you must have been down in London when you were presented.”

“Of course,” I said.

“She wouldn't have wanted to waste her time visiting elderly relatives, Bea,” Princess Louise said. “She would have been fully occupied with parties and balls and such.”

“But you didn't find yourself a husband during your season?” Beatrice asked.

“I'm afraid not, ma'am.”

She patted my hand. “Never mind. A nice healthy-looking girl like you will be snapped up soon enough. You'll see, the next wedding we celebrate in the family will be yours.”

“I hope so.” I gave her a smile.

The maid appeared with my coat and brolly.

“Take Lady Georgiana out through the back door, Phyllis,” Princess Louise said. “She can go home by the courtyard and won't have to walk in that dreadful wind.”

I kissed both great-aunts dutifully on the cheek without knocking either one of them over. Then I followed the maid down a narrow hall and was let out into a dark courtyard. Here it was quite still, apart from the drip, drip of rain. It was also quite dark. No lights shone out from windows, except for one on the second floor that must have been mine. But the heavy curtains were drawn and only a sliver of light showed. I put up my brolly and picked my way over the slippery cobblestones. As I approached the archway at the end of the courtyard I was relieved to see some sort of lamp was glowing, illuminating the dark shape of the building around it. As I drew closer a cold wind rushed at me and high above a clock began to chime ten.

The haunted clock tower, I thought. At that moment the light vanished and I was left in total darkness. I have to confess I plunged through the archway and ran all the way to the front door.