by Rhys Bowen
She patted my hand. “Which is why it’s so fortuitous that you will be there at the same time. You will be my eyes and ears on the spot. I know I can rely on you, Georgiana.”
“Of course, ma’am,” I said. There was nothing else one could say.
Chapter 5
SUNDAY, AUGUST 4
EYNSLEIGH, SUSSEX
I swore I wouldn’t say “golly” anymore but I just can’t find another word. Oh golly. Too many surprises for one day! I had no idea Darcy was planning such an amazingly exotic honeymoon. This would be so wonderful but it seems my honeymoon is turning into another of Her Majesty’s spy missions. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep an eye on my cousin David. Beg to go along if he goes out on safari?
Why are things always so complicated, and what made Darcy come up with Kenya in the first place?
The moment we were alone in the taxicab my shock and frustration came bursting out.
“You might have given me an inkling in advance that we were going to Kenya,” I said. “I felt like a complete fool, having to tell Her Majesty that I had no idea you were planning something like this.”
“I wasn’t sure myself whether it would work or not until yesterday,” Darcy said. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up and then have to tell you we couldn’t go after all.” He gave me a nervous glance. “You do like the idea, don’t you? I wanted it to be a once-in-a-lifetime trip.”
“I’m sure I’ll adore the idea once I get used to it,” I said. “I confess I know very little about Kenya, except that it’s in Africa and full of wild animals. What made you think of it? Have you always wanted to go on a safari?”
“An old pal of mine, Freddie Blanchford, wrote to me recently saying he was now living out there. He said what a glorious life it was and if we ever wanted to come and stay we’d be most welcome. . . . It seemed quite fortuitous, so I thought, why not. And I started looking into ways to get there. We’d have had to wait a while for a steamship and then a voyage of several weeks, so I tried to see if we could take an aeroplane. And guess what? There is now an air service all the way to Cape Town, with a stop in Kenya.”
“Gol— Amazing,” I said.
“And we leave on Tuesday.”
“You are talking about next Tuesday? That doesn’t give us much time to choose what to wear and to pack, does it? Will we be sleeping in tents? Will it be terribly primitive?”
“Rather the opposite, I understand,” he said. “We’ll be staying in what they call the White Highlands, where the British aristocrats live pretty much as they lived at home.”
“So no wild animals and things?”
“Oh yes, I think there are plenty of wild animals. And native peoples. The Maasai and Kikuyu. The servants will all be natives, which will make it jolly interesting.”
“English country houses, native servants, wild animals. I have no idea what I should wear.”
“Ask Zou Zou. She’ll know what you should take.”
I was still digesting this as the taxicab pulled up outside Zou Zou’s house and an awful thought struck me. “They won’t be expecting me to bring my maid, will they?” I was trying to picture Queenie in Kenya. She had been enough of a disaster in the British Isles. I could foresee far too many opportunities for someone as accident-prone and clueless as Queenie to wreak havoc in Africa. Queenie, being charged by a rhinoceros, flashed into my mind. Actually, if Queenie and the rhinoceros collided, I wasn’t quite sure who would win. She was a formidable young woman in many ways . . . just useless as a maid.
“I expect they can lend you a maid,” he said, “and now you have a husband to help you undress at night.”
“That’s true.” I gave him a wicked little smile as we went up the steps to the front door.
* * *
“KENYA?” ZOU ZOU exclaimed. “My dears, you astonish me. How delightful. Young love among the lions . . . And the cheetahs,” she added with a knowing wink. “Don’t forget to take stout trousers.”
“Trousers? Me?”
“Of course, my dear. The women live in trousers out there. And sensible walking shoes.”
“But Darcy said to bring evening and cocktail dresses.”
“Those too, if you’re planning to be among the smart set in the Happy Valley.”
“We are,” Darcy said. “Staying with someone called Freddie Blanchford, do you know him?”
She shook her head. “I only know Lord Delamere, and who is the other chappie who has recently become a peer?” She paused, thinking. “Ross Hartley. That’s right. Remember him? He’s recently become Lord Cheriton. His cousin died. He was a live wire when he still lived in England. No woman was safe. I believe they used to call him Octopus because he seemed to have so many hands.” And she gave a delighted laugh.
“Freddie Blanchford is the only one I know,” Darcy said.
“Nonsense. You know Idina, don’t you? Everyone in the universe knows Idina. Not sure what her married name is at the present. One loses count. . . . The Bolter, darlings. The infamous Bolter. Now I understand she’s the doyenne of smart society over there.”
“What is her last name?” I asked as “Idina” did not ring a bell with me.
“Who knows at this moment? It was Lady Idina Sackville. She must have worked her way through four or five husbands by now. And God knows how many lovers. But I understand she gives wonderful parties. You’ll have such a fun time. You must tell me all about it. . . .” She paused again. “I’d offer to take you in my little plane but it’s only a two-seater and one does need luggage. I might fly down to join you. How many days does it take?”
“At least five,” Darcy said. “But it’s a long and dangerous flight, Zou Zou. I think you had better stay put.”
“You forget. I took part in the round-the-world race,” Zou Zou said. “I had to crash-land in the Arabian Desert and nobody came for three days. In the end I fixed the struts on my plane by tying them up with my silk stockings and managed to fly on. A trip down to Kenya would be a piece of cake.”
“Zou Zou, you are amazing,” I said.
She smiled modestly. “Nonsense, darlings. I just do what I can to survive. I always have.”
* * *
WE ARRIVED BACK at Eynsleigh to find Sir Hubert was still in residence, as were my mother and grandfather. I should explain for those of you who don’t know that Eynsleigh was Sir Hubert’s ancestral home. He had given it to me as a wedding gift, as I was his only heir and he was a mountaineer and explorer, rarely in England. He had said that it made no sense to leave the house empty, so he planned to keep a suite of rooms in one wing and wanted me to start married life as mistress of Eynsleigh. It was a miracle, also a perfect solution. You might wonder why I was his heir—he had once been married to my mother, had adored me and wanted to adopt me. The royal family said no. But he also knew that I might be left penniless by my own family, given my father’s gambling habits, which proved to be the case.
And now he and my mother were in the same house again. I sensed that they were still fond of each other. She had just been dumped by her rich German industrialist, so who knew what the future might hold? My mother was not usually long without a man in tow. This made me think of the woman, Idina, whom Zou Zou had referred to as the Bolter. I mentioned her to Mummy after I’d given them the news that we were off to Kenya. Mummy looked absolutely furious.
“Don’t speak of that woman to me,” she said. “The Bolter indeed. I bolted before she did. I ran away from your father before she left her husband for a younger man. And yet she has gone down in history as the famous Bolter. I suppose because she was the daughter of an earl and I was only a humble ex-actress, daughter of a nobody.”
“Oh, I think everyone is perfectly aware of you and your bolts,” Darcy said.
“How very kind of you to say that, dear boy.” Mummy reached out to pat his hand, giving him her daz
zling smile.
“I don’t think Granddad likes being referred to as a nobody,” I said.
Granddad gave me a wink. “That’s all right, ducks. She’s called me worse over the years. So you’re off to Africa, are you?”
“We are,” Darcy said.
“And how long do you plan to stay?”
“I’m not sure yet. At least a couple of weeks.” Darcy gave me a quick glance.
“I was thinking about going back to my own little house myself,” Granddad said, “but if you’re going to be away I should probably stay on here to keep your mum company.”
“That’s kind of you, Daddy,” my mother said. “Especially as one never knows when Hubert will be off again and poor little moi would be left all alone in the world with no one to protect me.” She glanced across at Sir Hubert, who had just come into the room.
I stifled a grin but Darcy actually chuckled. “As if you ever needed anyone to protect you, Claire. You’re as tough as old boots.”
“What a horrid thing to say.” Mummy frowned. “If you wanted to describe me as strong you might use a different simile. As strong as a diamond would be fine. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”
“Anyway, Claire, you don’t have to worry about my abandoning you at the moment,” Sir Hubert said, perching on the arm of the sofa beside her. “I have promised to write a book on my travels in South America and I have to finish that before I can take off again.”
Did he have to write a book, I wondered, or did he actually want to stay with Mummy? Frankly I would much rather that she went back to someone like him, than to Max von Strohheim. Max was clearly in cahoots with the Nazis and I got the impression that his factories were now making guns rather than motorcars and household appliances. Germany was not the sort of place I’d want to be, with those mass rallies and belligerent talk.
“Have you heard from Max?” I asked her when we women had retired after dinner that night, leaving the men to their brandy and cigars.
“Not a word, the rat,” she said. “He’s staying at the family home with his mother, one gathers. She never approved of me, you know. Horribly strict Lutheran. Divorce and adultery send one straight to hell. And since his father died Max is completely under her thumb.”
“Then think of it as a lucky escape,” I said. “If she’d been your mother-in-law she would have spent her life trying to make your life miserable.”
“You’re right.” She gave a dramatic sigh worthy of a great actress. “I should be grateful that my kind daughter has taken me in and given me a place to stay. And Hubert has made me feel most welcome too. Such pals in my hour of need.” She took my hands in hers. “So you don’t need to worry about me when you go off and have a wonderful time in Kenya. Only be a little careful, won’t you, darling? I gather they are frightfully naughty over there.”
Chapter 6
TUESDAY, AUGUST 6
ON THE WAY TO AFRICA
In a few minutes we’ll be leaving for Croydon Aerodrome. Ever since Darcy gave me the news that we were going to Kenya I’ve been in a state of shock. But now that it’s about to happen I’m nervous but excited. What an incredible adventure.
I had finally finished my packing, most of which I had done myself, knowing Queenie’s habit for leaving out one shoe at crucial moments.
“Are you taking your new silk knickers, miss?” Queenie asked, seeing them lying on the bed. “I wouldn’t think they’d be much use if you’re about to be charged by a rhinoceros.”
“I don’t think that cotton knickers would be much use either, Queenie,” I said, laughing. “I’ll still be on my honeymoon and I want all my lovely trousseau to be with me.”
“Then why are you taking these old brogue shoes?” She held them up, then promptly put them down on top of my white silk petticoat.
I retrieved them hastily. “Because the princess said that stout shoes and trousers were a necessity. And I use these for tramping through the heather at home in Scotland.” I hadn’t any stout trousers that were presentable enough to be worn in public but I had managed to find a pair at Swan & Edgar that I hoped would be suitable. They weren’t exactly stout enough to keep out thorns or charging rhinos, but they would have to do. Other than that it was cotton frocks for sunny afternoons, my new evening pajamas and ensembles I hoped would be suitable for cocktails.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come along, miss?” Queenie asked. She still persisted in calling me this, even though I had never been a miss and was now a married woman. “I wouldn’t mind facing the dangers of the bush if you needed someone to take care of you. And I don’t want the other ladies to look down on you because you don’t have no maid.”
She never ceased to surprise me. She was undoubtedly the world’s worst maid, but also one of the bravest, and having come from the East End of London, she was amazingly open to adventure.
“That’s jolly sporting of you, Queenie. But I’m sure our hosts will be able to lend me a maid,” I said. “And Mr. O’Mara has only managed to secure two seats on the aeroplane.”
She nodded. “Then it’s probably a good thing I ain’t going. My stomach gets awful queasy on the swing boats at the fair. I hear them aeroplanes don’t half bump around a lot.”
With that she went back to wrapping my shoes. Oh crikey. I wish she hadn’t mentioned that. I had flown in an aeroplane a couple of times but only short flights. And now all the way to Africa? What if I too became horribly sick?
* * *
GOOD-BYES WERE SAID. Mrs. Holbrook, the housekeeper, forgot protocol and gave me a hug. “May you just return safely to us, my lady,” she said. The look on her face made me realize that we really were undertaking a journey that was not without danger. I gave her a brave smile.
“We’ll be home before you know it, Mrs. Holbrook,” I replied, with more confidence than I felt.
Sir Hubert insisted on driving us to Croydon Aerodrome, which luckily was not far away. He chatted in a relaxed manner as we drove. “Fine place, Kenya,” he said. “Of course, the mountains aren’t much of a challenge. I went up Mount Kenya once. Almost an afternoon stroll, or would have been if there hadn’t been any damned elephants. Got charged a couple of times. But you’ll have a great time. Give my regards to Delamere, won’t you? Splendid chap. Salt of the earth.”
I was now so nervous that I could hardly speak. Darcy chatted happily, but then, he had taken long flights before. We reached the aerodrome. Porters came for our luggage. We said farewell to Sir Hubert. For the first time I saw those aeroplanes lined up on the tarmac. They looked rather small and frail from this vantage point—not much bigger than Zou Zou’s little biplane.
“Gol— Good heavens,” I said. “Are we going to fly all the way to Africa in one of those?”
“Oh no,” Darcy said. “From here we fly to Basel in Switzerland. Then we take a train overnight through Italy to Brindisi. From Brindisi it’s a flying boat to Alexandria. From there it’s a Handley Page Hannibal to Cairo, Khartoum, Juba, and finally Kisumu.”
“Go-sh,” I said. “But why the train? Don’t planes fly to Italy?”
“It’s over the Alps,” he said. “Yes, they fly, but the schedule is always precarious because of the weather and frankly the flight is horribly bumpy. I thought you’d rather have a smooth train ride and a good night’s sleep on the train.”
“Oh yes,” I said. “That’s a lovely idea.”
“It’s what most people do, I gather,” he said. “At least those who have experienced flying over the Alps on a bad day.” He smiled at me. Such a wonderful smile that reminded me why we were going to Africa in the first place. It was supposed to be a honeymoon I’d never forget.
We were summoned for our flight and led across the tarmac and up the steps to the aeroplane. A young steward in a white coat welcomed us on board. The propellers were spun, the engines revved; we sped down the runway and were m
iraculously airborne. Fields and farms were below us and then Beachy Head and the English Channel. It was so magical I forgot to be nervous. Darcy was taking snapshots out the window with his new camera. The steward served us a nice ham and salad lunch on fine china and a good white wine to accompany it. Luckily we had just finished eating as we approached the mountains of Alsace. Then it became distinctly bumpy, as well as horribly cold in the cabin, and I was so glad when we started coming in for our landing.
“I’m relieved we are not going to fly over the Alps,” I said to Darcy as a taxicab whisked us to the train station. “That was quite enough bumping around for me.”
“Then let’s hope the legs across Africa are smooth flying for you,” Darcy said.
We had a sleeping compartment to ourselves on the train and set off in late afternoon. The view was enchanting, as we skirted lakes with snowcapped peaks as backdrops. Butter-colored cows with bells round their necks watched us from alpine pastures and the chalets all sported balconies adorned with geraniums. I was almost tempted to tell Darcy to heck with Kenya—let’s just stay in Switzerland! Dinner was eaten as the train climbed through the St. Gotthard Pass to Italy. Night fell while we were eating and we returned to find our beds made up.
“This is one night when I’ll leave you in peace in your own bed,” Darcy said. “The train does sway around, doesn’t it?”
I found it hard to sleep in my bottom bunk, being jerked from side to side and then abruptly halting in one station after another. The next morning we arrived in Rome at first light, had to change trains and reached Brindisi by midday. Another taxi sped us to the docks where the flying boat was at anchor, looking like a large, lumbering bird with double wings. Seeing it bobbing there, so ungainly, it was hard to believe it could ever take off, let alone fly, and I felt renewed twinges of apprehension. Once again passports were checked. Darcy was eyeing the other passengers with interest. “I wonder how many of this lot are going on to Kenya after Alexandria,” he said. “Perhaps the steward has a manifest.”
