Lady in Waiting

by Lady Victoria Hervey

  It made me smile to see my sister curious in my things. It only seemed like yesterday that all she’d been interested in were her dolls. And animals—that was one passion we shared. When I was little, I’d devised new ways to smuggle pets into the house. Augustus and I had had an assortment of animals and were known for adopting any and all stray animals we came into contact with.

  Louisa had soon followed our example and had picked up all the tricks we’d learnt. We’d even had three tortoises once, one for each of us, called Charles, William and Harry. I’d loved the wrinkly little things, but M. Vincent had hated them as they’d dug up his flowers and made a mess of the garden.

  Sitting beside Louisa on the bench at the dressing table, I picked up a few of my subtle pieces of makeup that wouldn’t be too over the top on her young face.

  Louisa was a more patient model than I had expected her to be, and didn’t question a single one of my choices. Perhaps she had been watching me for long enough that she trusted I knew what I was doing. It was a rare moment shared between us sisters—the elder taking the gentle lead of the younger and bringing her into the grown-up world of clothes and makeup. I had to wonder why we didn’t do things like this very often. I should be patient with Louisa—she was only young, after all. It was easy to forget that had been me a few years ago. And I hadn’t had anyone to show me, no wise older sister to teach me. Mummy and Samantha were fantastic, but I didn’t think it was the same.

  I should, no, I would make more of an effort with Lou. Look at this! We’re having a lovely time together and—

  “God, how long are you going to take? I should have known you’d take forever. You had better not be making me look stupid,” Louisa whined, her forehead wrinkling in a scowl.

  Ah yes. That’s why we don’t do things like this more often.

  “Almost done,” I said through gritted teeth, somehow resisting the urge to purposely mess up her makeup.

  When we were finished, Louisa darted off without bothering to thank me or even toss me a grateful smile. Not that I should have been surprised. I quickly finished getting myself ready then left my bedroom.

  Mummy was in the hall by the front door, checking her hair in the large mirror. She looked exquisite in her designer dress, the latest fashion, as always. At my approach, Mummy turned. She slid her eyes down me and a warm smile touched her lips.

  “You look wonderful, darling.” Mummy reached up to press a featherlight kiss to my cheek, taking care not to smudge her lipstick. “Is that the dress we bought last week?”

  I touched the hem of my new dress and nodded. “I love it. Do you think it looks nice?”

  “It looks fabulous,” Mummy assured me with a smile. “Where is Louisa? Have you seen her?”

  “She should be ready, I helped her with her makeup. Do you want me to go and find her?”

  Mummy shook her head and turned back to the mirror, giving her reflection another once-over. “She’ll be along in a moment, I expect.”

  Sure enough, Louisa then Augustus appeared shortly after. Mummy collected Daddy from his office and the five of us trooped outside. Mr Bateman stood tall and proud in his uniform beside the Rolls Royce Phantom. The black paintwork gleamed in the early evening sunlight, the car polished to perfection. Our family crest was emblazoned on the side, proud and bright, and the special tags of the MC Beach Club were on the front. Mr Bateman tipped his cap and opened the passenger door first for Daddy. They exchanged a few pleasantries before Mr Bateman opened the suicide doors in the back for the rest of us.

  The cream leather was cool against the backs of my legs as I slid into my seat. That smell was another that I always associated with home—the heady scent of worn leather from one of Daddy’s fleet of luxury cars.

  It was cool inside from the air conditioning, and it was a balm to my skin. Louisa sat opposite me so she could swing her feet and kick my shins ‘by accident’ and play the wounded soul when I eventually got cross and either scolded her…or kicked her back.

  “Where are we going, Mummy?” Louisa asked, swinging her legs and cutting a glance my way.

  “The African Queen, sweetheart,” Mummy answered.

  Louisa clasped her hands together under her chin and beamed at our mother. The African Queen was a favourite restaurant of our family’s, situated on the Port de Plaisance in Beaulieu sur Mer. It was roughly a twenty minute drive from our house in Monaco. Usually Mummy would drive us, as we frequented the restaurant often, especially when we were all home for the summer. But tonight was a special occasion, the last meal out together before us children returned to school, and Daddy insisted on using his driver.

  Mr Bateman opened the doors for us again once we arrived, and we all climbed out of the car and headed inside the restaurant. We were greeted every way we turned. Mummy and Daddy knew practically everyone in the vicinity, and we were familiar faces, especially at the African Queen.

  The restaurant was named after the Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn movie from 1951. Ethnic artwork was scattered across the dining room and movie posters hung from the walls in large gilt frames. We were seated as usual on the terrace overlooking the magnificent cliff faces that stretched up towards the heavens, and below, the scattering of yachts that bobbed in the cerulean Mediterranean Sea.

  “Everyone all ready for tomorrow?” Daddy asked no one in particular once we had ordered our usual pizzas that The African Queen was famous for. It was rare we ordered something different.

  “I am,” Louisa said, sitting up straighter in her chair. “I finished packing a week ago.”

  “Then why is your bedroom still such a mess?” Mummy asked, smiling over her water glass.

  Louisa turned a shade of red and slumped back in her chair. “I was looking for something,” she mumbled.

  “Frederica?” Daddy asked, glancing in my direction.

  I nodded whilst I swallowed a mouthful of water. “All packed and ready. I just want to have one last check to make sure I have everything.”

  Daddy nodded. “And you, Augustus?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Looking forward to getting back to your friends at Seaton?”

  Augustus nodded. “I am. It’s always great to hear about everyone’s summers. We all write, of course, but it’s not the same.”

  I often wondered if Augustus felt a certain kind of pressure attending Seaton College. Since birth his name had been down to attend the prestigious school and he carried a lot of weight on his young shoulders to do well. He would more than likely follow in Daddy’s footsteps and go to work for him once he had completed university.

  Shortly after, our food was brought out. We fell into comfortable silence as we dug into our meals, the chink of silverware against china one of the only sounds to be heard. I enjoyed an enormous banana split for dessert, and Mummy let me have a glass of wine.

  It was late when we drove back home, Louisa falling asleep with her head on Mummy’s shoulder. She held her hand whilst walking her to her bedroom, Louisa trailing a step behind, her gait slow and drowsy.

  “Night, Freddie,” Augustus said, squeezing my shoulder on his way past me to his room. “See you in the morning.”

  I nodded and gave him a smile. Though it was late and I was tired, I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye just yet. Creeping out into the garden, I lay down on the cool grass to peer up at the sprinkling of stars strewn across the sky. A soft breeze stirred the lemon and avocado trees, casting up a delicious aroma of nature’s perfume. The hush of the ocean could be heard if I strained my ears hard enough, the lulling whoosh of the tide that had acted as my lullaby for years. Shirley Bassey was singing at the club and every scent and sound mixed together into a recipe that conjured up everything I associated with home.

  A part of me couldn’t wait for tomorrow—couldn’t wait to get back to Mapleton Manor and my friends. But another part would mourn Monaco and my family.

  To my left, a quiet mewl of displeasure came from the darkness. I tiptoed over
to the hedge that separated our property from the neighbours and discovered a cat stuck in the trap that Daddy had fashioned.

  “Shh, shh,” I crooned as I unfastened the lock.

  The cat crept forward cautiously, as though it didn’t trust my motives for releasing it. Once it was clear of the trap, it darted under the hedge and back to its own safe garden.

  A disbelieving laugh bubbled in my throat and I rose back up to full height. I had to wonder if other people had fathers like mine, or if Daddy was a remarkable individual.

  Daddy’s light was on in his office, and I entered the house through there. He was hunched over his desk again, the lamp casting an amber glow over him and his paperwork.

  I kissed the top of his head. “Night, Daddy. Don’t stay up too late.”

  He hugged me to him for a moment. “You, too, darling.”

  Leaving him to his work, I turned to leave.

  “The cat got away then, Freddie?” he asked when I was almost at the door.

  His voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned, almost expecting to see him spitting mad. Instead, an amused smirk pulled at his lips. I bit down on my cheek to keep from grinning and nodded once.

  Daddy sighed and let out a chuckle. “You have a kind heart, my Frederica. Goodnight, dear girl.”

  “Goodnight, Daddy. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Something told me that Daddy knew full well about my attempts to thwart his cat-trapping schemes, and he didn’t overly mind.

  My tuck box and trunk were stacked in a corner of my bedroom. I adored my trunk, full of my clothes and uniform for the year. When I first attended boarding school at Bourne Park at the tender age of eight, I had thought it was quite exciting to wear a uniform. Fawn coloured jumpers and socks, grey woollen culottes and pullovers with cardigans had been my staple, though now it was the navy blue of Mapleton Manor. We had got our uniforms at a large department store in Sloane Square, and always had our nametags stitched into everything. If someone lost a jumper, there were four hundred identical ones to choose from. It paid to know for certain which one was your own.

  Now I was at secondary school, my trunk and tuck box were both dark navy blue in colour, with my initials embossed in orange for my house on the side. It was almost symbolic of my life, not just at school, but overall. One of my greatest passions was travel, and I adored flitting all over the world and seeing different cultures and hearing different languages. If I had my way, I’d spend the rest of my life being a globetrotter, the world as my residence and my passport crammed full with stamps.

  For the next half an hour, I carefully pawed through the trunk and tuck box to triple check I had everything. Except, I was sure I’d packed more than one box of bourbon cream biscuits… I’d definitely had more than three Mars bars…and had I left out the Dip Dabs completely?

  Wait a minute—I smelled a rat. Louisa!

  Sure enough, in my trunk at least two of my favourite blouses were missing, along with Lord only knows how many eye shadows, lipsticks and creams. My makeup bag was half empty!

  My annoyance stewed and I quietly tiptoed down the hall to her bedroom. “Louisa? Louisa!” I hissed through my teeth into the dark room.

  Louisa turned over in her bed, the sheets rustling with her movements. “What?” she mumbled sleepily.

  “Have you been in my trunk, you little thief?”

  “No,” she answered too quickly. “Go away, Freddie, I’m sleeping.”

  “Louisa—”

  “Frederica, it’s late, you had better not be keeping your sister up.”

  I turned to see Mummy come way down the hall, her arms folded across her chest and a less than impressed expression on her face. Cringing, I closed Louisa’s door and crossed the hall back to my own bedroom. “Sorry, Mummy. I was just checking to see if Louisa had seen a few of my things.”

  “You were supposed to have seen to your things by now. Honestly, Frederica, it’s as though you’ve never gone to school before. Why did you leave it until the last minute?”

  Oh, I’m going to throttle that girl… “I thought I had everything. I am sorry, Mummy.”

  “Hmm,” my mother said, my apology doing absolutely nothing to pacify her. “Well, if it isn’t packed by now it isn’t going with you. Now off to bed or you will never be able to get up in the morning.”

  I nodded, deciding that any more arguments wouldn’t end well for me. Before slipping into my bed, I set my alarm clock half an hour earlier than it had been. I’d get my things back from Louisa and her sticky fingers.

  And I would definitely get my sweets back.

  There was nothing quite like the bubbly feeling I got in my stomach when the Mapleton Manor gatehouse came into view. The old house was as quirky as they came, with Tudor elements and a curved second-floor bay window. Lattice windows and a tall chimney completed the look. The centuries-old building stood as the first port of call for the school and it almost seemed to symbolise my arrival, welcoming me back.

  The girls on the coach tittered as we trundled along, getting louder when they spotted the gatehouse. I had travelled with Augustus and Louisa that day, first flying by helicopter to Nice then boarding our flight to Heathrow. It was there we’d parted ways, with each of us heading to our own schools. I’d caught my school coach at Bressenden Place in Victoria, along with a bunch of other girls.

  We passed by the gatehouse and turned onto the long, straight drive that led up to the school. My excitement had reached new limits by the time we slowed to a stop in front of the main building, its beautiful red bricks gleaming in the sun, the white detailing the windows and roofline accentuating the school’s beauty.

  After today, I would only have one more first day at this school. Gosh, only one more… Mapleton Manor had been a huge part of my life, and it was a peculiar notion that it wouldn’t always be.

  Today was a special day, another first to look forward to. A smile touched my lips as I peered out of the window. The excitement I felt was not unfamiliar. It was, after all, what I had been feeling on the beginning of my boarding school career when I was just eight years old.

  The exterior of Mapleton Manor softened, faded, until it was a different school altogether that I saw.

  I looked up at Mummy, then around to Daddy. I was sandwiched between them, a bit squashed, but I didn’t care because it wouldn’t be long until they were awfully far away.

  The Range Rover was parked and the driver opened the door for Daddy. A flutter of nerves began in my belly, shadowing the excitement I had harboured since learning that I would be attending a school in England. I peered up at the tall, old house—my new home for a long time.

  Bourne Park.

  It sounded like something out of a novel. An exciting novel. I wanted to rush to the end so I knew what to expect.

  Mummy squeezed my shoulder and ushered me forward as the front door opened and an older woman stepped outside.

  She smiled at Mummy and Daddy before dropping her eyes to me. “Hello,” she said. “You must be Frederica. I’m Mrs de Pauw and I run this school. Are you excited to come in and have a look around?”

  “Yes, I am,” I said and found I meant my words.

  “Why don’t I show you to your dormitory and you can meet some of the other girls? I can have a chat with your mother and father and then we’ll come and get you to show you around the school.”

  I nodded and we all followed Mrs de Pauw inside. She led us up a steep staircase and down numerous hallways. Mrs de Pauw paused to give me a smile before she opened one of the many closed doors.

  There was a gaggle of girls in the room, rows of narrow beds and little porcelain sinks. On our entrance, the girls turned to stare with unabashed curiosity.

  “Girls, this is Frederica. She will be joining us here at Bourne Park. Do make sure she feels at home.” Mrs de Pauw turned and motioned for my parents to follow her back the way we had come.

  Leaving me alone.

  With all these
girls.

  Who were still staring.

  “Hello. Which bed is mine?” I asked.

  One girl stepped closer with a wide grin on her face. “I’m Fenella. Your bed is that one over there. I like your coat. Where are all your things?”

  I liked this girl and her forward nature. “Thank you. I like my coat too. I think my things are downstairs.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Monaco,” I said. It was peculiar to me to be having a conversation entirely in English. French had become my mother tongue.

  The girls oohed at this and I wondered if they had ever been before.

  “My old school was right next door to the Palais Princier. Princess Grace lived there with Prince Rainer before she died.”

  The room exploded with excited chattering. I was bombarded with dozens of questions and it was almost a challenge to keep up. I shrugged out of my coat and sat down on my new bed, and told the girls all about life in Monaco.

  “When we were younger my best friend, Cornelia, and I loved to play silly games where we imagined ourselves living in the palace like royalty. We pretended to wear gorgeous gowns of spectacular fabric.” I glanced down at my thick navy tights that I had to wear because it was so much colder here. They itched. “I think I’ll miss playing those games.”

  Another girl sat on the edge of my bed. “Don’t be sad. It’s really fun here, too.”

  Fenella nodded her agreement. “There’s the spinney—a forest—on the grounds and it is just the best playground. Everyone loves Mr Fingers—he’s a tree—and he is great fun to climb.”

  “Yes,” said the other girl. “And we get to go camping all the time. It’s super fun.”

  “That does sound fun,” I said, a bubble of excitement growing in my stomach.

  “Do you like pets?” Fenella asked. “We have loads here—you can have whatever you like! Rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters…not to mention the horses!”

  “I would love a horse.” I sighed.

  Fenella giggled and leaned closer. “We hide our sweeties in the horse jumps. Mrs de Pauw takes away the extras we get given on exeats if we don’t hide them first. We tried the attic for a while, but the rats found them.” She wrinkled her nose.