On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service

by Rhys Bowen

  The words were spoken in almost perfect English but with the clipped pronunciation of a German speaker, and the w of “wish” turned into a v. The person who stood behind me was tall and erect with fine cheekbones and light blond hair pulled back into a chignon. She was wearing the customary black lady’s maid’s outfit, which robbed her pale complexion of all color and made her look a bit like a walking skeleton. Her face showed no expression as she stood there.

  “Ah, Gerda,” I said, thinking that the name really suited her. “It’s very kind of you to take on this extra work, especially when your mistress is so busy.”

  “The contessa requested that I do this and my job is to obey,” she said.

  “I won’t need a lot of help,” I said. “I have traveled quite light because I had to leave my own maid at home.”

  “Yes, I see,” she said, picking up the jacket from where I had left it on the bed. “This is in serious need of good cleaning and pressing. Please let me assist you out of the skirt and into something more suitable.”

  Oh crikey. I had a feeling that the contents of my suitcase would not qualify for more suitable in her eyes. This was confirmed as she took out a skirt, a summer dress, the one long evening gown I had brought with me. They hung looking forlorn in that great wardrobe. I was going to make a joke about being able to conceal a regiment in there in the good old days but decided she would have no sense of humor.

  “I think you have not had the benefit of a good maid for some time now,” she said. “Or this gown would have been packed with tissue paper and thus not creased like this.”

  “You’re right,” I said, not wanting to admit that I packed the suitcase myself, also that I hadn’t had a maid who knew what she was doing for years now. I had had to choose the one evening dress that Queenie hadn’t ruined by ironing the velvet the wrong way, burning a hole in it or otherwise wrecking. Gerda made small noises of disgust as she continued to empty the suitcase.

  “Has your ladyship brought her jewel case with her?” she asked.

  “Just a few items to wear in the evenings,” I said. “I was really only planning to come to Italy to visit a sick friend, not find myself part of a fashionable house party.” This, of course, was a lie, but I didn’t want to admit that these items of clothing represented the best of what I owned.

  Within seconds she had eased me out of my skirt and into my dressing gown. “I think the flower-pattern tea dress will be suitable for the afternoon,” she said. “I will go and press it right away.”

  When she’d gone I examined the contents of my wardrobe and chest of drawers, everything put away in exact little piles. Golly, I thought, this is what a real lady’s maid is like. Maybe one day I’ll be able to afford one like Gerda. I wondered if I’d take Queenie back when I married and gave a little shudder. It would be nice not having to dread Queenie ruining or losing something every time I travel. I’d given up Kathleen as a hopeless case. If she wasn’t prepared to leave Ireland I saw no future for her as my maid. I sat at my dressing table and took a brush to my hair.

  “Oh, my lady, allow me,” said a voice behind me and there was Gerda again, holding up a dress that looked like new. “Let me assist you into this and then I’ll do your hair for you.”

  I stepped into the dress and she did up the buttons with lightning speed, then she sat me at my dressing table and styled my hair.

  “It’s quite curly, isn’t it?” she said. “I always use a little of a special pomade to smooth out the waves. I’ll fetch some from the contessa’s room. She won’t mind.”

  And I sat there, being transformed into a sleek-looking woman. Then she applied a hint of rouge to my cheeks and lips.

  “There,” she said. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

  “Much,” I said. “Gerda, you are a genius.”

  She looked quite pleased at this. I believe I almost saw a smile. “You are most kind, my lady. I merely do my job.”

  “How do you like living in Italy?” I asked her. “I hear you are from Austria and have been living in London for quite a while.”

  “That is correct,” she said. “I am not sure that I will like Italy as much as London, but the contessa is most agreeable. And I was fortunate to find this situation so quickly after the tragic death of my mistress.”

  “Oh dear. I’m sorry,” I said. “You were fond of her?”

  “It is not a maid’s job to be fond of an employer, but she treated me with respect and it was certainly an interesting household. Her husband was a cabinet minister. I probably should not mention which one. It was a great shock to me as well as him when she killed herself. I still blame myself and feel responsible.”

  “How could you be responsible if someone decides to take their own life?” I asked.

  “I should have checked on her sooner,” she said and a spasm of pain crossed her face. “She asked me to run her bath. I did it just the way she liked it with lavender oil. I helped her to undress, and to climb into the tub. Then I said she should call me when she was finished. I went back into her bedroom and busied myself sewing on a button. Then it occurred to me that she had been in the bath for a long while and the water must be getting cold. I opened the bathroom door and found the water bright red. She had slit her wrists.”

  “How horrible for you,” I said.

  “If only I had checked on her sooner, I might have prevented it,” she said.

  “Don’t blame yourself, Gerda,” I said. “If someone is determined to end their life, they will do so. Had she been depressed?”

  “She had not been herself,” Gerda said. “Of course I was not privy to the details of her personal life, but something was troubling her, and her husband was always too busy to notice.”

  “Well, at least you have landed in a good situation here,” I said. “This lovely villa and a house in Rome.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I have secured the perfect position for my needs. I am most grateful.”

  As she spoke she was removing items from my wardrobe. Then picked up the shoes I had been wearing. “I shall attempt to improve these and be back in time to dress you for dinner, my lady. Will that be all now?”

  “Yes, thank you, Gerda.”

  She bobbed a little curtsy and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Golly, I thought. I’m not sure I’d want a maid like that. Camilla had been right. There was something rather terrifying about her.

  I went down to join the party under the arbor, hoping that tea was now being served because I was definitely feeling peckish. I had eaten a pastry at the ferry plaza, but I hadn’t really had a decent meal since I arrived in Italy. There was now a crystal jug of fresh lemonade on the table but no sign of food other than a dish of olives. Clearly tea was not part of the daily regime at Villa Fiori. I tried not to look disappointed as I sat in the chair Max had pulled up for me.

  “You’re looking very nice, darling,” my mother said. “That dress really suits you.”

  I smiled, but inside I was still dying of curiosity about what had brought about this change. Usually she told me my hair was a disaster, my clothes frumpy and I needed makeup. I had taken a couple of sips of lemonade when my mother stood up. “I know, darling, why don’t you and I take a turn about the grounds. They are quite lovely, you know.”

  She held out her hand to me. I stood up, taking her hand. Max started to stand up too. “That is a good idea. We need exercise before dinner.”

  “Not you, darling.” She turned to give him her dazzling smile. “Georgie and I have lots of catching up to do. This is girl time. You men must take your exercise somewhere else.”

  She slipped her arm through mine and led me down the steps. We passed the lines of perfectly manicured topiaries, past the fountain with doves sitting on the marble rim. To one side of us was a sparkling swimming pool. Beyond it was a small octagonal building of white marble, again adorned with classical s
tatues. Mummy hadn’t said a word so far, but her arm was still tightly entwined in mine. She led me upward, toward the terraces, and we walked along a pathway with a high wall, covered in blooming vines on one side and the view down to the lake on the other. About halfway along there was a recessed arbor, semicircular, with a small fountain built into the wall and a marble bench running around the edge. Mummy glanced back over her shoulder. “Thank God,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “That nobody is following us.” Her hand squeezed my arm. “I am so glad you’re here, darling. I can’t tell you how glad.”

  “You’ve never seemed exactly delighted to see me before. Including the other day in the square in Stresa. In fact, you ran off in the middle of a conversation—and you left me to pay your bill.”

  “That’s because I saw somebody, darling. Someone I did not wish to encounter again.” She drew me down to the marble bench beside her. Water bubbled from a stone lion’s mouth set into the wall behind us. Bees buzzed among the wisteria flowers.

  “I need your help, Georgie,” she said in a low voice.

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “It could be utterly devastating, darling. I simply don’t know what to do. You have to help me. Promise you’ll help me.”

  “Of course I’ll do what I can,” I said, thoroughly alarmed now. The look on her face was quite desperate. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s that man, Rudi. The one who kissed your hand. He was the one I fled from when I spied him in Stresa. I nearly died when we arrived at the house party and I found that he had also been invited.”

  “He’s been pursuing you? You’re normally the one who can handle any man with ease.”

  “Not this time, darling. And of course I know how to keep any man at arm’s length when I want to. No, it’s much worse than that.” She brushed back a strand of hair that the wind had blown across her face and composed herself again before she said, “Rudi is quite an attractive man, as you have noticed. I met him in Berlin. Max was away on business as he often is and Rudi and I had—well, a harmless little fling. At least I thought it was a harmless little fling until he turned up with photographs he had taken. He had a hidden camera, you see. And some kind of timing apparatus that could take the pictures while he was . . . otherwise engaged. So he came to see me one day and he showed me the pictures. Darling, they were shocking. Even I was shocked, and as you know, that takes a lot.”

  I nodded.

  “And he said he would send them to Max if I didn’t pay him a lot of money.”

  “Blackmail?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I had no idea he could stoop so low. I thought he was a gentleman. And obviously I couldn’t come up with that amount of money without Max noticing. What’s more, I don’t believe one should give in to blackmail. But if Max saw those pictures . . .” She shook her head as if trying to get rid of the vision of them. “Darling, you know what Max is like. Strict Lutheran upbringing. Very prudish. That’s why he’s insisting on our marrying, because he is riddled with guilt about our sinful relationship. But he thinks he’s been the only man in my life for some time now and if he found out about Rudi—well, that would be the end of everything. He’d break off with me and with him would go all the lovely money I do so enjoy.”

  “So you really do want to marry him, do you?” I asked. “He makes you happy? You can picture spending the rest of your life with him?”

  I felt her hesitate before she put on a bright smile. “Of course he makes me happy. He is wonderful in bed. Conversation is, well, limited, and Berlin is fun, but it’s not England, is it?”

  “You have plenty of money of your own, don’t you? You could live well without him if you decided to.”

  “I am not without cash,” she said. “And I do have the little villa in Nice and I could always go back to the stage if I felt like it, so it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I like being with Max. I enjoy the kind of power he has. And yes, to answer your question, I do want to marry him.” She covered my hand with her own. “And think of your future, darling. It’s unlikely that Max and I would have children. You’ll be the heir to millions. He might be persuaded to spring for a big wedding for you and Darcy. To buy you a property, perhaps?”

  “Now who is blackmailing?” I asked, but I smiled. “So exactly what was it that you wanted me to do? Talk Rudi out of his wicked ways?”

  “Oh no, darling. I want you to steal the photographs for me.”

  “Crikey!” I exclaimed. “How do you expect me to do that?”

  “Because he has them here with him. He told me so. He even threatened to reveal them at an opportune moment. He’s trying to force my hand. He’s grown impatient and waited long enough, he said. It’s pay up now or suffer the consequences.”

  “Odious man,” I said. “He tried to seduce me on the train, you know.”

  “As you say, odious man. So we have to stop him, don’t we, Georgie? You’ve done some clever undercover work, haven’t you? You’ve solved murders, and recovered jewels. This should be a piece of cake for you.”

  “A piece of cake?” The words came out louder than I had intended. “Do you know where he is keeping the photographs?”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “His bedroom is in the main corridor where we are all staying, but that might be too obvious, might it not? Oh, and he does seem to go over to that little marble pavilion from time to time. I’ve no idea why, unless he meets one of the maids there.”

  A picture of Gerda came unbidden into my head. Certainly not her, I thought.

  “But of course he could have hidden them anywhere in a house like this. Inside one of the thousands of books in the library. Inside one of the many vases and urns, behind a painting . . . It would have to be somewhere clever because he must know that I’d be looking for them.”

  I stared at her. She was looking at me as if she was now completely confident in my abilities. “Mummy, I’ve just arrived as a guest in a strange villa where I know nobody. I can hardly start turning their house upside down, can I? Why don’t you confide in Camilla? She could get the servants to help.”

  “Confide in Camilla? Are you mad? For one thing I hardly know her. We’re only here because Max is chummy with Paolo’s uncle who is also a guest at this shindig.” She leaned closer again. “She is about the most straightlaced and unapproachable woman I’ve ever come across. I mean, look at her. If she wasn’t married to a delectable Italian count she’d be the village spinster. Oh no, darling. Camilla would never understand in a million years. She’d never help.” Her hand was still patting mine. “That’s why I’m relying on you. You are my only hope. The tenuous tie to our future happiness is entirely in your hands.”

  You can tell she was an actress, can’t you? Normal people don’t say things like that even in moments of stress. If it hadn’t been so serious I would have giggled.

  Now she grabbed my hands fiercely. “You will help me, won’t you? You won’t let your poor mother die of shame and despair.”

  What could I say? “I’ll do what I can,” I said.

  Chapter 11

  AT VILLA FIORI

  STILL SUNDAY, APRIL 21

  It wasn’t the first decision in my life that I regretted almost as soon as I uttered the words.

  “Good. Well, that’s settled, then. Such a load off my mind. You have no idea.” Mummy stood up, brushed off her skirt and held out a hand to pull me to my feet. “We should be getting back to the others,” she said. “Max will wonder where we have been.” Then she froze, putting her finger to her lips. “Someone’s close by,” she said. “I thought I heard a movement behind that hedge.” Her face had gone very white again.

  I stepped out of our arbor and looked around. “It’s only one of the gardeners, sweeping the leaves from the path,” I said.

  “They certainly keep enough staff here, don�
��t they? These grounds look immaculate. And the house—Max was most impressed. He’s thinking of building us a villa like this outside Berlin when we marry.”

  She seemed quite cheerful now. I moved closer to her as we made our way along the raked gravel of the path and then down the steps to the main lawns.

  “You’ll have to help me if you want me to do this, Mummy,” I said. “Have Max arrange to take Rudi out on the lake or something so that I can search his bedroom.”

  “That should be easy enough to arrange, I suppose,” she said. “Yes, that might be a good idea. Then there would be no chance of his showing up unexpectedly. Although of course the most sensible thing to do, if Max was out on the lake alone with him, would be to push him overboard. I wonder if he can swim.”

  “Mummy!” I exclaimed.

  “Well, it would take care of things nicely, wouldn’t it?” she said. “A little boating accident? Who would dispute that?”

  I gave a nervous little titter. “I can’t see upright and noble Max agreeing to push your former lover over the side of a boat,” I said. “Besides, Rudi looks quite strong and fit to me. There might be a struggle and Max would be the one to go overboard.”

  “Oh dear, you’re right.” She shook her head so that those dainty blond curls danced. “How annoying. There must be a way to silence the man without having to give him money. But in the meantime, you do your best to find the wretched photographs, and if all goes . . .”

  She broke off as we saw Max coming toward us. “Ah, there you are,” he said. “Did you have a good stroll? I was testing the swimming pool, but it is too cold, I think.”