A Royal Pain

by Rhys Bowen

  “He means sausages. English sausages.”

  “But this is food for peasants,” the baroness said.

  “I like,” Hanni muttered again.

  The baroness went to bed early in a huff, muttering “no bathwater, no heat and toads to eat,” all the way up the stairs.

  I was still pondering how I was going to slip out to carry out my assignment with Mrs. Bantry-Bynge on Wednesday morning. Then, overnight, a brilliant idea struck me. I hadn’t heard from the agency about my new maid. I could claim I was going to interview candidates for the post. This brilliant scheme was frustrated by a telephone call while we were eating breakfast on Tuesday morning. It was the domestic agency; they had found a highly suitable person for the position if I might have the time to interview her.

  “I’m afraid I must leave you to your own devices this morning,” I said as I came back into the breakfast room. (It was kippers this time. The baroness complained about the bones.) “But I have to go and interview a new maid.”

  “What happened to your other maid?” the baroness asked. “Where has she gone? I thought she was good.”

  “Good, but unreliable,” I said. “She went out on Saturday night and didn’t turn up again. So I took your advice and decided I had to let her go.”

  She nodded. “Gut. One must be firm at all times with servants.”

  “So if you will excuse me, I need to interview her replacement. Maybe you would like to take a tour of the National Gallery. There are fine paintings there, I believe.”

  “It is raining too much,” the baroness said. “And the princess needs to rest before our dinner at the palace. She must look her best.”

  “But I feel fine,” Hanni complained. “I want to go see London. Meet people. Have a good time.”

  “The princess will rest,” said the baroness. “She will write letters home.”

  “Okay.” Hanni sighed.

  I set off for the domestic agency feeling as if I were about to sit for a stiff examination. Hiring servants wasn’t something I did every day—in fact I’d never done it before.

  “I believe we have finally found a suitable maid for you, my lady.” The woman at the desk was quite intimidating in her immaculate gray suit and white jabot. A cross between a hospital matron and school headmistress and with an air of more refinement than I could ever hope to achieve. She looked distinctly pleased with herself. “This is Mildred Poliver.”

  A woman in her forties rose to her feet and dropped a curtsy. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, your ladyship. It would be an honor to serve you.”

  “I’m sure you’d like to ask Miss Poliver some questions,” the headmistress lady said.

  “Oh yes. Of course.” I tried to sound efficient and breezy, as if I interviewed servants on a regular basis. “Um—what experience do you have, Miss Poliver?”

  “I have been a leedy’s maid for twenty-naine yahrs,” she said in the sort of refined accent that those born to the lower classes seem to think sounds upper-class. “My last position was with Brigadier Sir Humphry Alderton. Do you know the Humphry Aldertons by any chance?”

  “Not personally.”

  “A faine family. Very refained.”

  “So why did you leave?”

  “They were returning to India and I had no wish to go to that country. I can’t abide the heat, you see.”

  “I see.”

  “Mrs. Humphry Alderton gave me a glowing reference. It is here, should you wish to see it.”

  I glanced over it. Mildred is a gem. Don’t know what I’ll do without her...

  “This looks quite satisfactory,” I said.

  “Miss Poliver would naturally expect a wage commensurate with her experience,” the dragon said.

  “How much did you receive at your last position?”

  “Seventy-five pounds a year, all found. I require Thursday afternoons and Sunday evenings free.”

  “That sounds satisfactory,” I said. I was sure the maids at home got nothing like seventy-five pounds a year. More like twenty. I was also calculating that Binky had given me one hundred pounds to cover the maid and the expenses of feeding our German visitors, and the baroness would soon prove expensive to feed. But then I didn’t have to keep Mildred Poliver after my guests had gone. I could find some excuse to get rid of her. My honest nature won out of course.

  “I should point out that the position may only be temporary.”

  “Temporary?”

  “I am not sure how long I am remaining in London and I do have a personal maid at Castle Rannoch.”

  “As it happens, a temporary assignment would suit me to a tee,” Mildred said. “I did so enjoy living in the country and I am not sure how I will like the hustle and bustle of London.”

  We shook hands and Mildred offered to start that very afternoon.

  “That would suit me very well,” I said. “We are expected for dinner at the palace tonight.”

  “The palace? Fancy.” The two women exchanged impressed nods.

  “Well, of course, your ladyship is related to the royal family, it stands to reason,” Mildred said. I could see the wheels of her mind already working. She was going to enjoy boasting about the royal connection. She was probably even hoping that a royal relative might pop in for tea from time to time. I had actually taken an instant dislike to her but could find no way of rejecting her. It’s only temporary, I told myself. A Rannoch can handle adversity.

  Mildred set off to collect her things and I went home. With Mrs. Huggins’s help I prepared a room for her, next to Irmgardt’s, up under the eaves. It felt bitterly cold and damp up there and I understood for the first time why Irmgardt always looked so disgruntled. Could I possibly expect Mildred to be satisfied with such surroundings? Maybe she was used to adversity. But then maybe she would only stick it out for a few days, which would suit me well. She arrived not long after, bearing a pitifully small suitcase, and gushed over the impressive nature of Rannoch House’s hallway. She was rather more quiet when I took her up three flights to her room.

  “It’s rather spartan,” was all she managed.

  “Of course we can make it more comfortable,” I said rapidly. I couldn’t understand why I was trying to please her. She was rather intimidating.

  “And I should point out that my name is Mildred,” she said. “I am never called Millie. Never.”

  “Of course not.” I was apologizing again as if I had intended to be on chummy Millie–Georgie terms with her any moment.

  I took her on a tour of the house. She approved of my bedroom, but not of the clothes draped over the backs of chairs. “I can tell your ladyship has been without a competent maid for a while,” she said. “And the state of your clothes, my lady. Did your last maid not know how to use an iron?”

  “Not very well,” I said hastily. “Now, this room next to mine is currently occupied by my guest, Princess Hannelore of Bavaria.”

  “A princess here. Fancy.” I rose in her estimation again.

  “She has her own maid, called Irmgardt. We’ll see if she’s in here and I can introduce you, although she doesn’t appear to speak anything but German.”

  I pushed open Hanni’s bedroom door. There was no sign of Irmgardt. Hanni had obviously been writing letters. A piece of writing paper lay on her bedside table, on which someone had written in big letters C.P.??? The envelope lay beside it. It bore a W.1. postmark. So Hanni did know someone else in London after all.

  Chapter 11

  Buckingham Palace

  Tuesday, June 14, 1932

  Diary,

  Buck House this evening. Oh, Lord, I hope Hanni doesn’t do her gangster impression! I hope everything goes smoothly. Maybe the queen will be so enchanted with Hanni that she’ll invite her to stay at the palace instantly....

  It felt strange to have a maid dress me for the dinner at the palace. I had become so used to fending for myself that I was embarrassed to stand there like a dressmaker’s dummy while Mildred fussed around me, powde
ring my shoulders, hooking my dress, slipping my feet into my evening shoes and then doing my hair. She despaired about the latter.

  “May I suggest a good cut and a permanent wave, my lady? Waves are fashionable these days.”

  “I’ll consider it,” I said lamely.

  “And what jewelry has your ladyship selected for tonight?”

  I hadn’t even thought about jewelry. “I don’t know. I have some nice pearls.”

  “Pearls?” She sounded as if I had said a rude word. “Pearls are not worn in the evening, unless, of course, they are exceptional pearls of great size and history. Is your necklace of great size and history? Does it include other precious stones?”

  I had to admit that it didn’t.

  “May I suggest rubies, given the color of the dress,” she said.

  “I don’t own rubies. I do have garnets.”

  “Garnets?” She actually looked pained.

  In the end I handed her my jewel case and let her select. “The good stuff is at home in the vault,” I said, trying to redeem myself. “My family worried about burglaries in London.”

  As I went downstairs to meet my guests I hated myself for letting her upset me. She was, after all, the servant and I the mistress. Why should I care if she thought my jewelry pathetic or my dresses crumpled?

  Hanni looked stunning in an evening version of a German dirndl, the baroness fearsome in black with several strings of jet around her neck and a fierce black feathered concoction sticking out of her bun at the back of her head. As we rode to the palace in the taxicab, I gave Hanni a few last-minute warnings. “Please do not talk about gangsters or call Her Majesty a doll, babe or broad,” I said.

  “Okeydokey,” she said happily. “I’ll talk like London person now. Your butler, he help me.”

  This did not sound encouraging, but before I could do any more warning, we were turning in through the palace gate and pulled up in the courtyard. Liveried lackeys leaped forward to open the taxicab door and we climbed out. We were ushered into a brightly lit foyer. “Their Majesties are awaiting you upstairs,” we were told.

  “Bob’s your uncle. We go up the apples and pears here,” Hanni said loudly and brightly and started to ascend the broad marble stair decorated with gilt and statues.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t try to talk like a London person,” I whispered.

  “Apples and pears is not right?”

  “Not for the palace. At least not for this palace. At the Hammersmith Palace it would be fine.”

  “Which palace?” she asked.

  “Never mind. Just listen to what I say and try to use the same words.”

  At the entrance to the gallery we were announced and stepped into a room already full of people, most of whom I didn’t know. The king and queen were standing at the far end, looking remarkably regal even though this was classed as an informal evening with no tiaras or sashes. The queen held out a white-gloved hand and greeted us warmly.

  “Hannelore, my dear, we’ve so been wanting to meet you. How are you enjoying London so far?”

  I held my breath, waiting for Hanni to answer in gangster or Cockney terms. Instead even she seemed a little awestruck. “I like very much,” she said. “And I too am wanting to meet the lovely English queen and see the lovely palace.”

  “We must show you around on another occasion,” the queen said.

  “This I would like.” Hanni beamed at them. So far so good.

  “I do hope our sons are going to join us for dinner,” the queen said. “I would so like you to meet them.”

  As if on cue the Prince of Wales sauntered up and gave his mother a peck on the cheek. He looked terribly dashing in his dinner jacket and black tie. (White tie and tails were reserved for formal occasions.)

  “I’m glad you could come after all, David,” the queen said.

  “Just popped in but I can’t stay long,” he said. “I’m dining with friends.”

  “David, how tiresome. I particularly asked you to come and meet our guest from Germany. Princess Hannelore.”

  The prince nodded and spoke a few words in German to Hanni, who responded with a charming blush.

  “I had hoped that my second son, the Duke of York, and his wife would be able to join us,” the queen said, “but apparently one of their daughters is not well and they thought it wiser to stay home.”

  “He stays home because his daughter has the sniffles,” David said with a derisive snort. “He positively wallows in domesticity these days. Hardly ever goes out. The devoted papa, you know.”

  “At least he has given me grandchildren,” the queen said sotto voce as the prince turned away. “May I remind you that we don’t have an heir yet.”

  “Don’t start that again, for God’s sake,” the prince muttered back to her, then raised his voice. “In fact I think that’s my cue to exit. Princess, Georgie, I bid you adieu for now.” He nodded briefly to Hanni and me and disappeared into the crowd as the queen gave me a despairing look.

  Hanni was taken around to be introduced to the guests by an elderly general who seemed rather smitten with her while I stood beside the queen.

  “How are we ever to bring them together?” she asked me. “You must take her to the smart parties that David attends.”

  “I don’t get invited to smart parties, ma’am,” I said. I wasn’t sure that the mayhem and debauchery of the following night should be mentioned. “And besides, if the Prince of Wales goes to a party, he is likely to be accompanied by the American lady.”

  “Woman,” the queen corrected. “Certainly no lady. But I suppose you’re right. She has him in her clutches and she’s not going to let go. We’ll have to think of something, Georgiana. You have a good brain. You come up with a plan.”

  “The Bavarian lassie is definitely charming,” the king muttered to his wife as he drew close to her. “Did the boy seem interested?”

  “Can’t say that he did,” she replied curtly.

  “That boy will be the death of me,” the king said as he moved off again.

  As the royal couple greeted more guests, the baroness reappeared, beaming, with Hanni in tow. “I have found good friend here,” she said. “Come. You must meet.”

  We were taken through the crowd.

  “My good friend Dowager Countess Sophia,” Baroness Rottenmeister said proudly, “and her nephew, Prince Siegfried.”

  I mumbled something and prayed for the dinner gong, or at least a large earthquake, while I waited for doom to fall. Any minute now she’d shriek, “But she came to clean my house!”

  Apparently Belinda had been right and servants really are invisible, because she greeted me quite pleasantly. Siegfried chatted away in German to Hannelore, who insisted on answering him in her broken English. Hope rose in my heart. Maybe those two might make a match and I’d be off the hook. Knowing his predilection for boys, I didn’t think it would be a very satisfying marriage for Hanni, but she didn’t seem to possess many scruples. She probably wouldn’t mind taking a lover or two.

  Then the gong sounded and we were led in to dinner. I was seated next to Siegfried and had to listen to his account of how he had shot the world’s largest wild boar in Bohemia. “As big as a bus with tusks as long as this,” he exclaimed, almost knocking over a glass. As I nodded and muttered occasionally, Hanni’s high, clear voice floated down the table to me. “Ja, I am liking the English food. The spotted dick and the bangers and the toad in the ’ole. They’re the bee’s knees.”

  She wasn’t close enough to kick.

  “How fascinating,” said an elderly viscountess as she peered at Hanni through her lorgnette.

  “Maybe in wintertime you come visit Romania and we go shoot wild boar,” Siegfried was saying to me.

  “Princess Hannelore likes shooting things,” I said, bringing her into this conversation. “Don’t you, Hanni?”

  “Yeah, bang bang. Shooting is fun.”

  And they were off, discussing guns. Siegfried looked rather puzzled when Hanni m
entioned machine guns and violin cases, and I had to explain that she was talking of a shoot-out in a gangster film. They seemed to be getting along splendidly. Unfortunately the queen wasn’t equally delighted. As we ladies withdrew while the men passed the port and lit up cigars, she drew me to one side.

  “Siegfried seemed to be paying her too much attention,” she said. “We can’t let that happen. You must show more enthusiasm for him, Georgiana. Men like to be flattered. And as for Hannelore, I’m counting on you to find a way to bring her and my son together.”

  She had just moved away to talk with another guest when the baroness came barreling down on me, still beaming. “Vonderful news,” she said. “My kind friend the Dowager Countess Sophia has invited me to stay at her house. She has a good German chef and central heating and plenty of hot water. I shall take Hannelore and stay there.”

  Oh, dear. I didn’t think the queen would approve of Hanni being under the same roof as Siegfried. My life seemed to be one continual stepping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  Chapter 12

  Fortunately Hanni flatly refused to move to the dowager countess’s house.

  “But I like it with Georgie,” she said. “The queen wishes I stay with Georgie.”

  “But Your Highness needs a chaperone,” the baroness said. “What would your father say?”

  “Georgie will be my chaperone. And Irmgardt will stay to look after me.”

  The baroness went to say something, looked hard at me, then closed her mouth again. I could tell she was torn between her duty to the princess and the good food and warmth that awaited at the dowager countess’s house. Finally she nodded. “Very well. But you must not leave London without me and I insist that I accompany you to all official functions. Your father would expect it.”

  And so it was settled. Baroness Rottenmeister would move out the very next morning. I went to bed feeling optimistic for the first time in weeks. I awoke to a bump, a yelp and someone creeping around my room. I sat up, terrified. “Who’s there?” I asked.

  “Sorry, m’lady,” said a voice from over near the window, and a curtain was drawn back, revealing Mildred. “I was bringing up your morning tea, but I’m not yet familiar with the layout of your furniture and I bumped into your dressing table. It won’t happen again, I promise.”