by Rhys Bowen
She came across to the bed and placed a tray on my bedside table. The tray contained a cup of tea with a biscuit beside it. “When should I run your ladyship’s bath?” she asked.
I was beginning to see that this maid business might have some advantages. At home at Castle Rannoch we had never indulged in luxuries like tea in bed. I was contemplating lying there, reading the Times and sipping tea, when I remembered that I had a busy morning ahead of me: I had to see the baroness suitably transported to Park Lane and clean Mrs. Bantry-Bynge’s house. How on earth was I going to manage that?
“And what are your ladyship’s social engagements for today?” Mildred asked. “What outfit may I lay out for you?”
I could hardly say that I was going to sweep floors and wear a maid’s uniform. “Oh, nothing special. A skirt and jersey. I can select them myself when I’ve had my bath.”
“Certainly not, my lady. I am here to give service and service I shall give.”
I sighed as she brought out a linen skirt and a silk blouse. Both had already been miraculously cleaned and pressed. Somehow, somewhere I was going to have to change from the clothes Mildred wanted me to wear into my uniform.
“You may run my bath now, Mildred,” I said. “I have a morning visit I must pay”—then I remembered the happier news of the day—“and the baroness will be leaving us, so maybe you could assist Irmgardt with her packing.”
I bathed, dressed and put my maid’s uniform into a carrier bag, then I went downstairs to find my guests already at breakfast. In honor of the baroness’s departure Mrs. Hug-gins had made bacon and kidneys and the baroness was devouring them as if she had been starving for months. “At last. Good Fleisch,” she said, smacking her lips.
I hoped the Fleisch wasn’t so good that she had changed her mind about moving in with the dowager countess.
“I’m afraid I have to go out for a while this morning,” I said. “I expect Hannelore would like to accompany you to Park Lane to make sure you are comfortably settled.”
“Where do you go?” Hanni asked.
“Oh, just to visit a friend.”
“I come with you,” Hanni said firmly. “Is boring with old broads.”
Oh, dear. “I’m afraid the friend I’m going to visit is very elderly herself,” I said. “Bedridden, in fact, and not very well. I visit out of duty, once a month.”
“I can come and make her happy,” Hanni said. “Old women in bed like to see young smiling faces.”
“Not this one. She only likes to see people she knows. Otherwise she becomes confused. And of course she has a rash, but I don’t think it’s catching.” I heard a gasp from the baroness.
“Princess Hannelore will come with me,” she said.
“Good idea.” I heaved a sigh of relief. “I will call to escort you home in time for a rest before the party.”
“I am thinking it is my duty to come to this party with Her Highness,” the baroness said.
This day was turning into one complication after another.
“I’m afraid you would have a most disagreeable time,” I said. “It will be young people and jazz music.”
“Highly unsuitable,” the baroness muttered. “I don’t think her father would approve.”
“My father wants me to meet young people,” Hanni said.
“Young people of good family,” I added. “And I promise to watch over the princess at all times.”
The baroness snorted but I think was relieved to get out of an evening of jazz, not to mention debauchery. I offered my maid’s services to help her pack, my butler to summon a cab and transport her luggage, and then I slipped down to the servants’ quarters to change into my maid’s uniform and slip out through the servants’ entrance without being seen.
“So your little plan worked, did it?” my grandfather asked. “The old Kraut is off?”
“Yes, thank goodness. I told her you’d summon a cab and take down her luggage for her.”
“Is she taking that maid, that Fireguard person, with her?” Mrs. Huggins poked her head around the kitchen door.
“No, Irmgardt is the princess’s maid. She’ll obviously be staying here,” I said.
Mrs. Huggins sighed. “Gives me the willies, that one does. Drifting in and out like a black shadow, staring at you with a face that could curdle milk.”
“She can’t help her face, Mrs. Huggins, and she doesn’t speak English, which must make it hard for her.”
“I’ve tried teaching her English words but she don’t seem too eager to learn. Thick as a plank, if you ask me. And downright unfriendly.”
“I don’t suppose the Germans think more kindly of us than we do of them,” Granddad said. “But she won’t even take her meals down here with us. Puts her food on a tray and then takes it up to her room. What with her and your Miss Lah-dee-dah...”
“Mildred, you mean?”
“Frightfully posh, she is. If she sticks her nose in the air any higher, she’ll fall over backwards,” Mrs. Huggins said.
I had to laugh. “Yes, she is rather annoying, isn’t she? But it won’t be for long, I promise. It’s no easier for me, I can assure you. At least we’re getting rid of the baroness. And I have to go out, I’m afraid.”
I slipped into the downstairs cloakroom, changed into my maid’s uniform and crept out of the tradesmen’s entrance when no one was looking. I had to get through my assignment at Mrs. Bantry-Bynge’s as early as possible. Mrs. B-B was not due until the afternoon, but I had once encountered her gentleman friend. He had been rather too friendly and I had no wish to fight him off again. I assumed that men such as he were not early risers so I hoped to complete my work unmolested. I took the bus to Regent’s Park and had the whole thing done before noon, without any embarrassing encounters with men in blazers, then I went home to change out of my maid’s uniform before I went to Park Lane to collect Hanni.
When I arrived home I was greeted by my grandfather.
“The princess isn’t back yet, is she?” I asked.
He had a strange look on his face. “No,” he said. “But there was a telephone call for her while you were out. It seems the piece of jewelry she saw this morning at Garrard’s is ready to be delivered. They pointed out that they require C.O.D. for an item of that price. Apparently it’s emeralds.” He watched me wince. “That young lady needs watching,” he said.
“You can say that again.” I sighed. “Yesterday she tried to sneak a handbag out of Harrods. Now I suppose I’ll have to explain to Garrard’s that there has been a mistake. I just hope she didn’t have it engraved.”
“That’s what happens if you keep girls locked away in a convent,” Granddad said. “They go off the rails when they get out. If I were you, I’d let the queen know what you’re going through, and ship Her Highness back to Germany. Nothing good ever did come out of that country!”
“Beethoven. Mendelssohn. Handel,” I pointed out, “and Moselle wine. And I thought you’d taken a fancy to the princess.”
“She seemed a nice enough little thing,” he agreed. “But she still wants watching. She don’t think like you and me.”
I suffered an embarrassing interview at Garrard’s, during which I had to hint that madness ran in the princess’s family, then I went to Park Lane to bring Hanni home.
“But Siegfried escorted her back to your house immediately after luncheon,” the baroness exclaimed. “I don’t understand.”
“She probably just went for a walk,” I said. “It is a lovely day.”
“That girl needs a good spanking,” the baroness said. “I should not have let her out of my sight. Perhaps I should come back to your house after all. I am neglecting my duty.”
“I’ll go and find her right away and keep a closer watch on her,” I said. “I’m sure there is nothing to worry about.”
Of course I wasn’t at all sure. I didn’t mention the Garrard’s episode. My grandfather was right. The sooner she was shipped back to Germany, the better.
I had no
idea where to look for her and had visions of her rifling Harrods or buying up Bond Street at this very moment. I walked around aimlessly for a while then came home to find that Hanni had returned and was resting. She had fallen asleep and looked positively angelic. My opinion of her softened. She was, after all, a very young girl in the big city for the first time. She just didn’t know the rules yet.
Chapter 13
Belinda called for us at eight. She was wearing the outfit she had made me model for Mrs. Simpson—black silk trousers with a white backless top. Stunning on her, of course—an utter disaster on me. I felt positively dowdy in my flowing taffeta panels made by our gamekeeper’s wife. Hanni wore the same pale pink affair she had worn to dinner the first night. She looked the way a princess should look in fairy stories. I half expected to see her followed by dwarves.
We could hear the party in full swing as we pulled up in the taxicab outside St. James’s Mansions. The deep thump thump of a jazz beat and the wail of saxophones floated down into the refined air of Arlington Street, making a pair of old gentlemen, on their way to their club, wave their canes and mutter about the youth of today and what they needed was a stint in the colonies or a good war in Africa. The flat was in one of the big modern blocks that overlook Green Park. We rode in the lift to the sixth floor and as the doors opened, we were hit by the full force of the sound. This was no gramophone recording. They had a full jazz band in there!
The front door was unlatched and Belinda didn’t wait to be invited in. She went straight in and motioned for us to follow her. We stood in the square marble entrance hall, overwhelmed with the level of music. An archway led to the main living room. The lights were low and a smoky haze hung in the air, but I got an impression of white walls, low chrome furniture and highly modern paintings. At least I think they were paintings. To me they looked as if someone had hurled paint at a canvas and then jumped around on it. The carpet had been rolled back and the parquet floor was packed with gyrating couples. A colored jazz band took up most of the dining alcove. There was a bar in the hallway, with a steady procession of young people in the most fashionable evening clothes passing to and fro with cocktail glasses.
The only parties I had been to in my short and dull life had been the coming-out balls during my season, all taking place in well-lit and well-chaperoned ballrooms—at which the strongest concoctions had been punch with a hint of champagne. Apart from those there were the Christmas parties at Castle Rannoch with Scottish reels and bagpipes, plus the odd summons to Balmoral for the royal equivalent. But nothing like this. This was the sort of sinful, smart party I had dreamed of. And now I was here, I was overcome with awkwardness.
Belinda plunged right in, sailing up to the bar. “What are we making tonight, darlings?” she asked. “Can we manage a sidecar? Oh, and make it a double while you’re about it, there’s an angel.”
She looked back at Hanni and me, still standing just inside the front door.
“Come on. What are you drinking?”
“I try some moonshine,” Hanni said. “That is what Edward G. Robinson drinks.”
“Hanni, this is England. Drinking is legal here. We don’t need moonshine,” I said.
At that moment the dance number ended and Gussie Gormsley came out of the drawing room, dabbing at his face with a red silk handkerchief. “My God, it’s like a Turkish bath in there,” he said. “A drink, my good man, and rapidly.” Then he saw us and looked genuinely pleased. “Hello, Georgie, hello, Belinda. You came. Splendid. Hoping you would.” Then his eyes moved to Hanni. “And who is this delightful creature?”
“This is Princess Hannelore of Bavaria,” I said. “She’s staying with me. I hope you don’t mind that we brought her along.”
“Not at all. Delighted. Most welcome, Princess.”
“Call me Hanni,” she said, graciously extending a hand to him.
“Hanni, this is one of our hosts, Augustus Gormsley,” I said.
“Call me Gussie, everyone else does. And we’re having a positively royal evening. Half the crowned heads of Europe will be here before the night is over. But where are my manners? You ladies need a drink before I introduce you.”
He went up to the bar and handed us something pink with a cherry in it. “That will put hair on your chest,” he said.
“But I do not wish hair on my chest,” Hanni said, causing a general laugh.
“I’m sure your chest is absolutely beautiful the way it is,” Gussie replied, studying it earnestly. “Come on in and meet people.”
“It’s awfully loud,” Belinda said. “I’m surprised the police haven’t shown up yet.”
“Already been and gone, old thing,” Gussie replied with a grin. “And we have the helmet to prove it. We did send the poor chap off with ten quid to keep him happy, however.”
He took Hanni and me by the arm and steered us into the drawing room. “Look what I just found out in the hall,” he called to Lunghi Fotheringay.
Introductions were made. Lunghi made a beeline for Hanni and steered her out to the balcony to see the view.
“He doesn’t waste any time, does he?” Gussie said, looking a little disappointed. “Now, let’s see. Who do you know?”
“I’m sure nobody,” I said. “I don’t exactly mix with the smart set.”
“Nonsense,” Gussie said. “I’m sure you know old Tubby, don’t you? Tubby Tewkesbury? Everyone knows old Tubby.”
A large, red-faced fellow turned at the sound of his name. That face lit up when he saw me. “What-ho, Georgie. Didn’t expect to see you at a bash like this. In fact, I haven’t seen you since you came out. Down in London for a while, are you?”
“I’m living here now. Attempting to make my own way in the world.”
“Splendid. That is good news. Although you don’t want to get mixed up with this lot. They’ll lead you down the road to perdition, you know.”
“Ah, but think of the fun she’ll have along the way,” Gussie said. “Come on, drink up.”
The band struck up again and Tubby dragged me onto the dance floor. His gyrations were even more dangerous than those around us and I was lucky to come out of the dance with no black eyes or broken toes. “Another drink, I think,” he said, as the sweat ran down his face. “Same for you, old thing?” and he took my glass for a refill before I could answer.
I stood alone, looking around the room, trying to recognize faces in the dark, and found myself looking directly at a face I knew only too well.
“Mother!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Having fun, darling, the same as you,” she said. She was reclining in one of the low leather armchairs, a cigarette holder held nonchalantly in one hand, a cocktail glass in the other. “Dear Noel insisted on bringing me.”
“Noel?”
“Noel Coward, darling. You must have heard of Noel. Everybody knows Noel. He writes the most divine plays and acts in them too. So talented. And he positively adores me.”
“Mummy, so he was the man who was making you think of ditching Max?”
She laughed. “Oh no, no, no. He doesn’t adore me in that way, I assure you, darling. But he’s trying to persuade me to return to the stage. He wants to write a play especially for little moi. Isn’t that touching?”
“Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking of returning to the stage?”
She looked coy. “Noel has been absolutely begging me. And I have to admit, it might be fun.”
“You should take him up on his offer,” I said. “You can’t go on relying on men to support you for the rest of your life, you know.”
She laughed, that wonderfully melodious peal that made heads turn throughout a room. “You are so sweet. If I were desperate I believe I’m still officially married to a deadly dull Texan millionaire and I could go and live on a ranch for the rest of my days. If not he, then several others are lining up for the position, you know. But as it happens, I’m not desperate. I do have a teeny bit tucked away for a rainy day, and that s
weet little villa outside Cannes that Marc-Antoine gave me.”
“Marc-Antoine?”
“The French racing driver who was so tragically killed at Monte Carlo. I truly believe I could have been happy with him for the rest of my life.” An expression of grand tragedy covered her face, then the smile broke through again. “Well, maybe not. All those exhaust fumes. So bad for the complexion.”
“So you’re seriously considering going back on the stage?”
“I’m sorely tempted,” she said. “But I can already hear the whispers: ‘She started off as a duchess and it’s been all downhill from there on.’ ”
“As if you worry what people say,” I said. “There must have been a good deal of talk during your life.”
She laughed again. “You’re right. To hell with what people say. And speaking of what people say, you missed the grand entrance of the evening.”
“Grand entrance and it wasn’t yours?”
“The Prince of Wales, darling, with the dreadful American woman clinging to his arm.”
“He brought her here with Mr. Simpson in tow?”
“He did indeed.”
“The queen will be furious,” I said. “Where are they now?”
My mother was positively gloating. “The spider-woman took one look at me and announced that the party wasn’t her thing. ‘You didn’t tell me that the riffraff would be here, David,’ she said and stalked out.”
“Damned cheek.”
“That’s what I thought, considering I have legitimately been a duchess and she hasn’t risen above the rank of American housewife. But they left and I stayed, which I consider a victory, darling.” She sat up, suddenly alert. “Ah, there Noel is now, darling. Noel, have you brought me another drink, my sweet?”
The suave and elegant figure whom I recognized from the pages of countless magazines glided toward us with a glass in each hand and an ebony cigarette holder balanced between his fingers. “Your wish is my command, as you well know,” he said. “Here’s to us, darling, the two most beautiful and talented people in the room.”
