A Royal Pain

by Rhys Bowen

  “Let us hope so, ma’am.”

  She was looking at me with that steely, unwavering stare of hers again. “You could help, Georgiana.”

  “Help with what?”

  “To solve this murder. You have a good sharp mind. And you did so splendidly when your brother was wrongly accused.”

  “I solved that case mainly by accident, ma’am, and because my own life was threatened.”

  “Nonsense, you’re being too modest,” the queen said. “I was most impressed; so was the king. I think you could get to the bottom of this sordid little matter more swiftly than the police.”

  “I really don’t think the police would take kindly to my interfering. I don’t see how I could poke around and ask questions without incurring their suspicions.”

  “Your grandfather was a member of the police force, was he not?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but several years ago, and he was only an ordinary bobby.”

  “Nevertheless, he’ll know where to ask questions and whom to ask. I can’t believe it can be that difficult, but policemen seem to be so dense. And they are like terriers— once they get one idea into their heads, they shake it and shake it and can’t let it go.”

  Another thought struck me. “Ma’am, how can I look into a murder in London if I’m stuck at a house in Norfolk?” I blurted out, not thinking that this was probably an impolite way to address a queen.

  “Ask your grandfather to do the spadework for you. Then, when you have settled Princess Hannelore at Dip-pings, you can slip back to London. We’ll make sure the Cromer-Strodes have a car at your disposal to take you to the station.”

  “You’re most kind,” I said, although I was thinking the opposite. How on earth did she expect me to solve a murder? Even with Granddad’s help, it seemed impossible. I had no idea where to start. Did she really expect me to go snooping around the docklands, asking questions? But I reminded myself that she was the queen, and one did not say no.

  Chapter 23

  All the occupants of Rannoch House were waiting for me as I came in through the front door.

  “Well?” Baroness Rottenmeister demanded.

  “Am I to be sent home?” Hanni asked.

  I saw my grandfather lurking near the baize door. I expect that Mrs. Huggins was listening on the other side of it.

  “The queen has come up with an admirable solution. We are to go to a country estate called Dippings, owned by Lord and Lady Cromer-Strode. They are having some people to stay for a house party and it should be quite lively for the princess.”

  I saw Hanni’s face fall and the baroness look disapproving.

  “But the policeman said we must not leave London,” Hanni reminded me. “I do not wish to leave London.”

  “And who are these people, the Cromer-Strodes? They are royalty?”

  “Nobility,” I said.

  The baroness frowned. “It is insult to Her Highness that she does not stay with royal peoples. I will write to her father and say is insult.”

  “The queen thinks highly of them,” I said. “And their estate is close to Sandringham, one of the royal palaces, where Their Majesties will also be staying next week.”

  Hanni looked brighter for some reason. “I like to see royal palaces. The queen does not yet show me around Buckingham Palace and she promised.”

  “You’re invited to a royal garden party next week,” I said. “You’ll like that. Strawberries and cream on the lawn.”

  Hanni nodded. “Yes,” she said emphatically. “This I shall like.”

  “When do we leave for this country house?” the baroness demanded.

  “The queen is sending a car for us in an hour.”

  “An hour? We are expected to be ready in one hour?”

  “The queen thinks it would be a good idea if we got away from London as quickly as possible.”

  “Hannelore, go and tell Irmgardt to pack immediately,” the baroness said. “If the queen wishes it, we cannot refuse. I hope it is not damp and cold at Deepings, and that the food is not too English.”

  “I understand that it is a very fine house, and Lady Cromer-Strode is American.”

  “American?” Hanni perked up again, probably hoping to meet some gangsters in residence.

  The baroness, however, was not convinced. “English. American. All the same. No idea how to cook good food.”

  They went upstairs to instruct Irmgardt to pack. I followed them to impart this news to Mildred, who seemed positively thrilled by it. “We’re going to the country, my lady? And to Dippings, too. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. It is supposed to be quait, quait lovely.”

  Until that moment I hadn’t quite realized that she’d expect to come along on this jaunt. How thick could I be? Of course I’d be expected to take my maid with me. I’d become too used to doing without servants.

  “When do we leave, my lady?”

  “Immediately, Mildred. The queen is sending a car for us.”

  At this she became quite flustered. “Then I must pack immediately. Where are your trunks kept? You will need all your dinner gowns, of course. It would never do to wear the same gown at dinner more than once.”

  “I don’t think I have more than a couple of dinner gowns,” I said.

  But she went on, still in raptures, “And there is bound to be a formal occasion or a ball, and then there’s your tennis outfit and is there possibly yachting nearby?”

  I laughed. “I don’t possess a yachting outfit, if that’s what you mean. There may be boating on the Norfolk Broads.”

  “A wonderful opportunity for you, my lady.” Mildred beamed at me. “There will no doubt be a good selection of suitable young men at the house party.”

  Oh no. Now even she was trying to marry me off. She hummed to herself as she started going through my wardrobe. She was obviously going to be in her element, probably the senior ranking maid, thanks to being attached to me, and she was going to relish every moment. Well, she was going to be disappointed when I had to return to London on the queen’s business—unless I could sneak away without letting her know!

  I left her humming and packing and went to find my grandfather below stairs.

  “So it looks like Mrs. Huggins and me can scarper off home, don’t it?” he said.

  “I’m not sure when we’ll be back in London. I’m sure it would be fine for you to spend the next few days at home, but could you possibly be ready to come back if we have to return to London?”

  “I expect we can, although Mrs. ’uggins is getting a bit cheesed off.”

  “How can I contact you in a hurry?” I asked.

  “You can always telephone the pub on the corner. The Queen’s ’ead. They’ll let me know, and we can be back in London in a jiffy if you needs us.”

  “I really appreciate this, Granddad. You’ve been wonderful.”

  “Get on with you.” He grinned and ruffled my hair. “I can’t say I’ll be sorry to leave. Not that I don’t enjoy your company, my love, but them other lot, I don’t know how you put up with them.”

  “One does what one has to,” I said. “And I couldn’t have done it without you and Mrs. Huggins. You’ve been real bricks.”

  “So what happens now with the police investigation?” he asked. “Is it okay for you to go running off before the inquest?”

  “The queen is vouching for us.” I paused and took a deep breath. “There’s one other thing. She’d like me to solve the case before the inquest.”

  “She’d what?” he boomed.

  I smiled. “I know, it’s ridiculous. I don’t see how I can do anything without annoying the police and casting more suspicion upon myself.”

  “Added to which you’d be poking around some pretty nasty people. Someone wanted that young man dead badly enough to take a large risk.”

  “Her Majesty suggested that you could help me, Granddad.”

  “Me? I really don’t see what I could do.”

  “You used to be a policeman in that area. Y
ou know people.”

  “I might still know a few old geezers around the dock-lands,” Granddad conceded. “If anyone’s going to ask the questions, I’d rather it was me than you. Ruddy cheek that queen of yours has got—wanting to send you into harm’s way, just to avoid a royal scandal.”

  “Rather more than a scandal, the way they put it. More like a diplomatic crisis.”

  “Ruddy Germans. Nothing but trouble, they are. You’d have thought they’d learned their lesson in the war, wouldn’t you? But no, this Hitler bloke comes along with his blasted Nazis and starts upsetting everything again.”

  “So will you find out what you can for me?” I asked. “When the princess is settled I’m supposed to come back to London to snoop around and solve this murder.”

  “You stay put in the country, ducks,” he said. “I’ll do my bit for you, but there’s no way I’m letting you poke around communist haunts. I’m your grandfather and I’m telling you straight.”

  I looked at him and grinned. “Yes, Granddad,” I said.

  Everyone was cheerful as the car arrived for us. It was a large Rolls with a well-attired chauffeur.

  “Now this is as it should be,” Baroness Rottenmeister commented. “Suitable transportation for Her Highness.”

  We left Mildred and Irmgardt standing on the pavement beside a Matterhorn of luggage, awaiting a taxi. No royal car for them. They were going to have to shepherd that pile of cases by train. I found myself feeling sorry for them and realized, with some shame, that such things had never crossed my mind before. Servants and luggage arrived where they were supposed to be and if they had inconveniences, they were no concern of ours. I think we truly believed that their one purpose in life was to make sure our lives ran smoothly.

  Our car made its way through the faceless northern suburbs until the city sprawl melted into glorious countryside. Having been confined to London for most of the spring I was unprepared for the riot of summer green—spreading oak trees, rich pastures, wheat and barley already tall and feathery in the fields. There is nothing as lush as the English countryside in summer.

  The baroness dozed in the heat. Princess Hanni looked out of the window.

  “England is very flat,” she commented. “No mountains.”

  “You’re looking at the flat part of England,” I said. “In the north and west we have many mountains, although not as high as the Alps in Bavaria.”

  “In Bavaria we have high mountains with snow,” she said. “The highest mountains in the world.”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “The Himalayas are the highest mountains in the world. The Alps are only the highest mountains in Europe.”

  “In Bavaria we have the highest peaks,” she said. “The Zugspitze and the Jungfrau.”

  “Mont Blanc in France is higher, I regret to tell you,” I said with a smile.

  “Ah, Mont Blanc,” she said dismissively. Then she turned to me. “This place Dippings. Is it nice?”

  “I expect so.”

  “Will there be young men there? We will dance?”

  “I have no idea, Hanni.”

  “Do you think that Darcy will be there?”

  I kept my face completely composed. “I shouldn’t think so.”

  “Gee, that’s too bad. I want to see him more. I think he likes me.”

  There was silence in the car while I tried not to think of Darcy, and especially Hanni with Darcy.

  “This is strange name,” she said at last. “What means Dippings?”

  “I expect it means little dips in the flat countryside.”

  “It is crummy name. Shall we visit the king and queen at their house?”

  “If they invite us.”

  “I am princess. They should invite me. It is not right that I do not stay at palace.”

  “The queen was thinking of you. She felt you would have more fun with people your own age.”

  “But I do not meet people my own age. Only you. I have not yet had date with fun and sexy guy.” I had been thinking that I had cured the princess of speaking American gangster slang. Obviously I hadn’t.

  “One week, Hanni. You can’t expect too much in one week.”

  “But you do not understand. Soon I go home and then I will not be permitted to speak with men. Only guys my family want me to marry. Nobody hot and sexy. And someone like the baroness will always be with me. How will I learn what sex is all about?”

  “I’m sure you’ll pick it up rather quickly,” I said. “You already seem to have the main idea.”

  “What main idea?”

  “Hanni, we went to a party. You danced. You flirted. I saw you.”

  “What means flirt?”

  “You know. Flutter your eyelashes. Tease. Act as if you are interested in a boy.”

  “This I can do. This I like to do, yes,” she said. “But you do not. This is not good, I think. It means boy does not know you like him.”

  Well, that was a definite slap in the face. Maybe what she said was true. Maybe Darcy had moved on because I hadn’t shown that I liked him enough. But flirting does not come easily to someone brought up in a remote castle with tartan wallpaper in the bathrooms, bagpipes at dawn and men who wear kilts.

  “I’ll try harder in future,” I reassured her.

  “I have not yet kissed a boy,” she went on. “Is this very pleasurable?”

  “Oh yes, very, with the right boy.”

  “You have found right boy?” she asked. “You know a hot and sexy guy?”

  I stared out of the window, watching a stream meander through a meadow while cattle stood in dappled shade. “Obviously not yet, or I’d be married.”

  “You want to be married?” she asked.

  “Yes, I suppose so. It’s what every woman wants. Don’t you?”

  “Not before I have known what it is to live my own life,” she said, seriously for her. “I have things I want to do. Things that married women cannot do, especially not married queens and princesses. I have dreams.”

  “Such as what?” I asked, intrigued.

  “Silly things. Go to the shops. Eat in a café.” She turned abruptly away and stared out of the window.

  Only the baroness’s rhythmic rumblings broke our silence. I found myself thinking things over. Everything had been so confused for the past few days. First Tubby plunging to his death and then the horrible episode in the book-shop with poor Sidney Roberts lying there, blood spreading across his white shirt. Granddad seemed to think there had to be a connection. Personally I couldn’t think what it was, unless it had something to with the cocaine I saw in Gussie’s kitchen. I knew little about drugs but I had heard that they were bought and sold by ruthless people. If Tubby and Sidney had been involved with them, and perhaps had not paid their bills, then maybe they had been taught the ultimate lesson. But by whom?

  The flatlands of East Anglia opened up before us—a landscape that seemed nearly all sky. White clouds hung like cotton wool, sending patches of shadow over the fields. In the distance a church spire betrayed the presence of a village among trees. We passed through Little Dippings, and then Much Dippings, a similar village with a cluster of thatched pink and white cottages around a church and pub (the Cromer-Strode Arms), before driving along a high brick wall and turning in at an impressive gateway. The first part of the estate was wild parkland, with lots of trees and what looked like rhododendrons, although they had already finished blooming. A pheasant took off with a clatter of wings. A small herd of ornamental deer moved away as they heard the car approaching. Then Hanni said, “Look. What kind of animal is that over there in those bushes? It is pink, but I do not think it is a pig.”

  I stared hard at the pink thing among the foliage. It seemed to have an awful lot of limbs. “I really don’t know,” I said, but then suddenly I did. It seemed to me that it was two people, without clothes, wrapped around each other in the grass and doing what I could only guess at. Our driver, on the other side of his glass partition, coughed discreetly and put his foot dow
n on the accelerator. As the couple heard the approaching car, a head was raised in surprise. I caught a glimpse of a shocked face before we passed.

  Chapter 24

  Then we came around a bend and there was Dippings before us in all its glory. Like most houses in the area, it was built of red brick, which had mellowed over hundreds of years into a lovely muted rose pink. The Elizabethan chimneys were striped in white and red brick and a classical portico and flight of marble steps had been added to the front of the house in Georgian times. There was an ornamental pond with fountain playing in the forecourt. A flight of white doves wheeled overhead. All in all a most pleasing aspect. We drove between well-kept lawns and shaded drives until we came to a halt at those front steps.

  The baroness stirred.

  “We have arrived,” Hanni said. The baroness hastily adjusted her hat as the door was opened by footmen.

  “Welcome to Dippings, my lady,” one of them said as he helped me out.

  We had barely set foot on the gravel forecourt than a figure came flying down the steps to greet us. She was tall, angular and almost painfully thin. Her face was a perfect mask of makeup, from the plucked eyebrows to the startling red lips (though not executed quite as perfectly as my mother’s). Her mauve dress had panels that flew out around her as she hurtled toward us, arms outstretched.

  “Welcome, welcome to Dippings,” she called in a southern American drawl. “You must be Lady Georgiana, and this is the princess. Welcome, Your Highness.” She attempted a jerky bob of curtsy. “How lovely to have you here with us. I can’t tell you how excited I was when the queen called and suggested you join our little gathering. I know you’ll just love it here. Everyone does. My husband is such a wonderful host. He always takes care of everyone so well and makes sure they have a good time. Come on in. Come on in.”

  Hanni and I glanced at each other, feeling somewhat breathless, as she went ahead back up the steps, still talking away. “We’ve quite a jolly little group here. Some young people your age. You probably know most of them, I’m sure, but my nieces are here from America. Such dear girls. You’re going to love them, I just know it.”