Alice-Miranda at the Palace 11

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘There was a recommendation not to make any sudden changes to routine,’ Thornton Thripp offered. The man sat bolt upright, his hands resting one on top of the other on the table in front of him.

  Queen Georgiana arched an eyebrow. ‘Upon whose recommendation?’

  ‘Mine, Ma’am,’ Marjorie said quietly. ‘I’ve organised for there to be a significant security detail at Evesbury this weekend. We’ll be able to keep a good eye on her at the jubilee celebrations.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s just this weekend,’ Her Majesty said impatiently. ‘What about afterwards? What about now?’

  ‘I’m sure Her Majesty can use her considerable powers of persuasion to achieve the best outcome.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Thripp, I’m sitting right here. You don’t have to talk about me in the third person. It’s frightfully annoying. And what do you mean by “achieve the best outcome”? Get them to stay? Is that what you’re saying?’ Queen Georgiana sighed loudly.

  ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he replied.

  ‘Then jolly well say it, Thripp. We’re not playing “Guess that Tune”, are we?’

  ‘No, Ma’am,’ the man mumbled.

  The Queen turned to Marjorie. ‘What have you been doing for the past week?’

  Marjorie bristled at having to explain herself. As Chief of SPLOD, she thought she’d earned Her Majesty’s trust. ‘I made all the necessary arrangements, Ma’am,’ Marjorie replied.

  ‘Well, I hope these arrangements of yours are more than adequate,’ Her Majesty replied. ‘And that security detail had better be invisible. I don’t want the guests thinking that we’ve got anything to worry about. Let’s leave the worrying to me and the two of you. Come to think of it, with the amount I pay you both, you should be doing the worrying for all of us.’

  There was a hesitant knock on the door. Her Majesty’s constant companions, Archie and Petunia, raised their heads and growled from beneath the table.

  ‘Stop it, you two,’ Queen Georgiana scolded. Upon hearing their mistress’s voice, the two beagles ceased their objections and lay back down again. ‘Come in,’ Her Majesty boomed.

  Mrs Marmalade poked her head into the room. A slender woman with an immaculate grey bob held back by a black velvet headband, Her Majesty’s lady-in-waiting favoured floral prints, A-line skirts and sensible mid-heels. She was never seen without a pearl choker around her neck and, over the years, had been described in various magazines and newspapers as the Queen’s reliable upper-crust offsider. The daughter of an earl, she had in fact gone to school with Queen Georgiana and Her Majesty’s close friend, Valentina Highton-Smith.

  While Valentina had knocked back the offer of the position in favour of raising a family, Marian Marmalade had chosen to spend her life by Her Majesty’s side. Her husband had been aide to King Leopold, and when both men died within months of one another, it didn’t occur to Marian that she would do anything other than stay. Truth be told she sometimes wondered why she did, given Queen Georgiana’s frequent disdain, but there was an underlying affection between the two women.

  ‘E-excuse me, Your Majesty,’ the woman stuttered. ‘I’m afraid we must get going if you’re to make the hospital opening on time.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ll be there in a minute. Thank you, Mrs Marmalade.’

  Her Majesty’s lady-in-waiting cast Marjorie and Thornton snarky looks before retreating and closing the door. The woman had been frightfully annoyed to learn that Dalton, the Queen’s personal bodyguard, had been granted long service leave at the very same time she’d requested a couple of weeks off to visit her sister, who’d recently had surgery. Marian wasn’t sure which one of them had approved Dalton’s leave over hers, so as far as she was concerned they were both in her bad books.

  Queen Georgiana eyeballed the man and woman sitting across the table. ‘May I leave this in your allegedly capable hands, then?’

  Marjorie nodded. ‘Of course, Ma’am.’

  ‘Certainly,’ Thornton added.

  The Queen pushed back her chair and stood up. The others, including the dogs, were quickly on their feet too.

  ‘Oh and, Marjorie, congratulations on your engagement. He’s an honest fellow and good company at cards when we can drag him away from that workshop of his. I’ve never understood what he does but others tell me he’s quite a genius with electronics and the like. It’s a lovely story, isn’t it – my milliner and second cousin falling in love?’ Queen Georgiana winked knowingly.

  Marjorie Plunkett blinked in surprise. ‘Thank you, Ma’am.’

  ‘Keep me informed,’ the Queen said.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Marjorie replied, smiling broadly. ‘You’ll be the first to know when we’ve set the date. I should imagine sooner rather than later.’

  Queen Georgiana smothered a chuckle. ‘That’s not what I was referring to, dear. I believe we have far more pressing matters than your impending nuptials.’

  ‘Of course. My apologies, Your Majesty.’ The young woman’s porcelain cheeks blushed a deep shade of red as she reprimanded herself for being so thick. Marjorie took pride in her professionalism but clearly love could do silly things to a person.

  ‘Well, I’d better get going or Mrs Marmalade will be spinning herself into a migraine,’ Queen Georgiana tutted. ‘You know you’re both off her Christmas card list.’

  Marjorie and Thornton looked sheepishly at one another, then bowed as Her Majesty left the room with Archie and Petunia trotting alongside her.

  ‘Is it much further, Daddy?’ Alice-Miranda asked as they drove past emerald fields dotted with ancient oak trees and little flocks of sheep.

  They’d entered the palace grounds about a mile back, through a grand set of gates where a uniformed sentry had checked them off his list. Several gardeners had been busy at work just along the perimeter wall, which Hugh thought to be odd timing when Her Majesty was in residence and having guests for the weekend. Then again, it had been raining during the week and weeds stopped for nothing.

  ‘I wonder if someone washes them,’ Millie said with a grin.

  Hugh Kennington-Jones glanced at the girl in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Washes what?’

  ‘The sheep – they look like cream puffs,’ Millie replied. ‘Ours are always sort of grubby around the edges.’

  Cecelia Highton-Smith’s jaw dropped in mock horror. ‘I can’t imagine Aunty Gee would have her staff washing the sheep.’

  ‘She might,’ Hugh said, a glint in his eye. ‘Aunty Gee could have anything she wanted, really.’

  ‘I’d have someone to deal with earwax,’ Millie said. ‘It’s disgusting.’

  Alice-Miranda laughed.

  Hugh smiled. ‘Bellybutton fluff for me. What about you, Alice-Miranda?’

  The child thought for a moment. ‘Someone to floss my teeth,’ she decided. ‘I always get the string caught at the back.’

  Cecelia giggled. ‘Oh, stop it, you lot. I’m sure that Aunty Gee deals with her own earwax and bellybutton fluff and flossing.’

  ‘I don’t know, darling. It might explain why Mrs Marmalade is always in such a bad mood.’ Hugh winked cheekily.

  Alice-Miranda gasped as the car rounded a bend. ‘Look, Millie!’ she said, pointing towards the mansion in the distance. ‘It’s like a painting.’

  Millie leaned across the seat and stared. ‘Wow!’

  Hugh and Cecelia smiled at one another.

  ‘I remember the first time I saw the palace I thought it was a dream,’ Cecelia said. ‘Breathtaking, isn’t it?’

  The road snaked through more open fields peppered with stands of trees, some clustered in groves, others towering majestically on their own. They drove over a beautiful stone bridge that crossed a flowing crystal-clear river and continued on towards the palace.

  ‘I just counted twenty-six windows in the front of the house!’ Millie exclaimed. ‘It’s even bigger than your place.’

  ‘It’s about four times the size of Highton Hall,’ Cecelia confirmed. ‘If you’re not careful you
could be lost in there for days.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind that,’ Millie breathed. ‘That way I’d get to see everything.’

  The cream stone walls glinted in the sunshine. Beyond the house and rear gardens was a steep slope covered in a dense wood, creating the perfect backdrop to the palace.

  ‘What’s that?’ Alice-Miranda pointed to the top of the hillside.

  ‘It’s the hunting tower,’ Cecelia replied. ‘In the old days, royal hunting parties used it to see what was going on across the estate.’

  ‘Do you think we could go up there?’ Alice-Miranda asked. ‘Imagine the view.’

  ‘I’m not sure if there will be time, sweetheart,’ Cecelia said. She pulled an envelope from her handbag and unfurled an elegant white page which had the initials ‘GR’ embossed in gold at the top.

  ‘If I know Aunty Gee, she’ll have the weekend planned right down to the very last minute,’ Hugh said.

  Cecelia scanned the page in front of her. ‘I think you’re right, darling. Almost immediately after we’re settled into our rooms, there’s a garden party in the early afternoon, followed by games on the lawn, and then we’re allowed a couple of hours to rest before tonight’s ball.’

  ‘Will there be dancing?’ Millie asked.

  ‘Absolutely, and Aunty Gee will be the first one on the dance floor,’ Hugh said with a grin.

  ‘What about tomorrow?’ Millie asked.

  ‘Just as busy, I’m afraid. Aunty Gee has planned a picnic brunch by the river with fishing, clay shooting and buggy rides,’ Cecelia explained. ‘And we’ll have to leave early in the afternoon so Hugh can catch his flight to New York.’

  ‘I wish we could stay longer,’ Alice-Miranda said, gazing out the window.

  ‘Me too,’ Millie sighed. Her brow furrowed as a thought occurred to her. ‘Do I have to curtsy? I can never remember who to curtsy for. I thought maybe I’d just do it for everyone.’

  Hugh chuckled. ‘Random curtsying – I like it. That will surely have everyone confused.’

  Cecelia looked at her cheeky husband. ‘It’s all right, Millie, I’ll help you. It’s a lot more relaxed here than at the castle.’

  ‘How many houses does Aunty Gee actually have?’ Millie asked. ‘And why are some called castles and others are palaces?’

  ‘I used to wonder about that too until Aunty Gee explained it to me,’ Hugh said. ‘Apparently, a palace is a beautiful home used mostly for fun and entertaining, while castles are a bit like forts, built to withstand an enemy attack.’

  Cecelia frowned. ‘Mmm, let me see if I can remember them all. There’s Chesterfield Downs near your school, then there’s Brackenhurst and Hillsdon – they’re both castles – and Swanston Hall and, of course, Evesbury Palace.’

  ‘Have you been to all of them, Mummy?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  Cecelia thought for a minute. ‘I’ve been to the five I can remember but I suspect there might be more. I think Aunty Gee would love to be able to stay here at Evesbury all the time. But when you’re the Queen you don’t always get to do what you want. At least it’s not that far from Brackenhurst in the city.’

  Hugh drove the car up to an enormous pair of sandstone gateposts, where two more guards stood sentry. But this time he was waved through the open iron gates without having to stop.

  ‘Look at the waterfall.’ Millie almost swooned at the sight of a rectangular pond that cascaded down the slope for a couple of hundred metres and pooled in the centre of the vast rear garden.

  A sign labelled ‘guests’ directed them to a courtyard behind the massive building. Hugh steered the vehicle around the circular cobblestoned driveway and pulled up outside an imposing pair of black doors. Four footmen dressed in red-and-white livery opened the car doors simultaneously and bowed.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Kennington-Jones,’ one of the men said.

  Hugh smiled at the man. ‘Good morning, indeed.’

  Alice-Miranda leapt to the ground. ‘Hello, my name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones,’ she announced, holding out her hand to the young man who had opened her door. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’

  The fellow glanced uncertainly at the footman beside him.

  ‘Well, go on,’ the older fellow whispered.

  ‘Likewise, miss,’ the young footman said to the girl, extending his gloved hand.

  Just as he did so, the head butler marched out through one of the palace doors. Dressed in black tails and with his hair slicked into a perfect side part, the elderly man exuded an air of importance. He was followed by a much taller and younger blond fellow with a dimple in the middle of his chin.

  ‘Good morning, Ms Highton-Smith, Mr Kennington-Jones,’ the first man said. He glared at the young footman, who looked as if he’d just been caught with his hand in the lolly jar.

  ‘Langley!’ Hugh said with surprise. ‘It’s good to see you, old chap. I thought you would have retired by now.’

  The blond man snorted, then coughed and covered his mouth.

  Vincent Langley shot him a withering look before turning back to Hugh. ‘I assure you, sir, I plan to be here for many years yet.’

  ‘Good for you. I don’t much believe in retirement, either. This is our daughter, Alice-Miranda, and her friend Millie,’ Hugh said, introducing the girls.

  Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Langley. We’re so excited to be here.’

  The man gave a stiff nod, his face seemingly set in stone. ‘This is Braxton Balfour, the under butler,’ Mr Langley said.

  The younger fellow broke into a wide grin and waggled his eyebrows playfully.

  Millie giggled. She much preferred this under butler to the cranky old one.

  Mr Langley scowled at Balfour, whose smile melted like an ice cream in the Sahara, then quickly turned his attention back to the family. ‘I’ll see you to your rooms,’ he said. ‘There is only a short space of time to freshen up before the garden party commences at one o’clock.’

  Millie looked across the back lawn. There was no sign of any preparations out there. ‘Where’s the party going to be?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s in the secret garden, miss,’ the man replied.

  ‘Oh,’ Millie said. ‘I suppose that was meant to be a secret.’

  Braxton Balfour chortled and was immediately silenced by another dark look from the head butler.

  ‘Have Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Lawrence arrived yet?’ Alice-Miranda asked. She couldn’t wait to meet her new cousins.

  The head butler pursed his lips, his left eye twitching in the process. ‘If you are referring to Ms Highton-Smith and Mr Ridley, no, they haven’t. But I believe Mrs Headlington-Bear and her rather excitable party are upstairs.’

  Alice-Miranda clapped her hands together. ‘This is going to be the best weekend ever!’

  Vincent Langley shuddered at the thought of all those children together.

  ‘Would you like to follow me?’ he asked the group, turning to lead the way inside before any of them had a chance to answer.

  Marjorie Plunkett read through the document again, hoping that something would leap out at her. Whoever was behind this thought themselves terribly clever.

  Dear little girl so small and sweet,

  to meet you would be such a treat,

  Soon enough we’ll take you away,

  I hope that you won’t have to stay,

  but that all depends on how much they’ll pay …

  The silly, lilting rhyme hardly sounded threatening at all, and yet the words were absolutely menacing. The phone buzzed, interrupting her train of thought.

  Marjorie reached across and pressed the loudspeaker. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Excuse me, Ms Plunkett, but I have Agent Treadwell here to see you. She says it’s urgent.’

  ‘Give me three minutes then send her in.’ Marjorie snapped the file closed and placed it back in the bottom drawer of her desk. She shut the drawer and pressed her thumb against it until she heard the whir of the lock. />
  ‘Thank you, Ms Plunkett. Your documents are now safely returned,’ a cheery voice informed her.

  ‘Thank you, Fi,’ Marjorie said.

  The door to her office opened.

  ‘Good afternoon, Agent Treadwell.’ Marjorie nodded at the woman as she strode into the room. ‘What have you got for me?’

  ‘Afternoon, Chief.’ Rowena Treadwell reached inside her coat pocket and handed Marjorie a piece of paper in a plastic envelope. ‘They’ve made contact again.’

  ‘I see.’ Marjorie opened a timber box on her desk and pulled out a pair of white gloves. She put them on and then removed the letter from the sleeve. ‘How was it received?’

  ‘Same as last time,’ Agent Treadwell replied. ‘Unmarked envelope, in among the rest of the palace post. There’s a stamp but no postmark, so we have no way of knowing where it was sent from.’

  Marjorie’s heart thumped as she scanned the page. ‘All right, leave it with me,’ she said calmly.

  ‘Would you rather I take things straight to the lab in future?’ Rowena offered.

  ‘Agent Treadwell, I shouldn’t have to explain the extremely sensitive nature of this investigation,’ Marjorie snapped, her words underlined in ice. ‘We don’t know exactly what we are dealing with yet, but we do know there is a child at risk. And for some reason, whoever this monster is, they’ve chosen to involve Her Majesty. Everything comes to me first, do you understand? Everything!’

  The tall woman cleared her throat. ‘My apologies, Chief.’

  ‘I suggest you go home and get some rest. It’s all hands on deck this weekend.’

  ‘Will I be part of the palace detail?’ Agent Treadwell asked.

  ‘Yes. You’ll receive your instructions at oh-six-hundred,’ Marjorie replied.

  Rowena Treadwell was about to say something when she stopped herself.

  ‘Is there anything else?’ Marjorie looked at the woman.

  ‘So you’re really going to marry him, Chief?’ Treadwell asked.

  Marjorie Plunkett frowned. ‘Yes, of course. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Does he know what you do?’

  ‘Absolutely not, and it will stay that way,’ Marjorie retorted. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’