Alice-Miranda at the Palace 11

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘Oh.’ Millie’s face fell. ‘That’s probably it. Now you mention it, I’m surprised there isn’t more security inside.’

  ‘I suspect there is but we just can’t see them,’ Alice-Miranda said with a knowing smile. ‘For example, how would you know if that man over there was a guest or a secret-service agent?’ Alice-Miranda pointed to a gentleman who was dressed the same as every other man in the garden. ‘We wouldn’t, would we?’

  ‘I’d never really thought about that, but you’re right,’ Millie agreed, not knowing whether that made her feel better or not.

  ‘Hello darling,’ Lloyd said as Marjorie walked towards him. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I was just chatting to Lady Adams,’ Marjorie replied, planting a kiss on his cheek.

  Lloyd turned to see where she had come from and frowned. ‘That’s funny because I was just talking to Lord Robert and Lady Sarah a few moments ago, and she didn’t mention you.’

  ‘Oh, I meant Lady Luttrell.’ Marjorie kicked herself for being so careless. If she’d checked to see where Lady Adams was, she would have known that Lloyd had just seen the woman.

  ‘Lloyd, hello there.’ Lord Adams appeared through the crowd with his wife on his arm.

  Dressed in her trademark cerise pink, Lady Sarah refused to be missed. ‘I didn’t realise you were here, Lloyd. You could have saved me from an hour with Tavistock.’

  Lloyd gulped, a red flush engulfed his cheeks. ‘Robert, Sarah,’ he said sheepishly as he reached out and shook hands with the man, then leaned in to kiss Sarah’s cheeks. ‘Where are your lovely girls?’

  Marjorie flinched before she greeted the pair. She wondered why her fiancé had just lied to her.

  ‘They’re staying with their grandmother this week,’ Lord Robert replied. ‘Sarah and I are having a bit of a getaway. It’s a special anniversary.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ Lloyd said. ‘Marjorie and I are looking forward to our own special day soon. Aren’t we, darling?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Marjorie said distractedly, looking at something in the distance. She turned back to the group and smiled. ‘Please excuse me, I must find the amenities – too much champagne.’

  Lord Robert and Lady Sarah chatted away as Marjorie scanned the crowd and located her target. Fortunately, he was standing close to the edge of the garden near the toilets. Marjorie scurried along in her high heels and was pleased to see the woman he was speaking to walk away just as she drew close.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Marjorie whispered, pretending to wait for the loo.

  ‘What? Now?’ Thornton Thripp replied. The man had the skills of a ventriloquist the way he could speak without moving his lips, although it did seem to cause an odd twitch in his left eye.

  ‘As soon as possible – with Her Majesty,’ Marjorie said before walking away.

  Thornton Thripp glanced across the garden and caught Lloyd Lancaster-Brown staring at him. He raised his champagne glass in the air and gave a nod. If he didn’t know better he’d have sworn the man looked jealous.

  ‘Good afternoon, my dearest friends and family,’ Queen Georgiana beamed at the crowd gathered at the front of the summerhouse.

  ‘Notice how Mummy mentioned her friends before her family?’ Freddy hissed into his wife’s ear. ‘Some would think she doesn’t like us at all.’

  Elsa shushed her husband. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, darling.’

  Queen Georgiana glared at the woman before continuing. ‘I do hope that you’ve enjoyed yourselves this afternoon in our secret garden. It’s always been one of my favourite places here at Evesbury. In about forty minutes we will reassemble on the east lawn for some games and further refreshments. I am sorry about the rush, but I do like to pack as much fun into these weekends as possible. At my age you don’t know how much longer you’ll be enjoying them. Anyway, there are team lists available as you arrive – I believe Mrs Marmalade and Mr Balfour have them.’

  Her Majesty’s lady-in-waiting gave a decisive nod.

  ‘And, Lord Tavistock, I’d recommend a change of attire – we wouldn’t want a repeat of last year’s unfortunate episode, would we?’ Her Majesty arched an eyebrow.

  There was a titter of laughter as some of the guests recalled how the man’s suit pants had torn right down the centre seam during a particularly rowdy game of croquet. Lord Tavistock held his hand up to shield his eyes, his cheeks aflame.

  Queen Georgiana waved and stepped away from the microphone.

  Seconds later, Valentina Highton-Smith took to the makeshift stage. ‘Oh, no you don’t, Gee,’ she said, wagging her finger. ‘You’re not getting away with things that easily.’

  ‘What’s Granny up to?’ Alice-Miranda wondered aloud. She and her friends were standing with her parents, aunt and uncle and Ambrosia Headlington-Bear.

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Hugh whispered.

  Valentina cleared her throat. ‘I have known Georgiana since we were toddlers, which might surprise you to learn is quite some years ago now. I wanted to take this opportunity to congratulate her on twenty-five years as our monarch. While most think it is an easy job full of fun and frivolity, the truth is often far more complicated, and I couldn’t think of anyone better suited to the role than this woman with an iron will and a heart of pure gold.’

  ‘Valentina, dear, you do go on.’ Queen Georgiana gave an embarrassed grin and shook her head.

  ‘And I will continue to,’ Valentina said, smiling at her friend. ‘So, Gee, on this celebratory occasion, I’d like to personally thank you for serving our nation these past twenty-five years, and I wish you all the very best for the next twenty-five.’

  A stream of waiters moved through the crowd dispensing champagne flutes and glasses of lemonade for the children.

  Valentina raised her glass. ‘To the Queen.’

  ‘The Queen.’ Crystal glasses filled the sky.

  Her Majesty grinned. ‘Thank you, Valentina, my oldest and dearest friend. Sadly, I don’t think we’ll be celebrating fifty years together, but it’s a lovely thought.’

  At the mention of Valentina being her oldest and dearest friend, Mrs Marmalade’s lips twitched.

  ‘Another twenty-five years and I’ll never get my turn,’ Freddy muttered, garnering the glares of everyone standing within twenty feet.

  ‘Steady on, Freddy, she’s not dead yet,’ Lord Tavistock tutted. ‘And, quite frankly, I hope the old bird lives forever.’

  Freddy slunk down, trying to make himself invisible.

  Marjorie Plunkett and Lloyd Lancaster-Brown were standing behind Freddy and Elsa and had also heard every word. But Marjorie wasn’t thinking about that. There were a million other things racing through her mind. She wondered how soon she’d be able to speak with Her Majesty and she was rattled about why Lloyd had lied to her earlier, though he seemed to be doing his best to make up for it. Lloyd squeezed Marjorie’s hand and gave her a tender smile.

  ‘What are you looking at me like that for?’ Marjorie asked.

  ‘It’s a beautiful day, darling, and I’m engaged to an even more beautiful woman. Aren’t I allowed to look happy?’

  ‘Of course,’ Marjorie said as Lloyd leaned across and kissed her cheek.

  Alice-Miranda looked at the pair, who were standing a little way to the group’s left. ‘They’re such a lovely couple,’ she said.

  ‘She’s gorgeous,’ Ambrosia commented.

  ‘Yes, who’d have thought Lloyd would ever end up with a woman like that?’ Hugh Kennington-Jones said.

  ‘Daddy, that’s not very nice,’ Alice-Miranda chided. ‘We met Lord Lancaster-Brown earlier and he seemed perfectly charming.’

  ‘No, darling, that’s not what I meant. Lloyd’s love life has always been a bit of a mystery. I just wonder how they met, that’s all,’ Hugh clarified.

  ‘You know he had the most beautiful sister,’ Cecelia said.

  ‘Really?’ Hugh frowned. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met her.’

  ‘No,’ Ce
celia said. ‘And you won’t.’

  ‘Why not, Mummy?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘There was some sort of terrible accident years ago, and not long afterwards she disappeared. No one’s seen her for almost two decades,’ Cecelia explained. ‘I think it broke Lloyd’s heart to lose her. She was a few years older than him and they’d been very close.’

  ‘That’s awful.’ Alice-Miranda looked over at Lloyd Lancaster-Brown. It was hard to imagine such a terrible thing as losing a sister.

  ‘Do you know anything about Marjorie?’ Ambrosia asked.

  ‘I bet she’s a movie star,’ Millie said.

  Lawrence shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘She’s Aunty Gee’s milliner,’ Cecelia said. ‘Mummy reminded me earlier when we were ogling her outfit.’

  ‘Miller what?’ Millie asked.

  ‘Milliner,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘She makes hats.’

  ‘Beautiful ones at that,’ Cecelia added. ‘Aunty Gee always has gorgeous headwear. I absolutely adore that blue one she’s wearing now.’

  ‘Maybe I could interview Marjorie,’ Ambrosia mused.

  These days, Ambrosia was writing for Highton’s in-house magazine and various publications under the pseudonym Rosie Hunter, and was earning quite the reputation as a journalist. Jacinta couldn’t have been prouder of her mother, who had gone from serious socialite, whose only goal was to get herself in the social pages, to a woman with a career and little concern about being an ‘it girl’ anymore. Most people who knew her couldn’t believe the transformation.

  ‘We’d run the story, of course,’ Cecelia said. ‘But I don’t think she’s ever given an interview and I don’t even know where her salon is. Come to think of it, I remember Mummy once telling me that she works exclusively for Aunty Gee.’

  ‘Her Majesty must pay handsomely,’ Ambrosia said.

  Hugh finished his last sip of champagne and placed the glass on a nearby waiter’s tray. ‘Time to get going. We don’t want to be late for Aunty Gee’s games – she takes them very seriously, you know.’

  ‘I wonder who’ll be on her team,’ Millie said.

  ‘She’ll stack it with all the best players because, although we don’t like to say it out loud, someone is very competitive.’ Hugh grinned cheekily.

  ‘What was that, Hugh?’ Queen Georgiana asked, appearing behind them.

  Hugh grimaced. ‘I’m getting myself into lots of trouble today. I was just saying that I hope I’m on your team for the games this afternoon.’

  Aunty Gee shook her head. ‘Not after last time, when you belted the croquet ball out of the park. I think I need some new blood.’ She pointed at Lawrence and Jacinta. ‘I can recognise talent when I see it.’

  Lawrence gave her one of his megawatt smiles. ‘Thanks, Aunty Gee.’

  Jacinta beamed.

  ‘And, besides, if he can’t play, at least he’s pretty to look at.’ Queen Georgiana winked.

  Hugh’s jaw gaped open and the rest of the group’s did too. Mrs Marmalade gasped.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Marian. He’s a good-looking man and I’m old enough to be his mother and then some. It’s just human nature to admire lovely things.’ Queen Georgiana rolled her eyes. ‘Chop chop, everyone! I’ll have points docked for tardiness.’

  ‘Caprice, if you’re going to be here you have to be helpful.’ Venetia Baldini washed her hands in the huge sink and reached over to grab a bag of onions for the sauce she was about to make.

  ‘I have been,’ the child complained, hovering behind her mother. ‘I peeled loads of potatoes and look what it’s done to my nails.’ Caprice held a hand aloft and picked at the dry skin around her cuticles.

  ‘I appreciate your efforts very much but there’s still a lot more to do.’ Venetia sighed and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

  She’d brought in a whole team to assist her and had access to Her Majesty’s own chefs too, but time would be tight nonetheless. Venetia knew that all the best dinners happened this way and, truly, she thrived on the stress of it all. She just hadn’t been expecting to have to look after her daughter at the same time.

  Plans had gone awry when her husband had received an invitation to take their children on a camping trip in Africa. Given Caprice’s last camp experience, they’d decided it would be safer for the girl to stay at home for some mother-daughter time while her father and three older brothers went on a boys-only adventure. Venetia had made arrangements to leave Caprice with the nanny for the jubilee weekend but was thrown for a loop when the woman had telephoned to say that she had a family emergency and couldn’t possibly look after the girl. Venetia had her suspicions about the real reason. She hated to think that Caprice could have put the woman off but, knowing what she did about her daughter, she couldn’t help being concerned.

  Venetia had had a hard time convincing Caprice that, while she could come along to the palace and help out, she wasn’t actually a guest and needed to keep a very low profile. That was perhaps going to be more difficult than she’d first thought.

  ‘Mummy, please may I go for a walk outside?’ Caprice begged. ‘I promise I’ll come back when you say I have to.’

  Venetia shook her head. ‘I can’t afford for you to get into any trouble. You know this is the biggest job of my life. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be catering for the Queen and yet here I am.’

  Caprice pulled a face. ‘It’s not that big a deal. Everyone knows who you are, anyway.’

  A chef in a white uniform and tall hat dumped another bag of potatoes on the edge of the sink beside the huge tub that were already peeled. He winked at Caprice. ‘Looks like you’re doing a stellar job with those.’

  The child groaned.

  ‘Caprice, please,’ her mother said, turning her attention to the onions.

  It was true that Venetia’s television show, Sweet Things, was the highest-rating cooking program on earth. From her childhood in a tiny Tuscan village, Venetia Baldini had become one of the most highly regarded chefs in the world and had a growing empire to prove it. But cooking for Her Majesty was in another league altogether.

  All around them, the kitchen bustled with activity. There were chefs preparing vegetables and others dressing meat while an entire section whirred with the sound of mixers and blenders as a huge group of pastry chefs worked on the evening’s desserts. The menu was the most complicated Venetia had planned in her life and she was determined to oversee the whole lot personally.

  ‘Something smells good in here,’ a tall lad with a mop of black curls commented as he wandered into the kitchen.

  Venetia looked up. ‘May I help you?’

  Before she could blink, an identical boy appeared. ‘Are you Venetia Baldini?’ he asked.

  The woman nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Although they would never admit it, the twins loved watching her show, probably because Venetia happened to be outrageously beautiful as well as a great cook. Men the world over had fallen under her spell, and even those with absolutely no interest in cooking were often to be found enjoying an episode of Sweet Things.

  ‘And who are you?’ she asked the boys.

  ‘I’m Louis and he’s Edgar.’

  Venetia looked at them blankly. She couldn’t remember seeing either of those names on her list of staff for the evening.

  ‘Well, you can start washing the brussels sprouts,’ she instructed, then pointed at the other lad. ‘You can dice the potatoes that are already peeled.’ With that, she began to peel the onions on the bench.

  ‘What did you say?’ Louis asked.

  Venetia exhaled. ‘Really, I don’t have time for this. I was told that the palace staff would take direction without question.’

  ‘Palace staff?’ Edgar was incredulous.

  Louis nudged his brother. ‘It’s all right, Edgar. I’ll take the sprouts and you can look after the potatoes.’

  Caprice watched the pair from over by the sink.

  ‘I want the sprouts was
hed and the stems cut like this.’ Venetia grabbed a vegetable and showed the lads. ‘And these potatoes need to be cubed for a salad. This size.’ Venetia picked up a potato and, within seconds, had diced it into perfectly matching pieces.

  Louis grabbed a sprout and picked up a large knife. ‘I think I’d rather do this with the sprouts.’ He brought the blade down on the vegetable and proceeded to chop it into a mangled mess.

  ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ Venetia roared.

  The boy grinned. ‘I hate brussels sprouts.’

  His brother nodded in agreement. ‘Me too. They’re like the Nigel No Friend of the vegetable world. They’re ugly and horrid and were secretly created for the sole pleasure of punishing children.’

  Caprice giggled.

  Venetia looked at the pair again. It dawned on her that they weren’t dressed for the kitchen at all. ‘I gather you’re not here to help?’ she demanded.

  ‘No, we’re here to find something to eat,’ Louis said, his eyes wandering around the benches to see if anything took his fancy. ‘There was nothing particularly interesting at Grandmama’s stupid party.’

  Venetia swallowed. ‘Grandmama? Oh, heavens, is Her Majesty your grandmother?’

  The twins nodded.

  ‘I am so sorry. It’s just that we’re missing a couple of staff members and I assumed … Of course I shouldn’t have,’ Venetia apologised.

  All of a sudden there was a loud bang in the adjoining room and a spluttering of expletives.

  ‘Oh dear, please excuse me.’ Venetia raced away to see what disaster had befallen them.

  Edgar looked at Caprice, who’d been enjoying the exchange between her mother and the twins. Louis stared at her too.

  ‘You’re very pretty,’ Edgar said. ‘Who are you, anyway?’

  ‘Caprice,’ the girl replied sweetly. ‘Venetia’s my mother and I’m sorry she’s not very smart sometimes. I knew who you were straight away.’

  ‘How?’ Louis asked.

  ‘I’ve seen your pictures in Gloss and Goss,’ Caprice said. ‘Mummy’s in it all the time. She never pays any attention but I do.’