Alice-Miranda at the Palace 11

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Edgar asked.

  ‘Slave labour.’

  The twins nodded. ‘Is there anything to eat?’ one of them asked.

  Caprice thought for a moment then remembered that her mother had made some chocolate mousse earlier in the morning. ‘Come with me,’ she said, beckoning for the boys to follow.

  They walked into a large room lined with industrial-sized refrigerators. Caprice opened the door of the furthest one to reveal trays upon trays of dark-chocolate confections in crystal glasses lining the shelves.

  ‘What about this?’ She pulled one out and handed it to Louis.

  The boy spotted a canteen of cutlery on a bench in the far corner of the room. He walked over and picked up a shiny silver spoon and dug it into the soft dessert, then quickly jammed it into his mouth. ‘This is unbelievable,’ the boy mumbled with his mouth full.

  ‘Give me one,’ Edgar said eagerly. He took a bite and was even more enthusiastic than his brother.

  Caprice folded her arms and batted her eyelids. ‘So it’s okay?’

  Edgar swallowed. ‘Better than okay. This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.’

  ‘What’s going on out there in the real world?’ Caprice asked.

  ‘Real world?’ Louis rolled his eyes. ‘That’s a joke.’

  ‘Grandmama is hosting one of her boring garden parties where everyone’s swanning around making polite conversation about nothing, and they’re all too nice to tell her that they’d rather be washing socks,’ Edgar explained, waving his spoon in the air.

  ‘It would be better than peeling a zillion potatoes down here.’ Caprice examined her ruined fingernails. ‘So why aren’t you out there?’

  Louis shrugged. ‘Some brat called Alice-Miranda spoiled our fun. We thought we’d come down here and get something to eat before the games – which will be much more interesting once we get started.’

  The twins looked at each other and grinned.

  ‘Alice-Miranda!’ Caprice’s eyes widened.

  ‘Is she your pal too?’ Edgar asked. ‘She seems to be besties with everyone else out there.’

  Caprice shook her head. ‘She is definitely not my friend. She ruined everything for me at school this term. I can’t stand her.’

  ‘Maybe you should come out for the games this afternoon,’ Louis suggested.

  ‘I love games and I’m very good at them too, not to mention it would give Little Miss Perfect quite the surprise.’ Caprice smirked at the thought.

  ‘Come on, then.’ Edgar scraped the last of the mousse from his glass and plonked it down on the bench. Louis did too.

  ‘You’ll have to tell my mother that you’re inviting me properly or else she won’t let me go,’ Caprice said.

  Edgar smiled. ‘Don’t worry, we can be perfectly charming when we want to be.’

  ‘Your Majesty, may I have a quick word?’ Thornton Thripp intercepted the woman as she was on her way to get changed.

  ‘Now?’ she asked.

  The man nodded. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  Queen Georgiana quickened her pace and charged through to her private apartments, where she was surprised to find Marjorie Plunkett waiting for her. The woman rose and gave a curtsy.

  ‘This had better be important, Marjorie,’ the Queen warned. ‘I told you that unless it was an issue of life and death, today was off-limits. As far as I can see, everyone out there is hale and hearty and doesn’t appear to be in mortal danger.’

  Thornton waited for Her Majesty to take a seat before he sat down opposite her.

  ‘Have you managed to persuade the parents to let the children stay on?’ Marjorie asked.

  Queen Georgiana exhaled. ‘Goodness, is that all? I haven’t broached the subject yet. I was planning to sort it out this afternoon during the games.’

  The Queen pushed back her chair and stood up, quickly followed by Thornton and Marjorie.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not all, Your Majesty,’ Marjorie said with a shake of her head. ‘Please, Ma’am, I think you’re going to want to sit down.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Queen Georgiana plonked back down onto the chair. ‘I don’t like the sound of this at all.’

  Marjorie’s gloved hand pulled a piece of paper from her white purse and placed it on the table in front of Her Majesty.

  Queen Georgiana looked around for a moment. ‘Thripp, don’t just sit there. Find my glasses, man.’

  Thornton scanned the room and soon located a pair of Her Majesty’s reading glasses on a small table beside her favourite armchair.

  Queen Georgiana popped the spectacles onto the tip of her nose and held the page at arm’s length. She too was still wearing her gloves from the garden party. The woman’s rosy cheeks turned pale and she sat back in her chair. ‘Where was this found?’

  ‘It was in among the palace mail. One of my agents brought it to me just now,’ Marjorie explained.

  Thornton Thripp poured a glass of water and set it down gently in front of the Queen.

  ‘They obviously think themselves rather clever with all that dreadful poetry.’ Queen Georgiana’s face was ashen as she took a sip from her glass and looked at Thornton Thripp.

  ‘Really?’ Thripp said. ‘I thought it rather clever.’

  Queen Georgiana scoffed. ‘Absolutely amateur – that’s what it is. And what do they want? Why all the suspense? We know they’re talking about Alice-Miranda but she hasn’t been in any danger to date.’

  ‘I’d be inclined to agree, Ma’am, if it weren’t for these.’ Marjorie produced three photographs from her handbag.

  Her Majesty squinted at them. ‘Good heavens! Are these what I think they are?’

  Marjorie nodded. ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  ‘Then we have to tell Hugh and Cecelia,’ Her Majesty said decisively.

  Thornton and Marjorie both shook their heads.

  ‘You can’t. Whatever these people want, they’ve stated very clearly that, should you inform the parents, Alice-Miranda will be kidnapped,’ Marjorie reasoned. ‘I have assigned a security detail to watch the children, which is why you mustn’t let them leave.’

  ‘But won’t that look obvious?’ Queen Georgiana wrung her hands together.

  ‘Not if that person is a member of the palace staff,’ Thornton pointed out.

  ‘Who have you got in mind?’ the Queen asked.

  ‘A butler – someone who can blend in,’ Marjorie said.

  Her Majesty pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded wearily. ‘Well, if it means that you can guarantee Alice-Miranda’s safety I can hardly object, now can I?’

  ‘Very well, Ma’am,’ Marjorie said. ‘Mr Thripp, can I leave it to you to inform Mr Langley of his new staff member?’

  Thornton Thripp groaned inwardly. The old man was so particular about his staff, the news was guaranteed to go off like a pot of pâté in the midday sun. ‘You know the old boy won’t be happy about it. What am I supposed to tell him?’

  ‘Tell him that I’m doing a favour for a friend and the young man is perfectly well-trained and will live up to all his expectations,’ Queen Georgiana said.

  Thornton looked at Marjorie. ‘How soon can you arrange the assignment?’

  ‘My man is here now, ready as soon as I give the order,’ Marjorie replied.

  ‘I’d better hunt down Langley before he starts, or I’ll be accused of withholding information yet again. What’s the fellow’s name?’ Thornton asked.

  ‘Bunyan,’ Marjorie replied.

  ‘Bunyan?’ Thripp repeated. ‘Splendid.’

  Queen Georgiana took a deep breath. ‘And in the meantime I will make sure there is no chance the children will be leaving tomorrow.’

  Thornton Thripp hurried downstairs, wondering where on earth he’d find Vincent Langley on a day as busy as this. The dining room, he decided, would be his first port of call. The man was meticulous about place settings and, although he had an army of staff to help lay the table, he could often be found with a ruler and poli
shing cloth, making sure that things were just so.

  Thornton poked his head into the state dining room. The enormous table was glittering with crystal and silver and groaning under the weight of candela-bras and flowers in anticipation of the evening gala. Several maids were busy doing a final polish and check of the silverware, floating around with feather dusters and cloths.

  ‘Excuse me, Adeline, have you seen Mr Langley?’ Thornton asked one of the young women.

  ‘He was here just a few minutes ago, sir, but he was dressed for games and said he was on his way outside,’ the woman replied.

  Thornton quickly thanked the girl and retreated. He was beginning to think that Vincent Langley had rather a lot on his plate – and the man was no spring chicken. Perhaps the head butler would be grateful for the extra pair of hands.

  Thornton Thripp was striding back through the rear foyer when he spotted the man. ‘Langley, may I have a word?’ he called.

  Vincent Langley halted and huffed loudly. ‘What now? Can’t you see I’m in a hurry?’ The man was balancing a huge silver candelabra on a tray and wasn’t keen on having to put it down.

  ‘It won’t take a minute. I just need to talk to you about a staff member.’ Thornton scurried over and met the man by the back doors.

  Vincent Langley peered through the middle of the silverware expectantly. ‘Well, what is it? I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘Her Majesty has employed a new man,’ Thornton said.

  ‘Yes.’ Vincent lifted his chin. ‘I presume he’s part of the grounds staff, for which I have no responsibility.’

  At that moment Braxton Balfour sped through the back doors. He saw his boss speaking to Mr Thripp, and hesitated. Langley would go off like a firecracker if he realised that Braxton had only just got back.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Thornton said. ‘He’s a butler.’

  ‘A butler!’ Vincent exploded, his left eye began to twitch. He almost dropped the candelabra, steadying himself hastily as the silverware wobbled. ‘Since when has Her Majesty taken it upon herself to employ butlers?’

  Thornton wasn’t usually stuck for words. He’d spent more years than he could remember working for Her Majesty’s inner circle, but for some reason he didn’t quite know what to say. He spotted Braxton Balfour sneaking past, clearly attempting to avoid being seen.

  ‘Her Majesty is concerned by the substandard and unreliable nature of some of your staff and has decided that she wants to give this fellow a trial. His name’s Frank Bunyan and he’s starting this afternoon.’

  Braxton Balfour couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. Substandard staff? He hoped Her Majesty wasn’t referring to him.

  Small flecks of spit began to gather in the corners of Vincent’s mouth. ‘Who’s unreliable? Who is she talking about?’ the man demanded, showering Thripp in the process.

  Her Majesty’s chief advisor wiped the moisture from his cheek and pointed at Balfour slinking away upstairs. ‘Well, that one there for starters,’ he replied.

  ‘Balfour!’ Vincent roared. ‘Where have you been?’

  Braxton Balfour sighed and turned around.

  ‘And what happened to your face?’

  ‘I … I … fell in a thicket,’ the younger man stuttered.

  ‘What thicket?’ Vincent challenged. ‘Have you finished setting up for the games?’

  Braxton winced. ‘Not quite.’

  Alice-Miranda and Millie had changed out of their garden-party dresses and were on the way downstairs to meet the others when they heard the commotion below.

  Vincent Langley sputtered and frothed. ‘Perhaps Her Majesty was right to employ a new butler. You clearly can’t be trusted!’

  The girls peered over the banister at Mr Balfour, who stood as stiff as a soldier. The man’s nose twitched and he looked to be doing his best to stave off a sneeze. He shoved a hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a handkerchief just in time to catch it. As he did, Alice-Miranda noticed something flutter from his pocket.

  ‘Good grief, Balfour, you’d better not be coming down with something,’ Vincent griped. ‘Now, get out there and finish what should have been done an hour ago.’

  Braxton excused himself and dashed out the back doors.

  ‘Someone’s in big trouble,’ Millie said.

  Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘Mr Langley does sound awfully cross,’ she agreed.

  ‘Should we wait here until they’re finished?’ Millie asked.

  ‘No, it will look as if we’ve been eavesdropping.’ Alice-Miranda continued ahead, stomping down the stairs. ‘Come on, Millie!’ she yelled. ‘We don’t want to be late.’

  Millie looked at her friend, bewildered, then realised that Alice-Miranda wanted the men below to hear her.

  Thornton Thripp cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, Mr Langley, that will be all for now. We’ll see you outside for games in a little while.’

  Vincent Langley threw the man one final death stare before he marched away, muttering under his breath.

  As the girls waited by the back doors for the rest of their group, Alice-Miranda spotted something on the floor where Mr Balfour had been standing. She walked over and picked it up, turning the piece of fabric in her hand. It had the loveliest pattern of peacock feathers. ‘I think this fell out of Mr Balfour’s pocket,’ the girl said, holding it up for Millie to see.

  ‘Ready to be whooped, little cousin?’ Lucas called from the top of the stairs with Sep, Jacinta and Sloane in tow.

  Alice-Miranda looked up and broke into a smile. ‘We might be on the same team, you know.’

  Lucas frowned. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  Suddenly, the boy mounted the banister and whizzed down the rail.

  ‘Lucas!’ Alice-Miranda gasped.

  He leapt off at the bottom and gave a bow. ‘At your service.’

  Jacinta sighed.

  ‘I can’t wait to tell Figgy that I slid down the banister at Evesbury Palace. He’ll have a fit,’ Lucas said, grinning.

  ‘Do it again,’ Millie said, ‘and this time I’ll take a photo.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Sep said, throwing his leg over the rail.

  Millie held up her camera and snapped away as Sep flew down. He leapt to the floor just as Mr Langley walked back into the room.

  ‘What on earth! Out! All of you! Now!’ the old man roared.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Langley,’ Sep said sheepishly.

  ‘You certainly will be.’ Vincent Langley looked set to erupt like Mount Vesuvius.

  The children exchanged grim glances and raced outside.

  Alice-Miranda and her friends ran around to the east lawn, where the guests were gathering outside a large open marquee, which was set up with drinks stations and snacks. Although the tent had no exterior walls, it boasted a silk-lined ceiling and crystal chandelier, and long tables laid with crisp linen cloths and fine china.

  ‘It’s a bit better than the tuckshop at our sports days, don’t you think?’ Millie grinned as she scanned the cupcakes and finger sandwiches on offer.

  Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Everything’s so beautiful.’

  ‘Hello darling,’ Cecelia Highton-Smith called to her daughter, beckoning her and the other children over.

  ‘Hello Mummy. Do you know which team we’re on?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  Cecelia nodded. ‘Aunty Gee has nabbed Jacinta, Lawrence and Lucas, and you’re with Daddy, me and Millie. Sloane and Sep are with Ambrosia and Granny. Charlotte’s gone back to feed the babies and have a nap before the ball tonight. The poor girl’s exhausted.’

  ‘Wow!’ Millie exclaimed as she surveyed the badminton courts, the croquet and boules greens and the area that had been set aside for French cricket. ‘It does sort of look like the school oval on games day but with way better grass.’

  ‘And a few dozen priceless statues,’ Sloane added.

  It seemed the palace staff had also undergone a costume change. They were now dressed in white polo shirts, white shorts and tennis shoes, and ea
ch had a whistle around their neck.

  Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘Daddy wasn’t kidding when he said that Aunty Gee takes the games seriously.’

  Mr Langley was now marching about with a clipboard and loudhailer, directing the partygoers to their first contests. He also had a whistle slung around his neck and looked as if there were a million things he would rather have been doing.

  Alice-Miranda smiled at Jacinta. ‘I think our teams are playing each other in boules.’

  ‘You’d better be careful, Jacinta,’ Millie warned. ‘You know what happened last time.’

  The child pulled a face. ‘Don’t remind me – a broken toe and a trip to hospital in Paris.’

  ‘And missing out on gymnastics for six weeks,’ Lucas added.

  ‘Where’s Aunty Gee?’ Alice-Miranda asked as her group assembled.

  The competition was a round robin and it appeared that Mr Balfour was in charge of time-keeping. He was standing beside a giant clock, which had been wheeled onto the lawn beside the marquee. But unlike the rest of the staff, he was still dressed in his formal work clothes. He blew a shiny silver whistle to commence the games.

  ‘There she is.’ Hugh grinned as he spotted Her Majesty striding towards them wearing long casual pants, a collared shirt and a sunhat with a peacock-patterned scarf tied around its crown.

  ‘Sorry, darlings,’ the woman puffed. ‘Just some urgent dinner arrangements to attend to.’

  Hugh frowned. ‘Did someone burn the pudding?’

  ‘I jolly well hope not,’ Aunty Gee said. ‘I’ve got Venetia Baldini in charge of the kitchens tonight. It’s costing me the annual budget of a small country, so I hope she doesn’t mess it up.’

  Hugh chuckled. ‘The woman’s a genius. We hired her for a corporate do recently and I have to say that she produced one of the best menus I’ve ever tasted.’

  ‘Pity about her daughter,’ Millie muttered under her breath.

  ‘I wonder where those grandsons of mine have got to.’ The Queen frowned, looking around the park. ‘They were supposed to be playing on Freddy and Elsa’s team.’

  ‘They ran off into the garden ages ago,’ Millie said. ‘I don’t think they liked us at all. They were trying to start a fight so that Jacinta would have a tantrum.’