‘Over my dead body,’ Lloyd hissed.
Marjorie frowned.
‘It’s all right. He’s busy playing timekeeper. I’ll find someone to do it inside.’
Lloyd kissed Marjorie’s cheek and sped off, leaving her wondering what that was all about.
Caprice trudged back towards the palace, annoyed at the twins for leaving her high and dry. The last thing she felt like doing was peeling more potatoes. She bypassed the service entrance and decided to take herself for a wander through the gardens, away from the games.
Evesbury Palace was like nothing she’d ever seen. There was a new surprise around every corner – statues, ponds, a maze or a woodland with hollowed-out trunks, where Caprice almost expected to find real fairies. Apart from the trilling of larks and the rustling of leaves, there was a magical silence about the place.
Caprice followed a stream into a grove of trees but stopped when she heard voices. She couldn’t see where they were coming from but they were low and clearly didn’t want anyone to hear their conversation. Naturally, she crouched down behind an oak tree to listen.
‘So are we still on track?’ the first voice asked.
‘Yes,’ the second replied.
‘Good. Timing is everything. We should be ready to make a move by Tuesday at the latest.’
‘What about Fiona?’
‘She’s onside. At least, she will be by tonight.’
‘But how?’
‘Never mind. Let’s just say, it’s done.’
Caprice peered around the tree, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was speaking. But she could only see their backs through the undergrowth. They were both wearing polo shirts, one white and the other a pale pink. She craned her neck to see who they were when, suddenly, she overbalanced and fell into the clearing with a dull thud. The girl scrambled to her feet and peeked through the hedge, hoping they hadn’t noticed her.
‘Oh, hello Caprice,’ Edgar said as he and Louis traipsed into the glade. ‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
The girl spun around and narrowed her eyes at the pair. ‘You left me to take the blame.’
‘It’s not our fault you didn’t follow us,’ Edgar scoffed.
‘Your grandmother is furious,’ Caprice said.
‘She’ll get over it.’ Louis seemed as if he couldn’t care less. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Nothing,’ the child replied. ‘I just heard some voices. I don’t know who they were.’ Caprice turned back to see if they were still there but they’d gone.
‘What were they talking about?’
‘Someone called Fiona,’ Caprice said with a shrug. ‘It didn’t mean anything to me.’
Edgar yawned. ‘Sounds boring.’
‘Come on, then, what are we going to do now?’ Louis asked.
Caprice shook her head. ‘I’m not doing anything with you two. I have to go back to the kitchens.’
‘That’s a shame,’ Edgar said. ‘I was going to suggest showing you the tower, but if you’d rather help your mummy …’
Caprice’s eyes lit up. ‘Are you kidding? Lead the way!’
‘How much further?’ Caprice whined. It felt like they’d been climbing forever. The sun was beginning to dip behind the hill, and she knew that if she didn’t get back soon her mother would have a fit.
‘You’ll see,’ one of the boys yelled. They continued to speed along a track through the undergrowth.
Before long, the brambles and thickets thinned out, and it dawned on Caprice that they were on top of the ridge that ran high above the palace. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and take in the spectacular view. Down below, the residence and gardens were laid out in all their splendour.
‘You can see for miles up here,’ she exclaimed.
‘Hurry up,’ Louis called over his shoulder, ‘or we’ll just have to turn around and go back again!’
Caprice groaned and once again took off up the track. She charged around the corner and almost collided with Louis.
‘Whoa! What’s that?’ she said, looking up at the imposing building in front of them.
‘It’s the hunting tower,’ Louis said.
‘It was built by our great-great-great-great-great grandfather for hunting parties,’ Edgar said importantly.
Caprice scanned the cream stone building with its strange architecture. There were four turrets, each with its own domed roof capping off four storeys. The building was tall and narrow, and Caprice imagined it was just the sort of thing the Brothers Grimm had in mind when they wrote Rapunzel.
‘What do they use it for now?’ she asked.
‘No one uses it anymore,’ Louis said. ‘Except us.’
‘You can’t tell anyone about this,’ Edgar said sternly.
Caprice rolled her eyes. ‘I won’t.’
‘Come on, I want to get some things for tonight,’ Louis said, disappearing around to the back of the tower.
‘How do you get in?’ Caprice called after them. ‘And what do you mean you want some things for tonight? What do you keep up here?’
‘You’ll see,’ Louis shouted as he dashed over to a huge conifer. He ducked in underneath its branches and returned with a milk crate.
Caprice watched as Edgar positioned it under a small window a couple of metres off the ground. He climbed up, prised open the window and heaved himself through.
‘Why don’t you go through that one?’ Caprice asked, pointing to the lowest opening, which looked as if it might drop into a basement.
‘Because all the windows except this one have been nailed shut,’ the boy replied.
‘Why?’ Caprice asked.
Edgar shrugged. ‘I suppose they don’t want anyone up here.’
The windows further up the tower were larger with diamond-shaped leadlight panes and heavy drapes.
‘Ladies first,’ Louis said, holding out his hand.
Caprice wrinkled her nose. ‘Can’t you just go and open the front door for me?’
The boy shook his head.
‘If I have to, then,’ the girl moaned. She pulled herself up and over the windowsill, then leapt down inside a tiny room.
Louis quickly followed.
‘Pooh, it stinks in here.’ Caprice breathed in the musky scent. Centuries of damp and goodness knows what else had penetrated the thick outer walls.
‘It’s not that bad,’ Edgar said, brushing past her.
Caprice followed the boys through a doorway that led into a central foyer. From here, she could see why they weren’t able to open the tower door. Hanging off it were several large locks, all of which looked as if they required equally large keys.
Louis dived through a door to their left and sped up a narrow staircase with a rope banister. The trio bounded their way up, taking two steps at a time, and didn’t stop until they reached the second floor, where Caprice found herself in another central vestibule. It was sort of like a sitting room, with three threadbare floral couches and dark furniture lining the walls. A huge circular light fitting made of antlers took up the entire ceiling. There were three other doors leading off the landing, but what lay behind them was a complete mystery. Caprice was taken by the faded grandeur of the building with its timber panelling and assortment of antiques.
Edgar pushed open the door closest to them.
In the centre of the room sat a large table laden with wires and batteries, pliers and dismantled computers. Caprice recognised some camera parts and remote controls. There were blueprints stuck to the walls, with handwritten instructions scrawled all over them. Another bench contained a chemistry set with flasks and beakers, measuring cups and a range of labelled jars.
Caprice’s eyes drank it all in as she walked around the room. ‘What’s all this?’
‘Welcome to our workshop,’ Louis said with a bow. He plucked a white lab coat from a hook on the wall and pulled it over his clothes.
‘Workshop?’ Caprice repeated.
‘We invent things,’ Edgar replied, as
if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled on a lab coat too and set to work.
‘Does anyone else know about this?’ Caprice asked. She leaned in to inspect a set of crude drawings, one of which appeared to be a seating plan, and the other a soup bowl.
‘No, and they’re not going to either,’ Edgar said sharply, giving Caprice a stern look.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone,’ Caprice sniped. ‘So you made the boules jack remote-controlled, then?’
Louis smiled proudly. ‘All our own work.’
‘Wasn’t it magnificent?’ Edgar preened.
‘Very clever,’ Caprice agreed. She pointed at a glass jar with brown goo in it. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, beginning to unscrew the lid.
‘Noooo!’ Edgar shouted, snatching the jar from her hands.
‘Yuck! That’s disgusting!’ Caprice gagged. ‘What is it?’
Edgar quickly wound the lid back on. ‘Liver paste.’
‘It’s rank,’ Caprice sputtered, trying not to breathe in the smell. ‘What are you going to use that for?’
‘Shoes,’ Louis said.
Caprice looked at him blankly.
‘Well, we’ve been fermenting it for ages and we’ve worked out a way to extract the smell so that humans can’t detect it,’ the boy explained. ‘But animals can. Obviously that jar is still in its early stages.’
‘This is the finished product,’ Edgar said, patting a jar on the other end of the table.
‘But what’s it for?’ Caprice couldn’t see any use for the revolting goo except perhaps wild animal traps and, as far as she knew, there weren’t any bears or tigers roaming the woods.
‘We painted it on the soles of Langley’s shoes.’ Edgar held up a pair of black brogues and grinned. ‘We’re taking them back down tonight. He has this thing where he alternates a pair of shoes each day.’
‘I still don’t get it,’ Caprice said. ‘Do you want him to get eaten by a lion or something?’
‘No, of course not, but can you imagine what fun it will be when Archie and Petunia pick up the scent? They won’t leave him alone and he’ll never know why.’ Louis explained with a mischievous grin.
‘That is pretty clever,’ Caprice admitted. ‘Can we go back now?’
‘Why? Are you worried you’ll be in trouble with your mummy?’ Edgar pouted mockingly.
‘No, of course not,’ Caprice replied, staring the boy down. ‘But don’t you have to get ready for the ball?’
‘As long as we turn up on time no one will care,’ Edgar said. ‘We’ve got to finish something special for tonight, anyway.’
Louis turned to Caprice. ‘Actually, you’re not coming to the dinner, are you?’
The girl shook her head. ‘I’ll be downstairs getting bossed about by my mother.’
‘That’s perfect.’ Louis smiled at his brother. ‘Edgar and I have a job for you.’
Caprice eyed them suspiciously. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I think Grandmama needs to see that Little Miss Perfect is not all she’s cracked up to be,’ Louis said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
‘Do you think it’s ready?’ Edgar asked. He pressed his finger against a long strip of what looked to be extremely thin blu tack.
His brother nodded. ‘I think so. As long as we’ve got enough strength in it.’
Edgar picked up a silver teaspoon and held it over the strip. Suddenly, the silverware flew out of his hand and slammed onto the table.
‘Whoa!’ Caprice gasped.
The pull of the strip was so strong, Edgar had to use both hands to yank the spoon from it. He glanced up at Louis and smirked. ‘Looks ready to me.’
Louis smiled and turned to Caprice. ‘And you’re the perfect person to put it in place.’
The girl listened intently as the boys revealed their plan.
Venetia Baldini wondered if she should have packed a pair of rollerskates, the way she was racing from one section of the kitchen to the next. A cumquat disaster had been averted, largely because one of Her Majesty’s chefs kindly took her to the greenhouse, where she located some additional fruit. And while cheese soufflé was admittedly a risky choice for entree, Venetia was determined to make this dinner memorable for all the right reasons. It was just after quarter past five when she glanced at the kitchen clock and realised that Caprice was late.
‘Excuse me, ma’am, but would you like me to make you a cup of tea?’ a young kitchenhand asked.
‘Oh, that would be brilliant,’ Venetia replied gratefully. The woman looked down at her splattered apron, which bore evidence of just about every dish she’d worked on that day. ‘Gosh, I must look a terrible mess.’
‘Not at all,’ the young man said. Despite having been on the go for hours, Venetia’s hair and make-up were still flawless. ‘And if you don’t mind me saying so, Ms Baldini, I think you might do well to sit down for a few minutes. I haven’t ever seen anyone work at the rate of knots you do, and you’ve still got hours before the dinner service.’
Venetia smiled at the lad. ‘That’s awfully kind of you to say …’
‘I’m Tom,’ the young man said, reading Venetia’s mind.
‘Thank you, Tom,’ Venetia replied. ‘I suppose I should check my messages, and I would like to know where that daughter of mine has got to.’
Venetia’s handbag was sitting on the desk inside the little office she’d been provided by Mr Langley. She pulled out her phone and was alarmed to find twelve missed calls from a number she didn’t recognise. There were five messages too.
She dialled the number to listen to her voicemail and, within seconds, the colour had drained from her face and she had begun to shake all over. Tom walked into the room, balancing a teacup and a plate with a large slice of chocolate cake.
‘Ms Baldini, are you all right?’ the lad asked with concern. He quickly placed the tea and cake on the table and rushed to the woman’s side.
‘My father … h-he’s had a stroke,’ Venetia stammered as tears began to flood her face. ‘My husband is away with the boys and I can’t get in touch with them and my father is in Italy.’
‘Everything’s under control for tonight,’ Tom said soothingly. ‘We can take it from here. You should go to your father.’
‘I’m so sorry. I need to find my daughter and Mr Langley,’ Venetia said.
She picked up her handbag and fled through the kitchens and upstairs to the rear hall, almost crashing into Cecelia Highton-Smith, who was on her way outside to round up the children. Aunty Gee’s games had finished an hour earlier and the children had begged to do some more exploring in the gardens. Cecelia had agreed to meet them near the back doors at half past five, allowing the children enough time to have a rest before getting ready for the ball.
‘Hello Venetia, Aunty Gee said that you were in charge of dinner tonight,’ Cecelia said warmly. ‘I must say we’re all very excited. That function you did for Highton’s was certainly the most fabulous meal I can remember. It was –’
‘Have you seen Caprice?’ Venetia blurted.
‘Yes, I saw her about –’ Cecelia stopped as she registered the woman’s tear-stained cheeks. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’
Venetia burst into tears. ‘It’s my father,’ she sobbed.
Cecelia placed her arm around the woman’s shoulders and listened to the story between hiccup-ping gulps.
‘I have to find Caprice,’ Venetia sniffed.
Cecelia hoped the girl was out playing with Alice-Miranda and the other children. Not a minute later, Alice-Miranda, Millie, Jacinta, Sloane, Sep and Lucas tumbled through the back door, dishevelled and dirty, looking as if they’d had quite the adventure.
‘Hello darling, I was just coming to find you,’ Cecelia said.
‘Sorry, Mummy, we discovered an enormous maze, then we got lost and it took us ages to find our way back,’ the child babbled. ‘Hello Ms Baldini, we’re really looking forward to dinner tonight. I’m starving! But are you all right?’ Al
ice-Miranda had only just noticed the woman’s red-rimmed eyes.
Millie and Jacinta looked at each other. ‘Has she been crying?’ Jacinta whispered.
‘Children, have you seen Caprice?’ Cecelia asked.
‘Only when we were playing boules,’ Alice-Miranda volunteered. ‘She left us and said that she was coming back inside to help you, Ms Baldini.’
Venetia sighed and dabbed at her eyes.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ Millie mouthed to Jacinta.
‘Ms Baldini, is something wrong?’ Alice-Miranda asked.
The woman’s eyes filled with tears again. ‘My father is seriously ill and I need to get to him right away, but I have to find Caprice,’ she replied, her voice faltering.
‘We can go and look for her,’ Sep offered, and Lucas nodded. Though, with the fading light and the size of the palace gardens, neither of the boys was confident that they’d find her very quickly.
‘She’s probably with Louis and Edgar,’ Millie said. ‘They could be anywhere.’
‘I told her to be back by five o’clock and it’s almost quarter to six,’ Venetia said. ‘I need to get to the airport now or I won’t get a flight tonight.’
Alice-Miranda had an idea. ‘Why don’t you go on ahead, and Daddy can arrange for Cyril to take Caprice to meet you when we find her?’ the girl suggested.
Venetia blinked.
‘In Birdy, our helicopter,’ Alice-Miranda explained.
Venetia hated the thought of leaving not knowing where her daughter was, but she’d never forgive herself if something happened and she didn’t get to see her father.
Cecelia nodded. ‘That’s an excellent idea, darling.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t want to be a nuisance, and you’ve got the ball tonight,’ Venetia said, trembling like one of the jellies she’d made for the trifle.
‘Are you all right to drive, Ms Baldini?’ Lucas asked the woman.
Venetia nodded and smiled at the thoughtful lad. ‘It will give me something to concentrate on other than Papa.’
‘Have you got everything?’ Cecelia asked.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t even told the chefs what’s happened.’ The woman’s forehead wrinkled at the thought of everything that had to be done downstairs.
Alice-Miranda at the Palace 11 Page 9
