What Happens in the Alps...

by T A Williams

  ‘Please, Mr Mackintosh, what’s Miss Victoria like?’ Mr Evergreen had given little away at the interview. In fact, he had been much more interested in finding out as much as he could about Katie and her parents. It turned out that he was familiar with her father’s law firm and she had no doubt that that had greatly helped her chances. But he had said little about what or who awaited her.

  She was reassured to see a smile cross Mr Mackintosh’s face. She realised that he was probably not quite as old as she had assumed at first sight. ‘She’s a fine young lady who’s had an unusual life, Miss. We all like her very much and I’m sure you’ll find her a kind and fair employer.’ He hazarded a question in his turn. ‘You are to be her companion, I believe. Is that correct?’

  ‘That’s right, Mr Mackintosh. It’s all happened so quickly. I only applied for the job last week. It’s all been a bit of a blur.’ And it had been. The offer of the job and, amazingly, the details of a salary that made even Martin, the lawyer, sit up and take notice, had arrived by special delivery the next day. As they had all agreed, whatever or whoever might be waiting for her at Iddlescombe Manor, this was too good an opportunity to miss. She had replied that she would be happy to accept and had had little time to do more than pack her bags. Apart, of course, from the couple of times she had been with Martin.

  As the car resumed its way up the increasingly narrow lane towards their destination, Katie did her best not to let her thoughts dwell on what Mackintosh might have meant by his use of the word “unusual” when describing Miss Victoria’s background. She would find out very soon. She sat back and allowed herself a few more warm memories. Upon their return from London she had insisted on taking Martin down to one of the pubs by the river for a drink. This had extended into several drinks, food and a long chat. As the sun set over the water, she had learnt more about this kind, friendly and good-looking man. By the end of the evening she was seriously considering following Jenny’s advice and saddling him up. Only the bitter memory of the last disheartening months of her festering relationship with Dean and her resolve to concentrate on achieving financial independence stopped her from doing more than kissing him goodnight. Although, she thought happily to herself as the big car swung round a particularly sharp corner, it had been a very good kiss.

  Katie didn’t really have experience of many men. There had been that first time with her friend Melanie’s brother, after both of them had consumed potentially liver-crippling quantities of cider. Her memory of the event was mercifully very hazy, but she remembered enough to know that the earth had not moved for her, at least until she started throwing up. There had been a few short-lived affairs at university and then, of course, for the last seven years, there had been Dean. She had only exchanged a few emails with him since the break-up, and if she never heard from him again, that would be just fine with her.

  She shook her head to clear it and returned her thoughts to her rugby-playing solicitor. As the big car snaked in and out among the dense undergrowth of rhododendron bushes beneath the canopy of ancient trees, she knew she was looking forward to seeing Martin again. The fact that every minute took her further away from him made this all the more unlikely.

  ‘There’s the great house up there, Miss.’ She was brought back to the present by the voice of Mr Mackintosh. He extended an arm out in front of him as the woodland gave way to open pastures. There, in the distance, set at the edge of a lake, was one of the most wonderful houses she had ever seen. As they drove towards it, faster now as the road straightened out and widened, she saw the absolute perfection of its design, a triumph of columns, arches and extravagant statuary. It was quite enormous and surrounded by magnificent gardens.

  The estate appeared to be ringed by a high stone wall that disappeared off into the distance either side of a lodge house that guarded the fine wrought iron gates. Mr Mackintosh hooted the wonderful old klaxon with his gloved hand and seconds later a figure limped out of the lodge and unlocked the gates. As they swept through, Katie saw that the gatekeeper was an old man, bald apart from an edging of straggly white hair around his shiny pate. He raised his fingers to his temple in salute and she found herself waving back like royalty.

  There was a vibration from the tyres as they crossed a cattle grid and entered the parkland. A fine selection of specimen trees dotted the fields and Katie soon realised that the animals sheltering in the shade beneath their branches were deer. It was a magnificent scene, like something out of a Gainsborough or Constable painting. A drumming noise drew her attention. She looked around and saw that they were being followed by a figure on horseback. As she watched, the galloping horse drew near and then overtook them. The rider peeled off in the direction of the house before Katie could get a clear look at her. She registered that is was a female figure, dressed in impeccable white breeches and shiny black boots, but she and the horse quickly disappeared from sight. The car followed the avenue as it weaved between the ancient trees. By the time the big vehicle crunched across the gravel in front of the house, there was no sign of the horse or its rider.

  ‘Was that Miss Victoria?’ Katie looked up at Mr Mackintosh as he jumped out to open the door for her. He nodded briefly.

  ‘Yes, Miss. I imagine she’s gone round to the stable yard with Thumper.’

  ‘That’s the name of her horse?’

  ‘That’s the name of the horse she was riding this afternoon. She has a string of horses to suit her mood.’

  ‘Does she have a lot of different moods?’ There was a pause before Mr Mackintosh risked a response.

  ‘She has not had an easy life, Miss, in spite of all this.’ He waved a gloved hand in the general direction of the manor house. ‘I’m sure she will tell you herself.’

  Katie climbed out and went round to retrieve her luggage, but Mackintosh had preceded her. ‘That’s all right, Miss. I’ll see that these go up to your room. Here’s Mrs Milliner. She’ll look after you.’

  A maternal-looking woman who could have been mid-fifties, or maybe a shade older, appeared from the main door of the house and made her way nimbly down the steps towards them. She nodded approvingly as she saw Mr Mackintosh with Katie’s bags and gave him his instructions. ‘The young lady will be in the Green Room. If you would be so kind, Mr Mackintosh…’

  He grunted assent and headed for the house. Mrs Milliner turned her attention to Katie, who was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the place and the formality of the staff members. As Mrs Milliner extended her hand towards her, she felt quite apprehensive. The handshake, however, was gentle and an equally gentle smile spread across the woman’s face. ‘Welcome to Iddlescombe Manor, Miss Parr. I’m Mrs Milliner.’ She supplied no details of her job description but Katie had definitely got the impression by now that Mrs Milliner was in charge. She did her best to reply in a strong voice.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Milliner. My name is Katherine, but everybody calls me Katie.’

  ‘Very good, Miss Katie. Now, if you would like to come along with me, I’ll show you to your room.’ Katie walked with her up the front steps. Two massive stone lions guarded the doors, which were a masterpiece of elaborate carving. A fine brass letterbox was set into the woodwork, shining brightly as only regularly polished brass can do. A massive metal rod and handle hung down to one side of the doors, presumably to act as the doorbell. Mrs Milliner stood to one side and motioned Katie inside.

  The entrance hall and the monumental staircase were awe-inspiring, studded with fine oil paintings and stags’ heads bristling with antlers. The corridor leading to her room was wider than the lane leading up the valley to the house and, beneath the thick strip of carpet, the broad wooden floorboards creaked as they walked along. Mrs Milliner accompanied her along the corridor without comment, and Katie began to feel more and more nervous. There was no sign of Miss Victoria. Maybe she was changing after her ride. As they reached the room, Katie summoned up the courage to attempt conversation.

  ‘Is Miss Victoria’s room along
here as well?’

  Mrs Milliner’s reply was friendly enough. ‘Yes, indeed. I’m sure she’ll show you round herself this evening. Dinner will be served at seven o’clock.’ She turned the handle and pushed the door open. Stepping back, she ushered Katie into a massive room. ‘Your bathroom is through that door over there and your dressing room is beyond the arch on the other side of the bed.’ Katie had never had a dressing room before and wasn’t totally sure what it was used for. Surely you didn’t need a whole room just to get dressed? The bed itself was an enormous wooden structure, the size of a couple of table tennis tables. Two windows looked straight out over the park and gardens. It was a remarkable place with a remarkable view.

  ‘How absolutely lovely, Mrs Milliner. What a room!’ The awe in Katie’s voice was clear to hear. ‘Are all the rooms here as luxurious as this?’

  Mrs Milliner paused for thought before replying. ‘All the principal bedrooms, yes. There are twelve of those. The other bedrooms are maybe a little smaller, but they’re all of a similar style.’

  ‘So do many people live in the house?’

  ‘Only Miss Victoria, myself and a couple of maids. And now, of course, you too.’

  ‘Only five of us in this huge place?’ Katie could hardly believe it. Mrs Milliner gave her another little smile.

  ‘Yes, Miss Katie, just the five of us. Somehow, I don’t think you’ll be feeling crowded here. Now, if you would excuse me, I have to see that dinner is coming along well. I’ll get one of the girls to bring you up a pot of tea.’

  Katie protested weakly, but to no avail. Five minutes later there was a tap on the door. Before Katie could get across to open it, the handle turned and a ginger-haired woman in a black uniform and crisp white apron brought in a tray.

  ‘Tea, Miss Katie?’

  The “girl” was probably five or ten years older than Katie, who was beginning to get a bit fed up with the constant addition of “Miss” to her name. ‘Just “Katie” is fine. There’s no need for the “Miss”. What’s your name?’

  ‘Rosie, Mis…Katie.’ The maid was busy unloading a silver teapot, milk jug, plates, biscuits and a huge slice of what looked suspiciously like freshly-made sponge cake. Finally Rosie deposited the last item and straightened up. ‘If there’s anything else you require, just press the bell by your bedside.’ She extended a finger towards a large enamel knob protruding from the wall. Like the letterbox, the surround was solid, well-polished brass. By the time Katie had registered the existence of the button, the maid had slipped silently out of the room. Katie checked the time on her phone against the hands of the exquisite old clock on the mantelpiece. It was almost six.

  There was another tap on the door. This time she made it across to the handle before it turned. It was Mr Mackintosh with her bags. He brought them in and set them on a low bench designed for luggage.

  ‘Will there be anything else, Miss?’

  Katie shook her head, thanked him, and he withdrew.

  Over the next hour she unpacked her things, showered and changed. She kept on checking the time on her phone until it was one minute to seven. She stood up and ran her hands down her sides, glancing at her reflection in the enormous floor to ceiling mirror. She had changed into the most formal skirt she had brought and was feeling rather conspicuous. She was also feeling really quite nervous.

  She put her phone down on the table and prepared to go downstairs for dinner. Apart from telling the time, the phone was quite useless here. There appeared to be no mobile signal and no internet connection. She took a deep breath and went out into the corridor and along to the massive staircase. As she walked down the last few steps into the hall, Rosie appeared as if by magic and led her to the dining room. The door was already open and Miss Victoria was standing by the empty fireplace.

  Katie stopped on the threshold and studied the scene. Her first reaction was one of surprise, accompanied by relief. Miss Victoria, far from being an elderly lady, was probably about the same age as she was. She hurried across to meet her new employer, whose hand was already extended in her direction.

  ‘Good evening. You are Katherine Parr?’ Miss Victoria sounded friendly, if a bit formal. Her accent would not have sounded out of place in Buckingham Palace or Made in Chelsea. As if reading Katie’s mind, she added, ‘And do you have royal lineage?’ She was smiling broadly now. Katie had had this remark made about her name often enough to recognise it.

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Victoria. And I’m Katherine Parr with a “K”, not a “C”. I’m not the reincarnation of Henry VIII’s last wife. Anyway, everybody calls me Katie.’

  ‘Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Katie. Please can you call me just plain Victoria. I’m afraid my father insisted everybody should call me Miss Victoria all my life and I can’t seem to get them to change. Isn’t that so, Rosie?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, Miss Victoria.’ The maid’s face was expressionless.

  Katie smiled and took a better look at Victoria. She looked four or five years younger than her, probably in her mid-twenties, tall and slim, with light brown hair piled up on her head in formal manner, revealing a pair of earrings. If the diamonds set in them were real, they were worth a fortune. Katie reflected that if they were false, they were the first fake she had seen all day. The clothes she was wearing were elegant, if dated. Her blouse was unmistakably silk, a delicate cream colour, and she was wearing a dark blue skirt that just covered her knees. On her feet she wore flat leather shoes. Instinctively Katie tugged her own skirt down as far as she could, but her knees were still visible. She rather regretted her choice of sandals now.

  ‘I hope you had a good journey here and that your room is satisfactory to your requirements.’ Katie found it hard to reconcile Victoria’s formal, rather antiquated, language with a girl of that age. It sounded weird and slightly ridiculous. She did her best to reply equally politely.

  ‘Yes, thank you very much. The room is great and everybody has been so very helpful. And I did enjoy my ride in that fantastic big white car. It was an awesome experience.’

  ‘Awesome? You can use that?’ Victoria repeated the word as if hearing it for the first time. ‘An awesome experience.’ She caught Katie’s eye and smiled a warm, genuine smile. ‘I think I shall use the word awesome myself. You see,’ she was still smiling, ‘I’ve got so much to learn. Anyway, you’ll work that out for yourself, I’m sure. Now, I asked Mrs Milliner to put out a bottle of champagne. Is that to your liking?’

  ‘I adore champagne, thank you. I’m afraid I haven’t had any for quite a while now. Normally I have to wait until one of my friends gets married.’ Something must have shown on her face. As Victoria waved to Rosie to pour the champagne, she gave Katie a gentle smile.

  ‘Mr Evergreen told me you had just separated from your husband. I’m very sorry.’

  Katie took the glass of champagne that was handed to her and resisted the temptation to drain it in one. ‘Thank you, Victoria. We weren’t married, so it’s not a proper divorce, but we were together for seven years.’

  ‘Living in sin is the expression, isn’t it? Or is there something more modern?’

  ‘I think the technical legal term is cohabiting, but we just used to say we were living together. Living in sin is a bit old-fashioned nowadays.’ Katie was indeed beginning to get a taste of what awaited her. Somehow, this young woman acted and sounded like a Jane Austen character. She took a deep breath and raised her glass. ‘Thank you for your marvellous hospitality. Cheers.’ They clinked their glasses together and Katie did her best to follow Victoria’s example and just take a delicate sip of the wine. It, too, was amazing.

  ‘I hope you like the champagne. It’s only five years old but my father told me that this was a particularly good year. Une année royale.’

  Katie noticed her excellent pronunciation. ‘It’s wonderful, thank you.’

  ‘Awesome? Could I say that?’

  Katie smiled back at her. ‘You certainly could.’

&n
bsp; Copyright

  CARINA™

  ISBN: 9780008182595

  What Happens in the Alps…

  © 2016 Trevor Williams

  by Carina, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

  By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

  CARINA™ is a trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, used under licence.

  www.CarinaUK.com