by Rhys Bowen
Oh golly, I thought. I was the last person to escort someone around the most fashionable shops. I had never had the money to shop at any of them and my experience ended with Harrods, Barkers, and maybe Fenwick. Certainly not the most fashionable boutiques London had to offer.
Major Beauchamp-Chough came in announcing to Princess Marina that her bags and her maid were now in her suite and he would escort her to it anytime she was ready. He suggested that she might want to rest after her long journey.
She gave a chuckle at this. “I’ve been sitting in a train carriage for most of the day. Hardly strenuous. What I’d really like is some tea. I have to say that English teatime is the best thing about moving to England.”
“I’d rather hoped that I was the best thing,” George said.
“Apart from you, my darling.” She reached out a hand to touch his and I saw genuine affection there.
“I’ll leave you to settle in, then,” George said. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.” He blew her a kiss as he left. Marina smiled fondly after him. I began to feel hopeful that this might be a true love match after all.
As soon as he was gone we enjoyed a good tea around the fire.
“I really missed having a proper tea when we lived in Paris,” Marina said.
“Was it the custom to have tea in your family?” I asked.
“We had an English nanny,” the princess said. “She expected tea to be served every day in the nursery.”
“Ah, that explains your perfect English,” I said.
She nodded. “Miss Kate Fox. Terribly strict and correct. You know, made us sleep with the windows open in a howling gale, and we had to mind our p’s and q’s. I expect you had one too?”
“My nanny was actually quite kind, which was good as neither of my parents was in evidence. But windows are always required to be open at Castle Rannoch, even in Scottish gales.”
Marina smiled. “George has told me about the obligatory visits to Balmoral. I expect it will be much the same there.”
“Definitely. And the piper waking everyone at dawn.”
We laughed, at least Marina and I did. Irmtraut sat silent and staring past us, out of the window.
“Where are you to live, ma’am?” I asked. “Here at Kensington Palace?”
“Oh gosh, no. Too depressing for words, don’t you think?” she said. “We’ll be living in Belgrave Square. George is anxious to be moving out of his rooms at St. James’s Palace. Do you know Belgrave Square?”
“Our family’s London home is also there. What a coincidence.”
“Then we shall be neighbors. How lovely.” She reached out to me this time.
Irmtraut glared.
We chatted on as Marina worked her way through crumpets and scones and shortbread. It was all very pleasant and we probably lingered a little too long before finally realizing that we should go up and change for dinner at the palace. I found Queenie in my room, reading a magazine.
“Did you get your tea sent up to you?” I asked.
“No, I told them not to bother and I came down to have it in the kitchen. When it comes on a tray you only get one slice of cake.”
The thought of Queenie coming down the stairs at just the time that Princess Marina was obviously arriving made me go cold all over. “I’d prefer it if you stayed put, Queenie.”
“But it’s lonely up here all by myself. And it’s a bit creepy too. I kept hearing noises last night.”
“I’m sure it was just the wind,” I said brightly. No sense in telling her about the ghosts. “But now I have to get ready for dinner at the palace so please get out my blue evening dress.”
“Your blue one?” she asked.
“Yes. The cornflower blue silk with the beading. The one my mother bought for me in America when my best clothes were lost in the fire. And those nice silk evening shoes too. I have to look my best.”
There was a long pause. A feeling of doom began to creep over me. “Queenie, has something happened to my evening dress? You didn’t try to iron it, and melt it, did you?”
“Oh no, miss. Nothing like that. It’s just that . . . it ain’t here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I must have left it behind when we had to get out of your friend’s place in a hurry. I remember that I couldn’t fit all of your things into the wardrobe in the box room, so I shoved some into Miss Belinda’s wardrobe. I suppose I must have forgotten them.”
“You’ve forgotten my one good evening gown?” I tried not to shriek. “Queenie, I’m about to dine at the palace with the king and queen. All I have here are the burgundy and bottle green velvet and they are decidedly old and unfashionable and there is that place on the skirt where you ironed the velvet once. Queenie, you are hopeless. And it’s too late to send you round to Belinda’s in a taxi now.”
“Sorry, miss,” she said. “My old dad only said the other day that I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t attached to my shoulders. That was when I forgot to turn off the gas and nearly blew up the house.” And she gave an apologetic grin.
“Well, I have to make the best of it, I suppose,” I said. “I’ll wear the burgundy I wore last night.”
“Oh, that one?” She was looking sheepish again.
“Please tell me something hasn’t happened to the burgundy velvet dress.”
“Not exactly,” she said. “It’s just that you wouldn’t want to wear it tonight.”
“And why is that?” Doom was enveloping me in a shroud.
“Well, you got a little spot on it at dinner last night and I was sponging it off and I turned around and me bum knocked the basin of water off the washstand. And it sort of went all over the skirt. So, I’m afraid it’s a bit wet.”
“Queenie, I should sack you on the spot,” I exclaimed.
She hung her head. “Yeah, I know, miss. But accidents happen, don’t they? Remember that time you bumped into someone with the tray of wine?”
I’m afraid she had me there, reminding me of my own clumsiness again. Maybe she wasn’t quite as thick as she pretended.
“Go and find the bottle green dress and if you’ve damaged that one I’ll throttle you personally.”
The bottle green dress emerged from the wardrobe undamaged, but it had certainly seen better days and there was that patch of skirt where Queenie had ironed the velvet the wrong way. I now owned a silver fox stole, courtesy of my mother, so I planned to drape that over as much of me as possible. I was in low spirits when I went down to await Marina. And they sank even lower when she appeared in a stunning white dress dotted with pearls.
“Nobody will pay any attention to you anyway,” I told myself.
The Daimler arrived and we set off.
“I’m very glad you are coming with me, Georgiana,” Marina said in a whisper. “I am a little nervous about dining with my future family. The queen always seems so haughty and severe. Rather frightening after my own family, who are so easygoing.”
“Yes, they can be rather alarming,” I said. “I am invited to the palace quite frequently and every time I tremble at the knees. The king and queen are very hot on protocol. I always have to remember to curtsy and call her ma’am.”
She took my hand. “Then you and I will support each other.”
How charming she was, I thought, and I hoped fervently that Prince George could really learn to behave himself and to love her as she deserved. I tried to picture myself if I had agreed to marry Prince Siegfried, moving to a strange country with unfamiliar customs and a groom who would never love me. And I thought how lucky I was that I had found Darcy.
It was certainly less alarming to arrive at Buckingham Palace in a suitable Daimler motorcar and to drive past the guards, into the palace forecourt, through the arch and up to the main entrance. We were escorted up the stairs and into the Music Room, where the king and queen, toget
her with the Duke and Duchess of York, were awaiting us. There was no sign of the Prince of Wales or the bridegroom. The queen came forward to meet us.
“Marina. Welcome, my dear. How very good to see you looking so well. And Georgiana too. Such a pleasure.”
Marina was kissed on both cheeks. I curtsied. Marina then kissed the king and was introduced to the duke and duchess.
“I must apologize for my sons,” the queen said, looking around with obvious displeasure. “The king is extremely punctual and my sons appear to be more Continental in their approach to time. The Prince of Wales did tell me that he feared he would not be able to join us on this occasion, but your future husband was with us only a short time ago and went home to change into his dinner jacket. I can’t think what could be delaying him.”
“No sense of duty, this younger generation,” the king growled.
“Oh, come now, Papa. We are here on time,” the Duchess of York said with her sweet smile. I noticed the duke said nothing. He was always afraid of revealing his stammer in public and was very shy among strangers.
“You two are the salt of the earth,” the queen replied.
“If only the boy would get over that blasted speech impediment,” the king said. “It’s only a matter of practice.”
“I d-d-d-do try, Father,” the duke said.
There was an awkward silence. Mercifully champagne was served. Nibbles were brought around and finally, when the king was clearly beginning to fume, Prince George came running up the staircase, out of breath and straightening his bow tie as he ran.
“Awfully sorry to be so late, Mama,” he said. “The motorcar was involved in a minor prang. Nothing serious. Nobody hurt, but it delayed us.”
“An accident on the way? Surely you only had to come a few yards from St. James’s, didn’t you? You could have walked,” the king said testily.
“Actually I had to pop over to the new place to check on something the decorator wanted me to see, and as I said, no harm, no foul.”
“You’re here now, George. That’s all that matters. And now that you are here, your father has something to tell you.” The queen looked expectantly at the king, who cleared his throat.
“This is the time in your life when you take on responsibility, my boy,” he said. “Until now you’ve had free rein to enjoy yourself when you were not out and about with the navy. From now on we expect you and your bride to be active members of the royal family, to take on royal duties, and to be a credit to our good name and to our ancestors. So I plan to make you Duke and Duchess of Kent.”
“Gosh, thanks awfully, Father.” He looked across at Marina. “Do you hear that, my dear? You’re to be Duchess of Kent.”
Marina was standing next to me. “Isn’t that a step down from princess?” she whispered with the hint of a grin.
“These titles come with property and income, I believe,” I whispered back. “Most royal sons are made dukes.”
“Ah.” She nodded.
The gong was sounded. Prince George took Marina’s arm to escort her in to dinner. I followed behind, unescorted. I suppose the Prince of Wales would have made up even numbers, as he wouldn’t have dared to bring Mrs. Simpson with him. Dinner passed smoothly but without the Prince of Wales putting in an appearance, which clearly vexed his mother. When we were driven back to Kensington Palace, Princess Marina seemed in good spirits and satisfied with her lot.
“The queen was kinder to me than I expected,” she said. “And I could tell that the king liked me too.”
“Who could not like you?” I asked.
She squeezed my hand. “You’re so sweet, Georgiana. Will you have to marry someone the family finds for you, or will you be able to make your own choice?”
“Hopefully the latter,” I said. “They tried to hitch me up with Prince Siegfried of Romania.”
She gave a peal of laughter. “Me too. Isn’t he awful? And do you know what I found out? He likes other men. Can you imagine how horrid that would be?”
Should I tell her? I wondered, then decided against it. After all, her future bridegroom George was also reputed to have had affairs with unsuitable women. He was an equal opportunity offender. And maybe he’d shape up and become a model husband. He certainly seemed fond of Marina, the way he looked at her.
It was not raining for once as the car drew up outside Kensington Palace, but a large puddle had formed outside the entrance to our apartment. “I’ll stop a little farther down, Your Royal Highness,” the chauffeur said, “so that you don’t get your feet wet. There’s a raised pavement beside the house where you can walk back.”
“How kind. Thank you,” Marina replied.
We were helped out of the backseat. Marina went ahead of me. I was about to follow when I glanced back and thought I saw that strange greenish glow coming from the archway below the clock tower. I had to see for myself where the light was coming from and began to walk toward it. Then I stared harder. Surely something was lying there. Something white. My heart was beating faster and I wanted to turn and hurry into the safety of our apartment but I couldn’t help myself. I was drawn toward it. If it was the ghost of Princess Sophia I had to see it for myself. But why would a ghost be lying anywhere? Surely ghosts wafted about as they wished and didn’t linger too long. As I approached the thing lying on the cobbles, I could make out the form of a dark-haired young woman in a white silk dress, lying slumped over, facedown. I kept moving closer, walking more slowly now. Surely the specter would vanish when I came too close, wouldn’t it?
But it didn’t. I stood there, taking in every detail—the rather flashy rings on the hand that lay outstretched a few inches from my foot, the very modern short haircut with its permanent waves, and then, as I moved around to get a better view I saw her eyes, open and staring at me blankly from a deathly white face, contrasting with the bright red lips.
Whoever she was she was no ghost. She had been recently alive and now she was very dead.
Chapter 10
LATE AT NIGHT, NOVEMBER 4
KENSINGTON PALACE
I stood there in the darkness with my heart hammering, not knowing what to do. I had seen dead bodies before but one never gets over the shock. I put my hand to my mouth, feeling queasy. Marina had gone ahead of me into the house. I had no idea how long the girl had been lying there, if she had been murdered, or even if the murderer still lurked nearby.
“Your ladyship?” a voice called and the chauffeur was coming toward me. “I don’t believe you can get into the apartment that way. May I escort you to the front door?”
“Thank you so much.” I came hurriedly to meet him so that he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the dead girl. He delivered me safely to the front door and I heard the motorcar drive away as the door was closed behind me by a maid.
The police should be called immediately, I thought, and I was about to tell the maid to take me to a telephone. But I realized that Princess Marina should not be made upset. Then I remembered Major Beauchamp-Chough. There were rules of protocol to be followed in a royal palace and he was currently master of the house. So if anyone summoned the police it should be he.
“Do you know where one would find Major Beauchamp-Chough?” I asked the maid.
“I expect he would be in his own apartment at this time of night, my lady,” she said, looking at me strangely.
“It was apartment 10, I believe. Do you know which one that is?”
“I’m not sure. I’d have to go and ask,” she said.
“It’s important that I see him right away,” I said. “A situation has arisen that demands his immediate attention. Where can I find a writing desk?”
She took me through to a small sitting room and seated me at a Queen Anne desk by the window. I found an old-fashioned inkwell, pen and paper. I started to write as the maid went to find out how to locate the major’s suite.
Dear Major
Beauchamp-Chough,
I am sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but a difficult situation has arisen that demands your immediate attention. Please come to apartment 1 as soon as you receive this.
By the time I had finished, the maid had returned. “His apartment is all the way around at the front of the building,” she said, her expression betraying that she didn’t want to walk all that way in the dark.
I felt for her, but speed was of primary importance. “Then please take him this letter,” I said.
“Now, my lady?” She looked scared and I wondered if she’d heard the stories about Kensington’s ghosts.
“Yes, now. I’d go myself, but that would not be seemly. It’s most urgent, you understand, or I would not be asking you to do this.”
“Very well, my lady.” She bobbed a curtsy and went. I sat at the desk, staring out into blackness, waiting. The image of that white face with staring eyes swam before me and I found I was shivering. It wasn’t long before the major appeared, looking absolutely resplendent in full dress uniform with much braid and a row of medals that were most impressive.
“Lady Georgiana, what on earth is the matter? You look quite white. The maid said it was most urgent. Has the princess been taken ill?”
“Nothing like that, Major. I’m so sorry to disturb you, but it is indeed crucial,” I said. “There is something that you must see. If you’d kindly come with me.” I turned to the maid, who was still hovering in the doorway. “Thank you. You may go now.”
As the maid departed with a look of relief, Major B-C looked at me questioningly. “You’re lucky to find me at home. I only just returned a moment ago from my monthly regimental dinner. In fact the maid just caught me letting myself into my apartment. Now out with it. What is it that’s troubling you?”
