Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
My opinion of Adelaide rose instantly. “Maybe she needs a little more loving and someone to play with her,” I said. “It can be lonely in the nursery. I certainly found it so. But then I had a really kind nanny.”
“Children need a strict routine and discipline. One must not be soft with them, Georgiana, as you will find when you have some of your own.”
“I thought I was destined to be a lonely spinster with my bloom gone,” I said with a grin as I headed for the drawing room door.
As I reached the first landing I jumped as the lavatory door to my right opened about an inch and a voice hissed, “Pssst. Is that you, miss?”
“Queenie?” I said, staring at the portion of her moon face visible through the crack in the door.
“Come in here, miss. Sharpish.” She opened the door and almost dragged me inside.
“What are you doing in a family bathroom?” I demanded. “You know you are supposed to use the servants’ facilities.”
“Yes, well, I had to go in a hurry and they’re all the way down in the basement,” she said.
That was when I realized that my feet were decidedly damp. The floor had a good inch of water on it and more was slopping over the sides of the lavatory. “What in heaven’s name?” I began.
“Sorry, miss. I had a bit of an accident,” she said. “I finished me business, got up and pulled the chain, and the chain sort of flew up and knocked me hat off.”
“Your hat?”
She gave me a sheepish grin. “I must have forgotten I still had it on. I was worrying about unpacking your clothes like you said and I took off me coat, but forgot about me ’at. Silly me, eh? And now it’s got knocked down the loo.”
I peered through the depths of murky water and spotted a bright hint of red poking out from the pipe. “It’s still there. Have you tried getting it out?”
“I ain’t putting my hand in there!” she exclaimed in horror. “It’s full of you know what.”
“Queenie, any minute now this water will soak through the floor and start dripping through the ceiling below. And if my sister-in-law sees it and finds out you’ve been using her lavatory, then I’m afraid you’ll be sent packing—sharpish, as you would say.”
“Well, what I am going to do?”
“Run downstairs. Ask for old towels for the floor and see if you can find something to hook out the hat.”
“Then everyone will know it was me,” she wailed.
“Queenie, I am not about to take the blame for flooding a lavatory for you,” I said. “Now either you roll up your sleeve and pull that hat out yourself or you find something to do it with. Go on. Run. Before it’s too late.”
The best she could manage was a spirited waddle but she soon returned with towels and a poker. “I just said there had been a bit of an accident in her ladyship’s bathroom,” she said. “I didn’t go into details.”
A few minutes later the hat was retrieved—now a soggy mess of red felt.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get it back in shape, do you, miss?” Queenie said, holding it out mournfully.
“Queenie, you can’t wear a hat that has been down the loo,” I said in exasperation. “Throw it in the dustbin. Immediately. And finish drying the floor too. I’ve a good mind to send you back to your parents today.”
“Accidents can happen to anyone, miss,” she said. “Even you.”
I sighed. Of course this was true. They happened to me. In moments of duress I had been known to be a trifle clumsy, shall we say. Only they happened rather more frequently to Queenie. Maybe we were destined for each other.
My nephew greeted me with touching enthusiasm, hugging me fiercely. Even my niece seemed pleased to see me, but that might just have been because I was preferable to Nanny, who was crisp, starchy and not the sort of person one warmed to. When I went into my bedroom, Queenie had unpacked my things without any serious mishaps and was very subdued, even calling me “my lady,” which showed she was trying hard.
I settled into my old room and Binky wrote to the palace on my behalf. Everything seemed to be working out rather satisfactorily. What’s more, Fig actually took The Lady so I curled up in an armchair and browsed through the latest copies of the magazine. There were plenty of advertisements for servants but precious little else. But now there was no rush to find a job. The wedding wasn’t for another month. My brother might even decide to stay on in London for Christmas and by then, who knew what might have turned up?
I was amazed to receive a reply to Binky’s letter the day after he sent it. It was addressed to me and, what’s more, was written in the queen’s own hand.
My dear Georgiana,
I was delighted to hear that you have now returned to London and will be here for my son’s wedding. I understand you have been abroad until recently. My granddaughters certainly missed seeing you at Balmoral this year.
Perhaps you would be good enough to come to the palace tomorrow, if it’s convenient. I must tour a factory in the morning and have lunch in their canteen, but I should be home in time for tea at four.
Your affectionate cousin,
Mary R.
The R, of course, meant Regina.