Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)

 

 

“A lot of gentlemen, if you ask me.” She sniffed. “Too many gentlemen. She’s not choosy enough. I told her she’d get in trouble one day, and it’s my belief that she did. Of course, she never told me nothing, but I’ve had seven children and I know what the signs are when someone is in the family way. She said she was going to the Continent, but I says to myself, ‘Rubbish. She’s going to have that baby somewhere private.’”

 

“That’s what I suspected too,” I said. “I didn’t like to mention it, but now that you have . . . did she ever tell you who the father was?”

 

Mrs. Preston’s gaze became really guarded now. “What are you, one of them newspaper reporters, trying to be all matey-like and worming information out of me?”

 

“Of course not!” I gave her an indignant stare. “I’m a concerned friend, that’s all. I promise you I would never divulge any of this to the newspapers.”

 

“Well, there’s no point in asking, ’cos I don’t know. She paid me well to keep me mouth shut,” she said. “When I let meself in in the morning and there was a strange man’s head on the pillow I went about me work and didn’t see nothing. And I never noticed him slipping out via the service lift either.”

 

“Oh, there’s a service lift.” I nodded. “I thought it would be strange for you to carry up your mops and pails through that very posh foyer.”

 

She laughed. “Yeah, that would have got me some stares, wouldn’t it? No, love, there’s a service entrance round the back for the likes of us, and for gentlemen who want to slip out without being recognized. I can tell you one who was scared silly when I spotted him. ‘Don’t worry, sir,’ I said. ‘My lips is sealed.’”

 

“You’re talking about a royal person?”

 

“Oh no. Nobody like that.” She gave me a knowing wink.

 

“So tell me, Mrs. Preston,” I said, “did you do everything for Miss Carrington? She didn’t have a maid?”

 

“Well, she used to, didn’t she? Quite fond of her, she was. They’d been together for some time and then out of the blue she goes and sacks her. Just like that. I was quite surprised and she never told me why. I can’t say I was pleased either. More work for me because she’s not the neatest of young ladies. She’d have that place like a pigsty if I wasn’t there.” A sad look came over her face. “So I suppose I’m going to be looking for work now. That’s not a nice thing to face with winter coming on.”

 

I immediately thought of Belinda. Mrs. Preston had had great experience at being discreet.

 

“I might know somebody who would need your services, Mrs. Preston,” I said. “Not too far away, in Knightsbridge.”

 

“Well, thank you kindly, miss,” she said. “That’s good of you. And I’m forgetting my manners. Would you like a cup of tea? The kettle’s always on.”

 

“Kind of you, but I have to be on my way,” I said. “If I could just have those keys?”

 

“Oh yes. I’ll fetch them for you.” She bobbed out into the kitchen, reminding me of a Cockney sparrow. I had stood up when she returned.

 

“Thank you so much,” I said. “I’ll return them to Frederick and they’ll let you know if they want you to go back and clean up the place after she’s moved out.”

 

“Right you are, miss,” she said.

 

“And I’ll speak to my friend about you right away,” I said.

 

“Good of you, miss. You’re a real toff,” she said.

 

I felt awkward and with a bad taste in my mouth as I came out into the street. I had, after all, tricked her out of her keys. But then she would no longer have a job looking after Bobo Carrington, would she? And someone else would have asked for the return of the keys, less politely than I had done. And I might have a new job for her too. Thus reassured, I went around the back of the station to Buckingham Palace Road and hopped on a bus going up to Park Lane. It wasn’t that I was too tired to walk. Nobody who has grown up in the Scottish Highlands, walking miles through the heather, would find it daunting to walk in London, but time was now of the essence and I wanted to cram as much as possible into my free morning.