Royal Blood Part 2

"The champagne went to her head, I'm afraid," Darcy said, "which is why I brought her home and I thought it wise to put her to bed in case she fell and hurt herself, since she has no maid to help her. So if you want to know the sordid details of what happened, I put her to bed, she promptly fell asleep and I was just leaving."

"Oh," Fig said, the wind taken out of her sails. "I wish I could believe you, Mr. O'Mara."

"Believe what you like," Darcy said. He looked up at me. "So I bid you good night, Georgie," he said and blew me a kiss up the stairs. "See you soon. Take care and don't let her boss you around. Remember you have royal blood. She doesn't."

He gave me a wink, patted Binky on the shoulder and let himself out.

"Well, really," Fig said, breaking a long silence.

"It's bally cold in here," Binky said. "I don't suppose there's a fire ready for us in our bedroom, is there?"

"No, there isn't." I had rallied enough from my drunken stupor to be coherent, and more than a little angry. "You said you were planning to come in the next week or so, not the next day or so. And why is it that you are traveling without servants?"

"We're just on a flying visit this time, because Binky has secured an appointment with a Harley Street specialist for his ankle," Fig said, "and I also wish to consult with a London doctor, so we thought we could save the expense of bringing servants, since Binky told me what a whiz you had turned out to be around the house. Obviously he was exaggerating as usual."

I stood up, still a little uncertainly. My bare feet were freezing on the stairs. "I don't think that my father would expect me to act as a chambermaid in the family home," I said. "I'm going back to bed."

With that I turned and made my way back up the stairs. It would have been a grand exit had I not tripped over my dressing gown cord and gone sprawling across the first landing, revealing, I rather suspect, a hint of bare bottom to the world.

"Whoops," I said. I righted myself and hauled myself up the second flight. Then I climbed into bed and curled into a tight little ball. I had no hot water bottles to place around me but I wasn't going downstairs again for anything. And it did give me a certain sense of satisfaction knowing that Fig was about to climb into an equally icy bed.

I opened my eyes to cold gray light, then promptly closed them again. Darcy was right. I did have a hangover. My head was throbbing like billy-o. I wondered what time it was. Half past ten, according to the little alarm clock on my chest of drawers. Then the full details of the previous night came back to me. Oh, Lord, that meant that Binky and Fig were in the house and by now they would have discovered that I had nothing to eat in the kitchen. I scrambled into a jumper and skirt and made my way downstairs, almost as shakily as the night before.

I was about to push open the baize door that led down to the kitchen and servants' quarters when I heard voices coming from my right. Binky and Fig were apparently in the morning room.

"It's all right for you," I heard Fig's voice with teeth chattering just a little. "You can go to your club where you'll be comfortable enough, but what about me? I can't stay here."

"It's only for two more nights, old thing," Binky said. "And it is important that you see that doctor, isn't it?"

"I suppose so, but being as cold as this isn't doing me any good. We'll just have to check into a hotel and never mind the expense. Surely we can still afford Claridge's for a couple of nights."

"You'll feel better after a spot of breakfast," Binky said. "It's about time Georgie woke up, isn't it?"

At that point I poked my head around the door. Both Binky and Fig looked haggard and grumpy, sitting wrapped in their fur coats. They also looked rather unkempt without a maid and a valet to dress them.

The atmosphere as Fig spotted me was frigid in more ways than one, but Binky managed a smile. "Ah, you're up at last, Georgie. I say, it's bally freezing in here, isn't it? I don't suppose there's any chance of a fire?"

"Later, maybe," I said. "It takes a lot of work to light a fire, you know. A lot of scrabbling in the coal hole. Perhaps you'd care to help me."

Fig shuddered as if I'd said a rude word, but Binky went on, "Then maybe you'd be good enough to cook us a spot of breakfast. That will warm us up nicely, won't it, Fig?"

"I was just about to make some tea and toast," I said.

"How about a couple of eggs?" Binky asked hopefully.

"No eggs, I'm afraid."

"Bacon? Sausage? Kidneys?"

"Toast," I said. "One cannot buy food without money, Binky."

"But, I mean to say . . . ," he sputtered. "Dash it all, Georgie, you haven't actually been reduced to living on tea and toast, have you?"

"Where do you think the money might have come from, dear brother? I have no job. I have no inheritance. I have no family support. When Fig says she has no money, she means she can no longer afford Fortnum's jam. I mean I can't afford any jam. That's the difference."

"Well, I'm blowed," Binky said. "Then why the deuce don't you come back and live at Castle Rannoch? At least we have enough to eat up there, don't we, Fig?"

"Your wife made it quite clear that I was one mouth too many," I said. "Besides, I don't want to be a burden. I want to make my own way in the world. I want a life of my own. It's just that it's so horribly hard at the moment."

"You should have married Prince Siegfried," Fig said. "That's what girls of your station are supposed to do. That is what your royal relatives wanted you to do. Most girls would have given their right arm to become a princess."

"Prince Siegfried is a loathsome toad," I said. "I intend to marry for love."

"Ridiculous notion," Fig snapped. "And if you're thinking of your Mr. O'Mara, then you can think again." Fig was now warming to her subject. "I happen to know that he doesn't have a penny. The family is dest.i.tute. Why, they've even had to sell the family seat. There's no way he's ever going to be able to support a wife-if he ever intends to settle down, that is. So you're wasting your time in that direction." When I didn't answer her she went on, "It's all about duty, Georgiana. One knows one's duty and one does it, isn't that right, Binky?"

"Quite right, old thing," Binky said distractedly.

Fig gave him such a frosty stare that it's a wonder he didn't turn into an instant icicle. "Although some of us are lucky enough to find love and happiness once we are married, isn't that so, Binky?"

Binky was staring out of the window at the fog creeping in again across Belgrave Square. "How about that cup of tea, Georgie?"

"You'd better come down to the kitchen to drink it," I said. "It's warmer down there."

They followed me like children behind the Pied Piper. I lit the gas stove and put the kettle on while they watched me as if I were a conjurer doing a spectacular magic trick. Then I put the last of the bread onto the grill to make toast. Binky watched me and sighed. "For G.o.d's sake, Fig, call Fortnum's and ask them to deliver a hamper. Tell them it's an emergency."

"If you give me some money, I'll be happy to stock up the kitchen again for you-and more economically than a hamper from Fortnum's."

"Could you, Georgie? You're a lifesaver. An absolute bally lifesaver."

Fig glared. "I thought we agreed on a hotel, Binky."

"We'll dine out, my dear. How about that? I know that Georgie knows how to cook a splendid breakfast if we provide her with the ingredients to do so. The girl's a bally genius."

They sipped tea and ate toast in silence. I tried to get down my own tea and toast although every crunch of toast sounded like cymbals going off in my head. I was just wondering when Belinda might be home and how much better it would be to sleep on her uncomfortable modern sofa when the doorbell rang.

"Who can that be at this hour?" Fig said, staring at me as if she thought it was my next lover come to call. "Georgiana had better go. It wouldn't be seemly for you or I to be seen answering our own front door. Word does get around so quickly."

I went, as curious as she was to know who was at the door. I was half hoping it would be Darcy, coming to rescue me, although I suspected he wasn't the sort to be up and around before noon. Instead, the first thing I noticed was a Daimler motorcar parked outside and a young man in chauffeur's uniform standing outside the door.

"I have come for Lady Georgiana," he said, not guessing for a moment that I was anything other than a servant. "From the palace."

That's when I noticed the royal standard the Daimler was flying. Oh, golly. Thursday. Luncheon with the queen. With my brain pickled with alcohol I had completely forgotten.

"I'll inform her," I muttered. I closed the front door and was about to rush up the stairs in flat panic when Fig's head emerged from the top of the kitchen stairs.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"The queen's chauffeur," I said. "I'm supposed to go to the palace for luncheon today." I implied that luncheon with Her Majesty was a normal occurrence for me. It always annoyed the heck out of Fig that I was related to the royals and she was only a by-marriage. "I'd better go up and change, I suppose. I shouldn't keep her chauffeur waiting."

"Luncheon at the palace?" she demanded, scowling at me. "No wonder you don't bother to keep any food in the house if you are always dining in high places. Did you hear that, Binky?" Fig called down the stairs. "The queen has sent a car for her. She's going to lunch at the palace. She's going to get a decent lunch. You're the duke. Why aren't we invited?"

"Probably because the queen wants to talk to Georgiana," Binky said, "and besides, how would she know we are here?"

Fig was still glaring as if I'd arranged this little tete-a-tete just to spite her. I must say it gave me enormous pleasure.

Chapter 5.

Buckingham Palace Thursday, November 10

In spite of a head that felt as if it were splitting down the middle and eyes that didn't want to focus, I managed to bathe and make myself look respectable in fifteen minutes flat. Then I was sitting in the backseat of the royal Daimler being whisked toward the palace. It wasn't really a great distance from Belgrave Square down Const.i.tution Hill and I had walked it on previous occasions. However, today I was most grateful for the car because the fog had turned again to a nasty November rain. One does not meet the queen looking like a drowned rat.

As I looked out through rain-streaked windows at the bleak world beyond I had time to wonder about the implications of this summons and I began to worry. The queen of England was a busy woman. She was always out opening hospitals, touring schools and entertaining visiting amba.s.sadors. So if she made time to bring a young cousin to lunch, it had to be something important.

I don't know why I always expect a visit to Buckingham Palace to signal doom. Because it so often did, I suppose. I remembered the visiting princess foisted on me by my royal kin. I remembered the instruction to spy on the Prince of Wales's unsuitable woman, Mrs. Simpson. My heart was beating rather fast by the time the car drove between the wrought-iron gates of the palace, received a salute from the guards on duty and crossed the parade ground, under the arch to the inner courtyard.

A footman leaped out to open the car door for me.

"Good morning, my lady. This way, please," he said and led the way up the steps at a good pace. I followed, being extra careful as my legs have been known to disobey me in moments of extreme stress.

You'd have thought that someone who was second cousin to King George V would find a visit to Buckingham Palace to be old hat, but I have to admit that I was always overawed as I walked up those grand staircases and along the hallways lined with statues and mirrors. In truth I felt like a child who has stumbled into a fairy tale by mistake. I had been brought up in a castle myself, but Castle Rannoch could not have been more different. It was dour stone, spare and cold, its walls hung with shields and banners from past battles. This was royalty at its grandest, designed to impress foreigners and those of lesser rank.

I was taken up the grand staircase this time, not whisked along back corridors. We came out in the area between the music and throne rooms where receptions are held. I wondered if this was to be a formal occasion until the footman kept going all the way to the end of the hall. He opened a closed door for me, leading to the family's private apartments. I found I was holding my breath until I couldn't hold it any longer when finally a door was opened and I was shown into a pleasant, ordinary sitting room. This lacked the grandeur of the state rooms and was where the royal couple relaxed on the rare occasions they weren't working. At least it probably meant that I wasn't going to have to face strangers at luncheon, which was a relief.

"Lady Georgiana, ma'am," the footman said, then he bowed and backed out of the royal presence. I hadn't noticed the queen at first because she was standing at the window, gazing out at the gardens. She turned to me and extended a hand.

"Georgiana, my dear. How good of you to come at such short notice."

As if one refused a queen. They no longer chopped off heads but one obeyed nonetheless.

"It's very good to see you, ma'am," I said, crossing the room to take her hand, curtsy and kiss her cheek-a maneuver that required exquisite timing, which I hadn't yet mastered and always resulted in a b.u.mped nose.

She looked back at the window. "The gardens look so bleak at this time of year, don't they? And what horrible weather we've been having. First fog and now rain. The king has been in a bad humor about being cooped up for so long. His doctor forbade him to go out during the fog, you know. With his delicate lungs he couldn't be exposed to the soot in the air."

"I quite agree, ma'am. I went out in the fog earlier this week and it was beastly. Nothing like the mist in the country. It was like breathing liquid soot."

She nodded and, still holding my hand, she led me across the room to a sofa. "Your brother-he has recovered from his accident?"

"Almost, ma'am. At least he's up and walking again but he has come to London to see a specialist."

"A disgusting thing to have happened," she said. "And the same person apparently shot at my granddaughter. It was your quick wits that saved her."

"And the princess's own cool head," I said. "She's a splendid little rider, isn't she?"

The queen beamed. Nothing pleased her more than talking about her granddaughters.

"I expect you wonder why I asked you to come to luncheon today, Georgiana," the queen said. I held my breath again. Doom will strike any moment, I thought. But she seemed jovial enough. "How about a gla.s.s of sherry?"

Usually I find sherry delightful, but the mere thought of alcohol made my stomach lurch. "Not for me, thank you, ma'am."

"Very wise in the middle of the day," the queen said. "I like to keep a clear head myself." Oh, Lord, if she knew how unclear my head felt at the moment.

"Why don't we go through and eat, then," she said. "It's so much easier to discuss things over food, don't you agree?"

Personally I thought it was absolutely the opposite. I have never found it easy to make conversation and eat at the same time. I always seem to have a mouthful at the wrong moment or drop my fork when under stress. The queen rang a little bell and a maid appeared from nowhere.

"Lady Georgiana and I are ready for our luncheon," the queen said. "Come along, my dear. We need good nourishing food in weather like this."

We went next door to a family dining room. No hundred-foot-long tables here, but a small table, set for two. I took my place as indicated, and the first course was brought in. It was my nemesis-half a grapefruit in a tall cut gla.s.s. I always seem to get the half in which the segments are imperfectly cut. I looked at it with horror, took a deep breath and picked up my spoon.

"Ah, grapefruit," the queen said, smiling at me. "So refreshing during the winter months, don't you think?" And she spooned out a perfectly cut segment. Hope arose that this time the kitchen staff had done their job. I dug into the grapefruit. It slipped sideways in the gla.s.s, almost shooting out onto the tablecloth. I retrieved it at the last moment and had to use a surrept.i.tious finger to balance it as I dug again. The first piece came free without too much effort. No such luck with the second. I held on to that grapefruit, dug and tugged. This time two segments were joined together. I attempted to separate them and juice squirted straight up into my eye. It stung and I waited until the queen was busy before dabbing at my eye with my napkin. At least I hadn't squirted grapefruit juice at HM.

It was with incredible relief that I finished the grapefruit and the sh.e.l.l was whisked away. A thick brown soup followed, then the main course. It was steak and kidney pie, usually one of my favorites. With it was cauliflower in a white sauce and tiny roast potatoes. I could feel my mouth watering. Two good meals in two days. But the first mouthful revealed that this course was not going to be easy, either. I've always had a problem with chewing and swallowing large chunks of meat. It simply won't go down.

"Georgiana, I have a special favor to ask of you," the queen said, looking up from her own plate. "The king wanted this to be done formally, but I managed to persuade him that a private chat would be more appropriate. I did not want to put you in a spot, should you wish to say no."

Of course my mind was now racing. They'd found another prince for me. Or even worse, Siegfried had officially asked for my hand, one royal family to another, and turning him down would create an international incident. I sat frozen, my fork poised halfway between my plate and my mouth.

"There is to be a royal wedding later this month. You have no doubt got wind of it," the queen continued.

"No." It came out as a squeak.

"Princess Maria Theresa of Romania is to marry Prince Nicholas of Bulgaria. He is the heir to the throne, as I expect you know."

I gave a half nod as if the royal families of Europe always discussed their wedding plans with me. Thank G.o.d it was someone else's wedding we were talking about. I brought my fork to my mouth and started chewing.

"Naturally our family should be represented," the queen went on. "We are, after all, related to both sides. He is from the same Saxe-Coburg-Gotha line as your great-grandmother Queen Victoria, and she, of course, is one of the Hohenzollern-Sigmaringens. If it were in the summer, we should have been delighted to attend; however, there is no question of the king himself traveling abroad at this bitter time of year."

I nodded, having found a particularly chewy piece of meat in my mouth.

"So His Majesty and I have decided to ask you to represent us."

"Me?" I managed to squeak, my mouth still full of that large chunk of meat. I was now in a tricky situation in more ways than one. There was no way I could swallow it. There was no way I could spit it out. I tried a sip of water to wash it down but it wouldn't go. So I had to resort to the old school trick-a pretended cough, napkin to my mouth and the meat expelled into the napkin.

"I'm sorry," I said, collecting myself. "You want me to represent the family at a royal wedding? But I'm only a cousin's child. Won't the royal families in question see this as a slight that you only send someone like me? Surely one of your sons would be more appropriate, or your daughter, the Princess Royal."

"In other circ.u.mstances I would have agreed with you but it so happens that the Princess Maria Theresa has particularly requested that you be one of her bridal attendants."

I just stopped myself from squeaking "Me?" for a second time.

"I gather you two were such good chums at school."