Part 3 (1/2)
At school? My brain was racing again. I once knew a Princess Maria Theresa at school? I was friendly with her? I went through a quick list of my friends. No princesses appeared on it.
But I could hardly call a foreign princess, apparently related to us, a liar. I smiled wanly. Then suddenly an image swam into focus-a large, chubby girl with a round moon face trailing after Belinda and me and Belinda saying, ”Matty, stop following us around, do. Georgie and I want to be alone for once.” Matty-it had to be she. I had never realized that it was short for Maria Theresa. Nor that she was a princess. She had been a rather pathetic, annoying little thing (well, not so little, but a year behind us).
”Ah, yes,” I said, smiling now. ”Dear Matty. How kind of her to invite me. This is indeed an honor, ma'am.”
I was now feeling decidedly pleased with myself. I had been asked to attend a royal wedding-to be in a royal bridal party. Certainly a lot better than freezing and starving at Rannoch House. Then the ramifications. .h.i.t me. The cost of the ticket. The clothing I would need . . . the queen never seemed to take money into consideration.
”I suppose I'll have to have a frock made for the wedding before I leave?” I asked.
”I believe not,” the queen said. ”The suggestion was that you travel to Romania ahead of time so that the dresses can all be fitted by the princess's personal dressmaker. I gather she has excellent taste and is bringing in a couturiere from Paris.”
Had I got it wrong? Matty, who always looked like a sack of potatoes in her uniform, was bringing in a couturiere from Paris?
”I will have my secretary make all the travel arrangements for you and your maid,” the queen continued. ”You'll be traveling on official royal pa.s.sports so there will be no unnecessary formalities. And I will also arrange for a chaperon. It would not do to have you making such a long journey alone.”
Now I was digesting one word from that sentence. Maid. You and your maid, she had said. Ah, now that was going to be a slight problem. The queen had no idea that anyone of my status survived without a maid. I opened my mouth to say this, then found myself saying instead, ”I'm afraid there might be a problem about finding a maid willing to travel with me. My Scottish maid won't even come to London.”
The queen nodded. ”Yes, I appreciate that could be a problem. English and Scottish girls are so insular, aren't they? Don't give her a choice, Georgiana. Never give servants a choice. It goes to their heads. If your current maid wishes to retain her position with you, she should be willing to follow you to the ends of the earth. I know that my maid would.” She dug into the cauliflower. ”Be firm. You'll need to learn how to deal with servants before you run a great household, you know. Give them an inch and they'll walk all over you. Now, come along. Eat up before it gets cold.”
Chapter 6.
Mainly at Belinda Warburton-Stoke's mews cottage Thursday, November 10
The car was waiting in the courtyard to take me back me to Rannoch House. It would have been a triumphant return but for one small fact. In one week I had to come up with a maid who wouldn't mind a trip to Romania without being paid. I didn't think there would be many young women in London who would be lining up for that job.
Fig appeared in the front hall as I let myself in.
”You've been gone a long while,” she said. ”I hope Her Majesty gave you a good meal?”
”Yes, thank you.” I chose not to mention the near disaster with the grapefruit and the steak. And the fact that blancmange had been served for pudding and another of my strange phobias is about swallowing blancmange, and jelly-in fact, anything squishy.
”A formal occasion, was it? Lots of people there?” she asked, trying to sound casual while dying of curiosity.
”No, just the queen and I in her private dining room.” Oh, I did enjoy saying that. I knew that Fig had never been invited to the private dining room and never had a tete-a-tete with the queen.
”Good gracious,” she said. ”What did she want?”
”Does a relative need something to invite one to a meal?” I asked. Then I added, ”If you really must know, she wants me to represent the royal family at the wedding of Princess Maria Theresa in Romania.”
Fig turned an interesting shade of puce. ”You? She wants you you to represent the royal family? At a royal wedding? What is she thinking of?” to represent the royal family? At a royal wedding? What is she thinking of?”
”Why, don't you think I'll know how to behave? Do you think I'll drop my aitches or slurp my soup?”
”But you're not even part of the direct line,” she blurted out.
”Actually I am. Albeit thirty-fourth,” I said.
”And Binky is thirty-second and at least he's a duke.”
”Ah, but Binky wouldn't look quite right in a bridesmaid's dress, holding a bouquet,” I said. ”You see, the princess particularly asked for me to be one of her bridal attendants.”
Fig's eyes opened even wider. ”You? Why on earth did she ask for you?”
”Because we were great friends at school,” I said, not bat-ting an eyelid as I said it. ”You see, that horribly expensive education that you gripe about did have its advantages after all.”
”Binky!” Fig shouted in a way no lady should. ”Binky, Georgiana has been asked to represent the family at a royal wedding, in Romania.”
Binky appeared from the library, still wearing his overcoat and m.u.f.fler. ”What's this?”
”She's been asked to represent the royal family, at a wedding,” Fig repeated. ”Did you ever hear of such a thing?”
”I expect they didn't want to send any of the direct heirs for fear of a.s.sa.s.sination,” Binky said easily. ”They're always a.s.sa.s.sinating each other in that part of the world.”
It was clear that Fig liked this answer. I was being sent because I was expendable, not because I was worthy. It did put a different complexion on things. ”And when is this wedding?” she asked.
”I'm to leave next week.”
”Next week. That doesn't give you much time, does it? What about clothes? Are you expected to have some kind of dress made to be part of this bridal procession?”
”No. Luckily the princess is having us all dressed by her couturiere, from Paris. That's why I have to go early.”
”What about your tiara? It's still in the vault in Scotland. Will we have to have it sent down to you?”
”I'm not sure whether tiaras will be worn. I'll have to ask the queen's secretary.”
”And what about travel? Who is paying for all this?”
”The queen's secretary is taking care of everything. All I have to come up with is a maid.”
Fig looked from me to Binky and back again. ”How are you going to do that?”
”At this moment I have no idea. I don't suppose any of the servants at Castle Rannoch would like a jaunt to Romania?”
Fig laughed. ”My dear girl, it's hard enough to persuade the servants at Castle Rannoch to come down to London, which they perceive as a dangerous and sinful place. If you remember, your maid Maggie wouldn't do so. Her mother wouldn't allow it.”
I shrugged. ”Then I'll just have to see if I can borrow a lady's maid from someone in London. Failing that, I'll have to hire one from an agency.”
”How can you hire one? You have no money,” she said.
”Precisely. But I have to come up with a maid somehow, don't I? I may have to sell some of the family jewels. Perhaps you can send down a diamond or two with the tiara.” I was just joking but Fig shot me a daggers look.
”Don't be ridiculous. The family jewels have to stay in the family. You know that.”
”Then what do you suggest?” I demanded. ”I can't refuse to go. It would be an ultimate insult to Princess Maria Theresa and Her Majesty.”
Fig looked at Binky again. ”I can't think of anyone we know who might be willing to lend her a maid for such an exotic adventure, can you, Binky?”