Part 5 (1/2)
”Precisely.”
”I shouldn't think the position would be hard to fill. You'd have girls lining up to work for a toff like you. Why don't you just put an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the newspapers?”
”There are some complications,” I said, realizing as he said it that an advertis.e.m.e.nt might be a jolly good idea. Why hadn't I thought of it before? ”Firstly, it's only a temporary position. I want a girl to accompany me to a royal wedding in Europe.”
”In Europe?”
”Romania, to be exact.”
”Blimey” was all Granddad could find to say to that.
”And I can't pay her much. I'm hoping I'll be able to pay her something when I return.”
Granddad shook his head, making tut-tutting sounds. ”You are in a bit of a pickle, aren't you? What about your brother and his snooty wife, can't they spare you a servant?”
”n.o.body at Castle Rannoch wants to travel to London, let alone abroad. I'm looking for an adventurous girl, but I can't afford to pay her much.”
”Seems to me,” Granddad said slowly, ”that a girl might want to take up this position so that she could use you as a reference. Former maid to royalty. That might be worth a darned sight more than money.”
”You know, you're right, Granddad. You're brilliant.”
He beamed.
”My niece Doreen's girl is looking for work, as it happens,” Mrs. Huggins said quickly. It was clear that her brain had been ticking as he made that suggestion. ”Nice quiet little thing. Not the brightest, but it might help her land a good position if she had a reference from a toff like you. Why don't I speak to her about it and send her up to you if she's willing to give it a try.”
”Brilliant,” I said. ”I knew I was doing the right thing coming to you two. You always have an answer for me.”
”So you're going to a royal wedding, are you, your ladys.h.i.+p?” Mrs. Huggins asked.
”Yes. I'm going to be in the bridal party, but I have to leave next week, so that doesn't give me much time to hire a maid to travel with me. This girl you mentioned-she has had some domestic service training, has she?”
”Oh, yes. She's had several jobs. Not anything like as grand as your house, of course. This will be a step up in the world for her. But like I said, she's a quiet, willing little thing. And you wouldn't have to worry about her having an eye for the boys. She don't have an ounce of what they refer to these days as s.e.x appeal. Face like the back end of a bus, poor little thing. But you'd find her keen enough to learn.”
My grandfather chuckled. ”If she was in the theater, I wouldn't hire you as her manager, 'ettie.”
”Well, I have to tell it straight for her ladys.h.i.+p, don't I?”
”I won't be judging her on her looks, and at the moment I feel it really is a case of beggars not being choosers.”
”So I'll tell her she can call on you at yer house, shall I?”
”By all means. I look forward to meeting her.” I finished my stew and started to stand up. ”I really should be getting back to London, although I can't say I'm looking forward to it. I have my brother and sister-in-law at the house.”
”You're welcome to the spare bedroom,” Granddad said. ”It's a nasty night out there.”
I was tempted. The safety and security of Granddad's little house versus the doubly frigid atmosphere of Rannoch House occupied by Fig. But I had a wedding to plan for, and I didn't want Fig suspecting that I'd spent the night with Darcy.
”No, I really should get back, I'm afraid,” I said. ”It was so good to see you.”
”We'll want to hear all about it when you come back from wherever it was,” Granddad said. ”You take care of yourself, traveling in foreign parts.”
”I wish I were a man, then I could take you as my valet,” I said wistfully, thinking how much nicer it would be traveling across a continent with him at my side.
”You wouldn't catch me going to heathen parts like that,” Granddad said. ”I've been to Scotland now, and that was quite foreign enough to last my lifetime, thank you kindly.”
I laughed as I walked up the front path.
Chapter 8.
I arrived home, cold and wet, to be told by an almost gloating Fig that Mr. O'Mara had called and been told that Lady Georgiana would be attending a royal wedding in Europe, at the request of Their Majesties, and should be left in peace to make her preparations. She also hinted that she'd admonished him for preying on innocent girls and suggested that he should not stand in the way of my making a suitable match.
This made me furious, of course, but it was too late. The damage had been done. All I could do was console myself with the thought that Darcy would probably have found Fig's lecture highly amusing.
The next morning they left, abandoning me for the warmth and luxury of Claridge's for their last night in London. I breathed a long sigh of relief. Now all I had to do was to pack for my trip to Europe and hope that the promised maid materialized. A telephone call from the palace informed me that my chaperon had had to put forward her traveling date, so it was hoped that I could be ready by Tuesday next. Tickets and pa.s.sports would be delivered to me and, yes, tiaras would be worn. I had to telephone Binky at Claridges and I imagined Fig was gnas.h.i.+ng her teeth at the expense of sending a servant down from Scotland with my tiara. But one couldn't exactly have put it in the post, even if we had the time. Then I realized that I would now not have time to place an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the Morning Post Morning Post or the or the Times Times. It would have to be Mrs. Huggins's relative or nothing.
For a while it looked as if it was going to be nothing and I was just about to rush to Belinda and confess that I had changed my mind when there was a timid tap at my tradesman's entrance. Luckily I was in the kitchen at the time or I would never have heard it. I opened the door and standing outside in the dim and damp November twilight was an apparition that looked like a giant Beatrix Potter hedgehog, but not as adorable. It then revealed itself to be wearing an old, moth-eaten and rather spiky fur coat, topped with a bright red pudding basin hat. Underneath was a round, red face with cheeks almost matching the color of the hat. When she saw me a big smile spread ear to ear.
”Whatcher, love. I'm 'ere to see the toff what lives here about the maid's position, so 'ere I am. So nip off and tell her, all right?”
I tried not to let her know that I found this amusing. I said in my most superior voice, ”I happen to be the toff that lives here. I am Lady Georgiana Rannoch.”
”Blimey, strike me down with a feather,” she said. ”Begging your pardon, then, but you don't expect to find a lady like you opening the back door, do you?”
”No, you don't,” I agreed. ”You'd better come in.”
”Awful sorry, miss,” she said. ”No hard feelings, I hope? I don't want to start off on the wrong foot. My mum's aunt 'ettie knows your granddad and she told me you was looking for a personal maid and she said why didn't I give it a try.”
”I am looking for a personal maid, that's correct,” I said. ”Why don't you take off your coat and I'll interview you here. It's the warmest place in the house at the moment.”
”Right you are, miss,” she said and took off the fur coat, which was now steaming and smelling rather like wet sheep. Underneath the coat she was wearing a rather too tight mustard yellow home-knitted jumper and a purple skirt. Color coordination was not her strong point, clearly. I indicated a chair at the kitchen table and she sat. She was a large, big-boned cart horse of a girl with a perpetually surprised and vacant expression. The thought pa.s.sed through my mind that she'd be expensive to feed.
”Now, I've told you my name. What is yours?”
”It's Queenie, miss,” she said. ”Queenie 'epplewhite.”
Why did the lower cla.s.ses seem to have all these surnames starting with H H when it was a letter they simply ignored or couldn't p.r.o.nounce? And as for her Christian name . . . when it was a letter they simply ignored or couldn't p.r.o.nounce? And as for her Christian name . . .
”Queenie?” I said cautiously. ”That's your Christian name? Not a nickname?”
”No, miss. It's the only name I got.”
I could see that a maid called Queenie might present problems for one about to attend a royal wedding, where there would be several real queens, but I told myself that most of them wouldn't speak English and would probably never run into my maid.