Alice-Miranda at the Palace 11 (13 page)

Caprice was positively glowing as she smiled and gave a curtsy. ‘Thank you, Your Majesty.'

Millie, Sloane and Jacinta looked at each other in horror.

‘I'm sure that Caprice will want to go to her mother as soon as she can,' Alice-Miranda said, ‘but that's very kind of you to offer, Aunty Gee.'

‘It's probably going to be hard to get to where Nonno lives,' Caprice began. ‘It's a very long drive from the airport, and I'd hate for Mummy to have to leave his side. I think it's important to be with friends at a time like this.'

‘Yes, it does make things easier,' the Queen said, nodding. ‘And by the way, Caprice, that dress is certainly one of the prettiest I've seen in a very long time. Stunning. Absolutely stunning.'

Caprice smiled. Behind her, Jacinta felt as if she
might throw up. The girl had a hide thicker than a rhinoceros.

‘Enjoy the party, children,' Aunty Gee said, taking another quail tart to go. ‘I can't wait to tell you about the things I've got planned. We're going to have such a wonderful time.'

The children grinned and nodded. Exploring Evesbury Palace for the whole week was going to be buckets of fun.

‘That's worked out well,' Caprice said happily. ‘I'll call Mummy later and let her know that I've been invited to stay and she doesn't have to worry about me at all. She can concentrate on making sure that Nonno gets better.'

‘You didn't get invited, Caprice,' Millie said. ‘You invited yourself. I'm sure that if we mentioned something about camp Aunty Gee will un-invite you.'

‘How can you say that, Millie, knowing that my nonno is on death's door and I don't want to be a burden to my mother?' The girl batted her eyelashes. ‘You're so mean!'

‘And you're unbelievable,' Millie said, and stalked off across the room.

Marjorie Plunkett sat at the dressing table and checked her reflection in the mirror. She sprayed her wrists and neck with perfume before straightening her glittering headband. She was pleased with the way the diamonds and emeralds highlighted her eyes and matched her green dress perfectly. She hadn't realised that Lloyd's dear departed mother had left him such an enviable collection of jewels until she'd persuaded him to give her a peek in the family vault the week before. She was just borrowing
the headband for now but, soon enough, the entire Lancaster-Brown collection would be hers.

‘Are you ready, Marjorie?' Lloyd called from the sitting room. ‘We're late. Although, if you'd prefer not to go, I can be out of this monkey suit in minutes and we can watch the Saturday movie.'

‘Oh, Lloyd,' Marjorie huffed. He was going to have to learn to love these occasions. As she reached for a tissue she noticed the face on her watch light up. ‘What now?' she muttered.

‘What was that, darling?' Lloyd said, standing in the doorway.

Marjorie spun around in her seat. ‘There's a problem with Her Majesty's hat for tomorrow's picnic,' she said, trying not to look flustered. She smiled and stood up, smoothing her dress with her hands. ‘I need to pop up and make a couple of alterations.'

‘Really? Are you sure it can't wait?' Lloyd asked. He walked towards her and gently kissed her cheek. ‘Or I could come and help you. You never let me see you work.'

‘I've told you before that I don't fare well with an audience,' Marjorie said. She linked arms with him and led him to the door. ‘Why don't you go ahead, and I'll meet you there? Dinner isn't until eight.'

Lloyd pouted and gave a nod. ‘If I have to, but don't be too long. Aunty Gee surely has a whole cupboard full of hats she could wear instead. And it's only a picnic, for heaven's sake. You know I won't enjoy a second of it until you're by my side.'

‘I'll be there as quickly as I can. Remember, it is Her Majesty's special weekend and she could wear ten different hats if she wanted to,' Marjorie tutted. She accompanied him to the end of the hall and waited until he'd disappeared downstairs before racing back to their suite and locking the door behind her. Marjorie pressed the winder on the side of her watch and waited.

‘Good evening, Chief,' Fiona answered.

‘Hello Fi. What is it?'

‘There's been a security breach at the cottage, ma'am, but I cannot determine the extent of the intrusion.'

‘When?' Marjorie asked.

‘Earlier this afternoon,' Fiona replied, ‘but I have only just received the information. I think something is interfering with our reception.'

Marjorie listened as Fiona explained the situation. ‘Is she all right?' Marjorie asked.

‘I believe so, ma'am.'

Marjorie paced the room, her mind racing. ‘Is she in danger?'

There was a long pause.

Marjorie stopped pacing. ‘Fi, is she in danger?'

‘No, ma'am, but depending on what he saw, you may have been compromised.'

‘We need to find out what he knows as soon as possible,' Marjorie said.

‘Yes, ma'am. I've already generated a new assignment for one of our operatives on the ground,' Fiona replied.

‘Well done, Fi. Let me know as soon as you have anything,' Marjorie said.

As Head of SPLOD, the Secret Protection League of Defence – the most secure and powerful spy unit in the country, Marjorie's cover was paramount.

‘And what about the footage from the camera?' she asked. ‘Is there anything coming through?'

‘Yes, ma'am. The owner of the camera seems to take it everywhere with her and she rarely leaves Alice-Miranda's side.'

‘Transmit the photographs to Bunyan – I mean, Treadwell,' Marjorie directed. ‘I'd like her to review them and make sure there's nothing unusual.'

‘Of course, Chief,' Fiona replied.

‘Thank you, Fi,' Marjorie said.

Alice-Miranda followed Millie upstairs with Jacinta and Sloane, and Caprice slunk along behind them. The boys had been cornered by Lord Tavistock, who was teaching them the finer points of clay-pigeon shooting in anticipation of tomorrow's picnic by the river.

‘Having fun, girls?' Edgar asked as he and his brother stepped out to block the girls' path.

Millie nodded. ‘Yes, it's a lovely party. We were just going to look at the paintings.'

‘Boring,' the twins said in unison.

‘There are loads more interesting things to see around here,' Louis said.

‘Like what?' Jacinta challenged, folding her arms.

Edgar looked at his brother with a sly grin. ‘Well, there are the dungeons and the torture chambers.'

‘There's a rack where our relatives used to take their enemies and stretch them until their arms and legs popped off,' Louis added.

‘What do you mean our relatives
used
to take their enemies there?' Edgar said. ‘Grandmama still does.'

‘No, she doesn't,' Alice-Miranda said, shaking her head. ‘Daddy said Evesbury was built as a beautiful home, not as a castle or a fort, so I'm sure there aren't any torture chambers or dungeons here.'

The twins looked at one another. ‘So cute, isn't she?' Louis said.

‘Yes, always thinking the best of everyone,' Edgar replied. ‘She has no idea what Grandmama is really like. Just wait until bedtime when the palace is quiet and you can hear the wailing of all those lost souls on the shadows of the wind.'

‘You should be a poet, Edgar,' Alice-Miranda said. ‘You've got a wonderful imagination and a rather good way with words.'

‘A poet! What stupid romantic nonsense,' Edgar scoffed. ‘
I'm
going to be an inventor.'

Louis stared fiercely at his brother.

‘What would you invent?' Millie asked.

‘I can tell you,' Caprice chimed in.

The twins looked as if they wanted to throw her off the balcony. But just as the girl was about to spill
the beans on the boys' secret hideaway, a loud gong reverberated throughout the hall.

The crowd hushed and a man dressed in red-and-white livery appeared in the middle of the upstairs gallery. Alice-Miranda recognised him as the young footman she'd spoken to when they'd arrived that morning. She smiled and waved at him.

He caught her eye and gave her a wink, then took a deep breath as he unfurled a short scroll. ‘Your Majesty, My Lords, ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, dinner is served.'

‘I jolly well hope not or it will be cold by the time we get there,' Freddy grumbled.

Queen Georgiana rolled her eyes. ‘Must you always make such banal comments? You know exactly what he means,' she whispered. ‘You'd better up your game, or you'll be the laughing stock of the country – when and if I hand over the reins.'

Freddy flushed. He'd been hoping his mother would announce her retirement at her jubilee celebrations, but that hardly seemed likely now. Elsa, meanwhile, stood beside her husband with her mouth gaping open.

Her Majesty grinned sweetly at her daughter-in-law. ‘Close your mouth, dear. Gawping like a
stunned carp is hardly becoming of the woman who would like to one day call herself Queen.'

She quickly turned her attention to the handsome man beside her.

‘Robert, darling, would you mind escorting an old woman to dinner?' She smiled at Lord Adams, whose wife, Lady Sarah, was chatting animatedly with Charlotte Highton-Smith.

‘It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty,' the man replied with a bow.

From the other side of the room, Thornton Thripp had been watching the exchange. Whatever had just happened, the look on Freddy and Elsa's faces was priceless. Thornton shook his head. How on earth a woman with as much grace and dignity as Her Majesty possessed had managed to produce such a gormless worm of a son was anyone's guess.

Millie gasped as the children were swept along on a tide of fabulously dressed guests into the state dining room.

‘I wonder where we're sitting,' Jacinta said, surveying the long table dotted with beautifully written place cards.

A footman intercepted the group and guided them to their seats.

‘You're here, Alice-Miranda,' Sep said, pointing to a spot at the table. He looked at the names to the
right and left of her place setting. ‘Oh, that's strange. I thought Millie would be next to you but it says Caprice is.'

Caprice smirked at Millie. ‘You must be on the other side.'

Alice-Miranda had Caprice and Lucas on either side of her, with Sep next to Lucas, while Jacinta, Sloane and Millie were sitting opposite. Edgar and Louis sat across from each other, with one of them next to Caprice and the other beside Millie.

Sloane went to pull out her chair and sit down when a footman swooped in behind her and pushed it back in towards the table, almost jamming her arm in the process.

‘
Excuse
me!' Sloane glared at the man.

‘Wouldn't you prefer to wait for Her Majesty like everyone else?' The man's syrupy voice was sickly sweet.

Sloane looked around and realised that everyone was standing behind their chair, waiting, as Queen Georgiana proceeded to the head of the table on Lord Adams's arm. ‘Oops,' she said sheepishly.

‘Peasant,' Louis said under his breath.

Millie turned and looked at the lad. ‘If you had
any manners you'd teach us the right things to do instead of being so hoity-toity.'

‘Why would I want to teach you anything?' Louis hissed. ‘You don't belong here.'

Millie glared at the boy and wrinkled her lip.

‘Oooh, you're so scary,' Louis scoffed.

Millie huffed and turned her back to the insufferable lad.

Alice-Miranda's parents were further along the table, sitting opposite Charlotte and Lawrence, and Ambrosia Headlington-Bear was quite a way down, beside a gentleman with just about the most frightful comb-over the children had ever seen.

Queen Georgiana took her place at the head of the table and waited until Lord Adams found his seat halfway down the room, next to his wife. Once everyone was in place, Her Majesty gave a nod and, suddenly, what seemed like an army of attendants stepped forward to help everyone into their seats.

Millie noticed Bunyan staring at them from his spot behind Marjorie Plunkett. She nudged Jacinta. ‘Why is he looking at us?' she asked.

Jacinta looked over at the man, who quickly turned away.

Alice-Miranda glanced up from the other side of the table, where she had been counting the cutlery and wondering just how many courses there were going to be at dinner. ‘What are you looking so worried about, Millie?' she asked quietly.

Millie nodded her head towards Bunyan, who was staring in their direction again. ‘He gives me the creeps.'

‘He works here – it's his job to be attentive,' Alice-Miranda reasoned. Though, the child had a strange feeling about Mr Bunyan too. She couldn't say exactly what, but there was something odd about him and the way he kept popping up all over the place. His bald head and youthful face didn't seem to tally either. Alice-Miranda wondered if perhaps he was a fan of extreme wrinkle treatments, given the smoothness of his complexion.

A flourish of trumpets silenced the chatting guests. Thornton Thripp, who was sitting at the end of the table to Queen Georgiana's right, stood up. ‘Good evening, Your Majesty and honoured guests. Before we begin our first course I would like to propose a toast.' He raised his glass. ‘Long live the Queen.'

The rest of the guests were on their feet in a flash, raising their glasses towards Aunty Gee. ‘Long live the Queen!' they chorused.

Alice-Miranda noticed that Freddy, who was sitting directly to the Queen's left, had barely moved his lips.

Millie had seen it too. ‘Doesn't look like Freddy's that keen for his mother to live quite so long,' she whispered, a little louder than she'd anticipated as the diners sat back down.

‘That's our father you're talking about,' Louis snapped.

Millie turned and glared at the boy. ‘Well, he could be a bit more enthusiastic about celebrating his mother's achievement.'

‘Why? Grandmama should stop hogging the throne and let Daddy have a turn. If she doesn't do it soon, he won't have that long until it will be one of us,' Louis said.

Braxton Balfour noticed Frank Bunyan lingering behind the children. ‘For heaven's sake, make yourself useful,' Braxton hissed.

Startled, Bunyan looked around and snatched up a silver pitcher from the sideboard behind him.

‘Don't just stand there with it!' Braxton wondered where on earth the man had done his training. He didn't seem to have a clue. Braxton watched for a
moment as the new butler leaned in to refill the children's glasses.

‘What do you mean “one of you”?' Millie asked. ‘Don't you have five older sisters?'

‘The boys are first in line,' Louis said. ‘Everyone knows that.'

‘Wow, I thought we'd come out of the Dark Ages,' Millie said. ‘Aunty Gee should –'

‘What are you doing, you numbskull?' Louis squawked. Bunyan had just overfilled the lad's glass and poured water all over the table.

‘I am terribly sorry, Sir.' Bunyan grabbed a napkin and began to mop up the mess.

Braxton Balfour had heard the commotion from further down the table and charged back to see what the matter was. He glared at the man.

‘Here, Master Louis, let me clear that up,' Braxton said. ‘Go,' he barked at Bunyan. Braxton cleared the spill as quickly as he could, aware that he was long overdue to be back downstairs.

Meanwhile, in the kitchens, Her Majesty's head chef wiped his brow and cursed Venetia Baldini's
selection of cheese soufflés for entree. He knew they would have to be timed to perfection and he'd been counting on Venetia to oversee that particularly tricky part of the evening meal. It was just an added complication as they were serving wild mushroom soup first for the appetiser.

Vincent Langley looked at his watch, his right eyelid twitching madly. ‘Are we ready?' he yelled.

‘Almost, sir,' the head chef shouted from the other side of the kitchen.

‘Hurry up, man. Thripp's already made a toast.' Langley pressed the earpiece further into his ear. A useful addition to the palace gadgetry, the earpiece and microphone were to enable him to keep track of what was happening upstairs and down during large dinners like the one they were hosting tonight. Trouble was, he still hadn't decided who to trust as his man on the ground in the dining room.

At the last function they had held, Braxton Balfour had done a near-perfect job and it had been noted by Her Majesty. Vincent couldn't risk having him feted in that way again. Tonight Vincent had given the duty to the new chap, Bunyan, who he hoped would live up to the task.

Braxton Balfour ran into the room and quickly
slipped into line, hoping that Langley hadn't noticed his absence. In an operation requiring military precision, a long line of waiters (which included footmen, butlers and just about anyone else who worked in the house) stood at attention as the chefs plated up wild mushroom soup. Her Majesty had long ago made the decision that, while her staff could have principal roles, they had to possess skills across a range of activities. The royal budget needed trimming and she wasn't about to put her countrymen offside with unnecessary extravagances.

The head chef gave the nod of approval. ‘That's it, Langley!'

‘Right, off you go,' Vincent Langley barked. The waiters dived in and each filled their tray with bowls. ‘And I shouldn't have to tell you how important it is that you to stay in order. I don't want Mrs Marmalade complaining about getting Lady Luttrell's gluten-free, taste-free, low-fat alternative again, do I?'

There was a mumbling of ‘no, sir' along the line as the young men marched towards the dining room. After a fiasco at the last dinner, none of the staff wanted to be on the sharp end of Mrs Marmalade's tongue.

The production line of waiters made their way through the vast network of kitchens, towards a door positioned right below the end of the state dining room. Guests often marvelled at the swiftness with which meals were served. Most never realised it was due to the extraordinary planning of previous monarchs. Some said that the kitchens had been extended back in Queen Georgiana's great-great-great grandfather's time because he couldn't abide cold peas.

Just as the group was about to enter the dining room, the line came to an abrupt halt.

‘What's going on up there?' Vincent Langley hissed into his earpiece. He was poised to serve Her Majesty's own soup and Thornton Thripp's as well.

‘Fly, sir,' a voice called back.

‘What fly? Where?' Vincent Langley sputtered.

‘Kamikaze pilot, sir,' the young man replied.

‘Oh, good heavens.' Vincent Langley stepped out of the line and charged as quickly as he dared to the young waiter, trying not to slop any of the soup as he went.

The fellow lowered the dish so that his boss could see. ‘I think he's doing backstroke, sir.'

‘How on earth do we have a fly down here? In all the years I've been at Evesbury I don't ever remember
having flies in the palace kitchens,' Langley fumed. ‘Well, you can't serve that, can you?'

The young waiter suppressed a cough. ‘It's for Prince Freddy, sir.'

Braxton Balfour, who was standing a little further down the line, had to stop himself from shaking with laughter and spilling soup all over the place.

‘I don't care who it's for! You will not be serving fly-infested soup on my watch!' Langley roared so loudly Balfour felt his hair ruffle. ‘Now, get back there and replace those bowls!'

‘Yes, sir.' The young waiter scurried away like a mouse on the balls of his feet.

Unfortunately, Frank Bunyan, who was in charge of the invisible door at the end of the dining room, hadn't realised there was a problem down below. He opened the panel, having heard something of a commotion on the other side. He could see that Queen Georgiana had already devoured her first bread roll and was beginning to look quite impatient. ‘Hurry up, Her Majesty is getting a bit tetchy,' he whispered to the first lad in the line.

The young man hesitated, then charged through the door towards his assigned area.

Vincent Langley realised all too late that the group was on the move. ‘No, no, no, you'll be out of order!' he squealed.

He frantically did the calculations in his head, trying to work out how he could rescue the impending soup disaster. Little did he know that things were about to go from bad to much, much worse.