Alice-Miranda at the Palace 11 (3 page)

Marjorie Plunkett read through the document again, hoping that something would leap out at her. Whoever was behind this thought themselves terribly clever.

The silly, lilting rhyme hardly sounded threatening at all, and yet the words were absolutely menacing. The phone buzzed, interrupting her train of thought.

Marjorie reached across and pressed the loudspeaker. ‘Yes?'

‘Excuse me, Ms Plunkett, but I have Agent Treadwell here to see you. She says it's urgent.'

‘Give me three minutes then send her in.' Marjorie snapped the file closed and placed it back in the bottom drawer of her desk. She shut the drawer and pressed her thumb against it until she heard the whir of the lock.

‘Thank you, Ms Plunkett. Your documents are now safely returned,' a cheery voice informed her.

‘Thank you, Fi,' Marjorie said.

The door to her office opened.

‘Good afternoon, Agent Treadwell.' Marjorie nodded at the woman as she strode into the room. ‘What have you got for me?'

‘Afternoon, Chief.' Rowena Treadwell reached inside her coat pocket and handed Marjorie a piece of paper in a plastic envelope. ‘They've made contact again.'

‘I see.' Marjorie opened a timber box on her desk and pulled out a pair of white gloves. She put
them on and then removed the letter from the sleeve. ‘How was it received?'

‘Same as last time,' Agent Treadwell replied. ‘Unmarked envelope, in among the rest of the palace post. There's a stamp but no postmark, so we have no way of knowing where it was sent from.'

Marjorie's heart thumped as she scanned the page. ‘All right, leave it with me,' she said calmly.

‘Would you rather I take things straight to the lab in future?' Rowena offered.

‘Agent Treadwell, I shouldn't have to explain the extremely sensitive nature of this investigation,' Marjorie snapped, her words underlined in ice. ‘We don't know exactly what we are dealing with yet, but we do know there is a child at risk. And for some reason, whoever this monster is, they've chosen to involve Her Majesty. Everything comes to me first, do you understand? Everything!'

The tall woman cleared her throat. ‘My apologies, Chief.'

‘I suggest you go home and get some rest. It's all hands on deck this weekend.'

‘Will I be part of the palace detail?' Agent Treadwell asked.

‘Yes. You'll receive your instructions at oh-six-hundred,' Marjorie replied.

Rowena Treadwell was about to say something when she stopped herself.

‘Is there anything else?' Marjorie looked at the woman.

‘So you're really going to marry him, Chief?' Treadwell asked.

Marjorie Plunkett frowned. ‘Yes, of course. Why do you ask?'

‘Does he know what you do?'

‘Absolutely not, and it will stay that way,' Marjorie retorted. ‘Do you have a problem with that?'

‘Not at all, I'm just in awe,' Agent Treadwell replied. ‘I suspect I'll be single for the rest of my life. I wouldn't trust myself – pillow talk and all that.'

Marjorie smiled thinly. She'd imagined the same sort of life for herself until Lloyd had swept her off her feet. Getting married had never been on her agenda, and now here she was planning a wedding and wondering if she might even have children.

Rowena smiled. ‘You'll be a beautiful bride, Chief.'

Marjorie's demeanour softened. ‘Thank you,
Agent Treadwell. Sorry if I was tetchy earlier. I've got a lot on my mind.'

‘I understand. We need to catch this one as soon as possible. She's such a sweet girl. I can't imagine why anyone would want to harm her,' Rowena said.

Marjorie nodded. ‘I'm sure they'll slip up soon. See you tomorrow.'

Rowena Treadwell turned on her heel and headed for the door.

‘Oh and, Treadwell,' Marjorie called after her.

The woman spun around. ‘Yes, Chief?'

‘I like the new do,' Marjorie said, patting her head.

‘Thank you, Chief. Not sure what I think of it yet but it takes no time to get ready in the morning,' Rowena replied before leaving the room.

Marjorie chided herself for being so hard on Treadwell. The woman was a wonderful asset and had proven herself most reliable over the years. There had been some tension between them when Marjorie had been promoted to Chief three years ago, but Treadwell had come to understand that the best woman had been given the job. Marjorie pressed her thumb against the drawer. It whirred open.

‘Hello Chief,' Fiona trilled. ‘What may I do for you?'

‘I need you to run some tests on this.' Marjorie dropped the letter into the third compartment in her desk drawer.

‘Of course, Chief.'

‘Thank you, Fi. That will be all for now.' Marjorie closed the drawer and held her thumb against the lock. She took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

‘Yes, Chief?'

‘Miss Betts, please get Thornton Thripp on the line for me.'

‘Gosh, look at that staircase!' Millie gawped as they followed Mr Langley into the rear entrance foyer. ‘I wonder if Aunty Gee would let us have races.'

Vincent Langley recoiled at the idea.

‘Perhaps we should save those for the Highton Hall rollercoaster,' Cecelia suggested, noticing the man's reaction. ‘Not everyone appreciates their banisters being polished by speeding bottoms.'

‘No, ma'am, they most certainly do not,' Mr
Langley said, shaking his head. ‘Mrs Wellesley, for one, would not be amused.'

‘Who's that?' Alice-Miranda asked.

‘The head housekeeper.'

Just as Mr Langley spoke, a dark-haired boy whizzed backwards down the rail. He leapt off before the last step and landed with a thud on the flagstones below. Seconds later an identical lad did exactly the same thing. Without a word, they both charged out the back door.

‘Who are they?' Millie asked, her eyes bulging.

‘You've just met Edgar and Louis, Her Majesty's youngest grandchildren,' Langley replied flatly.

Hugh grinned. ‘Good to see they haven't changed.'

Vincent Langley's lips twitched. ‘I can assure you, Mr Kennington-Jones, they haven't changed a bit.'

‘Maybe we can challenge them to a race,' Millie whispered to Alice-Miranda.

‘That would not be wise,' Mr Langley said.

Millie looked at him in disbelief. The old man had bionic hearing, just like Miss Grimm. ‘How come?' she asked.

‘Apart from suffering the wrath of Mrs Wellesley,
those boys are quite possibly the two most competitive lads you'll ever meet. They'd take out their own grandmother to win.'

‘Sounds like someone else we know.' Millie looked at Alice-Miranda and mouthed Caprice's name.

‘How unfortunate,' Mr Langley said, proceeding up the staircase.

The group followed the man up two flights of stairs and down a long corridor to the left.

‘Please remember that you are in the West Wing. The children are all in rooms on the right-hand side of the hall and the adults are on the left. Ms Highton-Smith, your mother is in her usual suite on the first floor. Her Majesty said she didn't think you'd mind.'

‘Much better having Valentina down there,' Hugh said with a wink. ‘Otherwise she'd be up here giving orders and making sure we're not a second late for anything.'

‘That's my mother you're talking about, darling,' Cecelia admonished.

‘Granny's not bossy, Daddy,' Alice-Miranda said. ‘I can't wait to see her.'

‘No, she's not bad for a mother-in-law,' Hugh admitted.

‘Who's not bad for a mother-in-law?' a voice boomed from behind the group.

‘Granny!' Alice-Miranda turned around and raced to the woman, leaping into her arms.

‘Oops!' Hugh looked at Millie and pulled a face.

Valentina Highton-Smith gave her granddaughter a kiss and then greeted the rest of the group. She arched an eyebrow at Hugh. ‘So, what have I done to upset my formerly favourite son-in-law?'

Hugh held out his arms. ‘Formerly favourite? I thought I'd always be your number one, Valentina. Although, I suppose I didn't count on having a movie star as my competition.'

‘Good grief,' Vincent Langley muttered under his breath.

‘Oh, stop it, Hugh,' Valentina said, flicking her hand. ‘You know I can't resist those puppy-dog eyes of yours. Lawrence might be one of the most handsome men on the planet, but you're a pretty close second. Besides, I've known you a lot longer and he's still in the probationary phase.' Valentina embraced the man. ‘Speaking of Lawrence, I wonder how far away they are. I'm bursting to see those babies again.'

‘Excuse me, Ms Highton-Smith, I'd rather like to show you to your rooms if I may.' Vincent Langley tapped his foot impatiently. The man was mentally ticking off some of the hundred and one things left to do before the garden party and he was eager to get back downstairs to see if Braxton Balfour had managed to get through his long list of duties.

‘Yes, of course. Sorry to hold you up, Mr Langley,' Cecelia said.

‘I'll leave you to settle in then,' Valentina Highton-Smith said. ‘I think I'll hunt down a cup of tea before I change for the party. See you all later.'

‘Bye, Granny.' Alice-Miranda gave a wave and the others said goodbye too.

Vincent Langley unlocked a door and pushed it open. ‘Mr Kennington-Jones, Ms Highton-Smith, this is the Tulip Suite.' He motioned for them to enter. ‘Children, would you like to follow me?' Mr Langley asked, turning on his heel. ‘Your room is directly opposite, across the hall.'

‘I'll go with the girls,' Cecelia said. ‘Darling, why don't you have a lie down for half an hour before the garden party?'

‘You read my mind, Cee,' Hugh said gratefully.

‘What's our room called?' Millie asked.

‘It's the Daffodil Suite,' Mr Langley replied. He'd barely opened the door when Millie rushed past him and into the room.

‘Whoa!' she exclaimed. ‘Look at that ceiling. How did they make all those flowers in the plaster?'

Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘Very carefully, I'd say.'

The wallpaper was the softest of yellows and imprinted with a delicate white fleur-de-lis pattern, and there was a huge spray of daffodils in a vase on the wide mahogany dressing table. The room had twin double beds with white duvets, and each bedside table held a lamp with a pale yellow shade in the shape of a daffodil. A pair of floral yellow armchairs with high wingbacks sat either side of the double-hung windows with their billowing striped lemon-coloured curtains.

Alice-Miranda walked over to the window. ‘Millie, we can see the hunting tower from here,' she called.

Millie raced over to join her, and the two girls were soon pointing at this and that and making plans about all of the things they wanted to see.

‘Shall I leave you to settle in?' Cecelia asked.

Alice-Miranda turned and nodded. ‘Mummy, it's all so beautiful. I can't wait until the party.'

‘Why don't I come and help you get ready in a little while?' Cecelia suggested.

‘The garden party starts at one o'clock,' Mr Langley reminded them. ‘Everyone is meeting downstairs in the rear entrance hall at ten to one, and Her Majesty does not appreciate tardiness.'

‘Thank you, Mr Langley,' Cecelia said. She turned back and grimaced at the girls, before following him out the door.

‘Goodbye, Mr Langley, we'll see you soon,' Alice-Miranda called out, and Millie gave a wave, but the man did not respond.

‘Someone got out on the wrong side of the bed,' Millie remarked as she ran her fingers along the top of a cherry-wood writing desk. ‘He reminds me of Mr Winterstone from the
Octavia
but with better hair. Well, not really better, just
more
hair – except that he obviously dyes it. I think grey would look much better than that purple-black colour.'

Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘Please don't tell him that. Remember what happened when Jacinta asked Mr Winterstone about his hair? The poor man
looked as if he'd never recover,' she said. ‘And Mr Winterstone turned out to be lovely in the end.'

‘Well, I think Mr Langley takes his job
way
too seriously. He could smile once in a while. I mean, if I lived here, my face would be aching from smiling so much. That other butler – the under one – seemed a lot more friendly. Anyway, bags this bed.' Millie executed a high scissor kick, landing on the mattress with a bounce. She laid back on the pillow with her hands behind her head, gazing at the intricate ceiling detail. ‘I still can't believe we're really here,' she sighed.

‘It's pretty amazing, isn't it?' Alice-Miranda sat on the edge of her own bed and looked around the suite.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Alice-Miranda leapt up to open it.

‘That's strange,' she said, finding no one there. She poked her head into the empty corridor. Just as she closed the door there was another sharp rap. She opened it again.

Millie hopped off her bed and walked over. ‘Who is it?'

‘No one.' Alice-Miranda closed the door and frowned.

Millie's eyes widened. ‘Maybe it's a … ghost.'

‘Millie, you know there are no such –' Alice-Miranda was interrupted by another knock on the door.

‘Hey, it sounds like it's coming from in there.' Millie pointed and ran to the dressing-room. Alice-Miranda followed her.

The room had built-in drawers on either side and a circular gold velvet love seat which occupied the centre of the floor. In the middle of the far wall sat a large wardrobe. Millie wrenched open the door and discovered a small bolted door behind the hanging rail. It didn't even come halfway up the back of the cupboard and looked as if it had been built for a child.

Alice-Miranda peered over Millie's shoulder.

‘What do you think? Narnia?' Millie turned and looked at Alice-Miranda before she slid back the lock.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Jacinta tumbled through, almost sending Millie flying.

Alice-Miranda giggled. ‘Well, at least it's not a ghost or the White Witch.'

Sloane poked her head through the opening and crawled into the wardrobe, falling out most
ungracefully onto the lemon-coloured carpet. ‘Oh, that's disappointing,' she sighed. ‘It's just you two.'

‘Believe me, we were hoping for something more interesting too,' Millie retorted.

Alice-Miranda bent down to help the girl up. ‘How long have you been here?' she asked them.

‘About an hour,' Jacinta replied. ‘Mummy was so excited, we left as soon as we finished breakfast.'

‘Come and have a look at our room,' Alice-Miranda said, beckoning the girls to follow.

The girls walked out of the dressing-room and into the bedroom.

‘It's exactly the same as ours, just the other way around, and ours has roses all over it instead of daffodils,' Jacinta said.

‘And there's lots of pink instead of yellow,' Sloane added. ‘It beats Grimthorpe House any day!'

‘Just a bit,' Millie said. ‘Have you been to the garden yet?'

Jacinta and Sloane shook their heads.

‘We've had a bit of a look around this floor but we didn't want to go downstairs,' Jacinta explained. ‘That scary butler, Mr Langley, told us that we'd have to pay for any damages and pointed out some
priceless vase he said had been in the family for centuries. We didn't want to risk it.'

They were interrupted by another knock, but this time Alice-Miranda knew exactly where it was coming from. She ran to the bedroom door and opened it. ‘Aunt Charlotte!' she cried. ‘Uncle Lawrence!'

Charlotte Highton-Smith scooped her niece into her arms and peppered the girl's face with kisses. Lawrence Ridley bent down and hugged Alice-Miranda once she was back on the ground.

‘Hello Millie, Jacinta, Sloane, it's lovely to see you all.' Charlotte smiled at the girls.

‘Yes, good to see you all,' Lawrence said and gave a wave.

Alice-Miranda peered behind them. ‘Where are the babies?'

‘They're in our room, being watched over by two dutiful young men,' Lawrence nodded.

‘Have you got footmen babysitting for you?' Sloane asked.

Lawrence grinned. ‘Not quite. Your brother and Lucas volunteered their services.'

‘Whoa, you're brave,' Sloane said. ‘I don't think Sep's ever looked after a baby in his life.'

‘He was doing very well for a beginner,' Lawrence
said. ‘And as for Lucas, he's more gaga over them than I am, which I didn't think possible.'

Jacinta almost swooned at the thought of Lucas holding a baby. ‘Lucas will be such a wonderful father one day.'

The girls giggled.

‘When he's much older, of course,' Jacinta added quickly.

‘Would you like to meet them?' Charlotte asked.

Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Yes, please. Can we all come?'

‘Absolutely,' Charlotte said. ‘But you'll have to be quiet. They're still sleepy.'

‘Just the way I like them,' Lawrence Ridley said with a wink.