Rhys Bowen - The Twelve Clues of Christmas

“Queenie. You’re talking about the Duchess of Rannoch.”

“I don’t care who she is, she’s still a spiteful cow,” Queenie said. “And ungrateful too, after all what you’ve done for her. Staying up here, month after month, because she wanted company, and now she turns on you like this. If I was you I’d get out while the going is good and leave her to get on with things by herself.”

“I may just do that,” I said. “Can you find me another candle? I want to write a letter.”

“Bob’s yer uncle, miss,” she said, instantly happy again. “I’ll go and take the one out of her bathroom—then just see how she likes going to the lav in the middle of the night in the dark.”

“Queenie, you’re incorrigible,” I said, trying not to laugh. “There’s a perfectly good candle on top of my chest of drawers. Then tomorrow morning I want you to bring my trunk down from the attic.”

“Are we really leaving, then?”

“Maybe. But I want to be ready, just in case.”

The candle was lit and Queenie departed.

I started to write the letter. Dear Granddad . . .

Then I paused, my pen in midair. Was it even right to ask him if I could stay? He had very little money himself and his health had not been the best lately. The last time he wrote to me his bronchitis had returned, aggravated by the London fog that crept out across the marshes into Essex. In truth I worried about him. At least Mrs. Huggins, his next-door neighbor, would be taking care of him and making sure that he ate well. She had designs on marrying him, I knew, but I wondered if he was more fond of her cooking than he was of her. In fact . . .

I gasped as a flash of brilliance struck me. A wonderful thought had entered my head, so wonderful that I hardly dared to think it. Mrs. Huggins was a good plain cook and she and Granddad had acted brilliantly as housekeeper and butler one time when I’d needed to produce servants for a visiting princess. I sat there in the darkness, waiting until I heard everyone go to bed. Then I tiptoed down to Binky’s study and picked up the telephone. I knew that Fig would have a fit if she knew I was making a trunk call, but for once I didn’t care. This was more important.

“Brown’s Hotel,” came the polished voice at the other end of the line after what seemed like hours of waiting for the operators to make the necessary connections. I asked to speak to the former duchess of Rannoch.

“I cannot disturb Her Grace at such a late hour,” said the voice sternly. “It wouldn’t be seemly.”

I wondered if this was a polite way of saying that my mother was not occupying her bed alone. It wouldn’t be the first time. “This is her daughter, Lady Georgiana Rannoch, calling on a matter of great importance,” I said. “So if you could possibly see if Her Grace is still awake?”

He was instantly gushing. “Yes, yes, of course, my lady. Please hold the line and I will try to connect you.”

I waited, thinking of the minutes being added to Fig’s telephone bill. At last an agitated voice said, “Georgie darling? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mummy, but I just had an absolutely brilliant idea for you.”

“I was sound asleep,” she said.

“You’ll be glad that I telephoned. Listen, you know Granddad’s next-door neighbor Mrs. Huggins cooks decent plain food,” I said. “I thought you could ask her and Granddad to come down and run the cottage in Tiddleton-under-Whatsit for you. They were frightfully good at playing butler and cook when I had to entertain that German princess.”

“I can’t ask my own father to wait on me,” she said. “Besides, he’d never do it. He’s too proud.”

“Persuade him, Mummy. I know you can if you try. It would be a perfect solution for both of you. You wouldn’t have to look around for suitable servants and have people in the house you didn’t know. He’d benefit from fresh air and country living. London in winter is so bad for his chest.”

“It would make things awfully simple, wouldn’t it? And give me more time for shopping. I’d have to put it to him in the right way, so that he felt he was being invited and not as a servant.”

“You could suggest that Mrs. Huggins come and cook for you and naturally she wouldn’t want to travel alone so you suggest that you pay his way to accompany her. You know what he’s like. He hates not being busy, so he’d be bringing in the firewood and that sort of thing without being asked. And then you hire a local girl to clean, and bob’s your uncle, as he would say.”

My mother laughed that wonderful bell-like laugh that had enthralled theatergoers for years. “You’re becoming as devious as I am, darling. All right. I’ll do it. And by the way, guess who I saw going into the Café Royal this evening? None other than the delicious Darcy.”

“Darcy? But I thought he was in Argentina.”

“Not any longer, obviously. I’m sure it was he. Nobody else has those roguish black curls—so very sexy.”

I wanted to ask if he was alone, but I couldn’t make myself. “Then I expect I’ll be hearing from him in due course,” I said, trying to sound breezy and unconcerned, “although he won’t come up to Scotland, I’m sure. Fig is so jolly rude to him.”

“Then escape to London and meet him in a hotel, darling. You’d have a blissful time.”

“Mummy, you’re not supposed to suggest things like that to your unmarried daughter. Besides, think what the royals would say if they got word of it.”

“Oh, bugger the royals,” Mummy said. “It’s time you stopped trying to please other people and started living for yourself. I always have.”

* * *

IT WAS ONLY when I climbed into bed and curled into a tight ball in an attempt to bring back life to my frozen feet that I realized what I had done. I had condemned myself to spending Christmas with Fig and her family.

Chapter 4

STILL CASTLE RANNOCH

DECEMBER 15

Stopped snowing, at least for a while.

I was awoken in the morning by loud bumping noises and muttered curses. Queenie appeared and instead of bringing in my morning tea she was dragging my trunk.

“Here you are, miss,” she said. “Your trunk like you wanted. I hope I got the right one. It does have your name on it.”

I sat up, my breath coming out as steam in the freezing cold of the room. “Yes, it’s the right one, Queenie, but I’m afraid I won’t be going anywhere after all.”

“Ruddy ’ell, miss. You mean I got to take it back up all them stairs again?” she demanded.

“Just leave it for now and go and get my tea,” I said. “I’ll feel better when I have something warm in my stomach.”

“You should see what’s going on downstairs, miss,” she said, pausing to look back from the doorway. “Apparently them people what we stayed with in France are coming to stay. You know, the stingy ones what only had one piece of cheese and crackers for their dinner?”

“It was lunch, Queenie,” I corrected. “Remember I told you that people of my class eat luncheon in the middle of the day and dinner at night.”

“Well, whatever it was, there weren’t enough food to feed a ruddy hamster,” she said bluntly. “I expect they’re coming here for Christmas so they can eat your brother’s food instead of their own.”

“That’s not for you to comment on,” I said. “You must watch what you say. If my sister-in-law ever heard you, I really would be forced to sack you. You realize that.”

“Sorry, miss. My dad always said my big mouth would get me in trouble, if something else didn’t first.”