direction.
I arranged for her to come to Rannoch House on Monday. She plonked the shapeless hat on her head and turned back to me at the door. “You won’t regret this, miss,” she said. “I’ll be the best ruddy chambermaid you’ve ever had.”
So I was due to undertake a journey fraught with avalanches, brigands and wolves with possibly the world’s worst chambermaid who was likely to set fire to my dress. It would be interesting to see if I came out of it alive.
Chapter 9
Rannoch House
Monday, November 14
Due to leave for Continent tomorrow. Still no maid. Still
haven’t heard from Darcy. Still raining.
How tiresome life can be.
By Monday morning I had still not heard from Darcy. Now I would be going abroad without letting him know. Really he was a most infuriating man. I simply didn’t know what to make of him. Sometimes I thought he was really keen on me, and then other times he’d disappear for ages. Anyway, there was nothing I could do about him now. If he hadn’t chosen to give me his address or even come to see that I had survived the visit from Binky and Fig, then too bad.
Queenie turned up a little after nine. It took some time rummaging through the housekeeper’s closet to find a uniform that fitted and looked suitable, because she was a hefty girl, but eventually we poured her into a black dress, white cap and apron. She looked very pleased with herself as she stared in the mirror.
“Stone me. I look just like a real maid now, don’t I, miss, I mean, me lady?”
“Let’s hope you learn to act like one, Queenie,” I said. “I take it you have brought your case with you with the items you’ll need to travel. You can now come up to my room and pack the clothes I shall need. Bring that tissue paper with you so that they don’t become creased.”
We spent a rather fraught morning as I stopped her from wrapping my boots with my velvet dinner gown, but eventually all was ready. Tickets, passports and letters of introduction were delivered from the palace. My tiara arrived by courier from Castle Rannoch and Binky had generously slipped a few sovereigns into the package with a note saying I expect you’ll need some expenses for the journey. Sorry it can’t be more.
He was a sweet man, useless but sweet.
The money at least allowed us to take a taxi to Victoria Station on the morning of Tuesday, November 15. As I followed a porter to the platform where the boat train departed, I felt a sudden surge of excitement. I was really going abroad. I was going to be part of a royal wedding, even if it was Moony Matty’s. My compartment was found and the porter set off for the baggage car with my trunks, leaving me with my personal luggage. I knew that in normal circumstances I would have entrusted my jewel case to my maid but I thought that Queenie might try dressing up in my tiara or let the rubies slip down the sink in the lavatory.
“You should go and find your own seat now, Queenie,” I said. “Here is your ticket.”
“My own seat?” A look of panic crossed her face. “You mean I’m not traveling with you?”
“This is first class. Servants always travel third class,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ll meet you on the platform with our luggage when we reach Dover. And I expect my chaperon’s maid will be sitting with you so you’ll have someone to talk to. Oh, and Queenie, please don’t let the other maids know that you’ve only been in my employ for a day or that you set fire to your last employer’s dress.”
“Right you are, miss,” she said, then put her hand to her mouth, giggling. “I still can’t get the hang of saying ‘my lady.’ I always was a bit thick. My old dad says I was dropped on my head as a baby.”
Oh, brilliant. Now she told me. She probably had fainting spells or fits. I was beginning to wish I’d taken up Belinda’s offer after all. I had gone to see her to tell her the funny story of my new maid, but neither Belinda nor her maid was at home. It had to mean that she had probably fled somewhere warm again. I couldn’t blame her.
A very nervous Queenie made her way down the platform to find the third-class carriages. As I watched her go I