“I’d like you to unpack my things first, then we’ll go up another flight of stairs and locate your room,” I said. I wasn’t going to risk her wandering alone, not even once. “I’ll go and find out about meals while you unpack.”

Queenie sighed. I went downstairs again and looked for signs of life. I opened doors to a gloomy salon, a library, a smaller sitting room that would be charming once a fire was lit, and finally a dining room. A mahogany table stretched the length of it, big enough to seat thirty. But no signs of food. I pictured Countess Irmtraut sitting alone in her room eating her pickled herring and was wondering if I’d also have to send out for something to eat, when a maid appeared.

“Begging your pardon, Your Highness.” She dropped a curtsy. “I didn’t know anyone would be in here.”

“That’s all right. And I’m a lady, not a highness,” I said. “Lady Georgiana. I was looking for luncheon.”

“There’s only the countess here at the moment, my lady,” the girl said, “and she has a tray sent up to her room.”

“Well, I’m now staying here too, and I’d also like to eat,” I said.

“Should I set the table for you then, my lady?” She looked worried.

I thought of eating alone in that cold, dreary dining room. “I could also have a tray sent up, if it’s easier,” I said. “And maybe one for my maid.”

“Very good, my lady. Is there anything special you’d like Cook to prepare for you?”

“I’m sure whatever she has prepared will be fine,” I said, hopefully. “And can you please arrange for someone to come and light the fire in my bedroom, if I’m to eat up there. The whole place is rather cold and gloomy.”

“I know.” She made a face before she remembered to whom she was talking. “Sorry, my lady, but I’ve been sent over from Buckingham Palace where everything’s ever so nice.”

“It’s only for a couple of weeks.” I gave her an encouraging smile and she smiled shyly in return. She bobbed another curtsy and off she went. I retreated to my room and after a meal of hearty soup, grilled fish and a steamed pudding, I was feeling much better. Queenie also tucked in with relish. “Well, the grub’s not bad,” she said. “I’ll take the trays downstairs to the kitchen, shall I?”

“No, I’ll have somebody come up and fetch them. A lady’s maid does not carry trays in a palace.” This, of course, was not true, but I wasn’t going to let Queenie out of my sight.

Chapter 8

NOVEMBER 3

KENSINGTON PALACE, APARTMENT 1

Dinner with royal aunts I’ve never met. What could be more terrifying?