BooksBarbecue
Back The Good Servant Save as PDF
Contents ( 81)
  1. THE GOOD SERVANT
  2. Fern Britton
  3. Copyright
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART ONE
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. Chapter Eighteen
  24. PART TWO
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-One
  28. Chapter Twenty-Two
  29. Chapter Twenty-Three
  30. Chapter Twenty-Four
  31. Chapter Twenty-Five
  32. Chapter Twenty-Six
  33. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-One
  38. Chapter Thirty-Two
  39. Chapter Thirty-Three
  40. Chapter Thirty-Four
  41. Chapter Thirty-Five
  42. Chapter Thirty-Six
  43. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  44. PART THREE
  45. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  46. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  47. Chapter Forty
  48. Chapter Forty-One
  49. PART FOUR
  50. Chapter Forty-Two
  51. Chapter Forty-Three
  52. Chapter Forty-Four
  53. PART FIVE
  54. Chapter Forty-Five
  55. Chapter Forty-Six
  56. Chapter Forty-Seven
  57. Chapter Forty-Eight
  58. Chapter Forty-Nine
  59. Chapter Fifty
  60. Chapter Fifty-One
  61. Chapter Fifty-Two
  62. Chapter Fifty-Three
  63. Chapter Fifty-Four
  64. Chapter Fifty-Five
  65. Chapter Fifty-Six
  66. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  67. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  68. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  69. Chapter Sixty
  70. Chapter Sixty-One
  71. Chapter Sixty-Two
  72. Chapter Sixty-Three
  73. Chapter Sixty-Four
  74. Chapter Sixty-Five
  75. EPILOGUE
  76. AFTERWORD
  77. BIBLIOGRAPHY
  78. Keep Reading …
  79. About the Author
  80. By the same author
  81. About the Publisher

See you next Monday.

My love,

Marion xx

PS I miss you both very much. Where does the time fly?

PPS I found some of the stockings you like. I bought you two pairs.

Chapter Fourteen

Sandringham House, Norfolk, January 1936

12th January 1936

Darling Joan,

I hated leaving you and the children this morning. You know how badly I feel about being here instead of with you. You are so wonderful at understanding.

I am in my bedroom in ‘The Bachelor’s Wing’. So archaic. As if I presented any danger to a young parlourmaid! The room is small and I wouldn’t give £15 for the furniture but it has a good fire which is sorely needed. The house is homely but cold and is a very rum place for a king to love. Everything is pitch pine and trophies. Quite hideous.

Open the front door and you immediately step into the large and draughty hall. A roaring fire in the grate makes no different to the temperature, but there is a large table, half completed jigsaw on top, and two chairs to encourage visitors to pop a piece of the puzzle in place. Then endless stairs, corridors and ugly paintings on the walls. I constantly feel I shall bump into the ghost of Queen Victoria, lurking round every corner.

The train journey was interesting. I was placed in a first-class compartment with my name on the door. Most uncomfortable as people would stop to read it and stare at me. The guards all hailed me as My Lord. Fearful.

About halfway through the journey, a young man appeared in the doorway. I was about to tell him to go away, when I recognized him as the Duke of York. I hadn’t seen him for eight years. He joined me and we had an amiable chat which he started with, ‘What’s all this I hear about the King not being well?’ I could tell him nothing more than I had been told, to wit there seemed to be no obvious illness, it was just the old machine running down.

When we arrived there was an inch of snow, and in the last two hours it has begun snowing rather more heavily. The Duchess of York is not here; she has succumbed to a very heavy cold, and the Princesses are with her in London. The sombre atmosphere of the house would not be suitable.

The Prince of Wales is due later.

Sleep well, my dear Joan.

My fondest love,

Tommy

15th January 1936

My dearest Joan,

The Prince of Wales has arrived. He burst in, disrupting us all. He had been sent for and was not happy to have been called from his Windsor shooting party. I am afraid I made myself scarce. I couldn’t face meeting with him before bed. The last words I had with him were six years ago and none too complimentary. He may not remember me, of course, but I should like to have a good sleep and a breakfast inside me, if and when he does.