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what havoc she could wreak in a normal house, with no royalty present and no priceless antiques around every corner. It was hard enough for me, who tends to be a little clumsy at times, but Queenie was far worse. She really was a walking disaster. And yet I couldn’t arrive at a palace with no lady’s maid. I’d have to make it quite clear to her that she must never leave my suite. If I had her meals sent up on a tray maybe we’d be all right.
    Fig and Binky were sitting by the drawing room fire when I returned. Podge was with them, sitting beside his mother and showing her a drawing he had made, while Binky had Adelaide on his knee and was bouncing her while Nanny hovered protectively near the doorway.
    â€œThere you are, Georgiana.” Fig looked up. “So how was tea at the palace?” She almost spat out the last word.
    â€œThe cake wasn’t quite as good as the one I had at my grandfather’s,” I said with a smile.
    â€œWas anybody else present? Was it a large tea party?”
    â€œJust the queen and I. Oh, and the Prince of Wales came in for a moment.”
    â€œReally?” She blinked rapidly and one could see the wheels of her brain turning, demanding to know why I should have a tête-à-tête with the queen and not she.
    â€œI’m glad you’re going to be staying with us for a long while, Aunt Georgie,” Podge said.
    â€œUnfortunately I won’t be here as long as I had thought, Podge,” I said. “But I will come to visit and maybe I can take you out to the park.”
    â€œYou won’t be staying here after all?” There was a note of hope in Fig’s voice.
    â€œUnfortunately no,” I said. “The queen wants me to move into Kensington Palace and look after Princess Marina.”
    It gave me great satisfaction that those words had the effect I had hoped for.

Chapter 7
    SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3
    KENSINGTON PALACE, LONDON
    Dear Diary: Today I move into Kensington Palace. Moving up in the world. Actually I’m partly excited and partly terrified. Please don’t let me break anything or knock an elderly princess down the stairs!
    Kensington Palace is not like its sister Buckingham. It sits in the middle of a public park with a much-traveled walkway going past it. There are no guards and only the southern side has gates. And some of it is open to the public. In fact as I approached, a group of schoolchildren were huddling together and looking miserable in the rain as they waited to be escorted around the state rooms. I had actually never been inside before so I went to the reception desk and was about to be handed a ticket when I let the woman know that I was looking for the way to apartment 1.
    â€œYou can’t get into the private apartments this way, miss,” she said. “The private rooms are quite separate from the public. You’ll have to follow the path around and it’s on the other side, at the back of the building.” She looked at me suspiciously. It was raining and I was wearing my mack again and probably didn’t look much like a person who visited royal apartments. “Are you delivering something?” she asked. “I could have it sent around there for you.”
    â€œNo, I’m coming to live there,” I said and departed, giving her a bright smile and something to think about. I went back into the rain and then found the path that would take me to the back of the palace. The rain came down harder and the wind buffeted me as I finally came to what I hoped was the right door. I rang the bell. Nobody came immediately so I tried the knob and the door swung open. I stepped into a foyer and looked around with surprise. I had expected something like Buckingham Palace—walls lined with royal portraits, antiques and statues everywhere. But this was more like an ordinary home, slightly outmoded and with a lingering smell of furniture polish and damp. I gave a sigh of