Read Online Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery) by Rhys Bowen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rhys Bowen
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asked him.
He shook his head vehemently, but then added, “But I have been making up all the beds. Someone could have come past while I was occupied, my lady. But your maid is present, no? She guards your possessions.”
He obviously didn’t know Queenie. I walked back, perplexed and feeling rather unsafe. Had Queenie surprised someone just when he’d started going through my things, before he’d located my jewel case? I put it behind my pillow before I fell asleep.
Chapter 8
January 22, 1933
Lovely fine day. On the Blue Train going through France.
Things are looking up!
I woke to brilliant sunlight seeping in past the blinds and lay feeling the gentle swaying of the carriage for a while before I remembered where I was. I had slept brilliantly, thanks to the comfortable berth and the generous amount of champagne I had drunk the night before. I looked at my watch. Eight fifteen. No sign of Queenie. I supposed that I couldn’t expect her to find her way to a dining car on a foreign train and come back with a tea tray. I sat up and leaned across to open the blind. It shot upward and there was sparkling blue sea beside us. Umbrella pines clung to rocky headlands. We passed small clusters of houses, pastel painted with dark green shutters and dusty courtyards. It was all so foreign and terribly exciting.
I got up and washed at the pint-sized basin in my compartment, then when I went to find a summer dress, I remembered my strange suspicion of the night before. By daylight it seemed silly to think that someone had rummaged through my suitcase and left my jewels untouched. Now I’d never know. I took out one of my summer dresses. By the time I was dressed, there was still no sign of Queenie. I slid open the connecting door and saw she was still lying there, snoring and mouth open. Not a pretty sight.
“Queenie, wake up. We’ll be arriving soon,” I called, then shut the door and went in search of breakfast. The dining car was empty apart from two women, with similar sleek caps of black hair. They were a little older than I and certainly more smartly dressed. I was seated at a table across from them. When I asked for croissants the waiter shook his head. “On this train they always demand the breakfast Anglais,” he said. “They are wishing the bacon and the eggs.”
I settled for a poached egg. I was just pouring myself a second cup of coffee when I heard one of them say, “Shall we be seeing anything of Darcy, do you think?”
I paused, the coffeepot frozen in my hand. I tried not to listen, but one can’t help oneself in such circumstances.
“I expect so,” the other woman said, pausing to light up a cigarette. “We know she’s going to be there and he’s so good about visiting the child.”
“I suppose he feels responsible.”
“More than that. He adores that child. Absolutely dotes on the little chap.”
“Well, he’s the only heir at the moment, isn’t he?”
“Hardly the heir, darling.” The woman took a long drag on her cigarette, then smiled.
“Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, it will be fun to catch up with old Darcy again. I’ve hardly seen anything of him for months. I don’t know what he’s been doing with himself.”
“I heard there was a new love in his life.”
“Another one? I can’t keep up.” And she laughed.
I managed to put down the coffeepot without spilling the contents and got to my feet.
“You are finished, my lady?” The waiter appeared at my side. “I cannot bring you some fresh fruit? Some more toast?”
“No, thank you.” I hurried out of the dining car, wrenched open my compartment door and stumbled in, nearly falling over Queenie, who was cramming items into one of my suitcases.
“Careful with that,” I snapped. “You’ll crease everything.”
She looked up, surprised and hurt. “Don’t vex yourself, my lady. It shall be done according to your wishes,” she said.
“What did you say?”
“I read one of them magazines
He shook his head vehemently, but then added, “But I have been making up all the beds. Someone could have come past while I was occupied, my lady. But your maid is present, no? She guards your possessions.”
He obviously didn’t know Queenie. I walked back, perplexed and feeling rather unsafe. Had Queenie surprised someone just when he’d started going through my things, before he’d located my jewel case? I put it behind my pillow before I fell asleep.
Chapter 8
January 22, 1933
Lovely fine day. On the Blue Train going through France.
Things are looking up!
I woke to brilliant sunlight seeping in past the blinds and lay feeling the gentle swaying of the carriage for a while before I remembered where I was. I had slept brilliantly, thanks to the comfortable berth and the generous amount of champagne I had drunk the night before. I looked at my watch. Eight fifteen. No sign of Queenie. I supposed that I couldn’t expect her to find her way to a dining car on a foreign train and come back with a tea tray. I sat up and leaned across to open the blind. It shot upward and there was sparkling blue sea beside us. Umbrella pines clung to rocky headlands. We passed small clusters of houses, pastel painted with dark green shutters and dusty courtyards. It was all so foreign and terribly exciting.
I got up and washed at the pint-sized basin in my compartment, then when I went to find a summer dress, I remembered my strange suspicion of the night before. By daylight it seemed silly to think that someone had rummaged through my suitcase and left my jewels untouched. Now I’d never know. I took out one of my summer dresses. By the time I was dressed, there was still no sign of Queenie. I slid open the connecting door and saw she was still lying there, snoring and mouth open. Not a pretty sight.
“Queenie, wake up. We’ll be arriving soon,” I called, then shut the door and went in search of breakfast. The dining car was empty apart from two women, with similar sleek caps of black hair. They were a little older than I and certainly more smartly dressed. I was seated at a table across from them. When I asked for croissants the waiter shook his head. “On this train they always demand the breakfast Anglais,” he said. “They are wishing the bacon and the eggs.”
I settled for a poached egg. I was just pouring myself a second cup of coffee when I heard one of them say, “Shall we be seeing anything of Darcy, do you think?”
I paused, the coffeepot frozen in my hand. I tried not to listen, but one can’t help oneself in such circumstances.
“I expect so,” the other woman said, pausing to light up a cigarette. “We know she’s going to be there and he’s so good about visiting the child.”
“I suppose he feels responsible.”
“More than that. He adores that child. Absolutely dotes on the little chap.”
“Well, he’s the only heir at the moment, isn’t he?”
“Hardly the heir, darling.” The woman took a long drag on her cigarette, then smiled.
“Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, it will be fun to catch up with old Darcy again. I’ve hardly seen anything of him for months. I don’t know what he’s been doing with himself.”
“I heard there was a new love in his life.”
“Another one? I can’t keep up.” And she laughed.
I managed to put down the coffeepot without spilling the contents and got to my feet.
“You are finished, my lady?” The waiter appeared at my side. “I cannot bring you some fresh fruit? Some more toast?”
“No, thank you.” I hurried out of the dining car, wrenched open my compartment door and stumbled in, nearly falling over Queenie, who was cramming items into one of my suitcases.
“Careful with that,” I snapped. “You’ll crease everything.”
She looked up, surprised and hurt. “Don’t vex yourself, my lady. It shall be done according to your wishes,” she said.
“What did you say?”
“I read one of them magazines
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