What Happens At Christmas... Page 25

  Mrs Milliner’s reply was friendly enough. ‘Yes, indeed. I’m sure she’ll show you round herself this evening. Dinner will be served at seven o’clock.’ She turned the handle and pushed the door open. Stepping back, she ushered Katie into a massive room. ‘Your bathroom is through that door over there and your dressing room is beyond the arch on the other side of the bed.’ Katie had never had a dressing room before and wasn’t totally sure what it was used for. Surely you didn’t need a whole room just to get dressed? The bed itself was an enormous wooden structure, the size of a couple of table tennis tables. Two windows looked straight out over the park and gardens. It was a remarkable place with a remarkable view.

  ‘How absolutely lovely, Mrs Milliner. What a room!’ The awe in Katie’s voice was clear to hear. ‘Are all the rooms here as luxurious as this?’

  Mrs Milliner paused for thought before replying. ‘All the principal bedrooms, yes. There are twelve of those. The other bedrooms are maybe a little smaller, but they’re all of a similar style.’

  ‘So do many people live in the house?’

  ‘Only Miss Victoria, myself and a couple of maids. And now, of course, you too.’

  ‘Only five of us in this huge place?’ Katie could hardly believe it. Mrs Milliner gave her another little smile.

  ‘Yes, Miss Katie, just the five of us. Somehow, I don’t think you’ll be feeling crowded here. Now, if you would excuse me, I have to see that dinner is coming along well. I’ll get one of the girls to bring you up a pot of tea.’

  Katie protested weakly, but to no avail. Five minutes later there was a tap on the door. Before Katie could get across to open it, the handle turned and a ginger-haired woman in a black uniform and crisp white apron brought in a tray.

  ‘Tea, Miss Katie?’

  The “girl” was probably five or ten years older than Katie, who was beginning to get a bit fed up with the constant addition of “Miss” to her name. ‘Just “Katie” is fine. There’s no need for the “Miss”. What’s your name?’

  ‘Rosie, Mis…Katie.’ The maid was busy unloading a silver teapot, milk jug, plates, biscuits and a huge slice of what looked suspiciously like freshly-made sponge cake. Finally Rosie deposited the last item and straightened up. ‘If there’s anything else you require, just press the bell by your bedside.’ She extended a finger towards a large enamel knob protruding from the wall. Like the letterbox, the surround was solid, well-polished brass. By the time Katie had registered the existence of the button, the maid had slipped silently out of the room. Katie checked the time on her phone against the hands of the exquisite old clock on the mantelpiece. It was almost six.

  There was another tap on the door. This time she made it across to the handle before it turned. It was Mr Mackintosh with her bags. He brought them in and set them on a low bench designed for luggage.

  ‘Will there be anything else, Miss?’

  Katie shook her head, thanked him, and he withdrew.

  Over the next hour she unpacked her things, showered and changed. She kept on checking the time on her phone until it was one minute to seven. She stood up and ran her hands down her sides, glancing at her reflection in the enormous floor to ceiling mirror. She had changed into the most formal skirt she had brought and was feeling rather conspicuous. She was also feeling really quite nervous.

  She put her phone down on the table and prepared to go downstairs for dinner. Apart from telling the time, the phone was quite useless here. There appeared to be no mobile signal and no internet connection. She took a deep breath and went out into the corridor and along to the massive staircase. As she walked down the last few steps into the hall, Rosie appeared as if by magic and led her to the dining room. The door was already open and Miss Victoria was standing by the empty fireplace.

  Katie stopped on the threshold and studied the scene. Her first reaction was one of surprise, accompanied by relief. Miss Victoria, far from being an elderly lady, was probably about the same age as she was. She hurried across to meet her new employer, whose hand was already extended in her direction.

  ‘Good evening. You are Katherine Parr?’ Miss Victoria sounded friendly, if a bit formal. Her accent would not have sounded out of place in Buckingham Palace or Made in Chelsea. As if reading Katie’s mind, she added, ‘And do you have royal lineage?’ She was smiling broadly now. Katie had had this remark made about her name often enough to recognise it.

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Victoria. And I’m Katherine Parr with a “K”, not a “C”. I’m not the reincarnation of Henry VIII’s last wife. Anyway, everybody calls me Katie.’

  ‘Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Katie. Please can you call me just plain Victoria. I’m afraid my father insisted everybody should call me Miss Victoria all my life and I can’t seem to get them to change. Isn’t that so, Rosie?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, Miss Victoria.’ The maid’s face was expressionless.

  Katie smiled and took a better look at Victoria. She looked four or five years younger than her, probably in her mid-twenties, tall and slim, with light brown hair piled up on her head in formal manner, revealing a pair of earrings. If the diamonds set in them were real, they were worth a fortune. Katie reflected that if they were false, they were the first fake she had seen all day. The clothes she was wearing were elegant, if dated. Her blouse was unmistakably silk, a delicate cream colour, and she was wearing a dark blue skirt that just covered her knees. On her feet she wore flat leather shoes. Instinctively Katie tugged her own skirt down as far as she could, but her knees were still visible. She rather regretted her choice of sandals now.

  ‘I hope you had a good journey here and that your room is satisfactory to your requirements.’ Katie found it hard to reconcile Victoria’s formal, rather antiquated, language with a girl of that age. It sounded weird and slightly ridiculous. She did her best to reply equally politely.

  ‘Yes, thank you very much. The room is great and everybody has been so very helpful. And I did enjoy my ride in that fantastic big white car. It was an awesome experience.’

  ‘Awesome? You can use that?’ Victoria repeated the word as if hearing it for the first time. ‘An awesome experience.’ She caught Katie’s eye and smiled a warm, genuine smile. ‘I think I shall use the word awesome myself. You see,’ she was still smiling, ‘I’ve got so much to learn. Anyway, you’ll work that out for yourself, I’m sure. Now, I asked Mrs Milliner to put out a bottle of champagne. Is that to your liking?’

  ‘I adore champagne, thank you. I’m afraid I haven’t had any for quite a while now. Normally I have to wait until one of my friends gets married.’ Something must have shown on her face. As Victoria waved to Rosie to pour the champagne, she gave Katie a gentle smile.

  ‘Mr Evergreen told me you had just separated from your husband. I’m very sorry.’

  Katie took the glass of champagne that was handed to her and resisted the temptation to drain it in one. ‘Thank you, Victoria. We weren’t married, so it’s not a proper divorce, but we were together for seven years.’

  ‘Living in sin is the expression, isn’t it? Or is there something more modern?’

  ‘I think the technical legal term is cohabiting, but we just used to say we were living together. Living in sin is a bit old-fashioned nowadays.’ Katie was indeed beginning to get a taste of what awaited her. Somehow, this young woman acted and sounded like a Jane Austen character. She took a deep breath and raised her glass. ‘Thank you for your marvellous hospitality. Cheers.’ They clinked their glasses together and Katie did her best to follow Victoria’s example and just take a delicate sip of the wine. It, too, was amazing.

  ‘I hope you like the champagne. It’s only five years old but my father told me that this was a particularly good year. Une année royale.’

  Katie noticed her excellent pronunciation. ‘It’s wonderful, thank you.’

  ‘Awesome? Could I say that?’

  Katie smiled back at her. ‘You certainly could.’

  CARINA
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  ISBN: 978 1 474 04586 5

  What Happens at Christmas…

  Copyright © 2015 Trevor Williams

  Published in Great Britain (2015)

  by Carina, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

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