The Queen's Secret by Karen Harper

Author:Karen Harper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Tangled Ivy

In the spring of 1942, I went without Bertie or the girls to visit Queen Mary, in exile, as she called it. Leaving London was not the thing to do, she’d argued, but she had agreed to be kept safe from the bombing by “camping out” in rural Gloucestershire.

Hardly a campout spot, I thought, as my motorcar driver took me up the lane toward the massive, beige Cotswold-stone building called Badminton. It overlooked a placid lake that reflected its lofty cupolas. Sheep grazed on the green, and swans swam perfectly in the glassy lake. The estate sat in the frame of the Forest of Dean with its ancient oaks, beech, and ash trees. I felt myself unwind a bit and regretted that my mother-in-law had evidently not relaxed here one bit but always had some project at hand.

I was greeted by Mary, Duchess of Beaufort, Queen Mary’s host with her husband the duke, Bertie’s nephew. They had been kind enough to take in Queen Mary and her sizable household for the duration of the war. The duchess was a lovely brunette and had been a bridesmaid at our wedding. We kissed in the French way, touching both sides of our cheeks. We walked in together past the grand, curving staircase with huge paintings of Beaufort ancestors and their beloved racing steeds hanging on most of the walls.

“Is she all right?” I asked straightaway when I didn’t see Queen Mary.

“Oh, quite. A bit of a head cold is all. She actually slept in, anxious for your arrival, though, so she could show you her latest passion.”

“Oh, dear. She hasn’t been pottering about and asking for any of your collectibles?”

“I knew to put them away for now where they would not collect dust,” the duchess said with a little smile.

I nodded with a smile in return. It had been common knowledge for years that the former queen had an acquisitive nature. Some had said that she pilfered things for her nest like a magpie, such as Fabergé pieces she liked. She was often wont to hint she would adore owning such and such an item, that she had not been able to find that particular bibelot, and how it would enhance her collection. And what were her hostesses to do but offer that as a gift to the king’s wife even after he had died?

“So where in the house are her rooms?” I asked as we entered the drawing room where a lovely tea service had been laid out before an ornate fireplace.

The duchess smiled—or was that a grimace? “Everywhere, anywhere,” she said with a little shrug.

“I must tell you how indebted the king and I are to you for your . . . your sacrifice in these trying times.”

“We all must do our bit. Speaking of which, do you see that lovely painted Chinese screen over there? She has had a private commode installed behind it and uses it whenever—whoever—is about.”

“Oh, dear. And what is this she writes me about landscaping outside? Mary, I am sorry, but best tell me, and I’ll tell the king.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.