Chapter 13
On Sunday afternoon, Julia’s coachman nosed the horses toward Hyde Park Corner through light traffic.
Two inches of snow had fallen overnight, although wheels and hooves had churned and stamped most of it into slushy puddles.
But it was cold enough for the flakes to linger on the park’s trees, frosting the branches like tea cakes.
Lady Styles had written in her luncheon invitation, “You’ll be my first guest. I’ve only had two cookery lessons, so don’t expect too much.
” Julia smiled, remembering Mrs. Ogilvie’s efforts before she left for medical school.
“You’ll not leave for Philadelphia without knowing how to boil an egg,” her housekeeper had said.
“You found me,” she said.
“Easily, Lady Styles.”
“High time you called me Susan, Julia.”
“High time, Susan.” Julia smiled, stepping over the threshold. “What a marvelous location. A five-minute walk to the park.”
“It’s my second favorite thing about the flat.”
“What do you like best?”
“That it’s all mine.” Susan sighed happily. “Well, at least the ground floor belongs to me.”
She gestured toward the inner door, and Julia walked into a bright, high-ceilinged room, a combination sitting-and-dining space, fully furnished, the table already set for luncheon.
“You’ve been busy.” Julia presented a box. “I hope you have room for a crystal bowl.”
“It’s lovely,” Susan said, peeking under the lid. “How generous everyone has been. The table setting is Alexandra’s gift, and Sir Lionel—”
As if on cue, he emerged from the kitchen. “I tasted the sauce and complimented the chef.” He clicked his heels. “Doctor Lewis, always a pleasure to see you.”
“I was about to say that the lovely decanter and glasses are your gift. I’ve tried to persuade Lionel to join us to no avail.”
“Alas,” he said, pulling on his gloves, “duty calls in the form of a luncheon invitation from Mrs. Gathorne-Hardy. And a gloomy affair it’s bound to be.”
When Sir Lionel raised Susan’s hand to his lips, Julia read a gesture beyond common politeness. She remembered Susan’s consultation and thought, Perhaps she does have a particular gentleman in mind.
After Sir Lionel left, Susan opened the door to the kitchen. “And Princess Louise—”
“Is busy in the kitchen,” the princess said, suspending a wooden spoon over a saucepan. “My gift. Pots and pans.”
“And cooking lessons, although I’m a backward pupil.”
“Nonsense,” Princess Louise said, dipping the spoon into the pot. “Dearest Papa insisted we children learn, so anyone can. We’re dining this afternoon on the consommé I prepared at Marlborough House, cutlets in white wine sauce, and my oyster paté. What could be easier?”
Susan smiled and said, “Do you remember the French ambassador?”
“My shining moment,” the princess said, ladling the broth into a tureen.
“The ambassador complimented the paté and was agog when Princess Louise thanked him and explained her recipe.”
“The French think they alone understand food,” Princess Louise said, reaching behind her to untie her apron. She breezed past them, carrying the consommé into the dining room.
When they finished the last course of cheese, pears, and dried figs, Julia complimented the cook and thanked her hostess.
“The pleasure is all mine. It’s a delight to share a first meal in my new home.”
Princess Louise sighed. “How lucky you are to have rooms of your own.”
“Lady Quarles said the same thing to me.”
“She married one of my brother’s courtiers,” Princess Louise said to Julia.
“Lady Quarles declared that she would rent a flat if she could sign a lease,” Susan said. “I’d forgotten married women can’t. The law allows widows and single ladies to do so.”
“But not unmarried princesses,” Louise said.
Julia said, “I signed the lease for my building and arranged sundry contracts for services to the clinic. All that would be impossible if I married.”
“Not if you married the right person.” Susan smiled. “Someone who would sign without question.”
“Hmm … perhaps.” Julia glanced up at the clock on the mantel. “I wondered. Is there a cabstand nearby? I told Mister Ogilvie I wouldn’t need him to return with our carriage.”
“Mister Ogilvie?” Princess Louise said. “How democratic.”
“Blame my American grandmother. ‘Servants’ were ‘staff.’ And when I was a child, she expected me to use surnames and titles for adults. So, he’ll always be Mister Ogilvie to me.”
“I like that,” the princess said.
Susan raised an eyebrow. “Will you ‘mister’ John Brown from now on? Please tell me when you’ll begin so I can sell tickets.”
“Odious, odious man. And his brother, who looks after my brother Leopold, is worse. But the queen will hear nothing against the Browns. Walter tried—”
Susan knocked over the pepper shaker. “Clumsy of me. Thank goodness it wasn’t the salt. That would be an unlucky end to my first luncheon party.” She stood. “Shall we move to more comfortable chairs? Princess Louise has news for you, Doctor. A letter came from Germany.”
Deftly done, Julia thought, wondering, Who is Walter?
“My sister apologizes for the delay,” Princess Louise said. “She nursed the little princesses through colds and then wrote reams of family news.”
“I’ve extracted the information about Lizzy Dowling and Lady Middlebury,” Susan said, handing Julia a piece of paper. “After Prince Albert’s death, the question of who should surround the queen became—”
“To be blunt, Mama, in her misery, found it hard to bear the happiness of others. Lady Middlebury was a recent widow, so she was the ideal companion for the queen.”
“The lady had been left with limited means,” Susan said. “She wrote to Princess Alice, accepting the position of lady-in-waiting. But there was a problem. A young servant, a local girl who’d fallen on hard times, had come under her wing.”
“My sister remembers Lady Middlebury writing of a promise she made to look after the girl,” Louise said. “So, a place was found at Osborne House for her ‘little Kildare bird.’ Lady Middlebury’s family seat was at Kilcullen in Kildare, and the girl came from a nearby village.”
“Princess Alice remembers a younger sister was settled somewhere in Ireland.” Susan sighed. “Brigid Dowling, one supposes.”
Princess Louise asked, “Will any of this be useful to Inspector Tennant?”
“Two things are interesting,” Julia said. “Lizzie Dowling attracted a surprising number of influential friends, including you, Princess. What was it about the girl?”
Louise considered. “It’s hard to put into words, and if you asked for an instance, I’m not sure.
” She shrugged, at a loss. “I suppose I felt a kindness in her toward me. Oh, not because I was a royal and she a servant. She was sensitive to moods and needs. Most of all, I believed I could trust her with my … with any troubles. And when she spoke of her younger sister, I thought she would do anything for that girl.”
“Brigid Dowling said something like that in her last letter, poor girl,” Lady Styles said. “But you said two things, Julia.”
“Princess Alice names a location. The Dowling sisters came from a village near Kilcullen in Kildare. It’s a place to start.”
That night, at her dressing table, Julia realized Kate was no longer brushing her hair. Her maid looked back at her in the mirror, smiling.
“You’ve something on your mind, Doctor Julie, or you’d have stopped me five minutes ago.” Kate lifted Julia’s hair and spread it across her back. “You should wear it loose and lovely, like Princess Louise in the picture card you gave me.”
“I can see Nurse Clemmie’s face. She’d frown and hand me a set of hairpins.”
“Still,” Kate said, pointing the brush in the mirror. “You’ve got color in your cheeks and a sparkle in your eye. More than you had all those weeks when the inspector was away.”
Julia took the brush and set it aside. “I was thinking about Lizzie Dowling. Something I learned today.”
“Is that all?” Kate sighed. “And what might that be?”
“Before she served the queen, she worked in Ireland in the household of Lady Middlebury.”
“From a high place to a higher one.”
“Lizzie came from a village somewhere in Kildare.” Julia swung her legs around and faced her maid. “How does it work, Kate? I imagine people leaving Ireland might settle together in London or Liverpool neighborhoods. Yes?”
“’Tis like a daisy chain, one following the other. An older brother makes a few pounds and sends for the younger. That man knows of a job on the docks and an empty room in his boardinghouse, so he writes to a cousin. He travels with his friend who lives in the cottage down the lane.”
“So, with a little digging, you could discover where people from a particular part of Kildare cluster.”
“Are you wanting me to ask around about the Dowling sisters?”
“No, Kate, not you. There’s a dangerous man out there. Sergeant O’Malley, on the other hand, is just the person. Speaking of the sergeant … did I see him walking from the tradesmen’s entrance the other day, eating a scone?”
“He was after dropping off those reports from the inspector. He stopped for a civil word and a bite.”
“I see,” Julia said, her smile widening. “A civil word and drawn by Cook’s baking. Nothing else?”
“As to that, I couldn’t say.” A pink-faced Kate put her hand on the wooden handle of the copper bed warmer. “Should I take it out, or will you?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Don’t be staying awake ’til all hours when you’re up with the birds.”
“Good night, Kate,” Julia called as her maid closed the door.
But Julia wasn’t sleepy. She sat at her window seat, drawing her woolen wrap around her.
Sergeant O’Malley … Why not? The man deserved a good wife, and there was none better than Kate.
Matchmaking. Julia smiled wryly. Aunt Caroline would tell her to stick to one heart at a time. Starting with my own.