George spun towards her, the look on his face stopping little Edward in his tracks. ‘You cannot mean that you intend for them to be here?’
Thea blinked. ‘Where else might they be?’ she asked as unassumingly as possible.
‘Anywhere that the Royals are not.’ The sweat beaded on George’s brow and Edward retreated to curl an arm around Thea’s leg. She placed a hand on his head protectively as Mrs Jenkins ran a feather duster up the banister, keeping an eye on proceedings.
‘I expected that the king and queen would like to meet the whole family,’ she said, careful of the feelings of all three children who were now in earshot. Samantha stood where Thea had instructed her on the two days before, perfectly poised and intent on getting her part right. Edward still looked hopefully at his father, and Mr Fenwick had at least a tenuous control over the errant Abigail. George’s gaze swept over them all and back to Thea.
‘And what is he doing here?’ he asked, gesturing to Fenwick. ‘Where is the governess?’
Thea gritted her teeth. ‘I am sure you remember that Annie is with child,’ she said, deliberately using her name after Georgehad depersonalised someone he had impregnated. ‘She has been unwell with it this past week. Lady Foxmore has recommended a tincture and Dr Speckle will see to her when he arrives for the dinner party, but in the meantime, Mr Fenwick has taken over duties with the children.’
George stared at her as she spoke, seemingly indifferent to the details she insisted on providing. When she had finished, he blinked a couple of times and then strode to Mr Fenwick. Abigail immediately latched on to George’s leg, and Mr Fenwick seemed to be able to do little about it.
‘Make no bones about it, Fenwick,’ said George. ‘If I see these three anywhere near the Royal party this weekend, there will be hell to pay.’ His gruffness was almost offset by the small child dangling off his breeches, but Thea gathered both Edward and Samantha in her arms as they both looked to her for guidance. So did Mr Fenwick.
‘What are you doing looking at her, man?’ shouted George, light from the tall windows highlighting bits of his spittle as it flew. ‘I give the orders in this household. If you are to remain here, you will do as I say.’ Thea saw Fenwick gulp and nod.
‘Of course, Your Grace,’ he said quietly. He held out his arms and gestured for Samantha and Edward to follow him. They looked again to Thea who nodded. George would clearly not back down, and she couldn’t afford to lose another member of staff with Annie out of duty.
‘But we practised,’ said Samantha in a voice that almost broke Thea’s heart. She kissed her daughter on the top of her head, determined not to let her children know how much the wrath of her husband affected her.
‘And you will get to show the king and queen how good you are very soon I am sure,’ she said gently. ‘But for now go and do some reading with Mr Fenwick.’ She nodded to the tutor and gave both her children a guiding nudge towards him.
‘And get this one off me,’ shouted George, shaking his leg violently so Abigail fell backwards and ended up in a heap on the floor. Mr Fenwick, horrified, scooped her up into his arms and followed the other two children now dashing up the stairs.
It had never occurred to Thea that she might be saved by a royal visit, but, as Sanders burst through the doorway with the news that the delegation had been spotted, she considered it might be good that her response to George was curtailed. As it was, the ensuing commotion in the household was something to behold. One would think that no preparation at all had occurred prior to this moment. Fletcher strode purposefully, arranging the staff outside the door to welcome the party. Mrs Phibbs looked grave as she moved down each member in turn, ensuring a final preening, straightening and polishing of everyone’s’ best dress. Even Mrs Jenkins looked a little ruffled and Thea saw Martha take a calming breath in the lineup.
The shuffling increased as the royal coaches, ornate and gold clad, appeared at the head of the drive. It seemed that the king and queen were travelling with a reduced court. Only eight coaches appeared, and Thea knew on sight that Hawkdean could adequately accommodate them in the hastily renovated suites. She blew out a wavering breath of relief.
Soon the Royal footman jumped down and opened the carriage door. How would they be, she wondered. Gruff? Demanding? Critical of the preparations they had worked so hard on over the past week? Queen Charlotte was the first out of the carriage, and after ensuring her dress was straight and her husband had joined her, she made straight for Thea. Thea took her in quickly. She looked happy and was heavily pregnant.
‘Your majesty,’ Thea remembered to say as she dipped into a courtesy. George bowed, and they repeated the action for King George III. Queen Charlotte took up Thea’s hands in her own.
‘You will forgive this intrusion at such short notice,’ she said, looking genuinely contrite. ‘I do hope you haven’t been to too much trouble?’
‘I do hope we have ensured your suites are comfortable, Your Majesty,’ managed Thea, trying to tread a careful line between assuaging the queen’s guilt and not making it sound like they hadn’t bothered at all.
‘We could do little else but extend our trip and visit with you,’ said the queen in her gentle German accent. ‘You know how my husband is with his science, and we were informed that your plant collection is quite the most fascinating to the south of Oxford. I could not resist.’
To her right Thea felt George tense and struggled to keep the smile off her face despite wondering which was better north of Oxford. The botanical gardens, she supposed. ‘We are delighted you did, Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘And of course we will be delighted to show you anything you desire.’
The queen looked around her as she nodded her approval. ‘I thought you had children?’ she asked, puzzled. ‘I hope they will not be kept from the party for the whole two days?’
And Thea thought the visit may not turn out to be too disagreeable after all.
‘And what of your substrate?’ asked the queen as they trooped through the walled garden followed by a minimal court retinue. ‘My gardeners at Buckingham House swear by stable waste added to the soil in addition to pine needles.’
Thea turned to look at Frankie who she had insisted accompany them around the gardens, but it seemed that even her gardener was overawed by royalty and had apparently been struck dumb all morning. ‘Well-rotted stable waste as a mulch over winter,’ she said, turning back to the queen. ‘Leaf mould and grit or loam in variable quantities for the plants in containers, and Frankie swears by composted bracken for the plants with more deeply green foliage. Don’t you?’ she asked, turning to Frankie. Frankie only managed to nod.
‘How extremely interesting,’ said the queen, ‘what benefits does the bracken afford?’ Thea looked back at Frankie but saw only panic in her eyes.
‘A healthier foliage and less yellowing,’ she confirmed. ‘Many plants which would not do at all on the chalk soil at my father’s estate in Sussex thrive here, especially with the mulch.’
‘I shall be sure to share with my gardeners,’ said the queen. ‘May we visit your greenhouse?’
Thea agreed readily and steered the party towards the brick and glass structure. She still didn’t know why their collection had been chosen for a visit, but she was determined that she would do Frankie’s work justice now the royal delegation was here.
‘I see you have had more success with the sweet peas?’ came the king’s booming voice from behind them. Thea waited for a response from George who had insisted on accompanying the monarch on their garden tour. Although her attention had been on the queen, she had had half an ear on her husband and had deduced that his responses had been almost universally lacking. She waited for this one whilst following the queen.
