Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [47]
“Of…of course.” His mouth was dry. His mind raced as to why she would want to see him, and what he could say to her. The first thought was that Dunkeld had reported him for rudeness. But why would the Princess of Wales summon him rather than the Prince? What kind of lie could he possibly think of to avoid telling her of the situation he was investigating? How much did she know anyway? He had heard that she was severely deaf. Perhaps she knew nothing and wanted to ask why he was here. What should he say?
He followed the lady-in-waiting obediently. She led him a considerable distance through wide, high-ceilinged corridors until they came to what was apparently their destination. She knocked and then went in without waiting for an answer, signaling Pitt to follow her.
The room in which he found himself was richly overfurnished like the others he had seen, high-ceilinged and crusted with plasterwork gilded and painted, but he did not even glance at it. His total attention was focused on the woman who sat in the tall chair by the window, a tea tray on the carved table in front of her. It was set for three. There were tiny sandwiches on a plate and very small cakes cut to look as if they had wings poised above the whipped cream. There were also fresh scones he could actually smell, a dish of butter, one of jam, and one of clotted cream. He swallowed as if tasting them. He had not realized before how hungry he was.
“How kind of you to come, Mr. Pitt,” the woman at the window said graciously. Pitt had heard that Princess Alexandra was beautiful, but he was still unprepared for the perfect skin, the flawless features in spite of her being now well into her middle years.
What did one say to a deaf princess who would one day be queen? Did it matter? Would the lady-in-waiting help him? Should he raise his voice, or was that inexcusable, regardless of her hearing?
He gulped. “It is my honor, Your Royal Highness.” Was that too loud?
She was watching him closely. What was she going to ask?
“Please sit down,” she invited, indicating the chair opposite her. “Would you care for tea?”
Should he accept, or was the invitation merely a form of politeness? He had no idea. Did she know how rude he had been to the Prince?
“Please accept,” the lady-in-waiting said quietly, from a step or two behind him. “Her Royal Highness wishes to speak with you. The tea will be very agreeable.”
“Thank you,” Pitt said more gently. “Thank you, ma’am.” He sat down, aware of being clumsy, as if he were all arms and legs, as uncoordinated as if he were still an adolescent.
The lady-in-waiting poured the tea. It was very hot, obviously only just brought in, and the fragrance of it was delicate but unmistakable.
“You have a very difficult task, Mr. Pitt,” the Princess observed, taking a small cucumber sandwich and indicating that he should do the same.
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed. He took a sandwich carefully, wondering if he could possibly stretch it to three mouthfuls.
“Have you met all His Royal Highness’s guests?” she inquired. She had fine eyes, intelligent and very direct.
“Yes, ma’am.” He must add something more. He was sounding stupid. “I have spoken more to the gentlemen this afternoon. I am not sure if the ladies can tell me much.” How much did she know? He must be desperately careful not to tell her anything she had not already heard. That would be appalling.
“You may be surprised,” she said with a very slight smile, amusement fleeting and then gone. “We observe more than you think.”
He had no idea how to answer her, and he did not think it polite to take another bite of the sandwich.
She sipped her tea. “You may find that they also have been quite aware of tensions, likes and dislikes, and of rivalries.”
“I will ask them, ma’am,” he promised, although he thought it a useless exercise.
“You are thinking that they will be too loyal to their husbands to tell you anything