On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service (Her Royal Spyness #11)(15)

“It’s not as simple as that,” he said. He was looking distinctly uncomfortable now. “You see, I’m sort of busy in the coming weeks. Got a lot on my plate, so to speak.”

“Busy doing what?” I demanded, not pleased at being given the brush-off.

“Getting myself hitched,” he blurted out.

“What?” I really didn’t think I’d heard right.

He nodded. “That’s right, ducks. Me and Mrs. Huggins. We’re going to tie the knot.”

“Granddad, no,” I exclaimed. “You can’t mean it.”

He glanced toward the door and I realized I’d forgotten that she was in the house, probably listening in at this moment.

He lowered his voice. “It seemed like the easiest thing,” he said. “I mean, she’s over here a lot of the time, taking care of me when my old chest plays up. She’s always making me food. And now her landlord wants to raise her rent so I thought, ‘Why not? What’s the harm in it?’”

What could I say—that I thought Mrs. Huggins was an awful old woman and I certainly didn’t want a stepgrandmother who opened the door wearing curlers in her hair? It sounded so petty.

“Well, if you’re sure that’s what you want,” I said. “If you really think she’ll make you happy . . . ?”

He gave me a sheepish smile. “I have to confess it gets a bit lonely sometimes, after your grandma died. Just me and the wireless in the evenings. I could do with a bit of company. A friendly face. Someone to share a late-night cuppa with. And since she’s a good woman and wouldn’t think of moving in with me without doing it proper with a license and all, then I suppose marriage is what it has to be.”

We both looked up as Mrs. Huggins came in, carrying a tray. She had rather a smug look on her face. “I suppose he’s told you, then?”

“He has. I should congratulate you both. I hope you’ll both be very happy.” I was proud of myself for my restraint and good acting.

Mrs. Huggins nodded. “I hope you’ll be able to come to the wedding, your ladyship,” she said. “Add a touch of class, having you there.”

“Of course I’ll be there,” I said. “It’s not right away, is it? Only I’ll be in Italy for the next few weeks.”

“No, not right away, my love,” Granddad said. “We thought we’d wait until June. More chance of good weather and we can have the reception in the back garden.”

“That’s good,” I said. “I’ll be back by then. And planning my own wedding, I hope. And you’d jolly well better come to that.”

“You getting married too, fancy that.” Mrs. Huggins put down the tray on the low table. “Where will it be held? Westminster Abbey, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Not the abbey, I’m afraid,” I said. “Because my husband-to-be is a Catholic. So it will have to be in a Catholic church.”

“Marrying one of them Catholics?” Mrs. Huggins looked at my grandfather, shaking her head. “What do the king and queen think about that?”

“They are both grateful to my fiancé for saving their lives once,” I said, determined not to share any of the complications of my upcoming nuptials.

“He’s a good lad, your Darcy.” Granddad was beaming at me. “Take good care of you, he will.”

“Just like you’ll take care of me, Albert.” Mrs. Huggins laid her hand over his.

“That’s right, love. Now how about pouring that cup of tea?”

Frankly I couldn’t wait to drink my tea and be gone. I certainly didn’t object to my grandfather marrying again. Actually I’d never met my grandmother. She must have died when I was in my teens, but in those days my mother’s side of the family was kept well away from Castle Rannoch. But Mrs. Huggins did not fit my image of the warm grandmother and certainly not what I wanted for my grandfather. She was uncouth, crude and, I suspected, grasping. How could she possibly make him happy?

I stood up when I’d finished my cup of tea that was both too sweet and too strong. “I really have to be getting back to town,” I said. “I have a lot to do before I go to Italy.”

“Italy? Fancy that,” Mrs. Huggins said, nodding to Granddad. “It’s amazing how the upper classes get around, isn’t it? She talks about it as easily as if she was going to Southend.” And she gave a cackling laugh.

“She wanted me to go with her,” Granddad said. “Thought it might be good for my chest.”

Mrs. Huggins was still laughing. “You? In Italy with the toffs? Don’t you go getting any ideas above your station, Albert Spinks. You’re staying put, right here beside me.”

As they both walked me to the door she asked, “Will you be taking that great-niece of mine with you?”

Oh golly, I’d forgotten for the moment that Queenie was related to her.

“No, actually she’s staying with Darcy’s relatives in Ireland. She’s learning to be a cook.”

“Well, blow me down,” Mrs. Huggins said. “Learning to be a cook. Hear that, Albert? And she ain’t burned down the kitchen yet?” She cackled again.

“No, actually she’s proving to be quite good at it,” I said.