Excerpt

The Drive Home to Contentment Lane

Mrs. Bissiby checked her reflection in the service hall wall mirror, walked down the service corridor, and stepped into the ladies’ wardrobe. “Miss Dyer, I am Feodora Bissiby, resident housekeeper. Welcome to the palace.”
Joi curtsied, and held out a hand. “Thank you, Miss Bissiby.”
“Firm handshake; I like that in a woman. Call me Mrs. B. Everybody does.”
“It is a pleasure, Mrs. B. I am honored to become part of your household.”
“Allow me to show you to your quarters, Miss Dyer. The footmen have carried your luggage upstairs. So, Miss Needlepinch passed away, such a shame, just as she was beginning a new life. May she rest in peace.” She led the governess to the foyer. “We will take the stairs up.” She shook her head. “Miss Needelpinch truly loved those children.”
Quigley descended, and stopped when he saw the housekeeper with the young woman. “Mr. Quigley, I want you to meet our new governess, Miss Dyer. Miss Dyer, this is Quigley.”
The footman bowed. “Welcome to the palace, Miss Dyer.”
Joi smiled. “Hello, Mr. Quigley.”
“Miss Needlepinch passed away just now, Quigley.”
“How awful. May she rest in peace.”
“May she rest in peace. Call the florist, Quigley, put in an order for five hundred Bereavement lilies then gather Twickenham, and Fetchett, to help you arrange.”
“Immediately, Mrs. B.” The footman nodded, and descended the stairs.
“And send Twickenham to Miss Dyer’s room with a fruit basket.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The footman disappeared down the corridor.
“Are you the housekeeper for the entire palace, Mrs. B.?”
“I am. I oversee all wings, main floor to the attic.”
“That sounds like an awful lot of work, Mrs. B.”
“I get help from the maids. We work as a team. How was your journey in, Miss Dyer?”
“A bit bumpy, but the scenery was beautiful.”
Mrs. Bissiby stopped, and sighed. “How unfortunate Nanny Needlepinch’s death would overshadow your arrival, Miss Dyer. Nanny was like a mother to the Queen.”
“Yes, Mr. Crankshaft—I mean Crank—he asked me to call him Crank. He seems anything but cranky. One minute, Miss Needlepinch was telling me about her aunt’s house on the sea, the next she lay unconscious in my arms.”
“You were with her as she drew her last breath, Miss Dyer. You must be an angel.”
“Hardly, Mrs. B.; I don’t think so.”
“We must settle you in. Here are your quarters, third door to the right. You will be working with Annie Wohlmut. Miss Annie has everything under control for now, so you can take your time freshening up, and after dinner, if you wish, I can introduce you to staff, and perhaps to the heirs.”
“That would be lovely. I can’t wait to meet the children.”
“Miss Dyer, you must always refer to the heirs as the princess royal, or the prince royal,” the housekeeper selected the right key. “A caveat, when speaking in Her Majesty’s presence avoid using the word ‘lots,’ and avoid using contractions.”
“Miss Needlepinch told me the same. Thank you for the reminder, Mrs. B.”
“Your quarters are on the family floor, freshly papered and painted. Not even I have that privilege, Miss Dyer. The dressing gong rings at six-thirty. Dinner is at seven. Have you eaten?”
“I had a sandwich and a piece of pie on the train.”
“I will send Pinguine up with the trolley. She will be happy to get out of the kitchen.”
Joi was mesmerized by the grandeur of the corridor, and the view out the window. “What lovely mountains.”
“That is Mount Majesty, and before it, The Troubled Forest.”
“You have a bedchamber, a study, a parlor—connected to the playroom and lavatory.” The housekeeper inserted the key into the lock, and opened the door. “Oh—two days ago, Handsforth said he would air this out.” She walked to the drapes, drew the sheer aside, and opened the window. A light breeze waffed into the room. “The painters only just finished.”
Joi took in a deep breath, and smiled. “I love the smell of fresh paint. This is lovely.” She took off her hat, walked to the window, and removed her gloves. “What a lovely view of the mountains.”
“That is Mount Majesty.” Mrs. B. opened a door. “This is your lavatory.”
Miss Dyer set her hat and gloves on the dresser. “With how many girls do I share?”
“This is your private lavatory.”
“For me, alone? I have never had a bathroom my own—and it has a mirror. I’ve never had a mirror in all my life. I’m used to sharing with twenty girls.”
“Where did you grow up, Miss Dyer?”
“In Pawlish—at the Dyer Falls orphanage. Does Miss Annie have a space this nice?”
“Oh no. Miss Annie has a view to the north. You lucked out, Miss Dyer. Miss Annie would have taken these quarters, but the consort insisted they go to you.”
“This is a dream come true.”
Mrs. B. passed under an arch. “This is your study.”
“This is charming.”
Mrs. B. opened another door. “This is the nanny’s parlor, which you share with Miss Annie, the princess royal, and the prince royal. It connects to Miss Annie quarters through that door.”
“This is huge.” Joi studied the cornice work. “How tall is the ceiling?”
“Twelve feet. The playroom is over here, and the prince’s quarters beyond.”
“Where is the prince?”
“Miss Annie has taken the heirs to the zoo in Contentment.”
“Oh my gosh—a rocking chair—may I try it?”
“This was Miss Needlepinch’s rocker, Miss Dyer. It is now yours. Rock on.”
Joi took a deep breath, eased herself into the rocker, and started rocking. “I can feel Miss Needelpinch’s energy in the wooden rests, as if she is speaking to me of all the years she said she’d been blessed here. I think I’ll be very happy here.”
“Miss Dyer, I remind you of your speech. Her Majesty has a strange aversion to the use of contractions.”
“Oh—yes. You already did—the contractions things. I’ll have to remember that—I will remember. I want to start off on the right note.”
Mrs. B. gave a thumb up “You did it.” she said. “You said ‘must not,’ rather than using a contraction. You are off to a fine start, Miss Dyer. Now, I imagine you would like to be alone.” She walked back to the bedchamber door. “I will send Pinguine up with that tray. Beginning tomorrow, or tonight, if you wish, you will take meals in one of the dining rooms with the family, unless otherwise requested.”
“At Her Majesty’s request, I imagine?”
“Either party. You will find a palace bulletin outside your door every morning at six. It will let you know what events are taking place, when, and where. If you need anything, ring. The call button is on the nannys’ table, in the parlor.”
Joi walked around. I feel Nanny’s presence in this room. It may have been renovated, but Nanny’s energy permeates the woodwork, the windows—even the ceiling. I wonder how many nights she lay here in bed, gazing up at the ceiling, wondering what would be.”
“The bed is new, Miss Dyer.”
“Thank you, Mrs. B. In spite of having lost Miss Needlepinch this morning, I feel surprisingly at peace.”
“The ocean air will do that, coming in across the parfumerie fields. Death is a shock one can ever be prepared for, Miss Dyer, but it can bring peace. I will leave you now.” The housekeeper opened the door. “Dinner at six. Welcome to Entitlement, Miss Dyer,” Mrs. B. walked out, and closed the door.
Joi removed her cape, and draped it over the chair. She kicked her shoes off, tossed herself onto the bed, and listened to the swans quacking, outside on the lawn. “This is heaven.” She stretched, and closed her eyes.

The next morning at eight, Miss Dyer descended the staircase, eager to get to work. She stopped on the landing. The vases are filled with lilies, she thought; all is quiet. She proceeded down the stairs, and stepped into the hall, as Mr. Tibbons approached.
The butler nodded. “Good morning, Miss Dyer. Did you sleep well?”
“Good morning, Mr. Tibbons. What a heavenly bed I slept in. I have only ever slept on a cot. Miss Needlepinch’s energy is so powerful, I felt like she was there protecting me. I know I should be wearing black, but this is all I have.”
“You look fine, Miss Dyer. Maroon is quite appropriate.”
“Where are the children?”
“They had an early breakfast, and Miss Wohlmut took the heirs to the park. If you are ready for that tour—perhaps after breakfast?”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Tibbons.”
An hour later, Mr. Tibbons stopped at the base of the stairs. “I am sorry this tour was so gloomy, Miss Dyer—with the palace in mourning, but you did get to meet some members of staff.”
“Yes, delightful people.”
“Mrs. Thorneroft has set up an audience for you to meet the Queen.”
“An audience to meet the Queen?” Joi gasped—“I’m honored. I mean—I am honored. I must remember to think the King’s English before I speak.”