Alice-Miranda on Vacation (19 page)

“Fascinating,” Lord Gisborne said. “And I hear she does all this work in the cellars, right here under the Hall?”

“Oh yes—she has an amazing setup. There’s a laboratory and a kitchen and computers—you name it, it’s all down there.”

“I’d love to see it sometime. I hope she has those
formulas locked away safely.” He grinned like a shark in a school of sardines. “I can’t imagine how valuable they must be.”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Smith began. “She stores them all up here.” She tapped her finger to the side of her head.

“What?” Lord Gisborne’s charm had left the building. “She doesn’t save them anywhere? What sort of an idiot is the woman?”

Mrs. Smith was taken aback.

“Dolly Oliver is just about the smartest person I know,” Mrs. Smith protested indignantly. “And you, sir, are just plain rude.” She turned on her heel and harrumphed as she strode away.

Lord Gisborne reached into his pocket and fiddled nervously with his phone.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Percy, put that awful thing away,” Aunty Gee chided. “It’s Charlotte’s birthday party.”

Lord Gisborne did as he was told, then skulked off to another corner of the room, where he hid behind a potted palm.

In the opposite corner, Rupert Blunt reached into the top pocket of his coat and retrieved his mobile phone.

“Change of plans, Daisy,” he whispered. “Come
with me.” He grabbed her hand and led her through the crowded room.

Granny Bert spied them together. “Oh, I just
knew
he was perfect for her,” she remarked to Cecelia.

“Who are you talking about, Granny?” she asked.

“You know him, dear. The lovely man who’s writing the history of the Hall, Mr. Blunt.”

Cecelia shook her head, wondering what on earth she had missed.

R
upert Blunt did not let go of Daisy’s hand until they were out the front door and safely hidden on the western veranda.

“Curses, curses, curses!” He sat down on a bench seat, clutching his head in his hands.

“What’s the matter now?” Daisy whispered. Her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill onto her perfectly made-up face.

Blunt looked up. “Well, apparently the silly old goat doesn’t have the formulas written down anywhere, does she? She keeps them all in her head, can you believe it?” He stood up and began to pace. “This changes everything.”

Daisy stared out into the moonlit garden, her hands clenched together. “Maybe you should just stop it now. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Shut up, woman. I need to think,” he snapped. “It was meant to be simple—in and out—no complications.” His eyes narrowed. “Now it looks like we’ll need backup. It’s just as well I have you … for insurance.” Blunt’s handsome face had taken on the appearance of a viper set for the kill.

Around the same time, Alice-Miranda, Millie and Jacinta had headed outside too. Alice-Miranda wanted to see if Lucas had changed his mind about coming over—it would be just like him to be lurking about in the garden somewhere. She led the girls around the corner of the veranda, where they spotted Daisy gazing out into the darkness. Then they caught sight of the tall man striding up and down—a look of thunder on his face.

The three girls stopped in their tracks. “Who’s that with Daisy?” Jacinta whispered.

“I don’t know. But he doesn’t look very happy,” Alice-Miranda replied. “Let’s go and say hello—I can’t imagine why anyone would be upset at a party, especially one as lovely as this.” She skipped toward them. “Hello, Daisy. And hello—my name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones and I’m
very pleased to meet you, Mr.…” She offered her tiny hand.

“Hmph?” he grunted. “Hadn’t you girls best go inside? It’s getting late and you never know what might be out here.”

“Well, that’s silly,” Alice-Miranda laughed. “There is nothing out here to hurt us. I’m sorry, sir,” Alice-Miranda tried again, “I don’t think we’ve met before. My name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones.”

“I’m not deaf,” Blunt snapped. “I heard you perfectly well the first time.”

Millie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know who invited you to this party, but I’m sure that Alice-Miranda’s parents are not friends with anyone as rude as you,” she blurted.

“Millie!” Alice-Miranda rebuked. “I’m very sorry, sir; my friend didn’t mean to upset you.” She decided to change tack. “I love your dress, Daisy. That dandelion color looks so beautiful with your eyes.”

Daisy managed a nervous half smile in reply. “Thank you, sweet girl,” she whispered.

The man began to tap his foot on the flagstones. “That’s enough chitchat. Now run along. I’m sure your parents must be missing you.”

“Oh no, not at all. They’re having a lovely time
inside with all our friends,” Alice-Miranda cooed. “It’s such a wonderful party, isn’t it? I’ve never seen so many beautiful dresses in one place—well, except for when Mummy took me to Paris for the fashion shows last year and Mr. Valentino gave us a lovely tour of his salon.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Blunt interrupted. “You girls need to go.
Now
.” His steely voice sliced the air.

Alice-Miranda’s strange feeling had well and truly returned.

“Girls, please go inside,” Daisy gulped.

The man grabbed Daisy by the hand, and with cyclonic speed, he wrenched her around the corner and they were gone. By the time the girls ran to see, they had both disappeared.

“He’s foul,” Jacinta said.

“I agree.” Millie nodded. “Do you think he could have been one of the people you heard having the argument in the garden at Rose Cottage this afternoon? I think Daisy looked scared of him,” she added.

“He does seem a little bit upset,” Alice-Miranda said. “Gosh, grown-ups can be complicated at times.”

Alice-Miranda was now quite sure that Daisy was hiding something. She just needed to work out what it was.

“M
rs. Oliver,” Aunty Gee interrupted, “may I steal you away, dear?”

“Of course, ma’am.” Mrs. Oliver excused herself and left Ambrose talking with Mrs. Smith.

“I’ve heard about your remarkable work. FDF is sheer brilliance. I was rather hoping to get a tour of your laboratory—if you don’t mind?”

“It would be my pleasure. What about tomorrow morning?” Mrs. Oliver asked.

“Well, I’m afraid I have to be getting back to town rather early. Frederick is throwing some dreadful garden party. I’m sure that he’ll regale us with his latest theory on organic gardening … terribly dull,
dear, but I can’t bunk out of it at this late stage,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Mrs. Oliver checked her watch. “Would you like to have a look now? We could duck off for a few minutes.”

“That would be lovely,” Aunty Gee agreed. She turned to the tall, bulky man standing beside her. “Dalton, why don’t you go and keep Mr. McLoughlin-McTavish entertained while I steal Dolly?”

The man gave a hint of a bow and turned back to find his charge.

Behind the potted palm, Lord Gisborne had been listening to the ladies and their chatter. He retrieved the phone from his top pocket and began tapping in a message.

The two ladies set off for the cellar, out the kitchen door and along the veranda. They teetered on their high heels down the narrow stairwell to the bottom, where Dolly punched in the alarm code. There was a whoosh of air and a loud clunk as several bolts released.

“Good to see you have security, my dear. I imagine quite a few rogues would like to get their hands on your invention,” Aunty Gee commented as she walked into the cavernous room.

Mrs. Oliver flicked the light switch and the place glowed.

“What a marvelous setup.” Aunty Gee walked around studying the beakers and flasks.

The two ladies chatted about the process Mrs. Oliver used and how many failed attempts she had made before things came right.

“I imagine there’s a secret ingredient or two.” Aunty Gee smiled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And are you working on anything new?”

“Well, actually, I am—but I haven’t shown anyone yet, not even Mr. Kennington-Jones. Would you like to be the first to see it?” Mrs. Oliver was as eager as a child in a lolly shop.

“I’d be honored,” Aunty Gee replied.

“Oh dear, I’ve left the key to the vault upstairs. Do you mind if I pop up and get it?”

“Of course, dear,” Aunty Gee agreed. “I’ll just have a wander. I promise not to touch anything.”

Mrs. Oliver scurried as fast as she could manage up the stairs and into the side sitting room, where she had a secret box containing a number of keys.

In the cellar, Aunty Gee waited patiently for her to return. She observed the complex chemistry equipment and wandered around the vast kitchen with its numerous appliances. She heard footsteps on the stairs and then the lights went out.

“Are you there, dear?” Aunty Gee called.

There was a shuffling sound, followed by “Gotcha!” Two torches clicked on and two men dressed in black stood over Aunty Gee’s limp body.

“Gawd, the tiara’s a bit over the top for the hired help,” the taller man scoffed. “Who’s she think she is—the Queen?”

“Let’s get her out of here. Where’s that passageway?” the shorter man asked as he studied a yellowed map.

“Did you lock the door?”

“Yeah, and I scrambled the pad. It’ll take ages to get back into this place—and by that time we’ll ’ave everything we need.”

“And this one”—he grinned a toothless smile at Aunty Gee—“will be long gone.”

Meanwhile, Dolly descended the stairs to the cellar. She was surprised to find the door shut. A sick feeling engulfed her when she punched in the alarm sequence and nothing happened. “Ma’am?” she called. But there was no answer. “Ma’am, are you in there?”

The door must be stuck, she thought. This was no time to panic—although this had never happened before. She would go and find Mr. Kennington-Jones. He would know exactly what to do.

A
lice-Miranda, Jacinta and Millie headed back to the dining room via the kitchen, where a tray of chocolate mousses diverted their attention. Alice-Miranda had just finished placing three of the delicious desserts on the kitchen table when the outside door flew open and Mrs. Oliver barreled inside, knocking a young waiter carrying a tray of drinks sideways. Several flutes and goblets teetered, then crashed one after the other onto the flagstone floor.

“Goodness. Are you all right, Mrs. Oliver?” Alice-Miranda leapt forward and offered the woman her arm. “Come and sit down.”

“Oh, look what I’ve done. I’m terribly sorry,” she said to the wine-splattered lad whose white shirt now looked like evidence that he’d been attacked by a savage beast. “You’ll find yourself another shirt in the pantry, dear boy. I am sorry.”

Another young girl from the catering team began to help him clear up the mess on the floor.

Mrs. Oliver caught her breath. “I’m fine. I just need to find your father.”

“Well, you don’t look fine,” Millie replied.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jacinta added. “Have you?” Her eyes widened.

“No, no, my dear, I have not seen a ghost. It’s just the door to the laboratory. I need to get your father, Alice-Miranda,” Mrs. Oliver insisted.