‘You can’t be serious!’
Maria’s voice roused me from my slumber. It was only then I realized—we had stopped. Quickly, I glanced outside and saw that the sun was already setting. No wonder. Karim might have driven like the devil, but still, Bath was over a hundred miles away from London. Outside the coach stretched a beautiful park with slim, decorative trees, beds of fiery red roses, and gentlefolk in their finery walking, laughing and playing games. Beyond the park, the picturesque town stretched all the way to the horizon, bathed in the light of the fiery sunset.
I knew this view. I’d seen it once, in a book. But no. He couldn’t possibly own this place, could he? Not even he was that wealthy!
‘You have to be joking!’ That was Maria again. ‘You expect us to camp in the park? What kind of hair-brained scheme have you cooked up this time, Lilly?’
‘The other window, Maria,’ I said, not quite capable of believing it myself. ‘Look out of the other window.’
She did.
‘Oh my holy…!’
Nothing more. Nothing but awed silence.
‘What is it?’ Frowning, Edmund leaned across the coach to the other window and raised the blinds. He sucked in a breath.
‘You’re not serious!’
I smiled. So I had been right. ‘As an acquaintance of mine would say, I’m not in the habit of making jokes.’
Outside the window rose the biggest building any one of us had ever seen. Bigger than Empire House. Bigger than Buckingham Palace even. Over five-hundred feet long, it curved along the edge of a beautiful park in an effortless crescent, providing a perfect view of a small forest and the town beyond. Between tall columns, dozens of shiny white doors were set into the elegant Georgian façade at regular intervals. We were standing right before the central entrance, right in front of a door over which a sign proclaimed The Country Queen Hotel.
‘The Royal Crescent,’ Edmund whispered. ‘The bloody Royal Crescent!’
‘Dear me.’ One corner of my mouth twitched in amusement. ‘Swearing? I didn’t know you had it in you. Congratulations.’
He didn’t seem to be in a joking mood. Turning towards me, he looked at me seriously. ‘What is the meaning of this, Miss Linton? You can’t possibly afford this place! Heck, I doubt even your uncle could afford to stay here for more than a night or two, and he’d beggar himself in the process!’ He glanced at the pale, sleeping Ella in the corner, then looked back at me, accusation in his eyes. ‘Why did you drag us all the way to this place? We can’t stay here.’
The doorman standing in front of the fancy white door seemed to be of the same opinion. Stepping forward, he gave me a onceover, his eyes sliding haughtily over my worn dress and hastily thrown-over coat.
‘Do you have a reservation, Miss?’
He was answered by a heavy thud from behind him. When he turned, he found himself facing a barrel of a chest covered in beard as thick as a carpet.
‘She does not need a reservation,’ Karim said. ‘Have the staff take the luggage up to the Royal Suite.’
Recognition sparked in the doorman’s eyes. Not just recognition of Karim, but most importantly, recognition of whom he worked for. Hurriedly, he took a step back, bumping into the coach.
‘Y-yes. Of course. I’ll be right back, Miss, um, I mean My Lady. Please be so kind as to wait here. It won’t take a moment.’
And he dashed off into the hotel lobby.
Everyone stared. Everyone. Gertrude. Lisbeth. Edmund. Even Anne and Maria were hanging out of their coach’s windows to gawk, and several passers-by had stopped to gape at the exchange. At first, they stared at Karim. But then, after a moment or two, all the eyes turned inextricably towards someone else.
Me.
I waved.
‘Don’t worry.’ I told Edmund, patting him on the shoulder. ‘I have a feeling they’re going to be very hospitable to us.’
Karim opened the door for me, and I climbed out of the coach.
‘Hospitable’ turned out to be something of an understatement. As soon as the hotel manager spotted Karim, he knew which way the wind was blowing. I had the distinc
t pleasure to have, in front of all of my sisters, the keys to the royal suite handed to me on a literal silver platter. Maria was so green with envy she could have stepped out on the lawn and turned invisible. You could tell she was dying to ask why the heck the whole world suddenly treated me, her misfit misbegotten minx of a sister, as if I were the Queen of England, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Not in front of other people.
I might have enjoyed the colour of her face considerably more if Ella’s face hadn’t been a similar unhealthy shade, and most definitely not from jealousy.