Free Secrets at Sea by Richard Peck Page A

come to the point. “We shall explain the circumstances of our household,” she said over a thimble. “In addition to ourselves, Her Royal Highness Princess Louise is attended by a human lady-in-waiting, Lady Augusta Drear. They naturally do not take tea in the Winter Garden. We rarely partake in public. At present the Princess is being kneaded in the Turkish bath.”
    We stared.
    â€œShe is having a massage,” the Duchess explained, “and Lady Augusta is holding the towel.”
    My stars, we thought. This is certainly life at the top.
    â€œWe live quite differently at home, when we are In Residence,” the Duchess continued. “We would hardly have our tea off a fender and pennies there! We have our own fine doll china in our quarters within the palace walls.”
    We stirred.
    â€œBuckingham Palace.”
    The Duchess looked wistful at the thought of home. “Are there any questions?” Her missing eyebrows rose high. Her eyes sought me out. I felt special. As this was something like school, I put up my hand.
    â€œYes, my dear.”
    â€œOnly one question, Duchess. Does the Princess Louise, daughter of the Queen, know you are her Mouse-in-Waiting? Does she acknowledge your presence?”
    The Duchess looked pensively into the fire. “She does and she doesn’t. To royalty, all the rest of the world are rodents in a manner of speaking. As for her lady-in-waiting, Lady Augusta Drear, she is mortally afraid of mice. And so I must exercise all my tact as I go about my duties.”
    We tried to take in all this information, and the cheese.
    â€œThat brings us to the purpose of this tea,” the Duchess said. “We dare not tarry, as the servants will soon be back and the Princess and Lady Augusta will be returning from the Turkish bath. Time is short. But then, time is always running out for mice, don’t you find?”
    We did.
    â€œCertainly Lady Augusta must not discover us in plain sight having tea off the fender. One mouse sends her into hysterics. Four mice, three of them in skirts, would send her overboard into the open sea. She is high-strung.”
    The Duchess set her thimble aside. A small mouse maid whisked it away. The other two were already clearing the fender of pennies. Good little workers, all three of them, though I don’t suppose they dusted.
    The Duchess cleared her throat. “It has been brought to our attention that your human Cranstons have not had a good day at sea. We understand that the older daughter is a poor sailor. And the mother was heard to cry out that the ship was sinking during lifeboat drill. This shows a great lack of tact. In fact, none.”
    How true.
    â€œThe family is not using their time at sea to meet the right people. Apart from the ship’s doctor, they don’t seem to be meeting anybody at all.”
    They wouldn’t. The Upstairs Cranstons never were very good mixers.
    â€œThis is an opportunity tragically lost,” the Duchess declared. “How important these ocean voyages are when people are thrown together. Dynasties have been decided. And so we must take steps. It is all for the sake of family.”
    And that, of course, is a thing I’ve always believed.
    The Duchess was already hobbling across the carpet to a fine writing desk, probably Chippendale. Firelight glowed in its polish and winked on its brass drawer pulls. We followed. At the desk’s elegant feet, the Duchess looked up. You could hardly see to the top.
    â€œMy leaping days are over,” she said with feeling. “And my climbing days are coming to a close.” She took my arm and drew me near. “You will have to help me up those drawer pulls to the top, my dear.”
    Ours is not to reason why. It took all of us to get her there. I went first, pulling her from drawer pull to drawer pull as the Persian carpet fell away below us. Beatrice and Louise boosted her from behind with her tail all over their