I'm not an early riser but this morning, I woke up at 8 and immediately rang for Andrea. I didn't ask her to but before she even arrived I could smell a fresh loaf of bread down the hallway. As she opened the door, she struggled to balance the silver tray with eggs, slices of bread, butter and a glass of orange juice. I helped her bring it to the table of my small salon.
I ate for a while and I saw Andrea in the walk-in closet, hanging my few shirts and pants and my numerous dresses, going from a simple blue day dress to extravagant golden ball gowns. I asked her to tell me about her.
She stopped hanging my clothes and faced me without truly looking at me, "I don't have much to say. My life has always revolved around being a maid. My own parents were cooks for your family when Mrs Isabella was a girl. I never worked as someone's maid, Master Darlington doesn't have children."
I swallowed my bite of buttered bread, "Do you want to do something else than serve someone for your whole life?"
"Absolutely not, my lady. I wouldn't have met you if I had left. Less about me if you please. Are you planning any activities today? What would you wish to wear?"
I cleaned my hands on the handkerchief and walked to join her in the wardrobe. "I'm planning to have dinner with the queen," I pulled out a light green dress, "How about this... Actually no, you tell me what should suit a royal dinner."
"Oh!" Her eyes widened in surprise. "If you insist, I would suggest this dress." Her cheeks took a reddish color as she sorted out an ocean blue dress with a skirt reaching my knees. The top was a Bertha neckline with tight elbow-length sleeves. The dress looked elegant and made me look older than my 18 years of age.
"Who knew of your great fashion eye," I said with admiration. Now that I knew she had the same fashion sense as me, I might show her my sketches and ask her which ones I should get commissioned.
She giggled and I could feel her releasing some of the initial tension she had when we first met. She turned around and took one of my black corsets. "Shall we get you dressed? We wouldn't want her majesty to wait for you," she told me as I hurried out and grabbed a piece of fine undergarment.
I put the fine linen undergarment on as she untied the front of the corset. She clasped it at the front and I turned around to take the bedpost as support. Andrea was busy tightening the corset when we heard a knock on the door.
Alex's voice rose from the corridor, "Nini, Chris is here."
I jerked my head to look at Andrea and whispered to her, "It's only 9:40 am. He wasn't supposed to be here for another 20 minutes, hurry up!" She quickly turned back to her job and pulled faster and harder on the strings. Not expecting it, I gasped to him, "Make him wait a little longer, I'm not ready."
"Women," I heard Alex sigh in a barely audible voice and then footsteps moving away towards the staircase.
Andrea is quick at helping me dress up. She ties my hair in a half updo. I practically ran down the stairs. At the sight of my brother and the prince, I slowed down to appear more elegant. A proper lady is never late, the others are simply early.
My clicking heels drew attention to me and I could see in his eyes that Alexander was thinking about how cute Chris is. With his dark olive skin speckled with freckles and his curly black hair, I could see it. But Chris did not come to the Darlington Mansion to flirt with my brother. He came to pick me up to meet his detective.
"Should we go, young demoiselle?" He said half mocking me, half serious.
"Yes, even if his Highness arrived 20 minutes early and had to pressure the young demoiselle." He put a hand to his heart looking like I'd offended him. I smiled at him and he offered me his arm. I took it and waved to my brother. I winked at him just to tease him. I was the one with the privilege to walk alongside his Highness.
He led me to a carriage harboring the royal colors, red and gold, pulled by two dun horses. He let me get in first and then climbed next to me. The footman closed the door before the driver urged the horses forward. As we traveled through the streets, Chris showed me important spots we could see from here and talked about a private elite club in the Shard in Southwark.
Instead of entering by the main entrance, we got in the palace grounds by another back door to see the royal gardens. Halfway through the gardens, Chris told me I would go with the Queen's advisor named Mycroft.
"I won't go in, to not influence the consulting detective's decision on whether he will take my case," he explained, which made sense.
We went through fountains and beautiful flower gardens before arriving at the entrance. We got out of the carriage and patted the horses. I gave them a sugar or two but Chris had to stop me before I gave them too many. He brought me to the entrance of a lounge.
One of the dark and large mahogany doors was slightly open, enough to peek my head through and see white and gold walls with some tapestries of past monarchs. The floor was covered with a red velvet carpet with matching couches and white and gold couches in the middle of the room surrounding an old wooden table. There was a pile of clothes and a pair of shoes on the table.
On the opposite side, another set of double doors were open. I retreated back into the corridor when I heard footsteps and voices from the corridor of the opposite doors. Back into my corridor, Christopher was gone. He left me to wait for Mycroft and so that's what I did.
I knew that the voices were now in the room. I looked behind the door and a man was sitting on the sofa on my right. I now knew why there was a pile of clothing and a pair of shoes sitting on the table. The guy was dressed in a sheet. Not very modest.
A man, clearly lost, found him. He turned to see the seated man and I hid back behind the door. I couldn't see them anymore but I knew the men were seated in silence. Then the voice I hadn't heard earlier in the opposite hallway rose. "Are you wearing any pants?"
"No," the tall guy answered.
An awkward moment of silence hanged between them. And they burst out laughing.
I was startled by another man's voice behind me, "You must be Miss Naomi if I'm not mistaken?"
I jolted away from the door and smoothed my skirts. "Yes, Mister Mycroft, isn't it?"
"Yes, and I see you have already seen the consulting detective and his associate, Dr John Watson." I nodded. "As you might have noticed my brother and his friend don't have manners. Anyway, follow me." He fully opened the door and entered.
"Here to see the Queen?" the doctor asked.
I couldn't hear what the detective answered when Mycroft entered but they laughed again in the royal advisor's face. Clearly exhausted by his brother, he said, "For once, could you two behave like grown-ups?"
The short guy calmed down, "He solves crime, I blog about it and he forgets his pants so I wouldn't hold too much hope."
"Who's this girl?" the detective asked.
"I'm Naomi Darlington, Mr Holmes." I answered. He looked at me with a suspicious look, his eyes scanning over my whole body. I felt strangely vulnerable under his intrusive gaze.
"I can see you have a younger sister, your dress is modest for an 18 year-old girl because you want to set a good example for your sister. You walked in the room with your head held high without any arrogance but still stayed in the shadow of my brother which indicates you are used to following someone in your daily life. I'm thinking of a brother who is protective of both you and your sister. He probably is older than you." Did someone tell him about my family? Uncomfortably, I shifted my stance and stared at him, not knowing what I should do. But he continued.
"You need an anchor in this world, possibly a friend or a lover. It is for that reason you like being the center of attention because you yearn for it. You also keep a lot of things to yourself, don't open up to anyone. I can see all this thanks to your tightly clasped hands close to your stomach." I released them immediately, putting my arms to my sides instead. How could he know all these things I didn't even notice about myself just by how I held my hands?
Mycroft stepped into the situation right as he opened his mouth to continue his monologue, "Sherlock, stop. You know it frightens people," but his blue-green eyes were steady and traveled up and down my body once again.
"None of your clothes seem damaged but still look like they were worn multiple times which means money but because of your status, also means difficulty to ask something to whoever provides for you. Probably your parents, so a bad relationship with them."
This time, his friend interrupts him, "Sherlock! Stop frightening the poor girl."
I gapped at this detective. He guessed a lot of things that were right. And things that I didn't know about myself but once spoken aloud to me, my subconscious knew that all that he said is true.
"Bloody hell, Sherlock, you have to stop doing that to all the people you meet," Watson protested.
As if nothing had happened, Sherlock turned to his brother, "Why am I here?"
Mycroft took the pile of clothes. "We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on," he said dryly.
"What for?" he answered.
"For your client."
Anger rising in his throat, "Who is my client?"
"Someone of utmost importance, who will keep their identity private."
Sherlock stood from the couch. " Mycroft, I am used to a mystery at one end of my cases, both ends are too much work. Good morning." And walked off as fast as the sheet would allow him, which was not that fast. Mycroft stepped on the train of the sheet. It dropped from the consultant detective's shoulders but he caught it right at his hips. I held back a yelp at the sudden improper flash of skin. His back was toward me but I still turned away for his modesty but mostly for my own.
Impatient, the advisor declared, "This is a matter of national importance, grow up."
"Tell me who is my client." I could hear how uncomfortable he must have been, half naked in the royal palace.
I whirled around, "Look around and I'm sure you can guess with your amazing detective talents," I spoke out loud with a haughty, annoyed tone.
Frustrated by my bluntness, he pulled his sheet from under Mycroft's foot and walked off. John looked around, confused as to what just happened and what he should do. He decided to walk out behind the detective.
* * *
Mycroft brought me to the training grounds where Chris was supposed to be. I felt out of place in my dress but I still entered and only saw a duo fencing. One of them knocked the other's sword from their hand, ending their duel. They took off their helmets and looked at the newcomer. I recognized the defeated fighter, Liam.
Liam saw me first, "Are you here to train? That corset won't be practical for a fight, though." He sent a playful wink as he reached for his discarded sword.
"Really? I didn't come to her to workout with you but thanks for the offer. Besides, I would knock you down in seconds with that pathetic display of skills."
Chris suppressed his laugh. Liam was obviously not used to getting rejected by women.
"You're kind of wild, I like that. For that duel, you're totally on. You owe me a duel in exchange for that rejection."
"Don' worry, I'm gonna destroy you."
"You won't know what hit you when I knock you down."
Chris left to the changing rooms while we were bickering. I turned around to wait for him at the door. I observed the training grounds for several minutes before Christopher came out of the changing rooms. His curly hair was still wet from the shower. "Let's go eat with my mother."
We passed through many hallways, in front of drawing rooms and offices. We finally arrived at the Queen's quarters. A maid rushed toward us and led us to the private salon.
At our arrival, the queen stood up to hug us. Taken by surprise, I squirmed under her grip but her hug felt like the motherly embrace my mom never gave me. Instead, I sank deeper in her hug. When we backed off, she smiled with her natural joyfulness. The lines on the sides of her eyes made her seem older.
She hugged her son and invited us to take a seat. We sat side by side on the couch in front of her chair. "You two look lovely," she exclaimed.
"And you, your Majesty, look even more elegant in person than in pictures," I complimented her.
She nodded to the maid from earlier to pour us some tea. "I hope you are a tea lover because it is our drink of choice."
"I must admit I've never been a tea drinker before coming to your beautiful country. I've grown quite fond of it thanks to my uncle," we laughed to our small pleasantries before some butlers brought plates of the first dish. Through the first few dishes, we exchanged news about both our countries and the american court.
Queen Katherine took news from her nephew, King Christian of America. At a certain point, our conversation shifted to the new detective her Majesty wanted to employ. I hesitated for a second if I should tell them what I really thought of him or what they wanted to hear. I opted for the first option. "I must admit, your Majesty, that Sherlock Holmes seems to be a strange character. He did make a remarkable first impression since he walked in the palace in a bedsheet."
Chris interrupted me at this revelation, "A bedsheet you say? It's not really professional."
Ignoring him, I turned back to the queen, "His investigation skills are beyond impressive and largely make up for his lack of professionalism. I only revealed my name and by a single look at my posture, could reveal a thousand facts about my personality and my life." Her eyebrows lifted by the unexpected revelation.
"He was accompanied by a doctor, Mr John Watson, their relationship looking quite unprofessional." In the corner of my eye, Chris was clearly holding back a laugh. I glared at him and he returned to his princely seriousness. "Before leaving, he threw a little tantrum at the ignorance of his client's identity."
Chris chuckled, "A fine specimen, it seems."
The queen, unlike her son, kept her calm and composed look, "It is his investigation skills we need, not his personality. Thank you for sharing all of this with me."
"My pleasure, your Majesty."
"I talked with your father earlier today. He told me to send you to his office in the MI6 headquarters."
Confused by that sudden summon, I thanked her and let the maid who welcomed us escort me back to the palace entrance. A butler entered my destination in the POD's keyboard and I hovered off to the MI6 headquarters, dreading whatever my father would tell me.