‘Gosh, look at that staircase!’ Millie gawped as they followed Mr Langley into the rear entrance foyer. ‘I wonder if Aunty Gee would let us have races.’

Vincent Langley recoiled at the idea.

‘Perhaps we should save those for the Highton Hall rollercoaster,’ Cecelia suggested, noticing the man’s reaction. ‘Not everyone appreciates their banisters being polished by speeding bottoms.’

‘No, ma’am, they most certainly do not,’ Mr Langley said, shaking his head. ‘Mrs Wellesley, for one, would not be amused.’

‘Who’s that?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

‘The head housekeeper.’

Just as Mr Langley spoke, a dark-haired boy whizzed backwards down the rail. He leapt off before the last step and landed with a thud on the flagstones below. Seconds later an identical lad did exactly the same thing. Without a word, they both charged out the back door.

‘Who are they?’ Millie asked, her eyes bulging.

‘You’ve just met Edgar and Louis, Her Majesty’s youngest grandchildren,’ Langley replied flatly.

Hugh grinned. ‘Good to see they haven’t changed.’

Vincent Langley’s lips twitched. ‘I can assure you, Mr Kennington-Jones, they haven’t changed a bit.’

‘Maybe we can challenge them to a race,’ Millie whispered to Alice-Miranda.

‘That would not be wise,’ Mr Langley said.

Millie looked at him in disbelief. The old man had bionic hearing, just like Miss Grimm. ‘How come?’ she asked.

‘Apart from suffering the wrath of Mrs Wellesley, those boys are quite possibly the two most competitive lads you’ll ever meet. They’d take out their own grandmother to win.’

‘Sounds like someone else we know.’ Millie looked at Alice-Miranda and mouthed Caprice’s name.

‘How unfortunate,’ Mr Langley said, proceeding up the staircase.

The group followed the man up two flights of stairs and down a long corridor to the left.

‘Please remember that you are in the West Wing. The children are all in rooms on the right-hand side of the hall and the adults are on the left. Ms Highton-Smith, your mother is in her usual suite on the first floor. Her Majesty said she didn’t think you’d mind.’

‘Much better having Valentina down there,’ Hugh said with a wink. ‘Otherwise she’d be up here giving orders and making sure we’re not a second late for anything.’

‘That’s my mother you’re talking about, darling,’ Cecelia admonished.

‘Granny’s not bossy, Daddy,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘I can’t wait to see her.’

‘No, she’s not bad for a mother-in-law,’ Hugh admitted.

‘Who’s not bad for a mother-in-law?’ a voice boomed from behind the group.

‘Granny!’ Alice-Miranda turned around and raced to the woman, leaping into her arms.

‘Oops!’ Hugh looked at Millie and pulled a face.

Valentina Highton-Smith gave her granddaughter a kiss and then greeted the rest of the group. She arched an eyebrow at Hugh. ‘So, what have I done to upset my formerly favourite son-in-law?’

Hugh held out his arms. ‘Formerly favourite? I thought I’d always be your number one, Valentina. Although, I suppose I didn’t count on having a movie star as my competition.’

‘Good grief,’ Vincent Langley muttered under his breath.

‘Oh, stop it, Hugh,’ Valentina said, flicking her hand. ‘You know I can’t resist those puppy-dog eyes of yours. Lawrence might be one of the most handsome men on the planet, but you’re a pretty close second. Besides, I’ve known you a lot longer and he’s still in the probationary phase.’ Valentina embraced the man. ‘Speaking of Lawrence, I wonder how far away they are. I’m bursting to see those babies again.’

‘Excuse me, Ms Highton-Smith, I’d rather like to show you to your rooms if I may.’ Vincent Langley tapped his foot impatiently. The man was mentally ticking off some of the hundred and one things left to do before the garden party and he was eager to get back downstairs to see if Braxton Balfour had managed to get through his long list of duties.

‘Yes, of course. Sorry to hold you up, Mr Langley,’ Cecelia said.

‘I’ll leave you to settle in then,’ Valentina Highton-Smith said. ‘I think I’ll hunt down a cup of tea before I change for the party. See you all later.’

‘Bye, Granny.’ Alice-Miranda gave a wave and the others said goodbye too.

Vincent Langley unlocked a door and pushed it open. ‘Mr Kennington-Jones, Ms Highton-Smith, this is the Tulip Suite.’ He motioned for them to enter. ‘Children, would you like to follow me?’ Mr Langley asked, turning on his heel. ‘Your room is directly opposite, across the hall.’

‘I’ll go with the girls,’ Cecelia said. ‘Darling, why don’t you have a lie down for half an hour before the garden party?’

‘You read my mind, Cee,’ Hugh said gratefully.

‘What’s our room called?’ Millie asked.

‘It’s the Daffodil Suite,’ Mr Langley replied. He’d barely opened the door when Millie rushed past him and into the room.

‘Whoa!’ she exclaimed. ‘Look at that ceiling. How did they make all those flowers in the plaster?’

Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘Very carefully, I’d say.’

The wallpaper was the softest of yellows and imprinted with a delicate white fleur-de-lis pattern, and there was a huge spray of daffodils in a vase on the wide mahogany dressing table. The room had twin double beds with white duvets, and each bedside table held a lamp with a pale yellow shade in the shape of a daffodil. A pair of floral yellow armchairs with high wingbacks sat either side of the double-hung windows with their billowing striped lemon-coloured curtains.

Alice-Miranda walked over to the window. ‘Millie, we can see the hunting tower from here,’ she called.

Millie raced over to join her, and the two girls were soon pointing at this and that and making plans about all of the things they wanted to see.

‘Shall I leave you to settle in?’ Cecelia asked.

Alice-Miranda turned and nodded. ‘Mummy, it’s all so beautiful. I can’t wait until the party.’

‘Why don’t I come and help you get ready in a little while?’ Cecelia suggested.

‘The garden party starts at one o’clock,’ Mr Langley reminded them. ‘Everyone is meeting downstairs in the rear entrance hall at ten to one, and Her Majesty does not appreciate tardiness.’

‘Thank you, Mr Langley,’ Cecelia said. She turned back and grimaced at the girls, before following him out the door.

‘Goodbye, Mr Langley, we’ll see you soon,’ Alice-Miranda called out, and Millie gave a wave, but the man did not respond.

‘Someone got out on the wrong side of the bed,’ Millie remarked as she ran her fingers along the top of a cherry-wood writing desk. ‘He reminds me of Mr Winterstone from the Octavia but with better hair. Well, not really better, just more hair – except that he obviously dyes it. I think grey would look much better than that purple-black colour.’

Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘Please don’t tell him that. Remember what happened when Jacinta asked Mr Winterstone about his hair? The poor man looked as if he’d never recover,’ she said. ‘And Mr Winterstone turned out to be lovely in the end.’

‘Well, I think Mr Langley takes his job way too seriously. He could smile once in a while. I mean, if I lived here, my face would be aching from smiling so much. That other butler – the under one – seemed a lot more friendly. Anyway, bags this bed.’ Millie executed a high scissor kick, landing on the mattress with a bounce. She laid back on the pillow with her hands behind her head, gazing at the intricate ceiling detail. ‘I still can’t believe we’re really here,’ she sighed.

‘It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?’ Alice-Miranda sat on the edge of her own bed and looked around the suite.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Alice-Miranda leapt up to open it.

‘That’s strange,’ she said, finding no one there. She poked her head into the empty corridor. Just as she closed the door there was another sharp rap. She opened it again.

Millie hopped off her bed and walked over. ‘Who is it?’

‘No one.’ Alice-Miranda closed the door and frowned.

Millie’s eyes widened. ‘Maybe it’s a … ghost.’

‘Millie, you know there are no such –’ Alice-Miranda was interrupted by another knock on the door.

‘Hey, it sounds like it’s coming from in there.’ Millie pointed and ran to the dressing-room. Alice-Miranda followed her.

The room had built-in drawers on either side and a circular gold velvet love seat which occupied the centre of the floor. In the middle of the far wall sat a large wardrobe. Millie wrenched open the door and discovered a small bolted door behind the hanging rail. It didn’t even come halfway up the back of the cupboard and looked as if it had been built for a child.

Alice-Miranda peered over Millie’s shoulder.

‘What do you think? Narnia?’ Millie turned and looked at Alice-Miranda before she slid back the lock.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Jacinta tumbled through, almost sending Millie flying.

Alice-Miranda giggled. ‘Well, at least it’s not a ghost or the White Witch.’

Sloane poked her head through the opening and crawled into the wardrobe, falling out most ungracefully onto the lemon-coloured carpet. ‘Oh, that’s disappointing,’ she sighed. ‘It’s just you two.’

‘Believe me, we were hoping for something more interesting too,’ Millie retorted.

Alice-Miranda bent down to help the girl up. ‘How long have you been here?’ she asked them.

‘About an hour,’ Jacinta replied. ‘Mummy was so excited, we left as soon as we finished breakfast.’

‘Come and have a look at our room,’ Alice-Miranda said, beckoning the girls to follow.

The girls walked out of the dressing-room and into the bedroom.

‘It’s exactly the same as ours, just the other way around, and ours has roses all over it instead of daffodils,’ Jacinta said.

‘And there’s lots of pink instead of yellow,’ Sloane added. ‘It beats Grimthorpe House any day!’

‘Just a bit,’ Millie said. ‘Have you been to the garden yet?’

Jacinta and Sloane shook their heads.

‘We’ve had a bit of a look around this floor but we didn’t want to go downstairs,’ Jacinta explained. ‘That scary butler, Mr Langley, told us that we’d have to pay for any damages and pointed out some priceless vase he said had been in the family for centuries. We didn’t want to risk it.’

They were interrupted by another knock, but this time Alice-Miranda knew exactly where it was coming from. She ran to the bedroom door and opened it. ‘Aunt Charlotte!’ she cried. ‘Uncle Lawrence!’

Charlotte Highton-Smith scooped her niece into her arms and peppered the girl’s face with kisses. Lawrence Ridley bent down and hugged Alice-Miranda once she was back on the ground.

‘Hello Millie, Jacinta, Sloane, it’s lovely to see you all.’ Charlotte smiled at the girls.

‘Yes, good to see you all,’ Lawrence said and gave a wave.

Alice-Miranda peered behind them. ‘Where are the babies?’

‘They’re in our room, being watched over by two dutiful young men,’ Lawrence nodded.

‘Have you got footmen babysitting for you?’ Sloane asked.

Lawrence grinned. ‘Not quite. Your brother and Lucas volunteered their services.’

‘Whoa, you’re brave,’ Sloane said. ‘I don’t think Sep’s ever looked after a baby in his life.’

‘He was doing very well for a beginner,’ Lawrence said. ‘And as for Lucas, he’s more gaga over them than I am, which I didn’t think possible.’

Jacinta almost swooned at the thought of Lucas holding a baby. ‘Lucas will be such a wonderful father one day.’

The girls giggled.

‘When he’s much older, of course,’ Jacinta added quickly.

‘Would you like to meet them?’ Charlotte asked.

Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Yes, please. Can we all come?’

‘Absolutely,’ Charlotte said. ‘But you’ll have to be quiet. They’re still sleepy.’

‘Just the way I like them,’ Lawrence Ridley said with a wink.