Wallis examined the schedule, nodding in appreciation.
“This is a list of the invitations that arrived while you were away. I’m ready to RSVP or decline as you see fit.” Amelia laid the typewritten events and dates in front of Wallis.
Wallis pursed her lips. “Your organization is top-notch. The number and quality of the invitations isn’t.”
She’d noticed that too. “I placed an announcement about your arrival in the newspapers. I’m sure more will arrive once people realize you’re here.”
“We’ll see.” Wallis opened her desk drawer and removed a few letters and handed them to Amelia. “Send these out with the morning post.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The top one was addressed to Joachim von Ribbentrop, the Nazi Minister of Foreign Affairs, not at his Berlin address but in care of the Paris Ritz. She wondered about this. Aunt Bessie had suggested Wallis not write to him and Amelia thought about reminding her then changed her mind. It was none of Amelia’s business who Wallis wrote to. She was here to help manage the more mundane aspects of Wallis’s life. She slid the hotel bill out of the folio. “Here’s the hotel bill to settle. I reviewed it and I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
“Good, then it shouldn’t take me long to double-check it.” Wallis took out a pencil and scrutinized each charge. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but Grandma Warfield always said no one can take care of a woman’s finances the way she can and she was right. If I hadn’t scrupulously managed mine and Ernest’s accounts after the stock market crash, we’d have been swindled poor by the grocer and foolishly spent the rent money. I can’t tell you how many of our acquaintances did that and found themselves up the Thames without a paddle.”
Amelia knew a little something about that. She’d left the household bills and accounts to Jackson, happily accepting her pin money and his assurances that he was taking care of things. She’d never be so foolish or naive about her financial security again, assuming she ever got back on her feet. Most of her salary went to pay down her legal bills, and if her calculations were right, she’d be in debt until she was fifty. She tried not to slouch under the weight of it. Perhaps someday, if she did a good enough job for Wallis, she might ask her for help with the outstanding bills.
Wallis went through the charges line by line until one made her stop. “Please remind Mr. Schafranek not to charge mineral water to our account. I won’t have him racking up needless expenses.”
“It’s only a few francs for when he had to wait with the car in the Paris heat while I took care of business at Cartier.”
“A few francs badly spent can add up to a great deal over time. David isn’t as rich as Croesus, not with that petty brother of his threatening to hold back his stipend and us forced to pay expenses. We must watch every franc or we’ll be bled dry.”
“I’ll remind him.” Right after she paid the manicurist, the hairstylist, and Suzanne Belperron and Jeanne Toussaint for selling Wallis enough jewels to make Queen Mary blanch. If Wallis begrudged the chauffeur mineral water, she wasn’t likely to help her with her financial troubles. Jackson might have gotten her into this mess but she’d have to get herself out of it.
Wallis set down her pencil and laced her fingers together on the desk. “I’m not being petty but prudent. When I was little, Mother used to beg stingy Uncle Sol, who was richer than his namesake, for money. I vowed never to be like her and there I was after my divorce from Win, poor as a church mouse, forced to rely on Uncle Sol and Aunt Bessie for everything. I wasn’t clever like you.”
“I’m not clever.” If she were, she wouldn’t have violated Mrs. Bedaux’s rule and looked churlish about reprimanding the chauffeur.
“Of course you are, and quite the adventuress.” Wallis picked up the pencil and touched the tip of it to her lips. “You wouldn’t have eloped if you weren’t.”
“That was a mistake.”
“So it didn’t work out the first time, that’s the risk we bold women take.” Wallis shrugged as if the past three years of Amelia’s life were an inappropriate ball gown she could simply change. “But you didn’t give up. You wiped off the dust and gained real skills and a position for yourself. It was more than I did when I was a young divorcée. I never had the head for school or any talent more useful than how to meet well-connected people. Allow me to teach you another lesson, one I had to learn the hard way.” She pointed the pencil at Amelia. “It doesn’t matter how secure you think you are, there’s always something or someone ready to snatch it away from you, and you have to guard yourself against it. If I have to scrutinize every bill to protect my security, then I will. Tell Mr. Schafranek not to charge anything to the hotel account again.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And from here on out, when someone gives you a compliment, don’t question or undermine it, simply say ‘thank you.’” Wallis handed back the itemized bill. “You’ll get further by acting as if the compliment is an accurate observation rather than a lapse in judgment.”
“Yes, ma’am.” This was as good a lesson for Amelia to learn as the one about money. It certainly wasn’t anything Mother had ever taught her. The woman was as stingy with her praise as Wallis was with her finances but at least Wallis was willing to share her experience and knowledge with Amelia. Mother had been too busy with her own concerns to bother.
Mr. Hale rapped on the door then entered. “Mrs. Bedaux to see you, ma’am. I’ve shown her into the sitting room. Shall I order tea?”
“A detestable drink. I don’t understand David’s or anyone’s fascination with it, but as I’m expected to serve it, I must.” Wallis set the pencil on the bill and rose. “Order tea, Mr. Hale. Amelia, follow me, I want to ask Fern about the invitations and for you to note her responses.”
Amelia followed Wallis into the sitting room, where Mrs. Bedaux stood studying the Duke’s abdication desk and the red Moroccan-leather dispatch box enjoying pride of place on top of it. The box had held his official papers when he’d been King and it and the desk were odd souvenirs he’d insisted on bringing to their temporary home.
“Welcome back, Your Royal Highness.” Mrs. Bedaux curtseyed to Wallis before Wallis motioned for her to sit across from her at the claw-footed tea table. Mrs. Bedaux opened a box of Marquise de Sévigné’s chocolates and offered them to Wallis. “Did you have a splendid trip?”
“I did.” Wallis set her bonbon on the table. “Austria was so relaxing, especially with Amelia taking care of things here so I never had to worry. She’s impressed me with the work she’s done in my absence.”
“I think she’s living up to her full potential and will continue to amaze us.” Mrs. Bedaux threw Amelia a conspiratorial smile as she offered Amelia a chocolate.
Mr. Hale entered with the silver tea service and set it in front of Wallis
“What amazes me is the few invitations I’ve received. It’s as if I’m still gone.” Wallis lifted the silver teapot and awkwardly poured Mrs. Bedaux a cup. Wallis was a natural with a cocktail shaker but looked awkward handling the heavy teapot and delicate china. Amelia made a note to arrange for discreet tea service lessons for Wallis from the Hotel Meurice staff.
“According to protocol, you must call on the important women first before they call on you.” Mrs. Bedaux graciously accepted her cup from Wallis, polite enough not to mention Wallis had forgotten to offer sugar or milk.
Wallis set the teapot down with a clunk. “A duchess is expected to grovel before mere consular wives?”
“Yes, if you want the best invitations. It’s the custom in diplomatic circles for the newcomer, no matter what their rank, to make the first call and announce their arrival. As you insist on your courtesies, they insist on theirs. Your card left with the butler will suffice and should secure a new round of invitations.”
Wallis picked off a corner of her chocolate and slipped it in her mouth, the piece so small it was a wonder she could taste it. She chewed while silently debating between protocol and her vanity until reality finally won out. “Amelia, take the car and deliver my cards to the necessary ladies this afternoon. I don’t want Cookie or anyone else thinking we’re being snubbed when it’s simply a mistake in custom. We’ve received an invitation to dine with King Carol. He’s invited Amelia to come too.”
“The perks of being Her Royal Highness’s cousin, you get to dine with a charismatic head of state, but be careful, King Carol is quite the playboy,” Mrs. Bedaux teased Amelia.
“Do you have anything appropriate to wear?” Wallis asked Amelia.
“I’m having a few dresses run up by a seamstress.” She’d visited Miss Harper’s seamstress and the woman had done wonders for her with the bolts of fabric Amelia had purchased from Bucol.
Mrs. Bedaux set aside her barely touched tea. “That’s fine for every day, but not for something like this, wouldn’t you agree, Wallis? How a lady presents herself is vital to her success. A well-turned-out one will go much further than a frumpy one. Remember that, Mrs. Montague, and live by it.”
“I will.”
“Wallis, you must see to it that Mrs. Montague has a proper wardrobe,” Mrs. Bedaux instructed. “Your staff is an extension of you and how you run your household. Think of Mrs. Montague as a complement to you, such as a matched handbag or well-kitted-out footman. No offense, Mrs. Montague, but you understand my meaning?”
“I do.” If Mrs. Bedaux could conjure the miracle of making Wallis part with a few francs for someone other than herself, Amelia would play along.
Wallis crossed her arms over her flat chest and touched her fingers to her jaw, studying Amelia as she considered Mrs. Bedaux’s advice. Wallis might be a frugal duchess but she was also a social climber who’d clawed her way from obscurity to almost the pinnacle of high society. Wallis couldn’t stop the vitriol flung at her for how she’d gained her position but she could mute it by always being impeccable, proper and perfect. Mrs. Bedaux had cleverly made Amelia an extension of Wallis’s all-consuming need to impress her critics.
