Malice at the Palace Read online

  “Would you go to all that trouble for a distant acquaintance?” I asked.

  “Probably not.” Darcy smiled. “But Sir Toby hasn’t been in government this long without learning a thing or two. I don’t see any way we could prove he was the father. In fact he hinted to Sir Jeremy that everyone knew that Prince George was the child’s father, but naturally, as good Englishmen, they would never express that thought in company.”

  “But we know she has been seen around with Sir Toby. If she wasn’t his mistress, then why?”

  “Another idea that I don’t think we’ll be able to prove,” he said. “It’s possible he brings in the drugs when he comes back from trade missions. It’s unlikely the bags of a minister on government business would ever be searched. He might have been supplying people like Bobo.”

  “But you’d never get anyone to talk.”

  “We’ll act as if we suspect nothing. Then next time he goes to New York, we’ll go through every bag with a fine-toothed comb.”

  I nodded. Then took a deep breath. “But we’re no nearer to being able to find out who killed her. If he was supplying her with drugs, wouldn’t he want her alive? On the other hand, if she was blackmailing him and had recently threatened to take incriminating evidence to the newspapers . . .”

  I paused. “She may have become too much of a liability,” Darcy finished for me.

  “Surely there is more that the police could do,” I said angrily. “I’d be questioning every hobo in Kensington Gardens, any constable who patrols the gardens. Someone must have seen a motorcar driving up to the palace.”

  “So what? If you’d seen a big motor drive past, wouldn’t you automatically think it was one of the palace occupants returning home? You wouldn’t look twice, would you? And it was unpleasant weather. No late evening strollers. Everyone tucked up at home.”

  “I hate to think that someone is going to get away with this,” I said.

  “The problem is the need for secrecy,” he said. “In the case of a normal murder we’d be asking the public to come forward with anything they’d seen. We’d be asking for tips from those involved in the world of drugs. But we can do none of this. Ah well.” He ran his hand through those dark curls. “My money is still on Sir Toby. Maybe he’ll slip up someday. Maybe someone will squeal. In the meantime go back and enjoy your sherry. I can let myself out.”

  “Why don’t you come have dinner with us,” I said, reaching out to take his hand. “Surely you can’t be too busy on a Saturday evening?”

  He looked around. “I have a few things that have to be done. But I’m not dressed.”

  “It’s only Irmtraut and me,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

  He smiled then. “All right. Why not. I’ve no better offer.”

  “I can tell how very keen you are to be with me,” I said.

  He laughed and put an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, then. Introduce me to the formidable countess.”

  I led him through to the sitting room. Irmtraut started, looking as if I’d brought a farm laborer in muddy boots into the place.

  “Countess, this is my young man, the Honorable Darcy O’Mara, son of Lord Kilhenny,” I said.

  “How do you do.” She held out a hand, giving him a “we are not amused” stare that would have rivaled one from my great-grandmother.

  He took the hand and to my amazement brought it to his lips to kiss it. “Enchanté, Countess,” he said.

  After that he had her eating out of his hand and I could witness the charm that had attracted me to him in the first place. Because the princess wasn’t present, the dinner was solid family food—not as bad as toad in the hole but steak and kidney pie and cabbage followed by spotted dick. Irmtraut poked at it with her fork.

  “And what is this?” she demanded.

  “Spotted dick,” I said.

  She peered at it. “Who or what is a dick and why is he spotted?”

  Darcy and I stared hard at our plates to stop us from bursting out laughing.

  “You certainly charmed the countess,” I commented when I escorted him to the front door after coffee.

  He grinned. “Occasionally I need to prove that I still have what it takes. Perhaps she’ll be nicer to you from now on.”

  Then he gave me a suitably chaste kiss before departing.

  “Your young man is charming,” Irmtraut said when I returned to the drawing room. “And he is Irish, did you say?”

  “Half Irish, half English,” I said.

  “He is Catholic then?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “But surely you will not be able to marry him, I think. Does the law of England not say that members of the royal family must marry Protestants? Marina told me that she must give up her Greek Orthodox religion and convert to the Church of England when she marries George or the marriage will not be allowed.”

  “That’s true. But I’m so far from the throne that I’d be willing to renounce my place in the line of succession.”

  “And if the king will not allow this?”

  Oh golly. I wish she hadn’t started down that path. “I’m sure he will,” I said with more conviction than I felt.

  She looked smug and I suspected she was pleased to have thrown another spoke into another wheel. It was probably the highlight of her day.

  ON SUNDAY I had a lazy morning with only a slight twinge of guilt that I was not joining the others at church. I ate only a small breakfast of kippers and poached egg, knowing that the full traditional English Sunday lunch lay ahead of me. The churchgoers returned and we sat over coffee in the morning room until it was time to make our way to Princess Alice’s apartment. The delicious smell of roasting beef wafted toward us as the front door was opened. We arrived at the same time as the major, who was looking absolutely splendid in his dress uniform. The four elderly ladies certainly made a fuss of him as we were led through to a charmingly furnished sitting room.

  “I’m so glad you wore your uniform, Major,” Princess Alice said. “I remember seeing you come home the other night when I was going to bed and thinking how distinguished you looked, walking up the path in that uniform. I’m surprised some eligible young woman hasn’t snapped you up by now.”

  “Not many young women want to live on a soldier’s pay, Your Highness,” he said with a regretful smile. “I’m a second son. I’m not going to inherit anything.”

  “Such a stupid rule,” Princess Louise said. “That concept of ‘winner take all.’ Most old-fashioned. And who wants to inherit a great house these days? It costs a fortune to heat it and to pay servants to run it. I count my blessings daily that I have this small establishment here and not some great drafty stately home. If you young people heed my advice you’ll live in London with Harrods and Fortnum’s on the doorstep.”

  Sherry was served, and then we went through to the dining room, overlooking the main entrance. It being Sunday, the place was closed to visitors.

  “Thank God there is no tramp, tramp of people going up the stairs today,” Princess Alice said.

  Princess Beatrice nodded agreement. “At least your rooms are not beneath them. Some days it sounds like an invading army. My mama would have been horrified. It was her apartment once, you know.” She turned to Marina. “And where shall you be living, my dear? Not still at St. James’s Palace with the Prince of Wales?”

  “No, we’ve been given a house on Belgrave Square,” Marina said. “Close to Georgiana’s London home. I’m looking forward to our being neighbors as I’ve never run my own establishment before.”

  “Unfortunately it’s not my home any longer. It belongs to my brother and his wife these days and I’m not exactly welcome there,” I said.

  “How sad. Families should support one another,” Princess Louise said. “We have each other for company, do we not? And a charming young woman like you, Georgiana. W
ho would not want you to live with them?”

  “My sister-in-law, apparently,” I said as a footman came to serve me with Yorkshire pudding.

  It was a splendid meal. The elderly ladies and the major were good company and there was much laughter. The party didn’t break up until four o’clock and we returned to find Irmtraut sitting in solitary state at tea. She was in a grumpy mood and answered Marina in monosyllables.

  “We should have a rest before going to Mr. Coward’s,” Marina said. “Will it be formal, do you think?”

  “Rather too informal, I should think,” I said. “Mr. Coward’s friends span all levels of society.”

  “How exciting.” Marina gave me a pleased smile.

  “I shall not be coming,” Irmtraut said. “I do not wish to mingle with bohemians and actors. My parents would not approve.”

  “Oh, Traudi, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud,” Marina said.

  “I do not look like a stick,” Irmtraut replied. “You are rude.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” Marina started to say but Irmtraut had risen to her feet and stalked from the room.

  Marina looked at me. “Oh dear. I’m afraid I offended her. I don’t really know why she insisted on coming. She’s not having a good time.”

  “She’s annoyed that the queen asked me to be your companion. She feels put out,” I said. “And there was nothing I could do about it because one does not say no to the queen.”

  “Of course not.” She covered my hand with hers. “Dear Georgie. I’m so glad you’re here. You must come and stay with us if your sister-in-law doesn’t want you.”

  “Thank you.”

  As I came out through the door I detected a movement at the top of the stairs. Irmtraut had been standing there, listening to our conversation.

  Chapter 30

  SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 11

  Cocktails with Noel Coward. What could be more glamorous?

  The motorcar came for us at six and whisked us to the house in Chelsea. We were among the first to arrive but were introduced to Noel’s actress friend Gertrude Lawrence and to a couple of fellow writers and society matron Mrs. Astley-Cooper.

  “You’ve come without your bridegroom, I see,” she said and got a warning look from Noel. “Very wise. So many women think that they are only allowed out as an appendage to their spouse once they marry. Make sure you have your own life and your own friends.”

  “Who is talking about appendages?” one of the young men asked.

  “Naughty, naughty, Hugo, my boy. Respectable young women present,” Noel said, slapping his hand.

  I looked at the man with interest. Hugo was not a very common name and one of the letters in Bobo’s safe had been signed by him. A love letter to another man called Gerald. So Hugo was presumably another of those being blackmailed. I looked around the room. Was Gerald also here?

  More and more people arrived, some that I recognized from their photographs in the picture papers. Cocktails were poured. Canapés were served. Noel sat at the piano and entertained. He was awfully witty, terribly risqué, and I was glad that Irmtraut had decided not to come. Either she wouldn’t have understood his wicked innuendoes or she would have been mortally offended by them. Marina, however, laughed with the rest of us.

  “I think she’ll do nicely for George, don’t you?” I heard one of the men saying in a low voice.

  “Ah, but will she take him out of circulation? That’s the question.”

  Noel was singing another song, one he had just made up, according to him. “It’s a bit risqué, what do you think?” he asked. “Dare I try it on audiences? Is the London theater ready for it?”

  “You should try it out first at the Black Cat,” someone called out and there was laughter.

  “Is the Black Cat a nightclub?” I asked the man standing next to me.

  “In a way,” he replied, looking at me cautiously. “It’s a place where young men of a certain persuasion go to meet other young men of similar persuasion. Very discreet or the police would shut it down.”

  “Oh, I see.” I glanced across at Hugo, who was now chatting with a rather too gorgeous young man with blond curls. He had complained that Gerald no longer came to the Black Cat. I turned back to the man I had been chatting with.

  “Is—uh—Gerald here tonight then?” I asked.

  His eyebrows raised. “I shouldn’t think so,” he replied hastily. “Not his sort of thing. He wouldn’t want to be associated with Noel, would he? Very cautious is our Gerry boy.”

  So Gerald might have had more to lose. I should report that to Darcy tomorrow. I wondered how many more people there were, willing to keep paying Bobo for her silence about behavior that society would not accept. And whether one of them had decided she had to be silenced forever.

  The party showed no signs of ending but at nine o’clock Princess Marina indicated that she was ready to leave and sent someone for our motor.

  “I’m sorry, but I was getting a headache,” she said as the car drove away. “All that smoke and noise and people one doesn’t know talking to each other and only including one occasionally to be polite.”

  “I know, I felt rather the same,” I said, realizing how very overwhelming it must be for her, having to be nice to everyone in a strange country when she would be nervous about her wedding. “They certainly like to hold forth, don’t they? Each trying to outdo the other in wit.”

  She chuckled then. “That would be tiring in everyday friends.”

  We arrived back at Kensington Palace to find that Irmtraut was nowhere to be seen. But she had left a note on the front table. “I retired to bed early with headache.”

  “Poor Traudi, she’s sulking,” Marina said. “I’ve tried to include her as much as possible but she’s not easy to please.”

  “Has she always been that way?”

  “We hardly ever saw her branch of the family but I do remember her as a morose child who didn’t want to play pranks with my sisters and me—” She put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh God,” she said. “I forgot all about it.”

  “What?”

  “My sisters and the other bridesmaids will be arriving on the overnight train from Hook of Holland. Mama suggested I should be at the station to meet them. I completely forgot to tell the chauffeur. Too many cocktails.”

  “What time does the boat train arrive?” I asked.

  “Seven thirty at Liverpool Street Station. Can you imagine?” She looked around. “And there is no telephone and I wouldn’t know who to call either.”

  “I suppose you could always order a taxicab or two.”

  “I don’t think it would go down well to meet royal young ladies in a taxicab,” she said. “I’d better go and find the major. He will know.”

  She looked completely washed out. “I’ll go for you,” I said. “If you have to be up that early you should go to bed now.”

  She gave me a big smile. “You’re wonderful, Georgie. Thank you. Tell him I need the motor to be here at seven. I believe it’s quite a long way to Liverpool Street Station, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. The other side of London. But half an hour should be sufficient.” I smiled and went back out into the night. It was crisp and cold and my footsteps echoed on the path as I made my way around to the main entrance of the palace. I realized I could have taken a shortcut through the courtyard to his back door, but I didn’t think it would be correct to appear at a back door unless it was an emergency. Also I was reluctant to cross that courtyard in the dark. My key admitted me to the main foyer, which was bathed in gloom. There was just one small lamp alight over the stairs and I found myself tiptoeing across the marble floor before I came to what I remembered to be the major’s front door. There was a calling card in the brass card holder and I peered at it to make sure I was in the right place. I was about to knock when my hand was poised, frozen, a few inches f
rom the door.

  Major Gerald Beauchamp-Chough.

  “Crikey,” I whispered.

  HE WAS GERALD. I knew there were plenty of other Geralds in the world, but it all made sense now. The upright major who hoped to be promoted to colonel could never risk letting anyone know that he was a homosexual. It would mean the end of his career. The only problem was that he had not been at the palace all evening. He had arrived back at the same moment as ourselves. Or rather he had said he had just arrived back. But then I remembered. Princess Alice had seen him from her bedroom window when she was going to bed.

  I needed to know what time she went to bed. And it occurred to me that she could be in great danger because of that innocent remark. I tiptoed up the marble staircase and turned toward Princess Alice’s apartment. I peered at my watch in the dim light. Nine thirty-five. Not horribly late to call upon someone. I tapped at her door. After a long while it was opened by a maid who had clearly put on her cap hurriedly to answer the door.

  “Lady Georgiana,” she said in a breathless voice. “I’m sorry, but Her Highness has retired for the night.”

  “Does she always go to bed this early?” I asked.

  “Always. Early to bed and early to rise, she likes to say. She gets up at six and goes for a walk in the park.”

  “Thank you. I am sorry to have disturbed you,” I said.

  “Is there a message?”

  “Not now. I’ll deliver it myself tomorrow morning.”

  I came away again, not sure now what to do. I had promised to deliver a message to the major for Princess Marina. Could I deliver it now and not give away that I suspected him? Should I go and find a telephone booth and ring Sir Jeremy’s number? My heart was hammering. I was surely safe for now. It was Princess Alice I worried about, going for that early walk on a misty November morning. I shook my head in disbelief. Surely he wouldn’t consider killing a member of the royal family, would he?