Death at Glamis Castle (39 page)

Charles lifted his hand to the guard as they passed. “I'm confident that he did, Kate, and that he accepted the idea that Firefly betrayed him.” He paused as they followed the road's turning into the dark wood. “Even if he suspects the truth, he may decide that it's better to report that Prince Eddy died in that fire. Given Eddy's history, it's certainly a credible story. And it will cover Hauptmann's failure here, so he won't have to own up to the fact that his own little game was discovered.” He turned and smiled at her, the amusement glinting in his eyes. “And he certainly won't mention that photograph you took of him. If the Wilhelmstrasse knew of it, his value as a spy would be compromised, even destroyed.”

Somewhere in the woods, an owl called softly. Kate was silent for a moment. “Hilda's death was a tragedy,” she said at last, “but if she hadn't surprised Memsdorff and Hamilton, their plan might well have succeeded. They would have returned, snatched Eddy, and handed him over to Hauptmann.”

“That's right,” Charles agreed, “although that probably doesn't console Flora.”

Kate was silent for a moment, the reins loose in her gloved hands. “I wish I could look into the future and see what lies ahead for Flora and Eddy.”

“I'm sure they will both be all right on Skye—for a time, at least,” Charles said. “Flora will be well looked after, certainly. The King values loyalty, and when he fully understands the situation, he will reward her handsomely.” He chuckled dryly. “Eddy isn't likely to be left in her care for very long, however. Even though he's no longer in the succession, the Crown is bound to look with disfavor on his involvement with women below his station. And he is, after all, still married to Annie Crook. The poor creature was alive, the last I heard of her, in one of the London work-houses, not fit for even unskilled labor.”

Kate felt a darkening sadness. “So what
will
become of Eddy?”

“After Skye?” Charles sighed heavily. “He'll be well looked after, in a different way. Another castle, probably even more remote than Glamis. Another family of keepers, perhaps less hospitable and more restrictive than the Strathmores. I doubt that his future will be any happier than his past.”

Kate gave a little laugh, and Charles glanced at her. “Now, it's your turn. What have I said that's funny?”

“Oh, I was just wondering,” she replied carelessly. “What would you do if someone actually asked to see that suicide note Hamilton is supposed to have left?”

Charles smiled. “You're not charging me with manufacturing evidence, are you? That's a criminal offense, Kate.”

“Well . . .” Kate said, with an arch of her eyebrows. “Did you?”

Charles gave a little shrug. “I'm afraid I did. It wasn't hard, and I'm not likely to be found out, since no one has ever seen a sample of his handwriting. I printed it out on an envelope that was directed to him, which I found in his room. The coroner now has the envelope in his possession—just in case someone asks to inspect it.”

“Then Hamilton really didn't kill Hilda?”

“Or himself. Hauptmann took care of Hamilton, I believe, although I can't prove it. But I can prove that Hamilton killed Memsdorff.”

Kate smiled. “You seem very sure of that, m'lord.”

“I am. I discovered a thirty-two-caliber revolver in Hamilton's room, with his fingerprints on it. In the ice house, I found Herman Memsdorff dead of a gunshot wound in the chest, with powder burns that suggested that the muzzle was in contact with the victim when the gun was fired. I extracted the fatal bullet—also a thirty-two-caliber. When I test-fired a bullet and examined it under Dr. Ogilvy's microscope, I was able to determine that it had identical lands and grooves as that of the bullet recovered from the body. My guess is that the two men fell into a quarrel, and that Hamilton shot Memsdorff, either deliberately or accidentally. I'm also guessing that it happened shortly after Eddy escaped from the ice house, and it was that shot he heard.”

“If Hamilton didn't kill Hilda,” Kate said quietly, “then it must have been Memsdorff—her nephew.” Somehow, that made the murder seem even more horrific to her. She was glad that Flora was able to resist the idea so adamantly. It would do her no good to know the truth.

“It was Memsdorff who killed Hilda, all right,” Charles said. “I found a folding knife in his pocket. There was blood residue between the blade and the knife case. If Dr. Landsteiner could analyze the residue and compare it to Hilda's blood, I'm sure he would tell us that they are both of the same type.”

Kate laughed shortly. “That wouldn't mean much in a court of law—or the fingerprint evidence, either. A jury wouldn't know what to make of either one.”

They came out of the woods and into the wide, green park. Ahead of them rose the ancient castle, its turrets silhouetted against the starry western sky, its mullioned windows reflecting the first rosy hints of the eastern dawn, ribbons of fog twisting and curling around its walls. The clock in the tower struck five. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed, and off to the left, they could hear the rustling and cooing of pigeons in the dovecot at the edge of the park.

Charles rested his arm across the back of the seat, behind Kate. “Fortunately,” he said, “this case will never go to a jury.”

“And a good thing, too,” Kate replied, frowning. “You'd never be able to explain why you set fire to the straw in the ice house, with Herman Memsdorff's corpse still inside.” She lifted the reins, and the horse stepped faster. “What in the world would you have done if Toria had insisted on seeing her brother's dead body? She would have known immediately that it was not Eddy who had died, wouldn't she?”

Charles turned on the seat to face her. “How could she insist?” he asked with an innocent expression. “We all know that Eddy is buried in the Memorial Chapel at Windsor Castle, under a piece of massive marble statuary erected to commemorate his death.”

Kate laughed shortly. “I hope the King will approve of what you've done here.”

“If he doesn't,” Charles replied, “perhaps he won't send us on any more of these absurd adventures.” He shook his head. “Sometimes one wonders,” he said soberly.

“Wonders what?”

“What would happen if the people knew the truth behind the myths and illusions of the Crown.” He sighed. “Doesn't bear thinking about, I suppose.”

“No, it doesn't,” Kate said. She looked up at the gilded turrets of Glamis Castle. “Especially on such a beautiful morning.”

AUTHORS' NOTE

Reverend John Stirton

 

 

 

 

The role of Glamis Castle in Scottish history is a fascinating one. The castle is justly famous, not only for its remarkable physical beauty of architecture and setting, but because it is peopled with famous phantoms. Some are the ghosts of historic personages: Macbeth; Mary, Queen of Scots; the Old Pretenders (James VIII and III); Bonnie Prince Charlie; Daniel Defoe; Thomas Gray; Sir Walter Scott. Others are more illusory: the Monster of Glamis, the Gray Lady, Earl Beardie, and various wraiths who flit through the halls at night. It is also the ancestral home of the much-loved Queen Mother Elizabeth, whom you met as little Lady Elizabeth of Glamis in this book. She is 101 years old at this writing, and (true to the gypsy's prophesy), Queen and mother of a Queen.

There is no concrete evidence, however, that Glamis Castle was ever the residence of an exiled Prince Albert Victor—and no evidence, either, that Prince Eddy lived past the official date of his death in 1892. It is true that news of Eddy's death was sudden, unexpected, and fortuitous, and that it was the subject of much rejoicing among those who saw him as entirely unfit for monarchy. It is also true that there have been others who have speculated that Eddy lived into the 1930s. What's more, a fictitious death and exile could have been easily stage-managed by Eddy's father, Bertie, the Prince of Wales, who (according to Kinley Roby, in
The King, the Press, and the People
) had long since “learned to keep before the public an image that corresponded as closely as he could make it to the myth of the ideal prince.” Bertie's own scandalous shenanigans had taught him valuable lessons in deceiving the public, so the deceptions we have imagined here would not have been especially challenging. And if Eddy had lived, and if his cousin Willie had got wind of it, there is no doubt that the Kaiser would have used the information to undermine the authority of his uncle-King, whom he hated.

At this point in our series, we are entering a period in which the relationship between Britain and Germany becomes increasingly vexed by questions of political alliance, of economic rivalry, and of military dominance. International tensions have already begun to mar the tranquility of England's “splendid isolation,” while domestic tensions—Home Rule for Ireland, women's rights, workers' rights, the plight of the urban poor—have already seriously disturbed the English peace. It is true that there were German spies in England in these years, and while Ludwig von Hauptmann is fictional, he had many real counterparts. About the time of this book, Erskine Childers was writing the first great spy novel,
Riddle of the Sands
, and a cloud of invasion novels and plays shadowed the literary horizon. The Brits were nervous, as well they might be, for their experience in the Boer War had been sobering and the Apocalypse of 1914-1917 was not far off.

But Glamis Castle, which has stood since the fourteenth century, would be untouched, and untouched it yet remains.

 

Bill and Susan Albert
Bertram, TX
December 2001

REFERENCES

Here are a few books that we found helpful in creating
Death at Glamis
. Other background works may be found in the references to earlier books in this series, particularly in
Death at Whitechapel
. If you have comments or questions, you may write to Bill and Susan Albert, PO Box 1616, Bertram, TX 78605, or E-mail us at [email protected]. You may also wish to visit our web site,
http://www.mysterypartners.com
, where you will find additional information about Glamis Castle, the family of King Edward and Queen Alexandra, and Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Forty-five.

 

Battiscombe, Georgina.
Queen Alexandra,
Houghton Mifflin, Boston, 1969.

Blaircowrie: Ordnance Survey of Scotland, Sheet 56,
Southampton: Ordnance Survey, 1897.

Bruce, J. Collingwood.
The Hand-book of the Roman Wall,
London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1907.

Day, James Wentworth.
The Queen Mother's Family Story,
London: Robert Hale, 1967.

Deacon, Richard.
A History of the British Secret Service,
New York: Taplinger Publishing Co., 1969.

Duff, David.
Elizabeth of Glamis: The Story of the Queen Mother,
London: Magnum Books, 1977.

Harrison, Michael.
Clarence: Was He Jack the Ripper?
New York: Drake Publishers, Inc., 1972.

Massie, Robert K.
Dreadnought: Britain, Germany, and the Coming of the Great War,
New York: Random House, 1991.

Nicoll, A. R.
Glamis: A Village History,
Glamis: Glamis Publishing Group, 2000.

Shade, Harry Gordon.
Glamis Castle,
London: The Society of Antiquities of London Co., 2000.

Simpson, Colin; Lewis Chester; and David Leitch.
The Cleveland Street Affair,
Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1976.