Malice at the Palace (8 page)

“No sense of duty, this younger generation,” the king growled.

“Oh, come now, Papa. We are here on time,” the Duchess of York said with her sweet smile. I noticed the duke said nothing. He was always afraid of revealing his stammer in public and was very shy among strangers.

“You two are the salt of the earth,” the queen replied.

“If only the boy would get over that blasted speech impediment,” the king said. “It's only a matter of practice.”

“I d-d-d-do try, Father,” the duke said.

There was an awkward silence. Mercifully champagne was served. Nibbles were brought around and finally, when the king was clearly beginning to fume, Prince George came running up the staircase, out of breath and straightening his bow tie as he ran.

“Awfully sorry to be so late, Mama,” he said. “The motorcar was involved in a minor prang. Nothing serious. Nobody hurt, but it delayed us.”

“An accident on the way? Surely you only had to come a few yards from St. James's, didn't you? You could have walked,” the king said testily.

“Actually I had to pop over to the new place to check on something the decorator wanted me to see, and as I said, no harm, no foul.”

“You're here now, George. That's all that matters. And now that you are here, your father has something to tell you.” The queen looked expectantly at the king, who cleared his throat.

“This is the time in your life when you take on responsibility, my boy,” he said. “Until now you've had free rein to enjoy yourself when you were not out and about with the navy. From now on we expect you and your bride to be active members of the royal family, to take on royal duties, and to be a credit to our good name and to our ancestors. So I plan to make you Duke and Duchess of Kent.”

“Gosh, thanks awfully, Father.” He looked across at Marina. “Do you hear that, my dear? You're to be Duchess of Kent.”

Marina was standing next to me. “Isn't that a step down from princess?” she whispered with the hint of a grin.

“These titles come with property and income, I believe,” I whispered back. “Most royal sons are made dukes.”

“Ah.” She nodded.

The gong was sounded. Prince George took Marina's arm to escort her in to dinner. I followed behind, unescorted. I suppose the Prince of Wales would have made up even numbers, as he wouldn't have dared to bring Mrs. Simpson with him. Dinner passed smoothly but without the Prince of Wales putting in an appearance, which clearly vexed his mother. When we were driven back to Kensington Palace, Princess Marina seemed in good spirits and satisfied with her lot.

“The queen was kinder to me than I expected,” she said. “And I could tell that the king liked me too.”

“Who could not like you?” I asked.

She squeezed my hand. “You're so sweet, Georgiana. Will you have to marry someone the family finds for you, or will you be able to make your own choice?”

“Hopefully the latter,” I said. “They tried to hitch me up with Prince Siegfried of Romania.”

She gave a peal of laughter. “Me too. Isn't he awful? And do you know what I found out? He likes other men. Can you imagine how horrid that would be?”

Should I tell her? I wondered, then decided against it. After all, her future bridegroom George was also reputed to have had affairs with unsuitable women. He was an equal opportunity offender. And maybe he'd shape up and become a model husband. He certainly seemed fond of Marina, the way he looked at her.

It was not raining for once as the car drew up outside Kensington Palace, but a large puddle had formed outside the entrance to our apartment. “I'll stop a little farther down, Your Royal Highness,” the chauffeur said, “so that you don't get your feet wet. There's a raised pavement beside the house where you can walk back.”

“How kind. Thank you,” Marina replied.

We were helped out of the backseat. Marina went ahead of me. I was about to follow when I glanced back and thought I saw that strange greenish glow coming from the archway below the clock tower. I had to see for myself where the light was coming from and began to walk toward it. Then I stared harder. Surely something was lying there. Something white. My heart was beating faster and I wanted to turn and hurry into the safety of our apartment but I couldn't help myself. I was drawn toward it. If it was the ghost of Princess Sophia I had to see it for myself. But why would a ghost be lying anywhere? Surely ghosts wafted about as they wished and didn't linger too long. As I approached the thing lying on the cobbles, I could make out the form of a dark-haired young woman in a white silk dress, lying slumped over, facedown. I kept moving closer, walking more slowly now. Surely the specter would vanish when I came too close, wouldn't it?

But it didn't. I stood there, taking in every detail—the rather flashy rings on the hand that lay outstretched a few inches from my foot, the very modern short haircut with its permanent waves, and then, as I moved around to get a better view I saw her eyes, open and staring at me blankly from a deathly white face, contrasting with the bright red lips.

Whoever she was she was no ghost. She had been recently alive and now she was very dead.

LATE AT NIGHT, NOVEMBER 4

KENSINGTON PALACE

I stood there in the darkness with my heart hammering, not knowing what to do. I had seen dead bodies before but one never gets over the shock. I put my hand to my mouth, feeling queasy. Marina had gone ahead of me into the house. I had no idea how long the girl had been lying there, if she had been murdered, or even if the murderer still lurked nearby.

“Your ladyship?” a voice called and the chauffeur was coming toward me. “I don't believe you can get into the apartment that way. May I escort you to the front door?”

“Thank you so much.” I came hurriedly to meet him so that he wouldn't catch a glimpse of the dead girl. He delivered me safely to the front door and I heard the motorcar drive away as the door was closed behind me by a maid.

The police should be called immediately, I thought, and I was about to tell the maid to take me to a telephone. But I realized that Princess Marina should not be made upset. Then I remembered Major Beauchamp-Chough. There were rules of protocol to be followed in a royal palace and he was currently master of the house. So if anyone summoned the police it should be he.

“Do you know where one would find Major Beauchamp-Chough?” I asked the maid.

“I expect he would be in his own apartment at this time of night, my lady,” she said, looking at me strangely.

“It was apartment 10, I believe. Do you know which one that is?”

“I'm not sure. I'd have to go and ask,” she said.

“It's important that I see him right away,” I said. “A situation has arisen that demands his immediate attention. Where can I find a writing desk?”

She took me through to a small sitting room and seated me at a Queen Anne desk by the window. I found an old-fashioned inkwell, pen and paper. I started to write as the maid went to find out how to locate the major's suite.

Dear Major Beauchamp-Chough,

I am sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but a difficult situation has arisen that demands your immediate attention. Please come to apartment 1 as soon as you receive this.

 

By the time I had finished, the maid had returned. “His apartment is all the way around at the front of the building,” she said, her expression betraying that she didn't want to walk all that way in the dark.

I felt for her, but speed was of primary importance. “Then please take him this letter,” I said.

“Now, my lady?” She looked scared and I wondered if she'd heard the stories about Kensington's ghosts.

“Yes, now. I'd go myself, but that would not be seemly. It's most urgent, you understand, or I would not be asking you to do this.”

“Very well, my lady.” She bobbed a curtsy and went. I sat at the desk, staring out into blackness, waiting. The image of that white face with staring eyes swam before me and I found I was shivering. It wasn't long before the major appeared, looking absolutely resplendent in full dress uniform with much braid and a row of medals that were most impressive.

“Lady Georgiana, what on earth is the matter? You look quite white. The maid said it was most urgent. Has the princess been taken ill?”

“Nothing like that, Major. I'm so sorry to disturb you, but it is indeed crucial,” I said. “There is something that you must see. If you'd kindly come with me.” I turned to the maid, who was still hovering in the doorway. “Thank you. You may go now.”

As the maid departed with a look of relief, Major B-C looked at me questioningly. “You're lucky to find me at home. I only just returned a moment ago from my monthly regimental dinner. In fact the maid just caught me letting myself into my apartment. Now out with it. What is it that's troubling you?”

“Please follow me,” I said and walked resolutely toward the front door. The major followed.

“Where on earth are we going?” he asked as I stepped out into darkness.

“I have to show you something.”

Now that there was no Daimler with headlights shining, it was pitch-black outside.

“Is this some sort of prank?” he asked.

“No prank, I assure you, Major. This way, please.”

I felt my way over the cobbles until I could just make out the archway beneath the clock tower. Strangely it had been light enough for me to spot the body instantly before but this time I almost stumbled upon it before I picked out a vague hint of whiteness.

“What on earth is that?” Major B-C demanded, his voice now taut.

“It's a body,” I replied and my voice bounced back, alarmingly loud as it echoed from the cobbles and vaulted arch above. “A young woman. She's dead. I'm afraid she might have been murdered.”

“Good God,” he said, bending forward to peer more closely at the body. “Is it one of the maids?”

“No, she's dressed in a white silk evening gown. I've no idea who she is.”

“Are we sure that she's dead? She might have been drinking too much at a party and lost her way in the dark and collapsed here.” He bent down even farther to examine her.

“Oh, I'm sure she's dead. Look at her face.” I shuddered.

He was kneeling on the damp cobbles beside her, felt for a pulse, then got hurriedly to his feet. “I'll go and find a torch,” he said. “You come back into the house. You shouldn't be out here alone.”

I followed him as he walked briskly back into the building. I waited in the foyer, hugging my fur stole around me, as I was suddenly extremely cold. He seemed to take forever. At last he returned carrying a large silvery flashlight.

“It wasn't easy explaining why I wanted this without raising curiosity,” he said. “It required some quick thinking.”

I followed him back to the archway. He shone the torch onto the dead girl.

“My God.” I heard his sharp intake of breath. He looked around. “We should move her out of sight as soon as possible.”

“You can't do that,” I said. “This is a crime scene. We must stay with her until the police get here.”

“My dear girl,” he said, forgetting to use my correct title, “we can't just call the police. I don't think you realize the delicate nature of this situation.” He moved closer to me, even though we were alone in a dark courtyard. “You say you didn't recognize her. I rather fear most people would. This is, or rather, was, Bobo Carrington. Surely you've heard of her? Her photographs are splashed all over the picture papers.”

“I may have seen them,” I said tentatively.

“She's a well-known socialite and partygoer and also at one stage her name was linked with Prince George.”

“Oh crikey,” I said, too shocked to worry about schoolgirl expressions and the need to sound sophisticated.

“So now you see,” he said. “We can't just call the police. If any word gets out, any hint to the press, it would ruin everything. The scandal would be horrendous. The marriage could never take place.”

I nodded. I did see, all too clearly.

“But we shouldn't move her,” I said. “There are bound to be clues, pieces of evidence.”

“I have a dark gray blanket on my bed,” he said. “We could cover her with that until morning. But something will have to be done before the first grounds staff pass this way.” He looked up at the building, frowning. “Luckily there aren't many windows that look onto this courtyard. One up in Princess Louise's apartment, but she usually goes to bed early and I believe it's a bedroom that is not used. And the one on the second floor of your apartment with the light still on is surely your own room.”

“Yes, it must be,” I said.

“Might your maid have looked out of the window?”

“It's possible. But she's quite susceptible and already finds the place rather spooky. If she mentions anything I'll tell her about Princess Sophia's ghost.”

“Good girl.” He smiled at me.

“So I'll go and get the blanket to cover her and I suggest you go inside and have someone bring you a brandy. You'll need it for shock and it's devilish cold out here. You don't want to come down with a chill.”

I was going to tell him that I'd been involved in murder cases before and I was strong enough to help him, but I realized I did feel quite shivery.

“If you're sure there is nothing more I can do?”

“You've been very brave, Lady Georgiana. But I suggest you go to bed,” he said. “There's nothing else you can do now.”

A great gust of wind swirled up, stirring the dead girl's clothing. The sequins on her dress sparkled suddenly in the beam from the flashlight. I wanted nothing more than to get away from that spot.

“Very well,” I said. “But we must do something. A girl has been murdered. We can't let it be hushed up just so that a wedding can go forward.”

“Of course,” he said. “But this is a royal palace and it will need to go through the correct channels. I will pass this information on to His Majesty's private secretary and see how I am instructed to proceed. And in the meantime please behave as if nothing is amiss. The word will have gone around that you summoned me late at night. You might want to think up a plausible explanation for that.”

“All right, I'll try,” I said. “Although my brain isn't working very well at the moment.”

“I'll escort you back to your front door.” He took my arm and steered me along the narrow pavement while I wracked my brains thinking of something plausible to say.

“Oh, there you are, your ladyship.” The same maid came to meet me in the foyer. “Is everything all right? Major Beauchamp-Chough looked quite upset and he wanted a flashlight.”

“Yes, my fault, I suppose,” I said. “I was wearing a very valuable diamond brooch lent to me by Her Majesty for the occasion and the pin must have come loose. I realized it must have fallen off when I got out of the car and I knew how upset Her Majesty would be if something happened to it, so I'm ashamed to say I panicked.”

“You could have asked us to help you find it, my lady,” she said. “There's enough servants still awake.”

“Actually I didn't want word to get back to Her Majesty,” I said. “So please don't mention it, all right?”

“But did the major find it for you?”

“Yes, he did, thank goodness.” I gave her what I hoped was a convincing smile. “And he's taken it away for safekeeping, ready to be returned to Buckingham Palace in the morning. Now that I know the clasp is loose I won't risk wearing it again.”

“Well, that's good then, isn't it, my lady?” She gave me an encouraging smile. “Everything's all right and we can all go to bed.”

“Yes. Everything's all right. But I would appreciate a glass of brandy to warm me up. I'm really cold now.”

“Of course, my lady. Would you like the brandy in hot milk?”

“That's a lovely idea.” I smiled at her again.

“I'll bring it up to your room,” she said.

“Oh, that's not necessary.”

“No trouble, my lady. You go up and I'll bring the hot milk.”

Why couldn't Queenie be more like that, I thought as I trudged up the two flights of stairs. Cheerful, willing, thinking of my needs. I sighed. Queenie would probably be snoring on my bed when I got to my room.

I opened my door and jumped as Queenie stepped forward to greet me. “Oh, there you are, miss. I've been that worried about you. I heard the princess come upstairs a while ago and then you didn't show up and something funny was going on down in the courtyard below.”

“Nothing to worry about, Queenie,” I said. “We were just looking for a piece of jewelry that must have fallen off when the princess got out of the car.”

“Oh, that was you down there, was it? Thank God for that. I thought it was one of them ruddy ghosts. They say this palace is bloody well haunted. Down in the kitchen they said there's ever so many ghosts drifting around. In fact I think I saw one, earlier this evening. Something in white, wafting across the courtyard. Horrible it was.”

“Yes, I'm afraid that must have been one of the ghosts,” I said rapidly. “Princess Sophia, the daughter of George the Third, but don't worry. She's quite harmless. She drifts around looking for her lost child.”

“She might be harmless but I don't want to bump into her. Gives me the willies just thinking about it. I sat here all evening wondering if ghosts could come up the stairs and through walls.”

“I think you're quite safe, Queenie,” I said. “And anyway, I'm back now. As soon as I'm undressed you can go to bed and you know very well that no princess would haunt the servants' quarters.”

“Yes, that's right, ain't it?” She perked up then. “Come on then. Turn round and I'll take your necklace off.”

Queenie finished undressing me and I climbed into bed. The fire had burned down to embers and it was cold in the room. I couldn't resist going over to the window and pulling back the curtain to take a peek at the courtyard below. Someone was moving around down there. I could see a torch dancing but the person holding it was invisible beneath the archway. Fortunately so was the body. And I realized that the holder of the torch must be the major, covering the body with his blanket. There was nothing else to do but go up to my room and get undressed. My hot milk was delivered. I drank it but it didn't seem to warm me. I curled up into a ball and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come.