Royal Blood (17 page)

“You are letting your imagination run away with you,” I told myself. “There is a good explanation for all of this, I’m sure. It’s an ordinary room and you are quite safe and—”

I broke off and sat up suddenly. There was now a completely different portrait hanging on the wall.

Chapter 19

Night in the chamber of horrors, Bran Castle
Thursday, November 17

Instead of the attractive and rakish young man there was now a different face staring down at me. This one looked as if it came from an earlier time, with a stylized royal sneer, not unlike Siegfried’s, a high collar and a velvet hat like a powder puff perched on his head. I got out of bed to examine it more closely. The paint was cracked and lined like in so many old paintings. That’s when I realized something about the other picture—the paint had been daubed on, in the manner of more recent art. And there was something about the freedom of the strokes that indicated French impressionists or later. It had been a relatively new painting.

I lay in bed, trying not to look at the supercilious stare of the man in the portrait, and tried to calm my racing thoughts. Too much had happened since I set out from London. There had been the man watching me on the train, the man who had tried to come into my compartment. Then that same feeling of being watched on the station platform. Then the creature crawling up the wall, the young man from the portrait bending down over my bed, his teeth bared, Matty with blood running down her chin and now a dead field marshal. Miss Deer-Harte had called it a house of horrors and it seemed she wasn’t wrong. But how did they link together? What possible reason could someone want for following me on a train? If the place was really populated with vampires, why kill someone with poison? Nothing made sense. I curled up into a little ball and wished I had never come. I also wished I knew which room was Field Marshal Pirin’s because Darcy was there and all I wanted was his reassuring arms around me. It did cross my mind to wonder what he was doing here. Had Nicholas really invited him to be part of his wedding party or had he pulled off another spectacular wedding crash? After all, when I first met him he had dragged me to crash an important society wedding and he made it clear that he did this kind of thing on a regular basis. It was his way of ensuring that he had a good meal once a week, and, I suspect, he liked the thrill of it too.

At last exhaustion overcame me and I must have drifted off to sleep because I awoke to an almighty crash, and not of a wedding. I leaped out of bed so fast I almost levitated, instantly awake and regretting that I hadn’t slept with the candlestick beside me this night. All I could make out from the glow of the fire was a large, bulky figure in white, standing just inside my door.

“Who’s there?” I demanded, trying to sound fierce and confident and realizing that whoever it was stood between me and the light switch.

Then a voice said, “Sorry, miss.”

“Queenie?” I said, anger taking over from fear. “What on earth are you doing? If you came to undress me, you’re about two hours too late.”

“I wouldn’t have disturbed you, miss, and I didn’t mean to knock anything over,” she said, “but I had to come down to you. There’s a man in my room.”

“At any other time I would have said that was wishful thinking,” I said.

“No, miss, honest truth. I woke up and he was just standing there, inside my door. I was that scared, miss, I didn’t dare move.”

“What did he do?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

“Nothing. Just stood there, as if he was listening. Then I must have given a little gasp, because he turned and looked at me, then he opened the door and crept out, just like that. I came straight down to you, miss. I ain’t going back in there for nothing.” She had come over to the bed by now and was standing beside me, a rather terrifying figure in her own right in a voluminous flannel nightgown, her hair in curling papers. “You do believe me, don’t you, miss?”

“As a matter of fact I do,” I said. “I also had a man in my room last night.” And a man had just been killed tonight, I didn’t add. Was a stranger in the castle, attempting to hide out in the servants’ quarters, or was it the resident vampire, who drifted around as he pleased?

Suddenly I decided that I was angry. I was not going to be a timid little mouse any longer. My Rannoch ancestors wouldn’t have run away just because of a few vampires. They would have gone to find the nearest wooden stake, or at least a clove of garlic.

“Come on, Queenie,” I said. “We’re going back up to your room. We’re going to get to the bottom of this right now.”

With that I wrapped my fur stole around me and stepped out into the corridor.

“Lead on, Macduff,” I said.

Queenie looked confused. “My name’s ’eppelwhite, miss,” she said.

“It’s from the play we don’t name,” I said, quoting my mother, the actress. “Never mind. Come on. If we hurry we may catch him. Did you get a good look at him?”

“Sort of,” she said. “The shutter doesn’t close properly and the moon was actually shining in through my window. He was young, fair haired, thin.” She paused. “That’s about it, really. I couldn’t see his face. But there’s no point in going back up there now, is there? By the time I left my room he’d gone. And I didn’t spot no one on the way down ’ere.”

“We’ll check it out, just in case,” I said and strode down the hall so fast she had to run to keep up with me. Up a long and winding stair we went, round and round until we came out into what had to be one of the towers. Cold silvery moonlight filtered past the shutters, creating strange dark shadows. I have to confess that I was already feeling less brave than I had been in my room. When I saw the shadow of a man standing behind a pillar, my heart almost leaped into my mouth until Queenie said, “It’s another of those suits of armor, miss. It nearly scared the pants off me the first time too.”

“I was just being cautious,” I said and tried to walk past it nonchalantly. It wasn’t easy to do, with the empty eye slits in that visor staring at me. I could have sworn those eyes followed me. We reached Queenie’s room, and I flung open the door and turned the light on. It was, as she had described it, spartan in the extreme. A narrow cotlike bed, two shelves, a hook on the wall and an old-fashioned washstand. Not even a jolly picture on the wall to cheer things up.

“Well, there’s certainly nowhere to hide in here,” I said. “And I can’t see any reason why anyone would want to come in here, either.”

“Me neither, miss. Unless he was just ducking in here because he didn’t want to be seen.”

“Queenie, you’re surprisingly bright sometimes,” I said.

“Really, miss?” She sounded surprised. “My old dad says I must have been twins because one couldn’t be so daft.”

I went across to her window, opened the single shutter and looked out. Moonlight had turned the snow into a magical scene—deep and crisp and even sprang to mind. The only sound was the sigh of the wind around the turrets, then I thought I detected from far away a howl. It was answered by another howl, close by, this time. And I thought I saw a wolf slinking into the forest.

Of course my mind went straight to werewolves. If vampires appeared to really exist, then why not other creatures of the underworld? This was, after all, Transylvania. Was it in any way possible that the man Queenie had just encountered had now climbed down the castle wall and transformed himself into his wolf form? Or did that only happen at the full moon? The sensible part of me, that sound Scottish upbringing, was saying “rubbish” very loudly in my head, but on a night like this, in a place like this, I was prepared to believe anything.

As I leaned out farther and looked around I saw something snakelike and gleaming in the moonlight, dancing close to me with a life of its own. I leaped back until I realized that it was only a rope, hanging down the wall. If someone had climbed up here, he had been aided and abetted by a person already in the castle. And if someone had entered this way, he had gone again.

“You’re right, Queenie. There is no sense in standing around getting cold,” I said. “I’m sure your mystery man is long gone. I’m going back to bed.”

“Can’t I come with you, miss?” She grabbed at my nightie sleeve. “I can’t sleep up here, all alone, after what happened. I know I wouldn’t sleep a wink. Honest.”

“You want to come downstairs to my room, with me?”

“Yes, please, miss. I’ll just sit on the rug by the fire if you like. I don’t care. I just don’t fancy being alone.”

I was about to say that it simply wasn’t done but she looked as white as a sheet, and I wasn’t feeling too steady myself.

“Oh, very well,” I said, not wanting to admit that I too was grateful for the company. “I suppose I can make an exception this once. Come on, then.”

We retreated back to my room, encountering nobody along the way. Once in my room I got into bed. Queenie sat dutifully on the hearth rug, hugging her knees to her chest, giving a good imitation of Cinderella. My kind heart won out over every ounce of my upbringing. “Queenie, there is actually plenty of room in this bed. Come on, you’ll freeze sitting there.”

Gratefully she climbed into bed beside me. I found the warmth of another body beside me comforting and fell asleep.

Chapter 20

Bran Castle
Friday, November 18

I was awoken by the blaring of horns. It was the sort of sound I associated with an army going into battle or alerting a castle’s occupants to the enemy’s advance and it caused me to leap out of bed. I didn’t think that conquering armies showed up unannounced these days in central Europe, but one never knew and I didn’t want to be caught in my night attire. I fumbled with the shutters, which had iced up, and flung them open just in time to see a procession of big black motorcars flying royal standards crawling up the snowy ramp to the castle. Heralds were standing on the battlements blowing on long, straight horns. The pass must have opened and the kings and queens had arrived.

I closed the shutters hastily to keep out the bitter chill and decided that morning tea would be welcome before I had to be presented to visiting royalty. It was quite light and surely tea should have arrived by now. . . . That was when I remembered Queenie. I looked back at my bed where Queenie still lay blissfully sleeping, mouth open. It was not a pretty sight.

“Queenie!” I yelled, standing over her.

She opened her eyes and gave me a vague smile. “Oh, ’ello, miss.”

“The royal party has just arrived. I should be ready and dressed to be presented. Oh, and I’d like my morning tea. So up you get.”

She sat up slowly, yawning her head off. “Right you are, miss,” she said, not moving.

“Now, Queenie.”

With that she staggered to her feet, then looked down at herself. “Lawks, miss, I can’t go walking around in me nightie, can I? What would people say? I wouldn’t half get an earful!”

“No, I don’t suppose that would be an acceptable thing to do, but I don’t have a robe I can lend you. Because you didn’t pack me one.” I opened my wardrobe. “Here, you’d better have my overcoat. Bring it back when you come up with my morning tea.”

She paused at my doorway. “This tea bit. What am I supposed to do?”

“Go to the kitchen, tell them you’ve come for Lady Georgiana’s tea tray and carry it up to my room. Now, is that too hard?”

She frowned. “Okay, bob’s yer uncle, miss.” And with that she sauntered out. That girl will have to go, I thought. Thank heavens I hadn’t taken her on for the long term.

I decided not to count on help with my morning toilet, so I was washed and dressed by the time she reappeared, red faced and panting, carrying my tea tray. “There ain’t half a lot of stairs in this place, miss,” she said. “Oh, and there was a bloke asking after you.”

“What kind of bloke?”

“Ever so handsome, miss. Dark hair and he spoke proper English too. Not like one of them wogs.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said it was about time you roused yourself and he was waiting for you in the breakfast room.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling my cheeks going pink. “Then I’d better get straight down there, hadn’t I?”

“ ’Ere, what about the tea what I just brought up for you?” Queenie demanded.

“You drink it,” I said. “Oh, and my shoes need polishing.”

With that I ran down the hallway. One of these days I’d better learn to be masterful with servants. Lady Middlesex was quite right. Not that I thought that Queenie would ever learn.

Darcy was alone, sitting with a cup of coffee in front of him as I came into the breakfast room. He rose to his feet as I entered.

“Well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “What sort of time do you call this?”

“I don’t know. What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Oh, crikey,” I exclaimed. “I had a disturbed night last night. I must have been making up for it.”

“And what disturbed you?” He was looking at me in that special way, half laughing, that made my insides go weak.

“My maid woke me up to say there was a man in her room.”

“Lucky maid. What did she want you to do about it? Give her your blessing or come and watch?”

“Darcy, it’s not funny,” I said. “She was terrified, poor thing. I went up to see, but of course he’d gone.”

“Was it a hot-blooded Romanian who fancied a prim English miss?”

“I told you it wasn’t funny, Darcy,” I snapped. “I know exactly how she felt because the same thing happened to me the night before.”

“Who was it? I’ll see to him.”

“Nobody I knew,” I said, secretly delighted by this response. “In fact I think it might have been a vampire.”

I saw the smile spread across his face.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” I said and hit him. He caught my hand in his and held me, looking down at me.

“Come on, Georgie. I know this is Transylvania, but you don’t believe in vampires any more than I do.”

“I didn’t, until I came here,” I said. “But there was definitely a strange young man bending over my bed, smiling at me and saying something in a strange language, and when I sat up, he just melted away into the shadows.”

“Then I’d have to say that he was probably in the wrong room and got as big a shock as you did when you sat up. That sort of bed hopping goes on quite a lot in places like this, you know. Or perhaps you don’t. You’ve led a sheltered life.”

“But he looked just like the man in the portrait on my wall,” I said. “Only last night the portrait had been changed, and someone was climbing up the castle wall. . . .”

“Up the wall? That’s a pretty suicidal thing to do.”

“Well, someone did it and there was a cloak in the chest in my room, with snowflakes still on it, and then it vanished.”

“Dear me, it all sounds very dramatic,” he said.

“Don’t you believe me?”

“I’d suspect that the rich food has given you vivid dreams, my sweet.”

“It wasn’t dreams,” I said. “I’ve felt a sense of danger since I came here. Lady Middlesex’s companion said that she sensed death as we arrived. And explain to me why all these other strange things have been happening.”

“What strange things?” His tone was suddenly sharp and his grip tightened on my wrist.

“Well, to begin with there was someone spying on me on the train. He tried to come into my compartment and then at the station—” I broke off because he was grinning again. “What now? Don’t you believe me?”

“Oh, absolutely. I have to confess something. The person on the train was I.”

“You?”

“Yes, I got wind of which train you were traveling on and I thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on you. I hadn’t counted on the old battle-ax keeping me at bay.”

“But wait a minute,” I said. “If you were on the same train as us, how did you get here? An avalanche blocked the pass right after we came through.”

“It certainly did,” he said. “By the time I’d found a car willing to drive me to the castle, the wretched road was blocked.”

“So how did you manage to make it here?”

“Used my initiative, my dear. Got a lift as far as I could, then bargained for some skis and skied over the pass. I must say it was a delightful run all the way down to the castle.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“Absolutely not. Would I lie to you?”

“Sometimes, I’m afraid.”

He was still holding my wrist and we stood there, staring at each other. “I don’t ever remember lying to you,” he said. “Omitting some of the truth, maybe, on occasions when I wasn’t allowed to tell you everything.”

“So tell me the truth now. Are you here because Nicholas invited you to be his groomsman, or to keep an eye on me, or because you decided to crash another wedding?”

Darcy smiled. “What would you do if I said I couldn’t tell you?”

“I’d say you’ve probably been sent here, by somebody you can’t tell me about. Undercover, for some reason.”

“Something like that. Let’s just say that certain people felt it would be good to have some eyes and ears on the spot, in case of trouble.”

“So you were expecting trouble?”

“Come for a walk with me,” he said, taking my hand.

“Where?”

“In the castle grounds.”

“There is deep snow, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Then go and put on your boots and coat. I’ll meet you down here in five minutes.”

“But I haven’t had breakfast,” I said, looking longingly at the spread on the sideboard.

“Breakfast can wait. We may not have another chance to be alone together. At this minute Their Royal Highnesses are greeting their respective parents and relatives, so we can slip away undetected.”

“All right,” I said. “Just let me pour myself a cup of coffee.”

I gulped it down, then hurried up to my room, where, of course, I discovered that Queenie had forgotten to return my overcoat and thus had to wait while she went to her room to find it. Darcy was waiting impatiently at the foot of the stairs. The guards at the door saluted us as they opened it. Snow had been cleared from the courtyard, where the various motorcars now stood. We crossed it to the big outer gates. The gatekeeper looked at us with surprise when we indicated we wanted to go out. Much snow, he said in German. And nobody was to leave.

“We just go for a small walk. English people need fresh air,” Darcy replied. So having decided we were mad English people, he opened a small door beside the big gates and we stepped through into the outside world. Pristine snow stretched before us. The boughs of the fir trees were bent heavy with snow and every now and then there was a soft whoosh and thud as snow slid off to the ground below. It was so bright that it was dazzling. Darcy took my hand and we crunched across the snow, keeping to the tracks the motorcars had made until we were among the trees at the base of the great crag on which the castle stood. An icy blast whistled down from the pass, freezing my nose and ears. The silence was absolute, except for the rattle of a dead branch in the wind.

“This is nice,” I said, my breathing hanging like smoke in the chill air. “Nice but cold.”

“I wanted to talk to you away from prying eyes and ears,” Darcy said. “I wanted to sound you out on Pirin’s death. Nicholas’s parents arrived this morning. His father will want to know the truth sometime. Nicholas can’t keep on pretending forever, and I’d like to have found out who might have killed Pirin before then, so that hopefully an international incident can be averted.”

I nodded.

“You must have some ideas on the subject,” he said.

“Actually I don’t,” I said. “I was sitting opposite him at dinner. And I don’t see how he could have been poisoned. The only people who came anywhere near him were servers and Dragomir. The servers put food from the same platter on everyone’s plate, and as for wine, well, the rate he was drinking it, his glass was being constantly refilled.”

“You saw it being refilled, did you?”

“Yes, I did. From the same carafe as everyone else.”

Darcy frowned. “Cyanide takes effect almost instantly,” he said, “so it’s unlikely to have been in the food because he’d cleaned his plate pretty well. Unfortunately he knocked over and spilled the remnants of his wine when he collapsed, but there doesn’t seem to be any residue in his glass.”

“Is it possible to put cyanide into some kind of capsule, so that it wouldn’t work on the system until it was digested?”

Darcy nodded. “Possible, I suppose, but at the rate he was chomping and drinking, it seems likely he would have bitten through a capsule much earlier.”

I nodded. “I suppose he would.”

“Baffling,” Darcy said. “Well, now that the pass is open I can send out the utensils to the nearest laboratory for testing and perhaps we’ll know where the cyanide was hidden. But that still brings us to motive.”

“Oh, I can think of a lot of people who’d want Pirin dead,” I said.

“Can you?” He looked at me sharply.

“Well, he was an odious man, wasn’t he?” I laughed uneasily. “He ogled women, he insulted men. He called Nicholas by his first name, you know. In public. Imagine an English general calling the Prince of Wales David. Only Mrs. Simpson dares to do that.”

“I’m well aware that Nicholas and Anton disliked him,” Darcy said, “but they are both intelligent young men. They realized his importance to the stability of the region. And if one of them wanted to kill him, there would have been better opportunities. They were out hunting, I gather. Why not mistake him for a wild boar? For that matter why not push him out of the train on the way here?”

“You’re a bloodthirsty person at heart, aren’t you?” I asked.

He grinned. “Oh, no, my dear, I’m a romantic. But I’ve seen plenty of hard reality in my life. So who else would have wanted him dead?”

“What about the servers?” I asked. “Did you have a chance to talk to them?”

“Only very briefly, but I have their names, and again, I can have someone look into their backgrounds further when we are back in communication with the outside world. But as far as I could gather they all seemed to be as that Dragomir chap described them: local men, long in the employ of this castle and thus with no reason to be concerned with what happened in Bulgaria.”

“Which leaves Dragomir himself,” I said. “He was standing behind the table. I wouldn’t have noticed if he’d moved forward and dropped something onto Pirin’s plate or into his glass. What do you know about him?”

“Dragomir? Very little.”

“Do you know, for example, that he is not from Romania?”