On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service

by Rhys Bowen

  The prince put an arm around her shoulder. “Buck up, old thing,” he said kindly. “Stiff upper lip and all that.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “You are very kind, sir. Yes, we must all show a stiff upper lip. It’s just that . . . I can’t believe this has happened in my house, to one of my friends.” And she stumbled down the hall like somebody sleepwalking.

  I still stood in the doorway, looking around the room. I was dying to go in and check whether the French doors to the balcony were locked, although I couldn’t see how anybody could have climbed up without a rope. It looked like a typical man’s room. The room of a man who was orderly and had good taste. Silver-backed brushes and shaving gear lay neatly arranged on the dressing table. His clothes from the night before had been put away. His shoes were neatly beside the bed, as were his carpet slippers. His dressing gown lay across a chair. Otherwise there were no signs that the room was occupied. No papers, no books, no photographs. Then I noticed something: on the floor, a few feet from the bed, was a white feather. How strange, I thought. I was tempted to go and pick it up, when a voice spoke behind me.

  “What happened to the maid with the key?” It was General Spitz-Blitzen. “We must certainly lock this door until the police arrive, do you not agree, Lady Georgiana?”

  “What?” I turned to look at him. I hadn’t realized he was still standing there. “Oh yes. Definitely. We should lock the door.”

  I moved out of the room.

  General Spitz-Blitzen continued to look at me. He stepped closer, although we were now alone in that hallway. “You have an observant eye, Lady Georgiana. But I think it is not always wise to be too observant.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “You yourself said that truth and justice must prevail.”

  He nodded. “I did, and I believe it. But I am also thinking that somebody in this house has committed murder for some unknown reason and tried to make it look like a suicide. This person may not be happy that you have been observant.”

  “Golly,” I said. “You are warning me to be careful.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. This person who killed may start to wonder what other clues you have observed.”

  He went over to the door and closed it firmly. The clang echoed down the hallway. “I think maybe I should summon Klinker to stand guard. He is a good, reliable man. One can count on him.”

  I looked around. “Where is Klinker?” I asked.

  “I believe he went for a walk in the rain, as you did,” he said. “He prizes his physical fitness highly. Our Führer encourages us to develop a healthy body.”

  I looked at his own rather corpulent stomach and kept silent.

  We went along the hall and then down the stairs together. As we headed for the lake view room to join the others I heard a light tapping of heels and Mrs. Simpson appeared from the back of the house. “What on earth was all that noise about a while ago?” she said, looking around in annoyance. “Some female having hysterics? And where is everybody? I’m ready to depart for Milan now.”

  Chapter 20

  TUESDAY, APRIL 23

  AT VILLA FIORI

  This whole business gets more horrible by the minute. I wish I had never come here! I have to find Darcy right away.

  Mrs. Simpson was not pleased to find that nobody would be driving into Milan that day.

  “How inconsiderate of the guy to go and kill himself in a house where we are staying, David,” she said as I escorted her through to the lake room. “I just hope there won’t be a scandal. Why don’t we pack our bags and hightail it out of here before the press arrives?”

  The prince frowned. “Oh, I don’t think that would be right, Wallis. There is some suggestion that his death might not be a suicide. Young Georgie here pointed out that the gun was in his right hand when the chap is known to be left-handed.”

  Wallis Simpson shot me a venomous glare, as if I had been personally responsible for spoiling her day’s shopping. “Young Georgie seems to find herself mixed up in crimes, or imagined crimes, all too often,” she said. “It’s about time she got married and concentrated more on sex and babies.”

  There was a horrified gasp from Paolo’s mother, sitting in her armchair beside the unlit fire.

  “Anyway, we can’t go anywhere before the police arrive so I’m afraid we’re stuck. And really, look at the weather. It would be a beastly day for shopping. You’d get your fur wet and you’d be miserable,” the prince said.

  At that moment the butler appeared bearing a decanter and brandy glasses. This seemed to cheer everyone up. I took the moment when they were all occupied to slip away. Although I would have welcomed a glass of brandy with the other guests I had to tell Darcy what had happened. I had forgotten that I was still wearing my damp mack. My umbrella still lay where I had dropped it beside the front door. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, then I went out again. I wondered if Darcy had returned to his task with the other gardeners and had just passed the swimming pool when I heard him whisper, “Georgie. Over here.”

  He was standing beside that little octagonal pavilion. I went over to him.

  “What was it?” he asked in a low voice.

  “One of the guests has been murdered,” I said. “Count Rudolf.”

  “Murdered? Rudolf?” He looked stunned.

  I nodded. He opened the door and indicated I should follow him into the little pavilion. If anything it was less appetizing than it had been the day before. It still smelled of stale smoke and damp and I shivered as we stood there. I suppose the shock was just beginning to take hold. I tried to stay calm and composed as I told him what I had just witnessed: the locked door, the maid finding Rudolf with half his face blown away and the gun still in his hand.

  “In his hand?” Darcy said. “Then it was suicide.”

  I shook my head fiercely. “That was what the murderer wanted us to think,” I said. “But he made a mistake. Rudolf was left-handed. The gun was in his right hand.”

  “And who spotted that?”

  “I did,” I confessed.

  He looked at me. “Sometimes you may be too observant for your own good,” he said.

  “Funny, that was what the German general said.”

  “He threatened you?” A flash of anger crossed Darcy’s face.

  “No, on the contrary, he was concerned for my safety. He was hinting that a murderer might wonder what else I had seen.”

  “I must get you away from here now,” he said. “Can’t you tell them that you’ve received a message from your sick friend and you are wanted back with her immediately? You could still go to Belinda’s place and stay with her, couldn’t you?”

  A glimmer of hope flashed through my mind. Back with Belinda. Away from all this unpleasantness and intrigue. Then I shook my head. “We can’t leave, Darcy. Rudolf has been murdered. If I run away I’ll immediately look like a suspect. And besides, someone in that house is a killer.”

  “I’m not actually surprised someone killed Rudolf,” he said. “He did like to sail close to the wind. A jealous husband, no doubt.”

  Of course when he said that I thought of Max. Mummy must have confessed to him and Max had taken revenge on Rudolf. But it didn’t seem like Max’s sort of crime. He was a straightforward sort of chap. Would he have been devious enough to have found a way to make it look like suicide and to successfully lock the door from the inside?

  “I wonder,” I said. “The only husband is Paolo and he was so shocked, he looked as if he was about to be sick. There are two would-be husbands—Max and the Prince of Wales—but I can’t see either of them . . .”

  “Need not have been staying here,” Darcy went on. “A wronged husband could have followed Rudolf, found out where he was staying, crept in at night or climbed up to the balcony.”

  “He’d have had to be a darned good mountaineer,” I said. “There is no handy cr
eeper going up the wall like mine.”

  He nodded. “You were about to tell me something when we heard the screams.”

  “Of course. Yes, I was.” With all the shock I had almost forgotten. “I overheard a conversation yesterday. In this very room. You’ll find this hard to believe, Darcy.” And I related exactly what I had heard.

  “Crikey,” he said, proving that I was not the only one with an unsophisticated vocabulary. “So that’s what it was, that’s why they are all here . . . trying to get the prince in on a secret pact with the Germans and Italians. I’m not surprised they tried to rope him in. He’s shown himself to be impressed by Herr Hitler and all things German.”

  “But he’s not even king yet,” I said. “King George may live for years yet. And even if David were king, he has no real powers, does he?”

  “Except that the people love him. If he came out and said that our future lay with Germany, they might well believe him.”

  “Golly,” I said. “Do you think Germany is going to be a real threat?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “So what do we do now? Will you report this back to London?”

  “In due course. The more urgent matter is killing Rudolf. Was he at this meeting yesterday?”

  “Yes, yes, he was; but he didn’t join in, other than translating from English for the young German officer, Klinker.”

  “I see.”

  There was a silence during which I heard the rain drumming on the roof and peppering the thin windows. The storm had picked up in intensity again. Darcy had been staring out past me, at the rain-soaked gardens. Suddenly he looked at me abruptly. “How on earth did you overhear this? You weren’t foolish enough to follow them and eavesdrop outside the window, were you?”

  I gave a nervous grin. “Much worse than that. I was under the table.”

  “What?” Darcy really looked shocked now. “Are you crazy?”

  “It wasn’t my idea, I promise you,” I said. “I had been walking in the grounds. I came in to look at this little temple or whatever it is and suddenly I heard voices and saw men heading for the door. I didn’t want to be caught, feeling foolish, when I was supposed to be in bed with a headache, so I did the first thing that came into my head and dived under the table.”

  Darcy shot me an exasperated look. “Why not just look up in surprise and say, ‘Oh hello. I just came out here for some peace and quiet,’ or something like that?”

  “It would have been more sensible, I agree, but I had no idea they were going to have a meeting in here. All sitting around the table. Their feet inches away from me. It was awful, Darcy.”

  In spite of himself he had to smile. “Only you could get yourself into a situation like that.”

  “And at one point I wanted to sneeze. Luckily I managed to stifle it.”

  “Luckily, as you say. There were some ruthless people in that room, Georgie. You might not be alive now if they’d known you were there.”

  A thought just occurred to me. “You don’t think that Rudolf’s death could have anything to do with this, do you?” I gestured to the table. “You said he was well in with Hitler and . . .”

  I broke off as I heard my name being called. I glanced at Darcy. “I have to go. It won’t do to be caught in here with a gardener.”

  He nodded. “I’ll come up to your balcony tonight. Don’t lock the window this time.”

  “All right.”

  “And take care of yourself. Stay with other people. Lock your bedroom door.”

  “That didn’t do much good for poor Rudolf,” I said and for a horrible second I thought I was going to cry. He had been an unpleasant man but nobody deserves to die like that.

  “Georgiana?” the voice echoed out again. I glanced out the door. Max was crossing the lawn, half hidden under a big umbrella.

  “I have to go,” I said again. Darcy kissed his finger then put it to my lips. “Don’t say anything to anyone,” he said. “Play the innocent until I’ve had a chance to think this through. You know where to find me if you need me.”

  “Which cottage is yours?”

  “Third from the right,” he said and almost pushed me out the door as Max approached.

  “Ah, there you are,” Max said. “Your mother was asking for you. She was worried that something might have happened to you. They were searching the whole house.”

  “I’m sorry, Max,” I said. “I didn’t mean to make anybody worry. I was just so upset by what I saw that I wanted to be on my own. I didn’t want anyone to see me crying.”

  He held his big umbrella over both of us and put a big arm around my shoulder. It was only then that I realized I had left my own umbrella in the summer house. “Do not cry, little Georgiana. I will take good care of you, I promise.”

  His tone of compassion and gentleness caught me by surprise and a lump really did come into my throat. Until then I had had no feelings for Max. Frankly I couldn’t see what my mother saw in him, apart from his godlike physique and his money, that is. I supposed those two things were enough for most women.

  “You are very kind, Max,” I managed to mumble. “Mummy’s lucky to have you.” And I let him steer me back into the house.

  Chapter 21

  TUESDAY, APRIL 23

  AT VILLA FIORI

  I could hear the murmur of voices coming from the lake room. I told Max I needed to change out of my damp clothes and went up to my bedroom. One of the footmen was standing outside Rudolf’s door, clearly not relishing the task of being so close to a dead body. He had been staring in the other direction, and when I appeared behind him he jumped a mile and acted as if he was prepared to defend the door against all comers. Then he gave me a weak and embarrassed smile as I went past and into my own room. In that uncanny way of hers Gerda appeared almost immediately.

  “Lady Georgiana, you have been outside? This is not wise in such weather and at such a time.”

  “I was upset,” I said. “I wanted to be alone.”

  She nodded. “There is talk of nothing else in the servants’ hall. This poor man. So tragic, to take his own life. I observed him and he seemed quite gay and full of life. But one never knows. Naturally you were upset. Should I bring you hot milk?”

  “No, thank you. I think I should go and join the others, but I need to change my clothes and shoes.”

  “Let me remove them for you.” She took off my shoes and made tut-tutting noises.

  “One should not go out walking in such weather,” she said. “So much mud will spoil the leather.”

  I didn’t like to say that my brogues had been subjected to quite a lot of mud during their lifetime and were far from new.

  “No matter. I will clean,” she said. “And your jumper is quite wet around the collar. I hope you do not catch a chill.”

  In seconds she had a blouse down from its hanger, my jumper removed and the blouse buttoned for me as if I were a small child. It was useless to resist. Gerda was a force to be reckoned with. I wondered if Camilla had ever regretted hiring her in London, when her former maid was knocked down by that bus. But then Camilla had grown up with money. Perhaps all real lady’s maids were so horribly efficient.

  “Queenie,” I whispered with a sigh. What I wouldn’t give to see her bulky person waddling toward me with a vacant grin on her face and to hear her say “Whatcha, miss.” Which probably shows how much Rudolf’s death had affected me.

  When Gerda had dried and styled my hair for me I was sent back downstairs while she whisked my shoes away, presumably to work a miracle upon them. The butler had served coffee to follow the brandy and I drank some gratefully, cupping my hands around the warmth of the coffee cup and feeling the hot liquid spread warmth through my body. I think I was still shivering. Nobody seemed to feel much like talking. Mummy had been idly turning the pages of an Italian fashion magazine, clearl
y not focusing on what was on them. Paolo’s mother was saying her rosary, her lips moving silently over the beads. Mrs. Simpson pouted as she stared out of the window, puffing on her cigarette while David looked anxiously at her, as if he was terrified he had been responsible for upsetting her. Outside the tall windows the lake matched our mood—sullen and gray, with the mountains on the other side obscured behind a veil of mist.

  Mummy now seemed to realize I was back. “Oh, here’s my darling daughter, safe and sound,” she said. “I was so worried that something had happened to you. But clever Max found you.”

  “I just needed to be alone,” I said. “It was rather horrible, wasn’t it?”

  “It was. Especially for those of us who are of a sensitive nature.” Her gaze went across to Mrs. Simpson. “In fact, I think I might want to go upstairs to lie down. I’m still feeling quite faint in spite of the brandy. Will you take me to my room, darling?” She held out her hand to me.

  “I can take you. Let Georgiana have her coffee,” Max said.

  Mummy shook her head in dramatic fashion, making the curls bounce. “No, my darling. Right now I need my own little girl. My little treasure.”

  She had never called me her little treasure, not once in twenty-four years. But she got up and clutched at my arm like a drowning woman. As she dragged me toward the door she whispered, “The pictures. If they are in Rudi’s room we have to find them before the police do.”

  “But someone is guarding the door,” I whispered back.

  “We must distract him. I’ll turn on the full force of my charm and you slip inside. Otherwise . . .”

  We had not even reached the stairs when the sound of a furiously rung bell announced the arrival of a police car.

  “Too late,” Mummy wailed. “Now all we can do is pray for a miracle.”

  We heard tires crunching on gravel and the butler walked toward the front door. Mummy and I reluctantly rejoined the others in the sitting room. We heard voices at the front door, then the butler appeared again. “The police have arrived,” he said in Italian even I could understand. A short chubby man pushed past him and swept into the room. His thinning black hair was parted in the middle on top of a round face. His neck bulged over the edges of his tight uniform collar. He looked incredibly pleased with himself.