The Balmoral Incident

by Alanna Knight

  ‘Meg,’ I said sternly, ‘Thane is—is still alive.’

  ‘But he’s going to die. I know it!’

  ‘No, darling, this vet that takes care of the King’s dogs, Uncle Vince says—’

  She shook her head. ‘But Thane’s not like them. He’s not an ordinary dog. You know he isn’t.’

  I put my arm around her. ‘I know. But he’ll be all right. We must have faith.’

  She looked up at me as if she’d never heard the word before. The nuns hadn’t got very far with her religious education. I said: ‘Magic, then. You believe in magic, don’t you?’

  She nodded and said: ‘Will it take long before Uncle Vince brings him back?’

  ‘Maybe an hour or two.’ I had no idea but knew we couldn’t sit around and wait for news. Vince had said as he drove off that it might take a while for the vet’s treatment to work. Neither of us could eat so I offered her one of some forbidden chocolate bars, the very special treat that she loved and craved. She unwrapped it and I said: ‘Are you seeing Rowena today?’

  She looked at me as if she had forgotten their almost daily meetings and shook her head. ‘Her mother gives her a cookery lesson this morning.’ I gathered that Yolande was obviously hoping to train her daughter for duties in the royal kitchens.

  Which was just as well today. Rowena was fond of Thane and our distress would be infectious. I could not have dealt with two hysterical girls in floods of tears.

  I crumbled up some bread. ‘Here you are.’ Anything to distract her. ‘Don’t forget the birds. They’ll be waiting.’ Her after-breakfast task.

  I wanted to clean up and just hoped that Mabel would stay upstairs in one of her huffs and not come in to lecture me on That Dog or I would most certainly do her an injury.

  And I had an idea of how to fill in those dreaded waiting hours. Meg had always wanted to go across to the little island with the monument Queen Victoria had set there. It wasn’t an island at all really, just a raised bit of land in the middle of the river, a kind of peninsula, but it had lots of trees and Meg was sure it was a magic glen. Doubtless shades of Sir Walter Scott’s ‘Lady of the Lake’ that I had been reading to her.

  It was a lovely, sunny morning, the earth smiled, oblivious of our anguish. When I told Meg my plan, she brightened. How would we get across?

  ‘Remember that little rowing boat moored on the shore?’ I said, wondering if it was still there and more to the point, seaworthy.

  Meg clasped her hands. ‘Do let’s go, then.’ She frowned. ‘Oh Mam, will we be back in time for Thane?’

  I said Vince had hinted at afternoon, and as neither of us had eaten, we could take a picnic.

  Ten minutes later, with thankfully no appearance from Mabel, although she watched us leave from her window, Meg said: ‘Should we ask her to come along?’

  ‘No,’ I said firmly, ‘there wouldn’t be room in the boat.’

  We walked through the wood down to the river path and there was the boat: dilapidated, ancient and unused. I sighed: if needs must.

  Meg stepped in and took up one of the oars. ‘Rowena would have loved this.’

  I was always very careful with Rowena and her overprotective mother. If she got a scratch on her or a tear on her pinafore, Meg would shake her head and say: ‘Her mother will be in such a state.’ I hated to think of that state if Rowena had returned thoroughly soaked.

  With an oar each we set off. There was quite a swirl on the current and the water had looked a lot smoother than it felt. I looked across at the little island and was glad it was a journey of about thirty yards, remembering my tendency to seasickness.

  At last we wobbled onto dry shingle and pulled the tiny boat after us, fastening it to an overhanging branch of a tree.

  ‘There has been a castle here once,’ Meg said, ‘look at all the stones. Do you think people lived here before they built the castle?’

  I thought that very unlikely as it had only been an island since the river changed its course. The reason for the monument was that it most probably brought the Queen treasured memories of Prince Albert and the love story of a truly romantic couple.

  ‘That boat might well have been theirs,’ said Meg.

  True enough. It didn’t look as if it had had much use in the present king’s reign. And on further thought, if I had always had doubts about bringing Thane over, then for such a large man it would have been somewhat hazardous.

  The scene was certainly very pretty but there was this air of desolation, of neglect. No one ever came here any more. Not nearly grand enough or big enough for King Edward and his society. He liked his romance taken in luxury and I couldn’t imagine him bringing Queen Alexandra, even without their six children, for a pleasant outing without a stream of servants carrying the picnic.

  I was very glad to see Meg’s appetite had returned and every time she frowned and asked the time and mentioned Thane I insisted that we were not to worry, that the King’s vet was very clever and doubtless lots of other dogs much smaller and more fragile than Thane had been poisoned and survived.

  I hoped that was true.

  As always, the sun seemed to be on shift work. After a fleeting appearance, work done, it now retreated. The sky had greyed over and we decided it was time to get back and continue our vigil in the comfort of the cottage.

  Except … except that there was no boat! At least, there was no boat on the overhanging branch. It was bobbing merrily about in the middle of the river. Far out of reach and completely inaccessible.

  We were marooned.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘What will we do now?’ Meg wailed.

  She couldn’t swim and neither could I. We could try shouting for help if there was any hope of our cries being heard above the swirling rush of the water, or if anyone happened to be passing by, a fisherman perhaps. We had seen groups of them with their fishing rods on this part of the river.

  ‘He-ll-o!’

  A miracle – our shouts had been heard.

  A tall man stood on the mainland side. The one my heart recognised before I did. Mr Brown.

  We pointed to the boat. He nodded, elaborate gesticulations accompanied his words that we couldn’t hear distinctly, indicating that he would push it across to us.

  Wasn’t it too deep for him? ‘You’ll drown,’ shouted Meg.

  He shook his head. ‘You’ll – get – very – wet.’

  He laughed, kicked out a leg and we realised he was wearing thigh-length waders, the usual accoutrements of the eager fishermen.

  He disappeared from view, as had the boat, which had drifted out of sight. The silence took over. It seemed like some time as we waited.

  ‘Do you think he’s coming back? Did he mean it?’ asked Meg. ‘Maybe he can’t get the boat.’

  I only knew that once again he was to be my rescuer. And there he was, wading across, ten yards away, coming closer, treading water. But no boat.

  Stepping ashore, he shook his head. ‘Boat’s leaking, I’m afraid, and sinking fast. Your combined weight must have been too much for it. Fortunate it didn’t fill up while you were crossing.’

  He smiled at Meg. ‘Hello.’ And to me. ‘You don’t have much luck with water, do you?’

  Ignoring that I asked sternly: ‘What do we do now?’

  He seemed very tall as, hands on hips, he looked down on us grinning. ‘Well, I shall have to carry you across.’

  ‘Both of us? Isn’t that going to be difficult?’

  He smiled. ‘Only one at a time. I’ll take the little lady first.’ He knelt down. ‘Up you go!’ And setting Meg on his shoulders, her arms about his neck he stood up. ‘Comfortable, are you? Hang on tight.’

  Meg laughed. She was enjoying this adventure.

  As they stepped into the water, he looked back at me. ‘Don’t go away, miss. I’ll be back shortly.’

  ‘How—?’

  ‘I’m coming back for you, of course.’

  I watched them go, Meg laughing merrily as he wa
ded steadily through the water. On dry land, she waved to me and then he was coming back. I waited.

  Reaching my side, thoroughly drenched, he regarded me solemnly. ‘I don’t think my shoulders would be quite appropriate. I’ll carry you. Here we go.’ I gathered my skirts modestly about my legs and he lifted me up. ‘You’re as light as a feather.’

  I was in his arms, close to his beating heart. Smiling, he looked down into my face.

  ‘Rescuing you is getting to be a habit.’

  ‘Thank you. We were lucky you were passing by.’

  He laughed. ‘I decided to do a little fishing. I was told the trout was good here. I didn’t expect the catch to include two damsels in distress.’

  I could think of no clever rejoinder. Every step listening to that heartbeat, his warm breath, his closeness, my head under his chin, deprived me of speech. I just wanted it to last. I felt so safe, so comforted.

  My feet set on dry land again, I felt chilled without his warmth and looked round for Meg.

  ‘She didn’t want to wait. She thought Thane might be back by now. What’s this about? Him being poisoned?’

  ‘Meg and Rowena saw a rat in the garden. Aiken had poison put down. He must have got some of it.’ I could feel the tears, the agony of it all welling up again.

  He put an arm around me. ‘Don’t worry. Thane will be all right.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ I sobbed.

  His smile gave his eyes that strange light. He took my chin in his hand, said softly, ‘Like I told you, Rose. Remember? I know everything.’

  He had never called me Rose before. It seemed so intimate that my heart gave a little leap.

  The cottage was in sight. ‘Safe home, at last.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He bowed. ‘Glad to have been of service. I bid you good day.’

  I looked at the cottage. No sign of Vince or Thane. Turning to say thank you again, he was gone. No sign of him, either. He had an extraordinary way of just disappearing that was quite unnerving.

  As I opened the door, there were voices. The last one I wanted to hear. Inspector Gray was sitting opposite Mabel, the table between them.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Macmerry.’ He didn’t get up. Looking across at Mabel, her expression angry, eyes turned stonily towards the window, Gray indicated an envelope: ‘Some documents for Miss Penby Worth’s attention. We are legally bound to pass on copies of death certificate and so forth for the young woman’s next of kin – if they can be found – before the necessary arrangements for her interment can proceed.’

  It was an irresistible chance to drag more information out of the inspector. ‘The case is closed, then?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Nothing further about the stable boy Biggs, either?’

  He sighed deeply. ‘You have heard the facts, Mrs Macmerry, and that case too is closed.’

  ‘You never discovered who he was on the way to meet when the horse threw him?’

  He shrugged. ‘That is irrelevant whether he met someone or not, we are satisfied that this was an unfortunate accident. Perhaps it was yourself, Mrs Macmerry, since your bicycle tyres were on the scene of the accident,’ he added smoothly.

  ‘I have told you why, Inspector, you know my reasons and I’m not going over that again.’ I paused. ‘Have you had any success in discovering Miss Penby Worth’s attacker?’

  He didn’t want that one. He frowned across at Mabel who was now eyeing the tabletop very intently, giving it her full attention as if it held some hidden message for her.

  ‘We are still working on that.’ He stood up. ‘Now, if you will excuse me.’

  ‘There is something else you might like to work on, Inspector. It is possible that someone tried to poison our deerhound Thane, a very valuable animal.’

  ‘From what your daughter told me’ – Meg must have gone to her room – ‘it was an accident with rat poison. Unfortunate, but we cannot risk vermin in the cottage.’

  ‘Thane would never have taken poison. He is a very intelligent animal and not greedy.’

  Gray held up a hand. ‘Intelligent or not, dogs will eat anything if the package appeals to them. I would suggest that a large rat might have been acceptable to a hungry dog.’ With a bow to Mabel, who without a word to me, obviously still bearing in mind our exchange of words regarding Thane that morning, was heading in the direction of her room.

  As he departed, Meg dashed downstairs. ‘He told me I wasn’t needed and to make myself scarce. What a rude man!’

  I could not but agree as she poured herself a glass of milk. ‘I like that Mr Elder a lot. He is nice, isn’t he?’

  So he had told her that his real name was Elder. She had made some advance on short acquaintance but I wasn’t sure that ‘nice’ was quite the description I had in mind. ‘Wasn’t it lucky for us that he was there, Mam? We might have still been marooned on the island for hours and hours—’

  The sound of a motor approaching cut her short.

  We dashed out.

  Vince stepped out. Alone.

  Meg ran to him, screamed. ‘Thane! No! No – he-he-isn’t—?’

  Vince picked her up, took her in his arms. ‘No, Meg. He’ll be better soon.’

  I could see she didn’t believe him. He looked across at me. ‘He’s going to be fine, Rose, but he’ll stay with the vet for a day or two. Bain wants to keep him, that’s the usual procedure with poisoning. Wants to be sure it’s all out of his system.’ And to Meg, ‘Now wipe your tears, dear. It’s just like being in hospital, being looked after.’

  ‘Are you sure, Uncle Vince?’

  ‘Sure, I’m sure.’

  Later he said to me: ‘Thane has a charmed life. Bain said there was enough rat poison in him to kill a dozen dogs.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  With not much time left before we left for Edinburgh, another problem. Would Thane be fit to travel? But to my delight, even as I worried, Vince brought him back to the cottage the next day.

  I regarded him anxiously but he seemed to have taken no lasting ill effects from the poisoning, which was usually fatal. Once again I felt he had missed death by inches. As Vince said, he did indeed have a charmed life, maybe even more than one!

  I gathered that the vet had been very impressed. He had been so ill that he had felt there was little hope of survival, that his digestive organs might have been destroyed, and was amazed at such a complete recovery.

  Vince stroked his head proudly. A remarkable dog indeed.

  ‘We must watch his food, Rose. It seems that he had been tempted, as any normal animal would be, by a rat which unfortunately had just consumed the poison. Where’s Meg? She’ll be so pleased.’

  ‘She’s at the castle with Rowena. There’s a children’s picnic tea.’

  The royals were very fond of having their children mingle with those from the household. The Queen was very enlightened in this respect and considered that knowing and understanding the ‘common people’ would be very useful in days to come, an idea fully appreciated by her husband who enjoyed mingling with his subjects, particularly if they were female, young and pretty.

  I was so glad to have Thane back, restored to health, such a sense of relief that I knew would be shared by Meg. Such a pleasant surprise for her at six o’clock, when she came home for supper.

  But six came and passed and seven too. She was later than usual. That didn’t worry me particularly until at seven-thirty I opened the door to be confronted by a terrified Yolande.

  ‘Where is Rowena? Is she not here with Meg?’

  As I explained about the picnic, her eyes were darting round the room as if they might be hiding somewhere, then she cried: ‘No. I knew about that and when Rowena didn’t come home I decided to go and collect them both.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘And what did I find? Neither of them had been to the picnic party.’

  I stared at her, anxiety was catching. I did a quick calculation. In other words, they had been missing since midday. Where were they
? My turn for panic, mild compared to Yolande’s who screamed: ‘Why are they not here? Because they have been kidnapped, that is what has happened!’ and she sat down heavily on a chair, looking ready to faint.

  I said with a calmness I was far from feeling: ‘That is nonsense. Who would want to kidnap two little girls? They aren’t royals—’

  She gave a shriek: ‘But there are strange stories about here just now. Haven’t you heard, bad things happening at the castle?’

  I was no longer listening; trying desperately to think of a logical reason why Meg and Rowena would miss an event regarded as such a treat. I had a sudden flash of inspiration.

  ‘Could they have gone to the gipsy camp?’

  ‘Why would they miss a picnic for that?’

  I thought about Rowena and the gipsy camp again. She never talked of her father, perhaps he was there. At the mention of him, Yolande began to cry again. ‘I do not know where he is. He left years ago. I do not even know his real name – he worked on the estate, that was all. He wanted to marry me, so he said, but when he knew I was pregnant, he departed and I was forbidden to return to my family for associating with a gringo. And so was his child.’

  Her tears were now accompanied by a wringing of hands. ‘My precious little one! What will I do without my Rowena?’ I put a hopefully comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘Please, don’t upset yourself. We will find them.’ Adding confidently: ‘They can’t be far away.’

  She stood up, the clock had struck the hour. ‘I must go. I am on duty in the kitchen and if I am late I will be discharged. That is the rule. All my years there will mean nothing. It is a strict regime, be late and be sent off without a reference. Lateness will not be tolerated, even minutes. Unreliable.’

  I said, ‘You must go. I will get my bicycle—’

  ‘Will you please tell the policeman?’ she interrupted.

  I presumed she meant Inspector Gray. I didn’t know where to find him and he wouldn’t thank her or me for raising the alarm for two little girls missing on the estate since midday.