by Rhys Bowen
“If you ask me, it was someone playing a practical joke,” the Prince of Wales said, looking around at the assembled group. “And if it was someone here, it would be the honorable thing to own up right now.”
Our guests looked at each other but nobody spoke.
“Then let us think back to see if anyone was missing from the room when the countess screamed,” the prince went on.
“Mr. Simpson, for one,” my mother couldn’t resist saying.
“Well, honey, he had a headache and went up to bed,” Mrs. Simpson said, smiling serenely. “And I don’t think he could be mistaken for a white lady, even in the poorest light. He’s rather tall, you know. And he has dark hair.” Her gaze fell on me. “But I did notice Lady Georgiana leaving the room . . . with Mr. O’Mara.”
“I can assure you we had other things on our mind than playing at ghosts,” Darcy said. I felt myself blushing like a schoolgirl.
I looked around the room. “And where’s Hugo?” I asked.
“Yes, where is he?” someone else said. “He was dancing in the Paul Jones a little while ago.”
We looked up as footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. All eyes watched as Hugo came down. He did have very light hair, worn rather long.
“Where have you been?” Earl demanded.
Hugo looked suitably confused. “Can’t a chap bally well go to take a leak without having to get permission first?”
“Which bathroom did you use?” Fig demanded.
“Why this interest in my call of nature?” Hugo grinned. “In answer to that, the closest one, just off that hall to the left.”
“It was a real ghost, I know it,” the countess insisted. “Real people can’t just vanish.”
I watched Hugo as he took his place among the guests, chatting easily as if nothing had happened. He did have light hair, and he wasn’t that tall. Was this his idea of a joke or something more serious? I resolved to keep a closer eye on him. The party broke up soon after. The mood had been broken and nobody showed any interest in dancing again. Off they went and we were left with our house guests plus the Prince of Wales, who showed no intention of leaving in the near future. One by one they went off to bed, with Fritzi promising faithfully to stand guard at his mother’s bedside all night.
“Well, that was a rum do, wasn’t it?” the prince said, when the Americans and Hugo had also gone to their rooms, leaving only essentially family members. “It’s been a rum day altogether—what with that dashed great rock crashing onto my car and now this.”
“And don’t forget Binky’s foot getting caught in a trap,” Fig said, looking with concern at her husband. “One might almost think that someone is out to do us harm.”
There, she had expressed it out loud. I looked from one prince to the other, and then at the two Scottish cousins. The Prince of Wales laughed. “I don’t believe that any communist or anarchist would go to the trouble of setting traps and arranging for rocks to land on cars,” he said. “One good bullet would do the trick much more cleanly.”
He was right about that, of course. If someone did want to do away with the prince, or with the heirs in general, then these were petty accidents with small chance of success, when a bullet or bomb could be guaranteed to kill. It was being done with monotonous frequency to one European royal family after another.
“Maybe it’s all someone’s idea of a joke,” Binky suggested.
“It would have to be someone with a rather twisted sense of humor,” Fig said bitterly.
I just happened to glance across at the cousins and I saw a smirk pass between them. Was this really their idea of a joke? I worried about this later as I lay in bed. They were poor, by their own admission, so I could understand if they wanted to do away with Binky and get their hands on this estate. But they had no connection to the Prince of Wales, and why would anyone want to frighten the countess? The latter was the most easily explained, of course. She had proved herself to be of a nervous disposition. It was she who had seen the monster in the lake. Maybe she had caught sight of Hugo heading for a bathroom and decided she was seeing a ghost.
Of course then my thoughts turned to Hugo. Why had he decided to invite himself to Castle Rannoch when I’m sure the rented house was more pleasant and full of young people like himself. Was he really so besotted with Ronny Padgett that he followed her everywhere? Could he be the one with a grudge against our family? The whole thing was too ridiculous. Then I remembered the feel of Darcy’s lips on mine and the delicious anticipation of the linen cupboard, and fell asleep with a smile on my face.
I was woken by the most ungodly sound—a half-strangled scream, an unearthly wail. I leaped out of bed and ran to the window because the sound seemed to be coming from outside. It was still only half light. Then the sound came closer and of course I realized what it was. It was old Fergus piping in the day around the castle, as had been done for the past six hundred years. I slipped on my dressing gown and went out into the hallway. I could hear voices coming from the other side of the stairwell, where the Americans were housed. Animated voices in considerable distress.
“You heard it too, did you? Unearthly, that’s what it was. A soul in torment. I knew this place was haunted from the moment we came here.”
I crossed the landing and found Babe and Earl, the countess and Fritzi huddled together in their nightclothes. The countess looked up, saw me and screamed. “It’s the White Lady!” she exclaimed, clutching at Earl.
“It’s only me, Countess.”
“It’s young Lady Georgiana,” Earl said. “You heard it too, did you? Confounded noise woke me up. What was it, some kind of animal in distress?”
“No, it was only our piper, resuming his morning round of the castle. He’s been off sick but now it sounds as if he’s back in fine form.”
“Bagpipes, you mean?”
“Of course. You are in Scotland, you know.”
“But it’s not even light yet.”
“Precicely. Bagpipes at dawn. That’s the tradition here.”
“You mean every morning from now on?” Babe looked shocked.
“Every morning. And I expect he’ll entertain us at dinner too, now he’s back.”
“Oh, my God.” Babe put her hand to her head. “Where are my headache powders, Earl? And I need an ice pack.”
“An ice pack?” I asked. “It’s summer. You won’t find any ice.”
“Is there no ice in the whole of Scotland?” Earl demanded.
“Pretty much.”
“Earl, I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” Babe said. “I mean, Wallis knows I’d do anything for her, but this is beyond human endurance.”
“I agree,” the countess said. “You could all come and stay with me at Castle Adlerstein. It’s on a lake in Austria; it really is much more agreeable.”
“It really does sound like a better idea,” Babe agreed. “What do you think, Poopsie?” I tiptoed away and went back to bed. The plan seemed to be working splendidly!
Chapter 19
Castle Rannoch and a mountainside
August 19, 1932
Morning.
When I next awoke it was to Maggie bringing in the tea tray. “A glorious morning, your ladyship,” she said. “I hope you’ll be taking advantage of it.”
Oh, golly, I thought. I had been coerced into taking the two princes climbing. Another wicked thought went through my head. The munro they wished to tackle could be ascended by no more than what we might describe as a brisk ramble. Of course there was a rather tricky ascent that involved the crag, if one went directly up from the lake. I could take them up that. They’d be terribly impressed. I just hoped I was still up to it and could remember the route.
When I appeared for breakfast, dressed for climbing in trews, shirt and Windbreaker, I met Siegfried, looking as if he was about to tackle Mount Everest.
“So we attempt the climb today, Lady Georgiana?” he asked, somewhat nervously. “We go for the summit?”
�
�Absolutely.”
“I have all prepared. Ropes. Pitons.”
“Ice axes?” I suggested with a grin.
He shook his head seriously. “I do not believe one needs ice axes in summer. I saw no ice yesterday.”
Honestly the man had no sense of humor. I was tempted to say that we could easily manage without any equipment, but then, it rather amused me to think of Siegfried and Prince George going up our little crag, roped together.
“So we set off after breakfast, then?” I said.
“Unfortunately His Highness will not be joining us,” Siegfried said. “He was summoned to Balmoral.”
“Nothing’s wrong, I hope?”
“His father wished to speak to him. Something about gambling debts, I believe.”
So Prince George’s sins were gradually coming to light, were they? Did I really want to be stuck alone on a mountain with Siegfried? “Should we not postpone our climb until he is able to join us?” I asked.
“He fears he may be sent back to London,” Siegfried said. “And if he is able to join us once more, then I shall have learned the correct route and be able to lead. I have great experience, you know. I have tackled the Alps and the Dolo mites. I know no fear.”
“Jolly good,” I said. “Then we may well attempt the part with the overhang.”
He blanched, making his already pale face even paler. “But it seemed impossible.”
“Not with a good rope and pitons,” I said. “What is a thousand-foot drop if you are securely anchored? Until after breakfast, then.”
I thought he looked a trifle green. I was beginning to enjoy myself for the first time in ages.
The Americans were also not looking at their best. Babe looked particularly haggard. So did Mrs. Simpson. “How am I expected to get my beauty sleep if we’re awoken in the middle of the night?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I realize you must need quite a bit of it these days.”
I saw Mr. Simpson smirk. Again I felt sorry for the man. At least he had a sense of humor.
Lachan and Murdoch entered while we were in the middle of breakfast. I was tucking into the usual bacon, eggs and smoked haddock, while watching Babe and Mrs. Simpson having half a grapefruit and a slice of toast each.
“So are we all ready?” Lachan asked, helping himself to everything that was going.
“What for?”
“Did you no say you wanted to go on a haggis hunt?” Lachan asked.
“Not for me. Nothing fierce,” the countess said quickly.
“Well, I think that might be fun,” Babe said, eyeing Lachan’s broad shoulders. “Let’s do it, okay, Earl?”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“And where is that delightful young man Hugo?” Babe asked. “Maybe he’d like to join us.”
“I think I saw him going out a while back,” Mrs. Simpson said. “I expect he’s gone back to his friends with the speedboat. Oh, and I gather from sources in the know that a shoot is being planned tomorrow at Balmoral, for any of you who enjoy such things. I may just go shopping in the nearest town, if there is a nearest town. I’m running low on nail polish.”
“We have to stay and go shooting, Babe,” Earl said. “You know I love shooting things. I’ve been looking forward to it. Wallis promised us shooting here every day and there has been none so far.”
“My brother was not intending to step on a trap and nearly lose his foot,” I said coldly. I was a trifle vexed by the way they discussed my family and my home as if we didn’t exist.
“Of course not, poor sap,” Earl said. “So should I take my gun on your little expedition today, young man?”
“Maybe not,” Lachan said. “You might miss and that would enrage them.”
I kept waiting for Lachan to burst out laughing, or for someone to let them in on the secret. But no one did and I wasn’t going to. After all, it was rather fun and they had been rather annoying. I left them preparing for their quest and set off with Siegfried. The walk across the estate to the foot of Bein Breoil took some time, owing to the amount of equipment Siegfried was carrying and the fact that his new climbing boots pinched his toes.
As we walked I looked back at the road snaking over the pass and tried to imagine where one could roll a boulder down onto a car with any degree of success. It seemed impossible. Close to the estate, which was where they said they had been struck, the area beside the road was tree lined and reasonably flat. Surely any boulder would hit a tree first. Up at the top, where the pass narrowed, there would have been greater chance of success, but that wasn’t apparently where the prince’s car was struck. Interesting.
At last we reached the base of the crag. I had to admit that from down here it did look rather formidable, rising some two hundred feet of sheer granite.
“Right. Off we go then,” I said. “Do you want me to lead first or will you?”
“Ladies first,” Siegfried said. He was already sweating from carrying all that equipment.
I began to climb the rock face, my fingers and toes remembering the old tried-and-true route. When you knew where the handholds were, it wasn’t too alarming. When I reached a suitable point for Siegfried to pass me, I drove in a piton and signaled for him to come up. He did, passing me with much heavy breathing and sweat on his brow. In this fashion we made it almost to the top and I showed him how to skirt around the overhang. At last we hauled ourselves up to the top of the crag and rested, sitting on a large boulder while we admired the view. A fresh wind blew in our faces and the loch below reflected the mountains. I breathed deeply, savoring everything about the scene, except for the person sitting beside me.
“So we achieved it with no problem, you see.” Siegfried was looking very pleased with himself. I could see this story would be embellished and retold among the courts of Europe.
“Well done, Your Highness,” I said.
“Please, call me Siegfried,” he said, “and I shall call you Georgiana when we are alone.”
I hoped that wouldn’t be too often.
“You know, Georgiana,” he said, “I have been thinking. It would not be such a bad idea if we were to get married.”
I’m glad I had a firm seat on that boulder or I might have plunged to my death.
“But Your Hi—I mean, Siegfried—I believe you are as little attracted to me as I am to you,” I said tactfully. This actually meant I know you prefer boys, and it was better than shouting “Not if you were the last man in the universe” for all of Scotland to hear.
“That has nothing to do with it,” he said. “We of noble birth do not marry for love, we marry to cement alliances among the great houses of Europe. It is important that I choose the right wife. I may be king someday.”
“If your brother and your father are assassinated, you mean?”
“Possibly.”
“And what makes you think you won’t follow suit?”
“I shall be a just and popular king, unlike my brother and my father. And you will make a suitable consort for me. I know that your family is in favor of this match and do not think you could do better.”
The local gamekeeper would be better, I longed to say.
“I shall make few demands on you,” he went on, waving a hand expansively. “Once you have produced me an heir, you will be free to take lovers, as long as you are discreet at all times.”
“And you will also take lovers, and be equally discreet?”
“Naturally. That is how things are done.”
“Not for me, Siegfried,” I said. “I intend to marry for love. I may be naïve, but I believe that I will find true happiness with the right man for me someday.”
He looked extremely put out. “But your family wishes this alliance.”
“I’m sorry. My family doesn’t contribute a penny toward my sustenance. They don’t have a say in my happiness. I wish you well in finding a suitable princess.”
“Very well.” He got to his feet. “We shall now make the descent. After you, my l
ady.”
“We can belay down past the overhang,” I said. “Do you want me to go first, while you play out the rope for me?”
“If you wish.” He was cold, remote and correct, obviously not used to being rejected. I adjusted my harness and walked out backward over the cliff. I had only gone down a few feet, past the worst part of the overhang, when I heard a sound I associated with sailing ships at sea. It was the creak and groan of a rope under stress. While my brain was still processing the thought that the rope was about to break, it did and I fell.
I made a grab at the rock face but my fingers were torn from their handholds as I plummeted down. I had an impression of rock wall flashing past me, and the words formed themselves in my brain, I am about to die. Bother. And for some reason I was remarkably annoyed at being about to die a virgin.
It was almost as if I was descending in slow motion. I steeled myself for the inevitable crunch when I crashed into the scree at the bottom of the rock face. Then suddenly I was jerked upward and tipped upside down. I swung dizzily in my harness with the sky beneath my feet and the ground twirling above me. I didn’t know how I’d been saved from certain death, but I presumed the rope must have snagged itself on some outcropping. In which case it could give way again any second. I continued to twirl, upside down. I tried, ineffectually, to right myself, but I was scared of putting any sudden pressure on the rope.
So I hung there, swaying in the breeze, just praying that Siegfried had the sense to find the easy route down and go for help. If not, I wasn’t sure how long I could hang here. I could already feel the blood rushing to my head and singing in my ears. I was going to pass out if I stayed in this position much longer. Wind whistled past me, swinging me around. Clouds were rushing in, already blotting out the higher peaks. Soon I’d be hidden from sight.
“Help,” I yelled into nowhere. “Somebody come and help me.”
The singing in my head had become a roaring. Spots were dancing in front of my eyes. Gradually the world slipped away.