by Rhys Bowen
“And you are sure this really wasn’t an accident?” He looked up from pouring hot tea into a coarse earthenware cup decorated in blue and white stripes.
“How could anyone mistake Hugo for a grouse? It was misty, but surely anyone could have made out the shape of a person through the mist. And after everything else that has happened, I can only conclude the shooting was quite deliberate. Darcy thinks so too.”
“Oh, so he’s here, is he?” Granddad gave me one of his cheeky Cockney smiles. “Well, that should make you perk up.”
“It would if I weren’t so horribly afraid. I was supposed to keep my eyes and ears open, and so far I’ve done nothing except almost get killed. And if the special branch sent up a man of their own, then he’s lying really low.” I took a long drink of tea. It was sweeter, stronger and milkier than I usually have it but it felt most reassuring.
“Maybe he’s among the servants and just hasn’t found a way to talk to you yet,” Granddad said. “And anyway, I presume the police have been called in?”
I nodded.
“Well, unless they are complete fools up here in Scotland, they’ll be able to tell if foul play has taken place. And it’s now out of your hands, thank God. Since it’s Balmoral, they’ll no doubt send up some bigwig in the police force, so you could always have a word with him—let him know what’s been going on. Then they’ll conduct their inquiry and you stay out of it.”
“Yes,” I said. “That will be wonderful.”
“How about a freshly baked scone, ducks?” Granddad asked.
“Wonderful. Did they send some down from the kitchen?”
“No. They sent down enough stuff to feed an army but the scones came from my next-door neighbor, your old nanny.”
“Did they? How sweet of her.”
“Apparently she’s a really good cook, and what’s more, she loves to cook. In fact she’s making me a meat pie tonight. I can see I’m going to be fatter than a pig if I don’t get out and walk.” Then he made a face. “I suppose you’re thinking that you brought me up here to help you, but frankly I don’t see what help I could be.”
“You could talk to servants,” I said. “You could get pally with the gun bearers.”
He chuckled sadly. “I stick out like a sore thumb up here, my love. No Scottish gun bearer is going to get pally with a bloke from the Smoke.”
I realized this was probably true, but he added, “Besides, like I told you, you’re off the hook. It’s now in the hands of the police, and about time too.”
Then his face lit up. “Tell yer what. Why don’t you join us for a bite of supper?”
“I wasn’t invited,” I said.
“The more the merrier.”
“Perhaps Nanny has set her cap at you and won’t welcome the intrusion.”
“Listen, ducks.” He grinned. “Mrs. ’Uggins next door set her cap at me long ago and I ain’t got snared yet, ’ave I? You come along and join us. Your old nanny will be thrilled to pieces. You mark my words.”
Of course he was right. Nanny positively beamed throughout the meal. I had sent word back to the castle that I wouldn’t be joining the family for dinner, then I’d changed out of my trousers into a simple silk dress. At least I thought it was a simple silk dress until I saw their faces.
“Blimey, this ain’t Buckingham Palace, you know,” Granddad said, looking at Nanny and laughing.
“We don’t usually dress for dinner in the cottages, but we’re very flattered that you’ve done so,” Nanny said. “At least I know I brought you up with good manners.”
“I only changed out of dirty old trousers,” I said. “And whatever you are cooking smells heavenly.”
I returned to the castle just as the last of the daylight was fading, feeling replete and content. I don’t think I had ever been in a room with two people who loved me before. As soon as I stepped into the front hall, Hamilton appeared. “Oh, my lady, you’ve just had a visitor. The Honorable Darcy O’Mara.”
“Where is he?” I looked around expecting him to emerge from the shadows.
“He left again. We told him that you were dining out and he said that he couldn’t stay.”
“How long ago was this?” I asked.
“About half an hour, my lady.”
I thanked him as patiently as I could, kicking myself for not mentioning that I was dining at the cottage with Nanny. Then I ran back out into the night. I realized I had little hope of catching him, but I roused the chauffeur and had him bring out the estate car for me. Then I drove into the night.
“This is ridiculous,” I said to myself. “I shouldn’t be chasing a man. Besides, he’ll be back at the house across the loch by now.”
Then, just as I reached the loch, I spotted someone going down to the jetty. I parked the car and jumped out.
“Darcy?” I called.
My voice echoed back from the hills, unnaturally loud in the evening stillness. He started at the sound of his name, then came toward me, a big smile on his face.
“They said you’d gone out. Were they just keeping me away because I didn’t look suitable? I had to mention that I was the son of a peer to stop your butler from looking down his nose at me.”
I laughed. “Yes, he can be awfully snooty at times. I was having supper with my old nanny and my grandfather in one of the cottages.”
We stood there, looking at each other.
“What are you doing on the dock?” I asked.
“I have no car and I couldn’t seem to borrow one tonight. So I rowed across and then walked.”
“That’s a long walk.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m very well, thank you.”
“That’s good. Look, Georgie, I want you to be careful because I may have to go away for a while.”
“Oh.” My voice obviously conveyed my disappointment.
“I don’t think the local police are going to investigate Hugo’s death,” he said. “Major Padgett has persuaded them to treat it as an accidental shooting, so that the royal party is not upset any further. His thought is that they can’t risk embarrassing a member of the royal family, in case one of them was accidentally responsible for the fatal shot. The police agreed that nothing could be gained by trying to find out who pulled the trigger.”
“I see. So we’re back to square one.”
“So I’m going to have a word with those who might be persuaded to take this further, including your Sir Jeremy.” He saw me about to speak, “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t divulge that you spilled the beans to me.”
“I’m glad you’re doing that. Someone has to. So what has happened to Hugo’s body? Won’t there be a medical examination to determine how he died?”
“There will. But if it just shows that an unlucky pellet struck an artery, then it will only affirm that the shooting was a horrible accident, won’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose it will.”
“Anyway, let’s hope someone will risk rocking the boat and start a proper investigation.” He reached out and touched my cheek. “And in the meantime, please don’t do anything to put yourself in harm’s way. No climbing or shooting or any unsafe pursuit, do you hear?”
“Very good, sir,” I said.
He laughed and ran his hand down my cheek. “I have to go. I’ve a taxi coming to take me to the station. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I nodded. His touch on my cheek made me feel as if I was going to cry. Then he pulled me toward him and kissed me, full and hard on the mouth.
“That’s a first installment,” he said, breaking away rapidly. “More to come later.”
Then he ran down the dock and lowered himself into a rowing boat. I heard the splash of oars as he pulled away.
Chapter 27
Castle Rannoch
August 21, 1932
The piper must have been told that he need no longer pipe in the day because it was fully daylight when I awoke to a tap on my bedroom door. I expected it
to be Maggie with the tea tray and looked up, bleary eyed. Instead of Maggie’s sturdy figure in a white apron, I focused on a frock coat and sat up. It was Hamilton.
“I’m sorry to wake you, my lady, but there is a gentleman to see you.”
“A gentleman?” I remembered that he had referred to Granddad as “a person.” So this was someone from the upper class then.
“Yes, my lady. He presented his card. Sir Jeremy Danville from London. He said it was urgent.”
“Thank you, Hamilton. Please put him in the morning room and tell him that I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
“Very good, my lady.” He gave a slight bow and went to back away, then turned to me again. “Strange men turning up at the crack of dawn. Will this be an ongoing occurrence, do you think, my lady?”
“Let’s hope not,” I said, laughing.
I washed, dressed and went downstairs. Sir Jeremy looked as if he was suffering from the effects of taking the night train. There were bags under his eyes and his hair wasn’t quite as perfectly groomed as the last time I had seen him. He stood up smartly as I came in.
“Lady Georgiana. I’m so sorry to disturb you at this early hour, but I took the night train as soon as I heard the news.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said. “Would you like some breakfast or should we go somewhere where we can talk privately?”
“A cup of coffee would be most welcome, but I think we should talk as soon as possible. Time may be of the essence.”
I ordered a pot of coffee and some toast to be sent to Binky’s study then ushered Sir Jeremy inside.
“You heard about the unfortunate shooting death, of course.”
“I arrived on the scene just after it had happened,” I said. “Well, now we have conclusive proof of your suspicions, don’t we? Somebody was obviously trying to kill the Prince of Wales and mistook Hugo Beasley-Bottome for him from behind.”
“Is that what you think?” Sir Jeremy asked, looking at me strangely.
“What else should I think?”
“Did BB get a chance to speak with you? Did he share any suspicions? Because it’s my feeling that someone shot him deliberately because he had found out something important.”
“Hugo, something important?”
“So he didn’t have a chance to share his suspicions with you? I thought it would be easier if he were staying at Castle Rannoch.”
“Oh no,” I said as light dawned. “Are you trying to tell me that Hugo was the contact you placed up here?”
“Of course. I assumed he would have had a chance to speak with you by now.”
“Oh, dear,” I said. “He did try, several times, but I thought, you know, he was just being fresh. He came across as a young man with an eye for the ladies. I thought he was just trying to get me alone for—entirely different reasons.” I could feel my face turning red.
Sir Jeremy sighed. “As you say, ‘oh, dear.’ He did tend to play up the young wastrel image, didn’t he? He thought it was the perfect cover. ‘Everyone thinks I’m a harmless, spoiled idiot,’ he used to say.”
“And you think that he had made an important discovery so someone had to silence him?” I felt a shiver running through my body. If someone had killed Hugo then he would have no compunction about killing me, if he thought Hugo had told me anything. Did he know I had been sent here to spy? Then of course it came to me that the broken rope on the climb might not have been intended for Prince George or someone else at all. It might have been intended for me. And if it hadn’t snagged on that little tree on the outcropping, I’d have been dead by now.
There was a knock at the door and one of the maids came in with a tray of coffee and freshly baked toasted buns. “Cook says she’d just got them out of the oven so she thought you’d like them better than toast,” she said, placing the tray on a side table. “She remembered you were always fond of her buns.”
“Thank you.” I felt tears threatening to come. It was the ridiculous contrast of normality—a home where I should feel safe and the knowledge that nothing was safe anymore.
I poured coffee and Sir Jeremy sighed with pleasure as he took his first bite of the toasted bun. “One misses so much living in a service apartment in London,” he said. “My man is adequate in the cooking department but if I want more than a boiled egg I have to go to my club.”
“To get back to Hugo,” I said. “Do you have any idea what he might have discovered? Had he shared any suspicions at all?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. He’d been up and down between London and Scotland several times this summer but gave me no indication he was onto anything at all.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. “As I say, I arrived on the scene not long after he had been shot. I saw the members of that shoot. There was nobody present who could possibly have shot Hugo. Apart from an American and an Austrian count, I know everybody.”
Sir Jeremy wiped his mouth fastidiously. “In my long career one thing I have learned is that murderers are remarkably good at concealing their true personalities. I can tell you of several brutal serial murderers who were described as good family men, even by their wives. However, I have been supplied with the list of those present and we will be trying to match guns and fingerprints. I fear it will be a thankless task, however.”
“Surely you can’t match bird shot to any particular shotgun,” I said.
“Quite right,” he said. “Only BB wasn’t actually killed by bird shot.”
“He wasn’t?”
“No. The killer was crafty, Lady Georgiana. He fired a single shot, from a rifle, we suspect, to bring down his quarry, then he fired his shotgun at close range to finish him off and make it seem as if it was this that struck an artery and killed BB.”
“Goodness,” I said. “That’s interesting. So that’s what Godfrey Beverley meant.”
“Godfrey Beverley? The gossip chappy?”
“Yes, he’s staying in the area. He mentioned something about why anyone would need two guns. Do you think he might have seen something important?”
“I’ll check him out. Do you know where he’s staying?”
“At a nearby inn. That’s all I know. It shouldn’t be too hard. There aren’t many inns around here.”
“I’ll put men onto it, then.”
“And all you have to do is look for a rifle that’s been fired recently.”
“As you say, ‘all we have to do,’ ” he echoed dryly. “I doubt that the killer will just leave the rifle out for inspection, and it won’t be easy to gain permission to search the rooms of certain royal personages.”
I stared at him, coffee cup poised in midair. “Surely you can’t think that a member of the royal family could have done this?”
“I have to consider everybody on the scene as a possible suspect,” he said. “Regardless of birth.”
“Golly,” I said, before I remembered that it made me sound like a schoolgirl. Note to self: Work on developing more sophisticated means of exclamation.
Sir Jeremy put down his own cup and stood up. “What I would like to do now, if you don’t mind, my lady, is to take a look at BB’s room.”
“Certainly,” I said. “If you’ll come this way. I’m not sure which one it was but one of the servants can tell us.”
I led him up the central staircase. He nodded in satisfaction at the swords, shields, banners and stags’ heads on the walls. “None of this namby-pamby stuff,” he commented.
“No, we Rannochs have been killing people very successfully for generations,” I said.
He gave me a quizzical half smile. “So am I to consider that a relative of yours might be an ideal suspect?”
“Nothing to gain,” I said. “Binky’s thirty-second in line. I don’t think he’s up to bumping off thirty-one people. Besides, he’s laid up with a mangled ankle.” And I related the details.
Sir Jeremy frowned. “And you think this could be related to our investigation?”
“I’m almost sure of i
t,” I said. “I don’t know if you’ve met my brother, but he’s a harmless, likeable chap. I’m sure he has no enemies. The only thing that differentiates him from the man in the street is that he happens to be a duke and cousin to the king.”
“But not close enough to the throne to make any difference,” Sir Jeremy said. “So someone who has a grudge against those with any amount of royal blood—is that what we should be looking for?”
“Possibly,” I said.
I led him to the end of a long hallway and opened the door. As in all rooms at Castle Rannoch, the wind was swirling from an open window. It was a brisk morning and clouds were racing across the sky. Either Hugo was a tidy person or the maid had been in. His dressing gown lay across his eiderdown; his slippers were at the foot of his bed. His silver-backed brushes and shaving things were on the chest of drawers. But there was no hint as to the personality of the man who occupied the room. Sir Jeremy opened drawers, then closed them again.
“Nothing,” he said. Then he bent and looked under the bed. “Aha.” He pulled out a briefcase and tipped the contents onto the bed. There was a copy of Horse and Hound, train tickets and a small notebook. Sir Jeremy opened it expectantly, then he groaned. “Look at this,” he said.
Several pages that had clearly been written on had been ripped from the book. The remaining pages were blank.
“Someone got here first,” he said.
I stared at him. “You don’t think someone came into this room and tore pages from his notebook?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“But that’s impossible. There’s nobody in the castle at the moment except for the Simpsons, Prince Siegfried and my two cousins, and it wouldn’t be them.”
“Prince Siegfried? Of Romania?”
I nodded.
“A friend of the family?”
“I rather think the queen is matchmaking,” I said. “She wants me to marry him.”
“But you’re not keen?”
“Absolutely not.”
“And why should Prince Siegfried not be on our list of suspects?”