The Missing Duchess (10 page)

They were much too polite. In fact no one showed the slightest curiosity about his presence. As if a visit from a detective inspector investigating the mysterious non-arrival of the Queen's god-daughter was a commonplace event in their lives.

Surely the first question his appearance should have aroused in that conspiratorial group he had disturbed was: 'What news of Her Highness?'

Chapter 9

As they walked towards the house, Faro's responses to Sir Terence's remarks about weather, crops and estate management were quite automatic. One of his useful accomplishments was the ability to carry on an agreeable conversation while his mind dealt with more important matters.

The Crusader, David de Lethie, had been a Templar, bearing the cross pattee on his shield. That Sir Hedley Marsh was connected with them, too, was evident from the chapel, so unexpectedly immaculate amid the squalor of Solomon's Tower. And from Vince, Faro knew that Sir Terence was a Templar as well as being a Grand Master in the Freemasons, whose origins and rituals were based on that society. But of perhaps even greater significance, Major Weir, the seventeenth-century owner of the Wizard's House, had also been a Templar. That he had terrified citizens by his identification with the devil and his ability to perform magic tricks, Faro was sure fitted somewhere into a pattern concerning the dead woman's identity and the reason for her death.

Faro sighed, wishing he could interpret, above Lethie's polite remarks, the low-pitched murmurings between Sir Hedley and Miss Fortescue. Was there some conspiratorial connection between these three people, some deadly link with the gold cross on its broken chain in Weir's Land?

He was rapidly discarding his original suspicion that a murder had taken place in the West Bow. All the evidence suggested that she had already been dead when she was carried into the Wizard's House.

' As he sat politely through the ritual of afternoon tea, served with great elegance by Lady Lethie, his eye wandered constantly in the direction of Miss Fortescue. She was not only extremely good to look at, he decided, but she also had undeniable presence, the aura of authority that was perhaps the first requirement of a royal lady-in-waiting.

Sir Hedley Marsh sat at her side and monopolised her completely. While she gave smiling, patient answers to some bumbling nonsense about fishing in Dunsapie Loch, Faro considered what measures he must take to direct this pleasant but ineffectual teatime conversation towards the object of his visit: namely, the promised photograph or picture of Duchess Amelie, now so vital to his search.

The clock melodiously chimed four, reminding him that the train from North Berwick to Edinburgh was due at the Aberlethie halt in less than an hour.

'May I help you to a piece of cake?' said Lady Lethie with an encouraging smile, aware of his empty plate and distracted air.

'No, thank you. I wonder - the photograph?' he reminded her gently.

Although the words were spoken quietly, his question succeeded in bringing all conversation to an abrupt end.

Sara Lethie smiled at him vaguely, shaking her head in the apologetic manner of one who had forgotten entirely: 'Of course. Of course, you wanted a photograph, didn't you.' And to her husband. 'Terence - do we have a picture somewhere?'

Sir Terence responded with alacrity. 'No, my dear. Not in the album, I've already had a glance.' And to Faro: 'I did think we had one taken at Holyrood, but I must have been mistaken.'

'Would have been a long time ago. Mere child. Not much use to you now, I'm afraid,' Sir Hedley put in.

Faro turned to Miss Fortescue. 'What about you, miss? Do you happen to possess a recent photograph of your mistress?'

Miss Fortescue shook her head sadly. 'There was one, very recent - a present for Her Majesty, you know. In a silver frame. But I'm afraid it is beneath the waters of the Forth now, with all the rest of our possessions.'

Faro stood up abruptly. So that was that. His journey to Aberlethie had been a waste of time when he could have been pursuing more urgent and productive enquiries in Edinburgh. But not one of these polite, well-bred people thought that an apology was due for his wasted effort.

'If you will forgive me. My train, you know.'

'Of course, Inspector. Of course. Sorry you must leave us,' said Terence with undue heartiness. An angry and frustrated Faro felt that was a lie. They were not in the least sorry to see the back of him.

Then as if his urgent thoughts had communicated themselves to Miss Fortescue, she rose to her feet.

'If Inspector Faro is ready to leave now, I will walk with him to the railway halt.'

The Lethies exchanged worried glances. They sprang to their feet, followed a little creakily by Sir Hedley. For a moment, Faro had an unhappy feeling that they were all coming too. With relief he realised it as just another gesture of politeness. Or was it Miss Fortescue's thinly veiled frown of annoyance that quelled all three?

Miss Fortescue waited while Sara Lethie picked up a shawl and draped it about her shoulders. Their backs were turned to Faro but on that moment of stillness he had a strange feeling that uneasy glances were exchanged. Uneasy and warning, perhaps?

And then it was over and Sir Terence was showing them to the door, cordially shaking hands with Faro. Waving them farewell he anxiously regarded the sky.

'Rain's not far off, you're - um, going to get wet. Shall I fetch an umbrella?'

'I shall be quite all right,' said Miss Fortescue. She sounded rather cross, and her manner was suddenly that of someone who heartily disliked being fussed over. She set off determinedly at Faro's side.

As they walked through the formal gardens, Faro accommodating his loping stride to her more leisurely pace, he discovered that Miss Fortescue was having problems with her light shoes on the gravel. It occurred to him that she was brave to tackle a walk outdoors at all, especially as the one pair of sturdy, sensible shoes even ladies-in-waiting to Grand Duchess might be expected to possess had been lost with her luggage on the night of the accident.

'Shall we keep to the grass, miss? That would be more comfortable for you.'

'It would indeed.' Her smile was grateful.

'What was it you wished to talk to me about?' he asked.

She looked at him wide-eyed. 'How ever did you guess? You are clever.' And as Faro shrugged off the compliment: 'It is such a relief to get you alone. I desperately need to tell you the whole story - as it is coming back to me, quite gradually, of course.'

Her tone warned him not to expect too much. Then halting, she gazed up into his face. 'Quite frankly, Inspector, I am frightened.'

Frightened. He hadn't expected that.

She sighed deeply before continuing. 'I have decided that I must take you into my confidence, Inspector.'

Ah, thought Faro, now we're getting somewhere at last. This could be the break he was waiting for, the thread to lead him through the labyrinth of mystery and misinformation.

' - You see, Amelie wished to keep her journey secret from the President, her husband. She didn't want him to know that she was in fact negotiating with Her Majesty's government to intercede in their problems -'

'May I be permitted to enquire - the nature of these problems?' Faro interrupted.

'I'm not sure...' she began vaguely.

Faro stopped walking. 'Look, miss, if I'm to help you and you have decided to trust me, then it is essential that we go right back to the beginning -'

'The beginning,' she echoed, as if that thought had never occurred to her.

'Yes, miss. I'm told that you have been with the Duchess since you were both children and I expect that means you are very close.' He paused. 'And that you share her secrets?' Silence followed this statement. 'Am I right?' he asked gently.

Miss Fortescue sighed.

'Perhaps you know better than anyone else the reasons for her disappearance. Without being aware of it, you may even hold the key to her present whereabouts.'

It was a bold suggestion, considering the doleful nature of his own suspicions, but he added encouragingly, 'I gather from what I have heard, officially and from private sources, that Her Highness is a lady of spirit and courage.'

Miss Fortescue laughed. 'Indeed she is. Rumour has not lied, Inspector.' She looked up at him earnestly. 'Yes, and I am quite sure she would put her trust in you, as I am doing.'

With a sigh she continued: 'You are right, I probably know her better than anyone else, far better than her husband - that odious man -'

'The beginning, miss, if you please.'

'Of course. Amelie is related to both the Queen and Prince Albert, as you probably are aware. She was born on their wedding day, 10 February 1840, and that made her very special to both of them. Indeed, they regarded her sentimentally as their very first child, rather than a mere god-daughter. Their visits to Luxoria were frequent and she came to Windsor Castle with her parents -'

She paused to sigh sadly. 'She adored Uncle Albert, was distraught when he died, and I do believe she was a great comfort to her Aunt Vicky at that time.' She was silent, staring bleakly at the treetops, as if overcome by the memory.

'And you accompanied her on these visits?'

She looked at him blankly for a moment, still lost in the other sad world. 'Some of them.' She sighed. 'When she was seventeen there was a revolution in Luxoria. Such a thing had never happened in its history before. Her bastard cousin Gustav had himself elected President. He knew that by marrying Amelie he would destroy the final opposition. Amelie scorned the idea. She hated him. But he refused to take no for an answer.'

She was silent, walking faster now at his side, as if to escape that distant sorrow.

'And - ?' said Faro.

'He forced himself upon her.' Her voice rose. 'He got her with child so that she had no other option but to marry him. Three months later, a few weeks after their marriage, she miscarried. There will be no other child now, and Gustav needs an heir.'

He smiled. 'She is young still to give up hope.'

'In years, perhaps. But after fifteen years of marriage it seems highly unlikely. Besides, Gustav has a mistress who has recently presented him with a son.'

She paused to allow the significance of that remark to sink in.

'Are you hinting that your mistress might be in danger?' Faro asked. Here at last was a clue, the one undeniable reason for murder. Royal princes throughout history had resorted to the disposal of barren wives by fair means or foul, when presented with an heir, even an illegitimate one.

'Danger?' Miss Fortescue repeated. 'I don't think that has ever entered her mind. Amelie refuses to divorce him, for by so doing, she would relinquish any hope of restoring the Royal party to power. Besides, she has learned through all these dreadful years that personal interests must never be allowed to intrude where her main duty lies. To her country and her people.'

She looked at him. 'Perhaps it is difficult for you or anyone not of royal blood to understand such things, Inspector.'

Faro smiled and shook his head. 'Not for me, miss. I understand perfectly. I know all about duty. It is, or should be, a policeman's first rule. To his sovereign and to the people he serves.'

Miss Fortescue laughed and put a hand on his arm. 'Why, Inspector, we seem to have a great deal in common.' And eyeing him shrewdly: 'I was right, I am sure. Amelie would approve. She would trust you.' With a sigh she went on: 'Knowing how powerful Britain is in world politics, she had some thought that Her Majesty might be able to intercede on her behalf. That by selling some of her jewels she might even be able to raise an army, bring the Royal party back into power.'

'Drastic measures, miss.'

She regarded him dolefully. 'I know. I see now what a mad scheme that was. But, as I said, Amelie is a creature of impulse.'

There was nothing Faro could think of as an appropriate response. Worried by his silence, she said: 'You will respect my confidence, please, Inspector - I must beg of you -'

'Of course, you have my word, miss. I was just wondering about these jewels. Any idea where they might be?'

'Under the waters of the River Forth by now. With all our other possessions,' she said bitterly.

'Including the photograph she was taking to Her Majesty, I believe.'

'That too.'

'Is there nothing more you can tell me about your mistress? Anything that distinguishes her in particular?'

Miss Fortescue shook her head. 'It is so difficult, Inspector, when you have been with someone every day, practically all your life, to try and say exactly what they look like. There are lots of photographs in the palace at Luxoria, of course.'

And utterly useless by the time they reached Edinburgh, Faro thought grimly. A germ of an idea had grown out of this conversation though. Was it too fantastic, he wondered?

This coachman. What did he look like?'

'The coachman?’ she repeated, surprised by the question. Shaking her head she laughed lightly. 'You know, I haven't the least idea. He just looked like, well, a coachman.'

Faro tried again. 'Was he young or old?'