The Missing Duchess (6 page)

'... It was the night of the storm, I don't know when -'

'More than a week ago,' put in Terence. 'We had a lot of damage, trees down on the estate.'

'Well, we were delayed. We landed down the coast -somewhere - North Berwick, I think -'

'Are you sure?' asked Faro.

'Yes.'

Faro's frown deepened. What on earth was the entourage from Luxoria doing landing at North Berwick when Leith was the obvious port?

'... The coachman took the wrong route and the road was flooded, a bridge - somewhere - collapsed and we were trying to find a road round when we were swept into the river. I don't remember what happened exactly.'

She shook her head. 'I came to myself lying in a haycart. A carter fished me out. He told me what had happened, that he was heading to Edinburgh. I felt very uneasy about his attitude, he was - ' she paused unhappily '- somewhat over-familiar.'

Even in borrowed robes and a tearful, distressed condition, she still managed to look remarkably attractive, enough for Faro not to find the carter's amorous arousal in the least surprising.

'... So I pointed to a house and said that was my destination and the people were expecting me. They would be so glad I was safe -'

Again she paused, biting her lip, reliving that frightening moment. 'It was that village down the road with a church and a loch - we passed on our way here.'

'Duddingston,' prompted Sir Hedley.

She nodded eagerly. 'I was terribly afraid. I waited until the carter was out of sight, then I wandered along the road. I knocked at your door -' She paused and looked at Sir Hedley. Then I'm afraid I must have fainted.'

'Quite so, quite so.' Sir Hedley patted her hand and looked up at Vince. 'You know the rest, young fellow. Took her in, saw you passing -'

Faro glanced in Vince's direction. This was not exactly the same story that Vince had told him about a flying stone. Perhaps that had been Miss Fortescue's polite invention to save the embarrassment of that tale of an amorous carter, and Sir Hedley had presumed the rest. He listened intently as she continued: 'Sir Hedley has been so kind to me,' She smiled up at him gratefully. 'He was too much of a gentleman to ask any questions. I thought my memory would never come back - and indeed, until this minute - everyone will be so relieved to know I am unhurt.'

As she spoke, looks were exchanged, looks of growing horror.

Terence bent over her. 'My dear Miss Fortescue, I'm afraid we haven't yet had a sight of Her Highness.'

'You haven't?' She looked round. 'Undoubtedly she will have made her way direct to Holyroodhouse to see Her Majesty.' She smiled for the first time. 'Her Highness is very resourceful. And independent.'

All now looked hopefully towards Faro. He shook his head.

'We have not been informed -'

'But she could be there?' said Miss Fortescue desperately.

'Not without the knowledge of the Edinburgh City Police, miss. You will appreciate that Her Majesty's residences are very carefully guarded -'

'We expected her to arrive at Lethie several days ago,' Terence interrupted. 'When she did not appear, we presumed that she had been delayed. Or that the visit had been cancelled.'

'Tell me, miss, what does your mistress look like?' Faro asked as gently as he could, hoping Miss Forstecue would not realise the sinister implications of such a remark. If she did not, then others did. The reproachful looks in his direction said louder than words that this was a brutal question expressing their own secret and unspoken fears.

Miss Fortescue seemed merely bewildered. She shook her head. 'What does she look like?' she repeated. 'I have a photograph of her. At least - I had one in my luggage. But why -?' Then as the significance dawned, she whispered: 'You surely don't think -'

'No, no, miss,' Faro lied. 'But if you can tell us a little more about your mistress it would help -'

He quailed under Miss Fortescue's cold stare.

'What is it you wish to know, sir?'

Faro attempted to smile reassuringly, and tried hard not to sound like a grim detective soullessly pursuing information for a missing persons enquiry. He had no alternative but to plunge ahead.

'Her appearance, miss, what she was wearing and so forth.'

Miss Fortescue continued to stare at him, and he carried on hastily. 'Look, miss, presumably your mistress was badly shaken by the accident, as you were. She might have had a shock, the same reactions as you've suffered.' Even as he spoke he felt the possibility of two lost memories was very thin indeed.

Miss Fortescue was clearly having a struggle with her own memory. At last she said: 'She's about my height, a bit more well-built, fairish hair, blue eyes. Does that help?'

It did. That slight description thoroughly alarmed Faro, fitting so neatly the corpse of the woman in the West Bow who had been found in such mysterious circumstances... ten days ago.

'The coachman,' said Miss Fortescue helpfully. 'He should be able to tell you what happened. Where he took her and so forth.'

The silence that greeted this observation needed further explanation. With admirable self-control she stifled a scream.

'You mean - he never - Oh dear - the poor man. He must have drowned.'

Now the same thought was in everyone's mind. Miss Fortescue had indeed been lucky to survive. The coachman and the carriage, and Her Highness the Grand Duchess of Luxoria had not been so fortunate. At this moment, they were lost without trace, swept out by the tide, out of the estuary and into the deep and secret waters of the wild North Sea. They might be washed up anywhere, even in Norway, if their bodies lasted that long.

Faro shuddered. How was this news to be broken to Her Majesty? And to whom would fall the unlucky duty of harbinger of these ill tidings? At least he had no doubt of that man's identity.

Himself.

Taking Sir Terence aside, he explained that he must return to Edinburgh immediately and set some enquiries in motion. He refrained from adding what was surely uppermost in all their minds. A missing royal duchess who was also the beloved goddaughter of the Queen and the late Prince Consort.

Terence Lethie's heavy sigh indicated that he knew exactly what was at stake. 'Our carriage is at your disposal, sir.'

Faro glanced towards Miss Fortescue. 'A photograph - or a picture - it would help considerably, sir -'

‘
I’m not sure that we have one.' He nodded towards the anxious group still surrounding Miss Fortescue. 'She will no doubt be able to describe her mistress - a little later, perhaps, when the shock wears off and she is more composed.'

Vince followed him to the door: 'Perhaps I should stay, Stepfather.'

'I think that would be an excellent idea, lad.'

Faro left with some regret. He had been looking forward to a little hard-earned and agreeable relaxation. He would miss tomorrow's tour of the gardens, a chance to see the Crusader's Tomb in the ruined priory and more important, as he was later to discover, the Luck o' Lethie.

As he prepared to depart he had an ominous feeling of disaster, that too much valuable time had already been lost. Twenty-four hours was difficult enough, but ten days...

If only Miss Fortescue's unfortunate amnesia has cleared up a little earlier.

As the carriage drove towards Edinburgh, he had ample opportunity to brood upon what had happened to the coachman and more crucially the present whereabouts of the Grand Duchess of Luxoria.

Chapter 6

At Sheridan Place, a message from Superintendent Mcintosh awaited Faro. He was to proceed to the Central Office immediately. Realising that it must be important for the Superintendent to interrupt his weekend, Faro found him as he expected in no good mood.

'You're wanted at Holyrood, straightaway. The usual Royal-visit security formula.'

Faro knew a moment's joy. 'I take it that the Grand Duchess of Luxoria has arrived.'

'Who?' Mcintosh looked at him blankly. 'I know nothing about any Grand Duchess. Only that the PM wants a word.' And Faro went to the door, 'Try not to irritate him, Faro. It doesn't do any of us - particularly yourself - any good, you know.'

Of course he would be patient, Faro decided, clinging to the hope that he had once again allowed his imagination to indulge in morbid fancies. But even his optimism began to fade, faced with the long gallery, its inquisitorial length deliberately chosen to intimidate all but the boldest and most determined. At its far end, Mr Gladstone was pacing the carpet, his already thin-lipped mouth a fast disappearing line across a grimly set countenance.

At Faro's approach, he regarded his watch in some irritation. A stickler for punctuality on all occasions, he grumbled: 'You took your time getting here, Faro.'

'I came from the office immediately, sir.' Faro was damned if he'd apologise.

The watch snapped shut. 'You were summoned yesterday, Inspector.'

Faro was at a loss for an appropriate response. 'Yesterday-was Saturday, sir. I was absent from Edinburgh. In fact, I have already had to cut short my weekend with friends.'

He could have said a great deal more on that subject but Gladstone's impatient gesture dismissed such inconvenience as of no importance.

'Friends, indeed?' he snorted. 'Her Majesty's wishes come first, you've been on the job long enough to know that, Faro,' he added severely, his tone indicating that if Faro wasn't fully aware of the fact, then he might soon be seeking other employment.

It had the desired effect. Faro bit back an angry response and said calmly, 'Am I to presume that the arrival of the Grand Duchess of Luxoria is imminent?'

The Prime Minister looked startled. 'So you aware that she is expected?' Suddenly he thumped his fists together. 'She has not yet put in an appearance. Nor has her arrival been signalled. And that is precisely why you have been summoned, Inspector. Her Majesty is about to leave Balmoral to meet her god-daughter - here. So where the devil is she? Answer me that.'

'I would suggest that she is perhaps making a private visit -to friends -'

'Friends, eh?' The Prime Minister nodded sagely. 'From what I have heard of the lady's unfortunate domestic circumstances, there is no doubt a gentlemen involved?' His head inclined to one side, he regarded Faro, extremely pleased with himself for this sharp piece of observation.

'We will, of course, conduct the usual enquiries,' Faro said sternly.

'With the utmost discretion, if you please.'

'Naturally, sir. Now if you will excuse me.'

And giving Mr Gladstone no chance of further questioning, Faro beat a hasty retreat.

Back at the Central Office, Faro thought rapidly. The Superintendent was no fool. He would have to be told and sooner rather than later about the distraught Miss Forstescue.

'It appears that her lady-in-waiting has arrived at Lethie Castle,' he ended the account of his interview with the Prime Minister. 'Her mistress was making a visit there en route to Edinburgh.'

'And so - her present whereabouts?'

'They don't know - precisely. But they expect her arrival imminently,' he ended smoothly, rather proud of this piece of invention, but the Superintendent roared like a wounded lion.

'You realise what this means, Faro. We've mislaid a member of the Royal Family. This could be the end of all our careers. We'll be lucky if we don't see the inside of the Tower. Dear God, what will Her Majesty say to this? You'll have to tell her.' His laugh was without mirth. 'And I don't envy you that.'

'There could be a quite innocent explanation.'

'Could there indeed?'

'The Prime Minister hinted at a secret assignation of a romantic nature.'

'Ah!' McIntosh sighed profoundly. 'Rumour has it that the marriage is fairly unsound. Presumably he has found consolation elsewhere. The PM would of course know about that from information within royal circles.'

Faro wondered why it had not occurred to the Superintendent as in any way unusual for a duchess to travel alone. Surely a major concern in the appointment of a lady-in-waiting would be her ability to ignore royal peccadilloes when necessary.

'... But we should have been informed of any change of plan,' the Superintendent continued. 'That is quite unforgivable. After all, our discretion can be relied upon. Who do these foreigners think they are, anyway, keeping Her Majesty waiting?' he added, ignoring the fact that, as he had pointed out, the Grand Duchess was a relative.

'Here -' Turning to the desk he seized a fistful of papers which he flourished under Faro's nose. 'You'd better find her. That's your job.' And as he was leaving: 'I take it that you have some ideas of where to start?'

Faro had a few but none that he would care to discuss with his superior at that moment.

'I think we should play for time, Faro. Presume that Her Highness is, er, on a clandestine visit... The message sent ahead could have gone astray. What do you think?'

Faro stifled a smile. The Superintendent could occasionally display an endearing romantic turn of mind. He was searching for a suitable reply when Mcintosh sighed wearily, indicating the interview was at an end.