Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)

 

 

“Deadly serious, Darcy. I’d seen Princess Sophia before, but she was wonderful. She came right at him as if she knew she was saving me.”

 

Darcy shook his head. “Amazing,” he said. “And to think it was Beauchamp-Chough all the time. I suppose we overlooked him because we thought his one motive would have been to protect the prince. And we thought he wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave an incriminating body lying around at the castle, thus implicating Prince George.”

 

“He meant to kill her with a Veronal-laced drink,” I said. “I think he drugged her, then went out to his regimental dinner to set up his alibi. He planned to come back and find her dead, having taken her own life. Only she must have had a high tolerance for drugs and alcohol, so she woke up enough to try to escape. My maid said she looked out of the window and saw something wafting about in the courtyard. I think that must have been Bobo staggering around, half doped. The major returned and caught her just in time and had to suffocate her. Then he saw our motorcar approaching and rushed back into his suite to act as if he had just come in the door when we came to find him. Obviously he didn’t think we’d go to look in the courtyard that night and believed he could spirit the body away before anyone found it.”

 

“So why did you go to look?” Darcy asked.

 

“I saw this greenish light glowing and I wanted to see what was causing it. It must have been the palace ghosts again because there is no light under that archway.”

 

“I don’t know.” Darcy shook his head. “Why can’t you ever leave well enough alone and behave like a normal young lady? Take up the pianoforte or embroidery, for God’s sake. Don’t always go looking for trouble. I can’t spend my life worrying about you every time you’re out of my sight.”

 

“There’s an answer to that,” I said. “Don’t let me out of your sight so often. And you’d be bored with me in five minutes if I took up embroidery.”

 

He took my face in his hands, looked down at me and smiled. “God, Georgie. I do love you.”

 

“I love you too,” I said.

 

And for the next few minutes neither of us spoke at all.

 

 

 

A FINE OBITUARY appeared in the Times two days later, listing all the accomplishments of Major Beauchamp-Chough and saying what a splendid chap he was. And I had to agree. He was a splendid chap in most ways. It’s funny but I don’t think I’ve ever met a truly evil murderer. Just desperate people backed into a corner so thoroughly that killing is the only way out.

 

At least we could now concentrate on the final preparations for the wedding. There were dress fittings and Queen Mary’s tea for the young ladies in the wedding party—at which I didn’t spill or drop anything, or even knock over a vase. I wondered if I might be growing out of my clumsiness. Could it be the added self-assurance of knowing that I was loved by Darcy? That I had a future to look forward to?

 

Belinda returned to London and I went to greet her, making sure she had enough supplies and didn’t have to go out shopping for a while. She still looked frail, not the flamboyant girl I so admired.

 

“You’re a peach, Georgie,” she said as I made her tea and crumpets. “Where will you go after the wedding?”

 

“I don’t know. I might stay on with Binky and Fig in the London house at least until Christmas.”

 

“You could always come here,” she said. “I don’t plan to hire another live-in maid. At least not until we’ve heard from your mother and I can start to plan for the future. So I could clear out the spare bedroom for you. Make it nice and cozy.”

 

“Wouldn’t I cramp your style?”

 

“I don’t plan to have that kind of style, at least not for the moment. And I’d welcome the company.”

 

“What about Queenie? I can’t just abandon her.”

 

“We could set up a camp bed in the attic. If she doesn’t mind climbing a stepladder.”

 

“Can you see Queenie climbing a ladder?” I asked and we both laughed.

 

“I’ll make sure I’m nearby, whatever happens,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “It will all work out. You’ll see.”

 

“Thank you, Georgie. You’re such a good friend,” she said. “I hope you live happily ever after and have oodles of children.”

 

“I hope so too,” I said.