Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
Then suddenly I had a brain wave. I did know someone who moved in fashionable circles and knew about boutiques and nightclubs. What’s more, she had my blue evening gown hanging in her wardrobe, thanks to Queenie. I’d go to collect the dress this minute and see if I could persuade Belinda to help me escort Marina around fashionable London.
Now I felt much better. I told Irmtraut to tell the princess that I had to pay a call but would return soon to take her wherever she wanted to go. Then I put on my coat and hat and stepped out into a fine, brisk morning. There was no sign of any kind of police vehicle and the archway was deserted, with no indication that anything had ever happened there. I searched around, looking for any kind of clue that might have been missed, but rain-washed cobbles do not favor telltale footprints, or even the tread of motor tires.
Then I set off across the park for Belinda’s Knightsbridge mews cottage. It was a grand day to be out and walking and I felt my spirits rise as they always did when I was in the open air. Nannies pushed prams along the gravel paths while their older charges ran ahead or pushed their own dolls’ prams. It was a peaceful and friendly scene and it was hard to believe that a young woman had lain dead in an archway just on the other side of the palace. The men in the major’s study clearly wanted her death to be a suicide. I just hoped they were right and the autopsy would prove that she died from a drug overdose. But it still wouldn’t explain what she was doing under an archway at Kensington Palace.
I hadn’t gone far before two young boys came barreling toward me, pushing a pram with a hideous stuffed figure in it. I leaped back, startled, before they yelled, “Penny for the Guy, miss!” And I realized the date. Guy Fawkes. Bonfire night. All over Britain bonfires would be lit in back gardens and fireworks would be set off. I fished in my purse and found a penny, then was accosted by two more lots of boys and Guys before I reached the entrance to the park.
I rapped on Belinda’s front door. I had to wait quite a while and had almost given up when the door opened and a bleary-eyed Belinda peeked out.
“Oh, Georgie, it’s you. What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” she asked.
“It’s nine thirty, Belinda. Most of the world is up and busy. Were you out gambling again late last night?”
“No, but I haven’t quite got used to the difference in times between California and here. My body still thinks it’s on California time.”
“I know. I had the same trouble when I first arrived home,” I said. “Aren’t you going to let me in?” Then a thought struck me. “Or are you perhaps entertaining some gentleman I should not meet?”
“No, it’s just me. All alone,” she said. “Come on in. I’m afraid I haven’t made tea or coffee yet.”
I stepped into a rather untidy sitting room. “Where is your maid, Belinda?” I asked. “Has she not come back into your service yet?”
“Gone,” Belinda said. “Deserted me. Abandoned me in my hour of need, the rotter.”
“Oh no.”
She nodded. “Oh yes. I paid her wages for a month when I left England. And of course I was gone longer than a month so she ups and finds herself a new job. And listen to this—not as a maid, either. She took a course in typewriting and now she works in a typing pool where she has regular hours and weekends free, and she earns more money than I paid her.” She shook her head. “What are the lower classes coming to, Georgie?”
“The world is changing, I suppose,” I said. “Although it’s rather galling to think that she can get a job just like that when you and I are unemployable.”
“You wouldn’t like to make me some tea, would you?” Belinda said. “You’re so good at domestic things.”
“All right.” I smiled as I went through to the kitchen. I’d had to learn the hard way how to survive on my own. If Belinda didn’t find a new maid soon, she’d also have to learn how to look after herself. I lit the gas and spooned tea into the pot. Belinda came to stand in the kitchen doorway. “I don’t suppose you’d like to move back into my box room, would you? I am hopelessly undomestic.”
“Sorry, but I’ve got better digs at the moment,” I said. “I’m living at Kensington Palace.”
“What on earth for? Have you been given a grace and favor apartment because of your royal connections?”
“No. I’ve been asked to look after Princess Marina until her marriage and she’s staying there.”
“To Prince George? Poor girl. Does she know what she’s in for?”
“Not exactly. I did say he had been a bit of a playboy.”
“That is a classic understatement,” she said.
“Maybe he’ll reform. He seems to be fond enough of her.”
Belinda took the cup of tea I had just poured for her. “I doubt he’ll change. Maybe long enough to produce the heir and the spare. But then in most royal marriages it’s back to the little wife turning a blind eye to the husband’s wandering, isn’t it?”
“It does seem to be. Although the Duke and Duchess of York seem happy with each other.”