Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
Her expression changed to part disgust and part pity. “The clinic?” she said. “This is a convalescent home, my dear. You’ll be thinking of Haseldene. It’s about a mile from here along the road to Findon.”
As I thanked her she followed me to the front door. “It’s a good walk,” she said. “Are you up to it? Should I call a taxicab for you?” And I realized then that she thought I was a potential patient, not a visitor. Also that she knew full well what went on at Haseldene.
It was not what I’d usually call a long walk. But today the wind whipped off the Channel and rain threatened, making the going unpleasant. I asked the only two people I met if they knew where I’d find a house called Haseldene and at last I came to it. It was set back in well-landscaped grounds and looked like any other white and modern seaside house with the curved lines of art deco design. The brass plaque on the white surrounding wall said Haseldene, but nothing else. No mention of its function.
During the train ride I had tried to think of what on earth I could possibly say. I was sure such places prided themselves on confidentiality. Should I pretend to be a patient and then see if I could slip into the office to see the records? That was too risky. If they examined me they’d know I did not need their services. I decided that the best course of action might be to come clean. I’d tell the matron who I was and that a scandal about Bobo’s child was threatening the royal family. Had she named the father?
It had seemed possible as I journeyed down through Sussex. Now it seemed like frightful cheek, even if I was a royal relative. I fully expected to be thrown out on my ear. I was about to knock on the door when I noticed that it was slightly open. A new idea crept into my head. Maybe I could sneak in, undetected, and have a chance to look at their records. If I was caught, I’d say I’d come to check out the place for a friend.
I pushed open the door and stepped into a thickly carpeted foyer. The place was decidedly warm and felt more like a comfortable private house than a clinic. There was none of that disinfectant smell that lingers in hospitals. There was a vase of chrysanthemums on a polished table and a grandfather clock ticking away solemnly. Otherwise there was no sound. I stood listening and thought I detected a distant radio. I began to wonder if I’d come to the right place. I knew I had to work fast. There were several doors around that foyer, a flight of stairs leading up to a second floor, and behind them the hall narrowed and led to the back of the building.
I had no idea where to start. Surely one of the rooms at the front of the house would be the office, while rooms for more medical purposes would be upstairs. I went to the door on my left—the room with one of the bay windows—and opened it cautiously. It was a sitting room. A fire was burning in the grate and there were sofas and armchairs arranged around it. Magazines were scattered over a low table. It looked like anyone’s sitting room and at first glance I had thought the room to be empty. Then I noticed that someone was curled up in one of the armchairs, facing out toward the fields and the sea. She was looking at a magazine and hadn’t heard me enter. I went to back out again but as I turned my overcoat sleeve must have brushed against the table, knocking a newspaper to the floor. The girl looked up and we both gasped at the same time.
It was Belinda.
Chapter 26
NOVEMBER 8
AT A CLINIC NEAR WORTHING-ON-SEA
Belinda looked pale and somehow delicate. She was staring at me in astonishment. “Georgie, what are you doing here? How did you find me?” she demanded. “I didn’t tell a soul.”
“I had no idea,” I stammered. “I came here checking on someone else.” I went over and sat down beside her. “Belinda. Why didn’t you tell me? I could see you were upset and not your normal self.”
“I didn’t think you’d understand,” she said. “I know you don’t approve of my lifestyle. You’d think I got what I deserved.”
“But Belinda, I’m your friend,” I said. “I’d have stood by you, no matter what.”
She gave me a weak little smile. “You’re a nice person, Georgie.”