Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
I couldn’t let him get to the light switch. Was there anything here I could use as a weapon? My hand touched the nearest mannequin’s cold arm. Did it come off? I tugged gently but it didn’t move. Then I felt the parasol in her hand. A parasol was dainty and probably not much use but it was better than nothing. And it had a solid handle of some kind of stone. I eased myself down from the podium and crept toward the sound of his breathing. There he was, his back toward me, still fumbling for the light switch. I lifted the parasol and brought it crashing down over his head. He cried out, staggered and reeled, but he didn’t fall. Bugger.
I fled back through the doorway and out onto the landing. He’d catch me. Of course he’d catch me, but I had to try and run anyway. If I could make it across the landing and down the hallway on the other side, I’d hammer on Princess Alice’s door. I’d scream. Someone would hear me. His feet were pounding close behind me. I was halfway across the landing when suddenly there was a gust of cold wind. It became icily cold. A shape appeared out of nowhere—a white shape that formed itself into a young woman. She swept past me, even before I realized exactly what was happening. I froze. The major had come out of the royal rooms and was advancing toward me across the foyer with a look of grim determination on his face. He stopped short at the top of the stairs as the apparition advanced on him. As she came closer she seemed to glow. The major took a step back. Still she approached.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” he said loudly. “You’re not real. You can’t hurt me.”
Then, from his other side and horribly close, came a burst of wild, maniacal laughter. It was so sudden that my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. The major reacted too. A boy had appeared, clad in green, his hair a mass of unruly curls, his face wild and excited. The major took another step backward as the boy leaped at him. It was his fatal mistake. He stepped into nothing at the top of the staircase, lost his balance and fell. I could hear the cries and thuds as he bounced down the stairs. The boy shot me a delighted look and vanished. The white woman also looked at me as she vanished into a wall. It was a look of recognition, of one family member to another.
Chapter 31
LATE AT NIGHT, NOVEMBER 11
KENSINGTON PALACE
I rushed to wake up Princess Alice’s servants.
“Come quickly. The major has fallen down the stairs,” I shouted. Princess Alice herself appeared in her nightclothes. “Call an ambulance, Hettie,” she said to her maid.
“I think that won’t be necessary,” I said. One of the maids had turned on the main lights in the chandelier. I could see the major’s face staring up at me, his head at a strange, unnatural angle.
Suddenly I wanted to cry. It was all for the best really, wasn’t it? All so stupid that people had died like this. I was taken into Princess Alice’s suite and given a brandy. I told her about the ghosts and how the major had been on his nightly rounds when one of them had appeared from nowhere and so startled him that he had stepped back and lost his footing. I didn’t add that he had been trying to kill me.
“A wild child who laughs?” she said. “That would be Peter, the Wild Boy. I saw him once. He was a favorite of George the First, who had him brought back from the forests of Germany. I gather he’s very protective of the royal family.”
And she looked at me long and hard.
Police and ambulance men came. I wanted to suggest that they summon DCI Pelham but I couldn’t think of a reason to do that for what I was claiming to be a horrible accident. It was fortunate that I could say with complete honesty that I had seen Major Beauchamp-Chough at the top of the stairs when one of the ghosts had appeared from the wall. He had stepped back and lost his footing. It was terrible. So tragic. Nothing more was asked of me.
As soon as I could I slipped away, found a telephone and dialed Sir Jeremy’s number. He told me to stay put. He’d come immediately. Then I rang the number Darcy had given me. Nobody answered there. I was on my way back to my own apartment, wanting nothing more than a hot drink and bed, when I heard running feet behind me. Darcy came charging up and grabbed me.
“Are you all right?” he said. “I got a garbled message from Sir Jeremy that the major had fallen down the stairs. Was anyone else involved? Was it really an accident? And why the major?”
I told him as calmly as I could. “Remember that one photograph I said looked like him, only younger and minus the mustache? It must have been him with a group of his, um, friends.”
“So you put two and two together and went looking for him? At this time of night?” He was shouting now.
“No. Nothing like that,” I replied. “Princess Marina asked me to deliver a message to the major. It was only when I was at his front door that I saw his card and realized his name was Gerald—the name in that love letter, remember? And the Black Cat is where . . .”
“I know what the Black Cat is,” he said curtly.
“And Princess Alice had said at luncheon today that she’d seen the major coming home, looking smart in his uniform, when she was going to bed. So I went up to her apartment to find out what time she went to bed and it was early. The major assumed I knew more than I did and he was going to kill me.”
“So you pushed him down the stairs?”
“No, I didn’t. Two of the family ghosts made him step backward and he lost his balance. Princess Sophia and the Wild Boy.”