The Balmoral Incident (21 page)

At last, the day of the long-awaited Games, and for me an even greater excitement. Tomorrow Meg and I and Thane would be home in Solomon’s Tower, picking up the threads of my life, writing up my logbook and seeing what clients (if any) I had awaiting my services as a lady investigator. I wished Alice well but hoped the world of political intrigue, which wasn’t at all my kind of world, would be closed for ever. And I certainly wouldn’t be sorry to see the back of Mabel as we put her on the London train.

Dave came with the motor. Mabel and I climbed aboard, watched by the two girls with Yolande (who had been allowed a day off but didn’t like the Games, declaring them too noisy!). Promised sweeties from the stalls, they waved us off with Thane at their side.

The noises grew louder over the short journey to the
venue and the smells I always associated with fairs and circuses in Edinburgh’s Queen’s Park grew stronger. As the car was parked and we walked the short distance to our seating area opposite the royal box, a small platform covered by an awning, I noticed there were gipsies among the crowd, obviously permitted to sell their wares and tell fortunes.

There was a great air of expectancy as the royal family arrived in their car. We couldn’t see them but we heard the pipers and then everyone stood for ‘God Save the King’ and across from our front seats, which Vince had acquired for us, just yards away, the king and the princes in kilts, the Queen suitably robed in tartan, took their places.

Nearby I was aware of those policemen pretending to be ghillies and I had a glimpse of Inspector Gray and ‘Mr Elder’ in the group of seats occupied by the ambassadors, and foreign guests. The rain that threatened had given way to sunshine but there was a slight breeze, welcomed by the performers, especially the Highland dancers, the tug o’ war teams from Braemar and Ballater, the weightlifters and the local hero tossing the caber.

Mabel was at my side, silent and I thought watchful. Suddenly I saw out of the corner of my eye a scuffle among the foreign guests. Hermann van Mueller was on his feet, saluting, shouting and raising a rifle, directed at the royal box, at the King.

As he was seized by the inspector and the man they knew as Mr Elder, at my side Mabel sprang to her feet, withdrew that derringer concealed in her pocket, raised it and screamed: ‘No, no! He is mine. He is mine!’

As she levelled the gun, I threw my shawl over her
hand and seized her wrist. She struggled and the gun was towards me, in the region of my stomach. As I heard the click, I closed my eyes. What if there had been other bullets than the two I had seen? Then Vince and one large ghillie-policeman were separating us and seized her bodily.

Amid murmurs of astonishment among the people beside us Vince said, ‘Please make way. The lady is ill. She has taken a bad turn. Excuse us.’

Many recognised Vince as Dr Laurie as the lady in question was shouting, ‘The King – he is mine – he is mine!’ Luckily I hoped no one heard her scream and sob: ‘I am to kill him.’

Then we were in the motor with Dave driving, Mabel now reduced to angry tears of frustration, no longer a threat to anyone, held firmly between the policeman and Vince.

He looked at me, grinned and said: ‘Good job you removed the two bullets, Rose.’

‘Good job she didn’t check.’ I had searched the room but found no hidden cache, but one could never be sure.

He shook his head. ‘An accomplished assassin would never make that mistake.’ As we reached the cottage he said, ‘I’ll have to go back, but I’ll leave Craig here to stand guard in case she makes any trouble.’

I thought that was a splendid idea, seeing that I was only half her size and if she attacked me, I would be another victim. Somehow I didn’t feel that I was in any danger or that she was capable of violence any more. She had been defeated, but we still didn’t know why she wanted to kill King Edward. That I had to find out. She made no resistance as we entered the cottage, just made for
the stairs and her room. Meg and Rowena were playing cards, surprised at our return.

I said Mabel had taken poorly. They nodded sympathy and went on with the game, their hands watched over by Thane with an almost human expression as if he knew which card to play.

I seized the bottle of brandy kept for medicinal purposes in the sideboard and carried it up to Mabel who was sitting, her shoulders bent, by the window.

I poured a liberal glassful and said: ‘Drink this.’ She took it from me without a word and continued to gaze into the garden. I drew up a chair and sat beside her. ‘You do realise the serious nature of what you – almost – did, don’t you?’

She looked at me. ‘I wanted to kill him for what he did to us. He ruined our lives, turned my mother into an invalid for life. A botched suicide.’

‘That was hardly his fault.’

‘It was, it was. He seduced her. They were lovers. And when he used to visit Penby, she believed he loved her. I used to watch them together, spy on them.’

Such sexual antics were hardly suitable viewing for young eyes, I thought. Was that why she had never married and despised men? ‘He loved a lot of women, Mabel, but they took it in their stride, they accepted the generous pay-off in the form of some gift. They didn’t try to commit suicide.’

‘She was a beauty. She believed she was different to the others.’

‘How could she? Married with a young daughter − how old were you?’

I remembered the photograph in the hall at Penby when she said: ‘I was eight, I saw it all.’

Just a year older than Meg, I thought sadly, as she went on. ‘Mama said he would give us an even grander house, make us a substantial allowance and introduce her into society. We would live in the lap of luxury,’ she paused. ‘Well, you saw for yourself what it was like with the broken old woman, the invalid I pretended was my aunt. Don’t you think he deserved to die?’ Without waiting for my response she went on, ‘I have hated him all my life, I made a resolve long ago to kill him. I always intended that and you – you stopped me. Bitch! How did you manage to do that?’ she exploded.

‘All I did was remove the bullets.’

‘You had no right in my room. How dare you?’

‘I went in to release a trapped bird. And I saved you from hanging.’

‘You have destroyed my mission in my life, and I hate you. Hate you, Rose Macmerry!’

But she was crying now. Ambition thwarted, her lifetime dream, terrible as it was, turned to ashes. I thought of that scene back at the Games, which now seemed almost farcical.

Not one, but two assassins there planning to kill the King, neither with any notion of the other’s existence. Had they had such information and joined forces, the ending could have been much much worse and the young Prince of Wales would now be king.

Refilling the glass which I thrust into her not unwilling hand I said: ‘No, you don’t hate me, Mabel, someday when you are calmer you’ll realise that I saved your life.
You would undoubtedly have died, by hanging, sentenced to death for treason, for attempted murder if anyone had seen you raising that gun.’

I paused. ‘And you already have two murders to account for.’

She looked at me and began to cry again. ‘I didn’t mean to kill her. She was a devil. Always listening at doors. She overheard me talking to Mama in Penby, knew what I intended and she decided that she could blackmail me once we got to Balmoral. She threatened to tell all. I knew I had to get rid of her. But I only intended to hurt her, scare her, then I lost my temper in the pony cart. She was so rude, laughing at me, and I hit her, I wanted to push her out of the cart, make her walk back. But I must have been too strong. She fell and rolled down into the river.’

I listened patiently, wondering if that explanation would stand up in a murder trial. I thought not.

‘What about the stable boy Bobby? Did you intend to kill him too?’

‘He was just as bad as her, thick as thieves they were. I guessed that she had probably told him and they were going to share the profits. I could not take chances, so I sent him that note, got him to meet me – I make a credible disguise as a man – gave him the money and thought that would get rid of him from Balmoral. But like all blackmailers, he wanted more. I had got rid of Lily and I couldn’t let him stay around. He was now the greatest threat to my plan.’

She paused, her face grim, remembering. ‘I drove the pony cart at him. The horse threw him. It was easy, really. No blame would be attached to me – I thought.

‘It had all gone so well. I had been so lucky, it was like God’s will, if one was a believer, the steps laid for me to follow. I had no idea over the years how or when, until Olivia wrote that she was going to Balmoral. I knew Vince was a royal physician. What an opportunity. Although I was involved with women’s suffrage, that was originally only a desperate measure to join some organisation that might also present an opportunity to accomplish my mission, which had never been out of my thoughts for a single day since Mama’s terrible injuries.’

‘What about your own attack in the wood?’

She smiled. ‘I engineered that very well, I thought. I realised the boy’s death would look more plausible if whoever had made the horse bolt had also attacked me.’

That was true. It certainly wasn’t an accident that he had been thrown, as Gray had maintained, as she said: ‘It was quite simple. He was waiting to meet me, to get more money, and I simply drove the pony cart at him.’

Her face darkened. ‘But you didn’t believe it, did you? You were smarter than the rest.’ And I realised I had made another enemy. ‘Just being true to your role as a lady investigator, poking your nose into things that didn’t concern you.’

Maybe the brandy was having an effect, she was getting bolder, a glint of the old Mabel again. ‘What is going to happen now? Are you going to tell them? They won’t believe you.’

I didn’t believe in those tales of accidental murders but knew there was only circumstantial evidence if this confession was not signed and sealed and made legal.

Aware of what a dire effect this revelation would have
on Vince’s career − the end of his life as a trusted royal servant − rather than having any feelings of sparing Mabel the consequences of her plan to kill the King, I said: ‘I think you should leave now, while you can, before the inspector gets wind of what happened at the Games and suspects the truth about those two “accidental” deaths you engineered so carefully.’

‘It is the truth. I shall always insist that I never intended to kill either of them.’

I left her then. She wouldn’t run away. She was a prisoner. PC Craig was downstairs, on guard. He had been given a hand at cards with the two girls and, with an eloquent shrug, indicated that he was losing. ‘Feel at home, I’ve got a couple just like them. Good job it’s only sweeties and not money.’

I decided to go on with our packing and leave them to it. Meg said wistfully: ‘Can Rowena come and see us in Edinburgh – just for a holiday?’

I said, of course, if her mother approved.

Rowena said, ‘I would love to come, Mrs Macmerry. I’ve been before, my Ma has friends who are servants at Holyrood.’

And that was one problem less among many that had been solved.

The Games over, the royal family safely back in the castle, PC Craig remained at the cottage with Mabel in custody, although that seemed unnecessary since she was not a danger to us or anyone else.

I told Vince about my long talk with her, going over it all, her version of the two ‘accidental’ deaths, for his benefit. If I expected him to be shocked and demand that she be put on trial when she reached London I was in for a surprise.

‘She won’t be going back with us. Craig will take her into Ballater and I’ve made independent arrangements for her to go straight to London under guard, on account of her health.’

‘You approve of her getting away with intending to kill the King?’

‘No, Rose, I would gladly see her stand trial, although
from what you have just told me, the woman is quite mad and if the truth came out she would spend the rest of her days in a lunatic asylum rather than be hanged.’

He sighed. ‘However, I have another stronger and more personal reason for keeping silent.’

‘I know, Vince. If this reached the King’s ears or became public news.’ As he had once warned me off getting involved in two deaths that I believed were murders, I could now fully understand the consequences if word got around that he had entertained an assassin as a guest in one of the estate cottages.

He nodded, his expression grave. ‘HM is the most genial and understanding of men to a point, but he would certainly be persuaded by those who have his interests, rather than mine, at heart, that I was no longer a suitable person, since I had such criminal friends, to occupy a position of trust in the royal household. Just think what would happen if Inspector Gray got hold of this. Fortunately he never saw the incident at all. He and one of the ghillies were busy disarming that mad German, who regrettably is the King’s distant relative.’

‘The ghillie, was that Mr Brown?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know anything about him?’

Vince seemed surprised at the question. He shrugged. ‘Only that the King had met him in London, took a liking to him. He’s like that, quite unaccountable in taking a shine to people. Why are you so interested?’

He smiled slyly then sighed. ‘Poor Olivia. She’ll be absolutely shocked when I tell her about Mabel.’

I was wondering about Alice and how the scandal regarding her husband would affect her future and that of her estranged children. I hoped it would all work out and that she would be happy with her Scottish gentleman.

And so we returned to Edinburgh. Jack returned a couple of days later.

‘Had a good holiday?’

I waited for him to mention the incident, but all he said was: ‘You look well.’

I wasn’t sure about that, my nerves still felt shattered, but he was more concerned about Meg’s ankle which was healing nicely thanks to Uncle Vince’s attention. She was still limping and would do so for a while yet.

‘Anything exciting to report?’

Was that an invitation to confess all, I wondered? I said, ‘Not really.’

‘I gather Mabel had a bad turn and was sent back by special train.’

Very special, I thought, probably under lock and key. As for that bad turn, it could have been worse.

‘Has Inspector Gray reported anything about his presence at the castle?’

‘Nothing, just the usual precautions that accompany the shooting party each year, illustrious guests and that sort of thing, grumbles about getting loads of extra policemen, calling it a waste of time and money.’

In other words, a great cover-up. I was fairly sure
that Jack knew, but only Vince and I were aware of Mabel’s abortive flourish with that empty gun. As for von Mueller’s insane attempt to get the justice he imagined was his cousin the Kaiser’s due, it would be safely shelved away from public scrutiny.

Under the label of ‘personal – most secret’ information it would take its place and gather dust alongside numerous other assassination attempts, going down in unwritten history, filed as ‘The Balmoral Incident 1905’.