The Blood Royal (34 page)

Only too well aware, Lily decided the moment had come to pull this interview back into line. She caught the eye of the princess and remembered her instructions. ‘But I’ve come, as you say, with news of the prince – that is to say of two princes.’ The company became still and attentive. ‘The Prince of Wales was in no way harmed, though very distressed, of course, by the events. He’s gone into the country to stay with friends for a week or so and has sent his condolences to the widow of Prince Gustavus, who, as you perhaps—’

‘Poor Zinia. I have told my friends what happened. You may assume they know as much as I and speak freely in front of them,’ the princess intervened.

‘It is confirmed that Gustavus died of heart failure.’ Lily delivered the lie with all the security of Sandilands’ coaching behind her. ‘The onset was very sudden. Although an eminent doctor was on hand to render immediate assistance, there was nothing that could be done to save him.’

‘Ah. No surprises there. Zinia will have told you, no doubt, my dear, that this is a family weakness.’ The princess spoke without emotion. Her words were greeted by understanding nods all round. ‘One is sad but not surprised. I was acquainted with the boy’s father many years ago. In looks, the son was the image of his father, and, it transpires, he had many of his deficiencies of character. A lying, murdering womanizer,’ she said pleasantly. ‘The kind the world is better off without. Just as well that the line has a built-in physical flaw … they manage to destroy themselves before someone is obliged to do it for them. Ah, here comes our morning coffee. You are able to stay and drink coffee with us?’

A maid entered with a loaded tray, and took in Lily’s presence with dismay. Sasha got up and bustled about helping her to find a space on the table. ‘Shall I bring another cup, Miss Sasha? I hadn’t realized you’d got company.’

Sasha hurried her away with a discreet, ‘No, thank you, Katy, that will do. Thank you, my dear. We’ll wait on ourselves. You can go now.’

Four delicate cups and saucers of Worcester porcelain, a silver pot, cream and sugar and French madeleines had appeared, Lily noted, pleased that Fanshawe had got it wrong. Though not all his speculations missed their target. Sipping the fragrant coffee and puffing away at Virginia cigarettes, the ladies allowed their affected sadness to give way with surprising speed to gossip and merriment. The hemlines and dancing partners Fanshawe had scathingly conjured up were now, indeed, being trailed before her. Lily was made to tell whether Prince Edward was as good a dancer as was reported. (‘As good as my dancing master.’ Lily had decided the man had earned a good report.) Was he fun? (‘He made me laugh a lot.’) Where had Lily come by that wonderful dress? (‘Ssh! A secret! Though perhaps I’ll leave the address with the princess before I leave.’) And who exactly was the fair-haired Adonis to her right… sitting at the royal table…clean shaven, cleft chin, was he
really
squiring Connie Beauclerk?’ (‘Rupert Fanshawe? The most dangerous man in England! You would not want to know him.’)

Lily was feeling easy enough in their company to tell them a scandalous story about Rupert Fanshawe that elicited gasps and giggles. A story entirely of her own invention. She hoped it would find its way straight back to the Branch man’s ears.

The princess enjoyed the chatter for a while then dismissed the two young women. ‘Now, my chickens! You must both go up and change – we’re expected at the embassy for lunch, remember. Take your things away with you, will you? I would like a quiet and serious word with Miss Wentworth and I can see I’m not to have the opportunity as long as you pester her for gossip.’

They scuttled off, leaving Lily facing a suddenly shrewd inquisitor.

‘Now you can tell me the truth,’ the princess said bluntly. ‘How did Gustavus die?’

‘Cyanide poisoning. Almost indistinguishable from heart—’

‘This is understood. And that must be the last mention of the appalling substance. The man died from a congenital heart condition. And largely unmourned. I shall attend the funeral, of course. Thank goodness veils are still in style – I shall find it impossible to squeeze out a tear. As will his wife, the silly girl.’

She took a trinket box from a table, opened it and produced a diamond brooch. ‘The fool tried to give this away. To make the correct impression, no doubt. I knew it was Zinia’s much-loved jewel that she had from her mother. It would not have been offered for charity with her consent. I arranged for a friend to make a discreet bid and I acquired it. Zinia shall have it back. And the support to start a new life. In Paris perhaps. I think Paris will be good for her. Whether Zinia will be good for Paris is less certain. And now you may tell me why you have come to see me.’

Lily responded with equal succinctness. Her request for the original guest list was received with no more than the slightest lift of an eyebrow and the princess moved at once to an escritoire. She took a sheet or two of foolscap paper from a drawer, looked over them briefly and brought them to Lily.

‘I’ll hover at your shoulder,’ she said. ‘The handwriting is my own and difficult to decipher. Can you tell me for whom you are searching?’

‘I’m looking for a name which is here on your first list but not on the lists the Branch men made of arrivals at the ball.’ Lily took two sheets from her handbag. ‘Here’s the cast in order of appearance. And here’s another list, with superb efficiency, giving the same names in alphabetical order.’

The princess sighed. ‘Two hundred names to consider! But you were right to come to me. I can shorten the task, I believe. The evening was very well attended. It was the society event of the year in the highest circles and there were few indeed who failed to make an appearance. And I am aware of all of them. Two gentlemen, two ladies. Now … the Duke and Duchess of Sunderland … here they are, you see, on my list … did not attend. Elderly couple. He fell off his horse last week and is confined to his estate. Here we have Miss Millicent Gregory (Ludmilla Gregorovich back home in Russia) who found herself unavoidably detained in Paris.’ The princess sniffed her disapproval.

‘By an Italian tenor?’ Lily enquired sympathetically, remembering her aunt’s list.

‘You have it,’ said the princess. ‘My word! The Yard is all-knowing.’

‘Can you describe Miss Gregory?’

‘Pretty as a peony, with half the intelligence. Wet as a worm.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Ludmilla couldn’t brew up a cup of tea let alone administer a dose of cyanide. If it’s a poisoner you’re looking for in the cracks in these lists, she’s not the one.’

A beringed finger pointed to a name near the end of the page. ‘And, lastly, here you see the Spanish envoy to the Court of St James. Ah, now there’s a handsome villain! He could kill anyone. He’s cut a swathe through Europe. Those that don’t fall to his charm fall to his knife. I was looking forward to meeting him. But he was envoyed back home last week for bad behaviour more blatant than usual. Can you tell me more precisely what you have in mind?’

‘As you suppose, we’re looking for the man or woman who poisoned Gustavus, by design or by mistake.’

‘But you fear the Prince of Wales was the target? My dear Lily, you’ve taken leave of your senses. Your prince was never in danger. He was among friends and subjects. He could have raised a squadron of admirers and protectors amongst this company – there was no safer place in England for him to spend the evening. He was as safe as the Pope surrounded by his Swiss Guard! And Edward knew that. That is why, against all advice from your secret services, he felt able to accept the invitation. No – whoever the assassin, I would say he got his man. Though I could wish he hadn’t chosen my party as the scene of his crime. Aren’t there dark alleys enough in London? So inconsiderate!’ The princess gave a grating laugh. ‘
Mais, quand même
– good luck to him!’

‘I think it’s in the ancient nature of the assassin to choose a public stage for his coup, isn’t it?’ Lily suggested. ‘And your glittering event would have provided him with an unforgettable backdrop for his effort.’

‘Yes, the
hashashin
! You’re right. They liked an audience for their dramas. And still do in the modern world. So many men shot and hacked to death in theatres, in arenas, in the course of parades! If one were very naive, one might almost suspect an international conspiracy.’

Lily felt a keen mind at work in the sophisticated woman she was taking into her confidence and decided to press her further. ‘Your Highness, we’re seeking not a man but a woman, and a woman who may have a connection with the political ambitions, not of your country, but of another.’

‘Great heavens! But by whom does she feel threatened – the invincible Britannia? Could you be speaking of the Irish? I’ve read in the newspapers that … A Fenian attempt? On poor Edward? Under cover of my party? Oh, I see … How dare they!’ Her outrage swiftly dimmed to foreboding. She shuddered. ‘Surely not? Can it have come to this? Such barbarity! France … Greece … Russia … Continents swept by a tide of red, murderous madmen. Incompetent nihilists! Children who break what they do not understand and are incapable of repairing it. Must England suffer the same fate of death and destruction? I had thought it safe from Vandal hands.’

‘We have other ways – civilized ways – of managing these things in our country,’ was the most neutral comment Lily could come up with.

‘Ah, yes. You have Sandilands and his like.’ The princess nodded. ‘Bastions of law and order. You probably believe that if only there had been a Scotland Yard presence in Sarajevo that day in 1914, a swift arrest would have ensued, the murderer of the archduke would have been instantly popped into the local jail in handcuffs and a convincing and totally consoling cover story put in place. The whole affair dampened down … war avoided … millions of lives saved.’ Her voice was impatient and pitying. ‘I admire your motives but I despair of your naivety. Never! The guns had been manufactured, sold and stockpiled. Armies were standing by, flexing their trigger fingers; commanders were strutting, heads of government were whipping up ancient grievances. The men of Europe were straining for a war. When the will to war is there, one bullet from a madman’s gun outweighs years of diplomacy.’

Lily was silent, her heart and her head with the princess as she plunged on with her denunciation: ‘And perhaps the will to a further war is gathering already? So soon! Your commander has seen this. I admire him but he is no more than a quixotic boy who has blocked a hole in a crumbling sea-wall with his finger.’

These were Lily’s sentiments exactly, so she was surprised to hear herself murmuring: ‘Strong finger, though. What would you have him do? See the danger and selfishly run away from it? That is not in his character. That is not in our tradition.’

A cynical bark of laughter greeted this pious but heartfelt assertion.

‘My dear Lily! You are too much in awe of your cousin and your country. Sandilands is an admirable man but he serves a selfish mistress. Britannia picks and chooses the causes she espouses and completely without sentimentality. When she meddles in the affairs of a foreign nation, it is always in the pursuit of her own interests.’

‘But …’ Lily was struggling with the need for deference and circumspection which Sandilands had impressed upon her when she would have liked to give her hostess a good earwigging. The princess had gone too far. She had dug deep but she had at last found the vein of patriotism that ran through her English guest. Lily wanted to invoke the generous way Russian refugees had been welcomed into the British capital, the way the British army had stood shoulder to shoulder with the Russians against the Germans, the sacrifices made by young men she had known and still remembered, falling in foreign fields for a cause that was not theirs. She murmured her objections, overawed by the older woman’s rank and hobbled by the suspicion that the lady would no doubt be engaged in a telephone conversation with Sandilands the moment Lily had left.

‘Russia? A perfect example of Britain’s patchy and self-interested involvement! Englishmen were there at the
moment critique
in St Petersburg in their Russian army officers’ uniforms and armed with their Webleys to finish off poor, bungling Felix Yussupov’s handiwork. Oh, yes, the world was well rid of Rasputin but it was no generous gesture on your part. The British secret service had a very particular reason for silencing him. The maniac was about to succeed in persuading the Tsar that he should order the Russian army to stop fighting on the eastern front and retreat back to Russia. It would have spelled disaster for the Allies. It would have left battalions of Germans suddenly released from action and free to dash over to the western front where they would have finished off the British and French forces. Now that was a pistol shot that saved thousands of lives! I do not criticize. I would have pulled the trigger myself and gladly. But the Tsar? Your King George’s own cousin? He asked for asylum in England. His request was refused. Where were your secret service officers when the Tsar needed a passage to safety for himself and his family?’

‘It was tried. I’m sure it was tried.’ Lily’s voice was unconvincing to her own ears.

‘It could have been achieved. The imperial family was under house arrest for many weeks. If diplomatic negotiations had failed – and I am not certain that they were even attempted – they could all have been rescued. The British managed after all,’ she said with a sly smile, ‘to organize a route by which the Tsar’s
fortune
could be spirited away. Millions of pounds’ worth of gold, jewels and bonds were helped out of banks, strongrooms and palaces on their way out of Russia but it was too much, apparently, to do the same for one small family.’