The Stuart Sapphire (18 page)

Lord Percy was carried upstairs and laid down in a bedroom, with Dr Brooke in attendance and Henry hovering anxiously at his side.

Tam, still in a state of shock at the enormity of the whole incident and his own narrow escape from death, lingered in the corridor outside, staring out of the window and hoping for a glimpse of Gemma, hoping to satisfy the urgent necessity of picking up those loose ends of what had happened to her when she was taken aboard the smugglers’ boat and he was hit on the head and left in the water to die.

After what seemed like a considerable time, the doctor emerged and shook his head. ‘I fear there is nothing more to be done. The bullet lodged too close to the brain to be extracted. We must prepare ourselves for the worst. He will not survive the day.’

Dr Brooke was followed by Henry, who joined Tam at the window. He looked close to tears. ‘He is dying, and he wants a priest. Roman Catholic, you know, born and baptised, somewhat lapsed in recent years. Kept it dark,
wouldn’t do for a groom of the bedchamber to be Catholic, not after all that fuss about Mrs Fitzherbert and HRH. People remember.’

Pausing, he added, ‘Percy wants to see you, Mr Eildor.’

Tam was mystified as Henry added: ‘Has something to say to us both.’

Tam followed him into the room. Even with the curtains drawn, it was obvious that Percy was near death, his bandaged head on the now bloodied pillow unmoving.

Perhaps they were too late and he was already dead. Henry thought the same. Drawing a sharp breath and with a frantic glance at Tam, he leaned over the bed.

‘We’re here, Percy.’

His eyelids stirred. ‘The priest? Is he with you?’ he whispered.

‘He is on his way. Mr Eildor is here, as you asked.’

The eyes opened wide, stared up at the ceiling. ‘Good. Have to confess, need a priest.’

‘He’s coming, Percy. Be here very soon.’

An exhausted sigh. ‘Good – get him to hurry. Not much time.’ And groping for Henry’s hand: ‘You are my old friend, Henry. Have to tell someone – is Mr Eildor still there? Good – want him to hear this as well. Need a witness.’

He paused, weak and still for a moment then drawing a deep breath that seemed to rattle through his whole being, he said in a clear voice:

‘I have committed a mortal sin, Henry. I killed Lady Sarah Creeve that night.’

Henry shook his head and exchanged a startled glance with Tam. And grasping Percy’s hand, he said softly: ‘You didn’t, old chap, you’re imagining things.’

‘No, this is the truth, Henry, as I shall soon stand before
my Maker. I killed her. I didn’t mean to, but she led me on, you know. I wanted her from the day we first met and she hinted that she loved me too. That night when HRH was watching the shipwreck, I knew she was in his bed next door to us.’

A faint smile touched his ashen face. ‘Such a perfect opportunity. Remember, Henry, I left you watching the ship going down and went back. She was lying there smiling, waiting for me but when – when we – started – I got nervous, bed curtains drawn. Couldn’t see for sure, but thought I heard someone else, moving about in the room. She pushed me away, called me a fumbling idiot, said I was useless as a lover. I tried to – to make her—’

Another pause. ‘But she wasn’t having any. She tried to get up, away from me. I got angry, I seized her by those damned pearls, pulled her back on to the bed. I was beyond reason, I would have her, whether she wanted me or not. Then I realised I had tight hold of the pearls and she wasn’t breathing any more. I had strangled her. It has been terrible, terrible – living with this nightmare.’

As he said the words, the priest arrived to administer the last rites. Henry stayed, still holding Percy’s hand, and Tam left them to wait outside. To wait for what? he wondered.

The marchioness’s murder which had troubled the Prince Regent so deeply had been solved at last, her killer one of his own devoted grooms.

There still remained the theft of the Stuart Sapphire. It seemed unlikely that Percy had stolen that. But his dying words had thrown new light on it. Whoever he heard in the bedroom moving about had undoubtedly also known of the marchioness’s weakness for jewels and, having in all probability seen her wearing the sapphire that evening, had
taken the opportunity when the prince was absent to steal it.

Tam had no great satisfaction in knowing that he had been right all along and that Townsend’s wearisome interminable interrogations in the sleazy dark corners of Brighton had been a waste of time. The theft had been committed by someone inside the Pavilion, someone close to the Prince.

He looked out of the window and was rewarded by the sight of Gemma, in a green velvet riding coat, throwing a ball to Timothy’s new puppy in the garden below. He must speak to her. Only she had the knowledge to help him retrace his steps back to the hulks and make his exit from Regency Brighton.

Once she shaded her eyes, looked up towards the window where he lifted a hand in greeting, but she did not see him after all. He was considering dashing down to see her, when someone signalled from inside the house and she disappeared.

She was so beautiful, Gemma was life itself, he thought, turning to look at the bedroom door closed fast on its scene of tragic, unnecessary death. And as he counted the minutes, he knew that not many men in this world could owe their lives to the flight of an angry insect. Had it not chosen to fly at his face that instant in the wood, he and not Percy would have been lying dead. And he remembered, as if in some nightmare, seeing Townsend over and over calmly shooting the stalker, whose name and secret business only Townsend knew.

Perhaps Townsend did not fully realise that Tam, lying against the tree’s trunk with the breath knocked out of him, had heard what had passed between them. But he also realised that his knowledge and witness were dangerous
indeed and, now that he knew too much to live, he must be very wary about turning his back on the Bow Street officer.

The door opened and Henry came out and sat with him on the windowsill. He said nothing, just shook his head sadly, close to tears. Below them the sunshine in the garden had hardened and grown cold. Gemma and the puppy had disappeared, their place taken by heavy, grey mist. In the distance the ornamental lake looked dark and forbidding, as if biding its time for yet another tragedy.

‘He was my friend,’ said Henry. ‘All these years we have been together serving the prince and yet I realise I hardly knew him at all.’

He sighed. ‘I hoped he would be best man at my wedding, now he doesn’t even know that I am in love and have found the girl of my dreams.’

(And my dreams too, thought Tam.)

‘Instead of going back to Brighton to my father full of joyous expectations, it will be to tell him this grave news and send someone down to Surrey. Percy’s wife and children will have to be informed, arrangements made for his – him to be buried in the family vault.’

He put his hands to his face and sobbed. ‘Dear God, it is terrible, unbelievable that just a few moments before we had been talking. What cause had a madman with a gun to kill Percy, a stranger to him? Townsend believes he killed Simone too. Why on earth should such a thing happen?’

Tam could have told him the truth – that Percy had been killed by mistake – but that would only have made his grief even harder to bear. He said: ‘Percy’s wife – she will be heartbroken.’

Henry sighed. ‘Not for long, I fear. There was no real love there. An arranged marriage when they were both
young. There are children but Percy was never faithful. They had their own lives to lead; it is the way of this world we live in. But poor Percy, I felt, was always searching for someone to love who would love him in return.’

Again he sighed. ‘That way of life is not for me, never has been. I have waited a long time and I will be faithful to my beloved, and no other, until I die.’

That will make a change from your royal father, that is something you did not inherit from him, Tam was tempted to say, but he did not want to hear all about Henry’s love for Gemma, and instead he asked:

‘Was all that true – back there? Did you have any idea what happened that night when Lady Sarah died?’

‘I only know that when we went into the attics to view your ship sinking, Percy only stayed a couple of minutes, said he was feeling unwell, his stomach was troubling him, said he must go urgently to what he called the house of easement. When I went back downstairs again, about half an hour later, he was in bed. I remember he asked me if it was all over. I said yes and was he feeling better now. He said he was, yes, but he hadn’t felt like watching a ship go down.’

Henry paused, shook his head sadly. ‘Poor old Percy. He must have been in an agony of remorse and terror of what he had done.’

‘And yet when the marchioness was discovered, you never suspected him.’

He laughed bitterly. ‘Never in a thousand years would I or anyone else have ever suspected Percy. He never had any luck with women, always, it seemed, infatuated with someone who didn’t want him.’

‘Did you know he felt like that about the marchioness?’

He frowned. ‘When I think about it now, he did seem
rather taken with her – but so did most men. They were easy targets; she was that kind of woman, always flaunting herself. I must say, the last thought in my mind would be his poaching on the prince’s preserves, as one might say. Certainly his behaviour has been a bit erratic lately, about Simone, who like her mistress must have rejected him. But I still can’t believe that he killed Sarah, even by accident.’

He stopped, looked at Tam earnestly and said: ‘Promise, I beg you – promise you won’t tell anyone else, Mr Eildor.’

‘You have my word upon it, sir.’

‘Not even Townsend,’ Henry insisted.

Tam said firmly, ‘Not even Townsend,’ wondering how much the Bow Street officer was already in the Prince Regent’s confidence. ‘What good would it do to blacken Lord Percy’s name when he is dead and cannot defend himself?’

Henry smiled sadly. ‘You are a good man, Tam Eildor, a very good man and I feel privileged to have known you and to shake you by the hand.’

They shook hands solemnly and Henry said: ‘My father will have to be told the truth, of course. He will be sad about Percy but no doubt relieved in a way that Sarah’s killer has been found.’

And the truth laid to rest, silenced permanently by death, thought Tam grimly, as Henry continued: ‘That was a terrible morning when we found her, the worst in my whole life – until now. Poor Percy went away to vomit and I thought it was just the sight of a dead woman that had upset him.’

They were interrupted as the priest left the room and Dr Brooke appeared with Sir Joseph to have a word with Henry.

Tam went downstairs, feeling a need for fresh air. As he
stood undecided at the front door, wondering if those pleasant gardens were any longer a safe haven to wander in, a man, obviously a stranger, came up the steps and said:

‘Excuse me, sir, I have urgent business with Sir Joseph.’

‘If you ring the bell—’ But the footman was already there. The man bowed, looked at Tam intently and disappeared inside the house, leaving Tam with a curious feeling that he had met him, or someone very like him, recently. However, before he could pursue the idea, Henry joined him once more and they were approached by Townsend who had been at the stables.

Putting aside his pipe, he was ready with condolences for Henry on the loss of a dear friend. Tam listened unmoving and thought how Townsend would have reacted had the fatal accident befallen himself, as was intended. And how very difficult it would have been to trace any family of the late Mr Tam Eildor in Edinburgh or elsewhere.

Turning to Tam, Townsend said: ‘All the arrangements have been made and we need not delay ourselves any longer. I have asked the coachman to bring the carriage round, if you are ready to leave.’

‘I have much to do,’ said Henry. ‘HRH must be told as soon as possible and the sad news broken to Percy’s family.’

And regarding the approaching carriage: ‘Might I accompany you back to Brighton, if that is convenient, and you have room for two extra passengers?’ He indicated Gemma who had emerged from the front door, a footman at her heels carrying a small trunk.

‘Lady Gemma is also going to Brighton on a short visit. She is to be the guest of HRH,’ he beamed proudly, ‘and will be staying with Mrs Fitzherbert.’

Gemma smiled kindly at Henry as he handed her into the carriage. They took the seats opposite Townsend and Tam, whom she greeted with a smile and a polite nod, before devoting her attention to staring out of the window.

It promised to be a silent journey, no one in the mood for polite conversation. Henry occasionally darted fond glances at Gemma which were not returned with much enthusiasm.

She was remembering her parting conversation with her father. He had been quite frank that unless she decided to take Lord Henry Fitzgeorge she would not be welcome back at Creeve. He would, however, give her an allowance to go to London and remain there with her grandmother, indicating that whatever arrangements she made for her future were no longer any concern of his.

In a state of shock at the enormity of this statement, Gemma realised that she was being politely disowned, abandoned by her father. Then he added that if, however, she made a favourable decision, the one of which he so heartily approved, she would be most welcome to return to the family home. She would then be married from Creeve, all past bitterness forgotten.

As for Tam, aware of the preoccupied expression which made her face even lovelier, he knew only delight at her unexpected presence. Unlikely ever to set foot in Lewes again, the possibility that they would be able to meet again in Brighton was more than he could ever have hoped for.

They were within a mile of Brighton when a fallen tree across the road blocked their path. The coachman took a circuitous way which emerged near the promenade.

As Tam wondered what lay in store at the Pavilion, Henry said to Gemma: ‘Steine House lies over yonder, an excellent opportunity to meet Mrs Fitzherbert. She is my dear friend.’

Gemma smiled wanly and as they reached the house, Mrs Fitzherbert appeared on the steps in outdoor attire. Seeing Henry in the carriage, she smiled radiantly and, as he stepped out, she embraced him fondly and kissed his cheek.

Drawing her aside and indicating Gemma, there followed an urgent whispered conversation, since he had had no opportunity to ask her if it was convenient for Gemma to stay. A moment’s hesitation and he received the answer he needed. The prince was sleeping in the Pavilion again.

Handing Gemma down from the carriage, Tam caught a glimpse of Mrs Fitzherbert’s curious expression, delighted
as they were introduced and Gemma curtseyed prettily.

‘Lady Gemma, Henry’s friends are always most welcome in my home,’ she said.

A cautious response and most diplomatic, Tam thought, and as their carriage was about to move on, he was suddenly noticed.

‘Mr Eildor – how very nice to see you again. Will you not join us?’

And to Henry: ‘My outing was quite unimportant, my dear, a mere breath of sea air – and I should like very much to take this opportunity of receiving Mr Eildor’s company before he leaves,’ she added with one of her radiant smiles.

With such a warm invitation Tam could hardly refuse to descend from the carriage and kiss the hand she offered. Not only would he enjoy meeting her again but he was curious to see how she received Lady Gemma, this guest thrust upon her without the least warning.

‘You may drive on, coachman,’ she said.

Townsend, a silent witness to this charming encounter, was obviously dismissed as a servant travelling with them. Feeling slighted he leaned forward and said stiffly:

‘Madam, if you will please excuse Mr Eildor on this occasion. He and I have urgent business at the Pavilion which will not wait.’

Nodding to Tam, Henry replied: ‘I will join you shortly.’ His expression was grave, with all laughter gone, as he remembered his own urgent business, to report the death of his friend.

Mrs Fitzherbert smiled at Tam. ‘Remember your promise to me, Mr Eildor.’

Assuring her of his intention to do so, Tam hoped this was one promise he would be able to keep as he returned to the carriage and watched her with a hand tucked into
Henry’s arm going indoors once more.

There was something about that little scene that remained with him. It struck a note of intimacy and it suddenly occurred to him to wonder if Lord Henry was in fact one of those children who she had said so wistfully ‘could never be acknowledged’.

The Pavilion loomed ahead, its splendour more transient-seeming than ever, after the harsh reality of the two days at Creeve. As the carriage dropped them at the entrance to the guest apartments, Townsend said:

‘I have matters to discuss with HRH and then we will resume our investigation.’ This was not quite the excuse he had given to Mrs Fitzherbert, Tam thought resentfully, but merely a ruse to keep an eye on him since he was not to be included in that meeting with the prince.

As for the investigation, since Townsend had left no stone unturned, what possible further venues could he have in mind? Tam would have been mightily interested to hear Townsend give the prince an account of the events at Creeve.

Which version would the prince be told of Lord Percy’s death? At least any account would save Henry that
heartrending
and highly emotional task of breaking such tragic news.

Again he was curious to know if Townsend had been told the truth about the marchioness’s murder, and that as all witnesses were to be eliminated, the death of Lord Percy was a plot that had failed, with Tam Eildor as the intended victim.

As he walked towards his bedroom he hoped to have some time on his own, and was looking forward to the sight of clean linen spread out on the bed.

It was not to be. He opened the door, and there, spread out on the bed, was Princess Charlotte.

‘What on earth are you doing here, Highness?’ In his anger he even forgot the customary manners, the bow and smile.

‘Dear Mr Eildor, I saw the carriage approaching from my window over there and so I decided to welcome you.’

‘Please get up, Highness,’ said Tam shortly in no mood, after all he had been through, to humour this tiresome girl.

She lay back against the pillows. ‘We will not be disturbed. My governess is having her afternoon rest. Be assured, I left her fast asleep. She will not rise until four—’

Tam interrupted this assurance with an impatient gesture. ‘You cannot stay here. Please go, Highness.’

Instead she snuggled down into the bed. ‘No one will disturb us,’ she repeated softly. ‘I have waited so long for such an opportunity. Why cannot I stay—’

‘You cannot stay because I say so and because, in case you have forgotten, you are the Prince Regent’s daughter.’

She laughed a little coarsely. ‘Oh that! He has a different woman in his bed every night of the week, no one even notices. It is the general rule.’

Tam was not prepared to argue that point, in terror that a knock on the door would herald Townsend’s return and such a scene as he would witness would give any man, even one with a less suspicious nature than the Bow Street officer, all the wrong impressions.

He regarded her grimly. ‘It is not my general rule, Highness. Besides you are just a child.’

That made her sit up indignantly. ‘I – am – not – not – a child. See for yourself,’ she added angrily tearing down the bodice of her gown.

Averting his eyes hastily from plump breasts, he realised
to his horror that she was wearing only a nightgown. At two o’clock in the afternoon – was it also the custom in the Pavilion to disrobe for the afternoon rest?

‘I am a woman,’ she repeated, as if some doubt might still remain in his mind.

‘I can see that,’ he said coldly. ‘Now cover yourself up in case you catch a cold.’

‘Do you not find me attractive?’ she pleaded.

To be candid, Tam did not. Not in the least; a lumpish young woman with plump feet and hands and a stout bosom had never been to his taste. Less than ever since he had the vision of Gemma Creeve’s slender frame firmly imprinted in his mind.

‘You’ll do well enough when the right man comes along,’ he said.

‘I won’t – I won’t!’ Had her feet been on the ground she would have stamped them indignantly.

Conscious that he was on the road to nowhere and that he must get rid of her as soon as possible, Tam decided to humour her. He sat on the very edge of the bed as far away from her as possible.

‘Now listen to me,’ he said sternly. ‘You have to marry, you know that.’

‘I hate marriage, I won’t – won’t be like my mother and father – I will have lovers instead, that I can quickly dispose of when I get tired of them.’

‘As you would tire of me,’ Tam said softly.

She shook her head vigorously. ‘I would never tire of you. I would want to keep you with me forever.’

‘You are very kind, Highness, and I will be honoured to be your friend.’

‘Even when I am Queen.’

‘Even when you are Queen.’

Tam got up and said: ‘That’s settled then. Now will you please go back to your own rooms, before your governess wakens and sounds the alarm.’

She looked at him doubtfully. ‘Promise me you’ll be my friend.’

‘I have said so.’

She slipped out of bed and, as she did so, Tam observed a uniform jacket hanging on the back of the door. It had not been there before.

He looked at Charlotte, suddenly realising that she could never have found access to the guest apartments from the Pavilion wearing only what he now saw was a flimsy nightgown. She must have worn the long jacket as a hopeful piece of anonymity.

As he helped her into it, keeping as much distance between them as was physically possible, there was a sharp reminder – a very significant fact from the night of the marchioness’s murder.

A piece of valuable information stored away at the back of his mind.

‘How did you manage to escape from Lady de Clifford?’ he asked.

‘I told you, she was asleep.’

‘I don’t mean now, Highness. I mean the last time you wore that coat.’

‘I just borrowed it,’ she said carelessly. ‘It is quite inconspicuous, there are so many guards about the Pavilion that no one ever gives them a second glance. Especially as I’m tall enough. I can wander about and it’s the perfect disguise, isn’t it?’

‘Highness, I am not referring to this afternoon and your visit to me, I am talking about the night that the Stuart Sapphire disappeared from your royal father’s bedroom.
The night I was rescued from the shipwreck.’

Aware too late of the trap he had set for her, she stammered: ‘I – I don’t – know – know what you are talking about, Mr Eildor,’ but her heightened colour gave away the lie.

‘I think you do. As a matter of fact, you were seen by the duty guards.’

‘Oh, no!’ she squealed. ‘They didn’t tell – him – did they?’

‘No, they told me, when I was asking if they knew anything about its disappearance.’

Looking alarmed now, she asked anxiously: ‘What did they say?’

‘Only that a guard rather casually dressed in uniform was inspecting some problem to do with the prince’s apartments.’

‘But they didn’t recognise me!’ she laughed. ‘What a relief!’

‘You are aware, Highness,’ Tam said sternly, ‘that the missing sapphire we are talking about is the reason Mr Townsend is here from London?’

‘Oh is it really?’ she said casually. ‘I had no idea – no one told me. He comes quite a lot to see my father.’

‘Well, this time he is here searching for the sapphire, all over Brighton, and I have had to accompany him.’

She giggled, put a hand to her mouth. Then seriously, as she realised what this conversation implied, she said defensively:

‘It is mine, you know. Father promised to give it to me, so that I could wear it when I reviewed his Dragoons. Then when that – that – odious woman started coming to dinner, he broke his promise. She was there displaying it proudly on her huge bosom – the cheek of her. She was awfully
rude to me, never gave me the respect due to a royal princess, just treated me like a silly child. She was wearing it that night—’ She stopped.

‘Go on,’ said Tam.

She shrugged. ‘I guessed she would be sleeping in – his – bedroom. When I left them all watching the shipwreck, I knew my father would be there for ages. I came back, put on one of the uniform jackets from the guard room and slipped along the corridor to his bedroom. I muttered something about light sconces being checked. Wasn’t that clever of me?’

‘Very clever,’ said Tam as was expected of him. ‘Do go on.’

‘I opened the door and the bed curtains were drawn, I hoped she was still asleep but I heard creakings and sounds like deep breathing. I could smell her awful perfume too. But the jewels were on the little table by the window and there was enough daylight to see my sapphire. I snatched it up and went quietly out. Back the way I came. The guards were playing cards – they never even noticed me leave—’

But Lord Percy heard you, Tam remembered grimly. And that interrupted lovemaking behind the bed curtains cost Lady Sarah Creeve her life.

‘I am glad she’ll never be coming back,’ Charlotte continued. ‘In fact I wasn’t sorry at all to hear that she had been killed going back home to Creeve. She deserved it. She was greedy and horrible.’

‘Where is the sapphire now?’

She gave him a sly look and said softly: ‘What will you give me, if I tell you?’

‘I won’t give you anything, since it is not my property and you had better give it back to your father. He is quite distraught at its disappearance, you know. I gather it is part of the Coronation Crown—’

Momentarily sulky, she shrugged then suddenly
brightened
. ‘If I tell you where it is, will you give me a kiss?’

‘I might,’ said Tam warily. ‘One kiss.’

She came close, leaned against him, closed her eyes and opened her lips. As he gently covered them with his own, she seized him tightly, forcing his lips apart.

Struggling free, resisting the desire to wipe his hand across his mouth, he took her face in his hands and gently pushed her away.

‘One kiss, I said, Highness. Not my face washed.’

She sighed, clinging to him again. ‘But I love you – I love you.’

‘I know you think you do, but you must understand, I shall be leaving here, probably tomorrow—’

‘No – not so soon – please,’ she begged.

‘Yes, Highness, and so you must not waste your love on me. You will find a fine prince worthy of you someday.’

Shaking her head, she looked ready for floods of tears. ‘No – never.’

There were sounds in the corridor outside and Tam froze. ‘You must go.’

‘Please – when you leave – take me with you.’

The footsteps had receded and Tam took her firmly by the arms. ‘Highness, you are one day to be Queen of England. I am a nobody—’

‘You are an Edinburgh lawyer.’

Tam shook his head. ‘For what it’s worth, I am a commoner. You know nothing about me. So please be sensible. Even if we were in love with each other, it could never be.’

‘What about my father and Mrs Fitzherbert?’ she demanded.

‘Yes, that should be a lesson to you. How difficult your
people would make such an arrangement to say nothing of parliament.’

‘I would risk it – I would risk anything if you loved me!’

‘Maybe you would, but I’m not ready to risk being hung, drawn and quartered.’

‘But—’

‘Highness – you must go – now. Remember you made a promise, one kiss and you would show me where you hid the sapphire.’

She pouted her lips. ‘Another kiss, and I’ll show you.’

‘Very well.’ He kissed her gently, listening for those footsteps returning.

He had to humour her, so near now to finding the hiding place of the sapphire, but what would it be like if her governess had missed her and she was found here alone with him in his room, wearing only a nightgown?