The Tainted Snuff Box (7 page)

“Chakkri has been most unhappy since our arrival.  He misses home.”

“Have you brushed him lately?”

“Yes, I have an ivory-handled ladies’ hairbrush I employ on him.  He makes a game of it, though, walking away and then crying for me to continue.”

Freddie laughed.  “I should like to witness that.”

“I would not say this to anyone else, but I know you will understand.”

Freddie nodded her encouragement. 

“I daresay it is more a sense of impending doom that is disturbing him.  I know I feel it, too.”

“The threats against the Prince?  He wrote to me about them,” Freddie’s brow creased in concern.

“Yes.  They are serious.  And Prinny is feeling the strain.  He stepped on Chakkri’s tail yesterday.  When the cat yelled, enough guards to repel Napoleon rushed the room, all pointing their weapons at me.  It took me some minutes and a few glasses of cherry brandy to soothe Prinny.”

Freddie made sympathetic noises.

“Besides foreign threats, the Prince has made a muddle of certain things here.  A woman named Mrs. Davies is said to be carrying his child.”

Freddie’s lips were firmly closed.

“And there is one young man, Arthur Ainsley, who feels cheated out of a peerage he says Prinny promised him.  Now he has revenge in his eye,” I told her. “Furthermore, the Prince argued in public with your brother-in-law, the Duke of Clarence, last night at the Johnstones.  And Prinny has employed a food-taster.”

Freddie’s blue eyes widened.  “A food taster?  Great heavens, here in Brighton?”

“Yes, and the man is a cad.  Sir Simon, a local baronet.  Do you know him?”

“No.”

“An ugly fellow.  He made a coarse remark about Lady Perry, and Lord Perry called him out.  It took Lord Perry’s cousin, Signor Tallarico, and me to talk him out of it, though Tallarico had pulled a knife on Sir Simon.”

Freddie gasped.

“Perry finally let Sir Simon go, but not before promising to kill him if he so much as mentioned Lady Perry again.”  I heaved a weary sigh.  “Other than that, things have been dull.  Petersham has a new blend of snuff he has promised to let the Prince try this evening, so we have that to look forward to.”

“George!  You are making up all these calamities!”

“Upon my honour, I am not.”

“This is dreadful.  What can happen next?”

Before I could answer, our attention was caught by a deep woof from Humphrey.  His jowls flapped as he raced toward an object being washed up on shore by the angry waves.

Freddie gripped my arm.  “Oh, dear God, George.  Look!  It is a body.”

“You must not look,” I commanded, grasping Freddie’s left shoulder and turning her closely toward me, shielding her from the tragic sight.

  Freddie’s blue eyes were wide with shock and her body trembled.  “George,” she whispered in an anguished voice, “there is no hope that she might still be . . . if there is any possibility . . . “ Her voice trailed off, and her gaze went past me, back to where the girl lay.

I placed a gentle finger on Freddie’s soft cheek, applying pressure to turn her toward me again.  “I do not think so, my princess, but if you promise not to look at her again, I shall make certain there is nothing to be done.”

Freddie swallowed, then gave a shaky nod. 

I turned and found Freddie’s maid standing some ten feet behind us, staring at the body and clutching her shawl tightly about her shoulders.  “Ulga!  Come here at once and see to the Royal Duchess.”

My authoritative tone snapped the maid out of her trance.  She came forward.  After urging them both to keep their eyes averted, I walked over to the young woman.

Humphrey woofed at me.

“Yes, boy, you found her.  Good dog.  Now, let me see.”

Upon closer inspection, I judged the girl to be hardly more than eighteen or nineteen years of age.  She appeared to be a lady of quality, if the fineness of her dress was any measure.  To add to the impression of wealth, there was a gold cross suspended from her neck.  The chain was heavy, and emeralds graced the ends of the fleur-de-lys.

There was no doubt in my mind she was dead.  Even so, I kneeled down and forced myself to edge away matted strands of her flaxen hair.  I placed my fingers at her throat in search for a pulse.  None could be found there, nor at her wrist.

Part of the skirt of her dress had crept up around her knees.  I leaned over and tugged the soaked material down to modestly cover her cold limbs.  Then my gaze shifted, and I noticed that the side of her head, toward the back, sported a lump about the size of my pocketwatch.

About to examine the spot, the sound of Humphrey’s barking called my attention back to Freddie.  The canine had responded to her call.  She crouched down, hugging the excited dog close.  A few people had gathered around, whispering and pointing.

Deciding there was nothing more I could do for the young girl, I walked back to Freddie.  Addressing Ulga, I said, “Remain here.  I shall escort the Royal Duchess back to the Pavilion and summon help.” 

“Yes, sir,” she responded crisply, seemingly recovered from the shock.  She did not look at the body again.

“Come, Freddie, there is nothing more we can do other than get Doctor Pitcairn and some men down here.  The Prince’s doctor is in residence, I am told.  He will see to this.”  I knew the magistrate would also have to be informed, but I kept the thought to myself.

Freddie rose slowly, her face drained of every drop of colour.  The wind blew a curl across her face.  She reached up to tuck it under her hat, her hand shaking.  I was sure to keep myself between her and the sight of the body.  With the dog loping along beside us, we made our way back to the Pavilion.

* * * *

“Freddie, have some tea,” I said.  “The footman just brought it, so it is nice and hot.”  She had not regained colour in her cheeks since we had returned to the house.  Dismissing Ulga after charging her to take Humphrey upstairs, the Royal Duchess allowed me to lead her to a quiet room and ring for tea.

We sat in the circular drawing room known as the Saloon.  A great round Axminster carpet, featuring a sunflower in the middle, fit the room beneath our feet.  Golden rays like those from the sun spread from its center.  A border of dragons chasing one another completed the design.  Six wall panels in Chinese wallpaper rose to meet the ceiling, a painted summer sky.  Eastern scents wafted from the magnificent perfume burner, making me feel we were thousands of miles away from the awful scene on the Brighton beach.

“Yes, tea would be just the thing,” Freddie pronounced, reaching over and pouring us both a cup. 

However, before we could taste the brew, the doors swung open, and the Prince of Wales entered, followed by Lord Perry with his cousin Victor Tallarico and Lord and Lady St. Clair.  A half-dozen armed footmen filed in behind the Prince and arranged themselves at attention by the door.

Freddie and I rose from our chairs.  I bowed to the Heir Apparent, while the Royal Duchess curtseyed to her brother-in-law.

The Prince looked nettled.  “Brummell, what’s this about a body on the beach?  We had just sat down to a game of whist when I was informed you’d sent for Pitcairn.”

“I did send for the doctor, sir, and the magistrate as well.  The Royal Duchess and I were strolling on the beach when we came upon the lamentable scene.  I knew you would feel it proper that the young woman’s body be removed and examined.  I had her brought here.”

“Here?” the Prince asked faintly.  He is a bit on the squeamish side.

I nodded.  “She appeared to be about eighteen years of age and was finely garbed.  I thought it best to bring her here.”

“A drowned young
lady
, then?” Lord Perry inquired.

“It would seem so,” I replied grimly.  “I expect Doctor Pitcairn to be with us presently.  He will tell us more.”

“Was she someone we know?” Lord St. Clair asked.

“Oh, pray do not say any more.  I cannot bear it,” Lady St. Clair moaned, raising a handkerchief to her mouth.  “The very same age as my Prudence.”

“Euthenia,” Lord St. Clair said in a low voice.  “Mayhaps you should retire to your room before the doctor gives his report.  We do not need hysterics now.”

Appalled at her own display of emotion, Lady St. Clair stood rooted to the spot, her countenance stricken.

Victor Tallarico stepped forward.  “Would both of the ladies allow me to escort them to the Long Gallery for an examination of its treasures?  I would be honoured.”

Lady St. Clair took his proffered arm gratefully.  At my side, Freddie hesitated.  I performed the introductions. 

Signor Tallarico bowed low.  “Your Royal Highness, pardon my boldness in addressing you before we had been formally introduced.  I thought only of your comfort, abandoning the conventions.  Please say you forgive me.”  He followed this speech with a smile that showed brilliant white teeth.

Much to my annoyance, even Freddie was not immune to the Italian’s magnetic charm.  With dignified grace, she thanked him, and the trio left the room.

Still scowling after them, I saw a wiry man dressed in black enter the room accompanied by a footman.  The latter announced, “Mr. Kearley,” in ringing tones that made the man cringe.

Prinny raised his quizzing glass, causing Mr. Kearley to bow so low his nose almost touched one of the dragons.  As it was, he jumped when he saw the creature woven into the carpet.  “I’m the magistrate, your most Royal Highness,” he said and gulped.

“Eh, well, I haven’t met you before, have I?” the Prince asked in a tone that implied he wished he had not now.

“No, sir.  You have a death to report?”

Another arrival distracted the Prince.  “Ah, Pitcairn, at last, there’s a good fellow.  What have we on our hands?  A drowned girl?” the Prince said, addressing a distinguished gentleman just entering the room. 

I had met David Pitcairn previously, as he is Prinny’s personal physician.  He is a dependable man, one who puts up with a good deal of his royal patron’s fits and starts.  At this moment, the doctor’s usually amiable nature was absent.  In its place was a professional air.  “She did not drown.”

“What do you mean, she didn’t drown?” the Prince demanded.  “Brummell said she washed up on shore.”

“Killed by a sharp blow to the head,” Doctor Pitcairn stated with finality.

For a tense moment, no one spoke.

“That’s monstrous disagreeable, isn’t it?  Right here, on our Brighton shore, practically at my doorstep,” the Prince complained, then his eyes widened.  “
My
doorstep,” he whispered.  “Could it be by the hands of whoever is threatening me?”  Prinny gripped the back of a chair.

Lord Perry snapped his fingers at one of the footmen.  “Bring the Prince his cherry brandy!”

“A tragedy to be sure, your Royal Highness,” Lord St. Clair said in a reasonable tone, “but certainly it can have no connection to you, sir.” 

The Prince accepted a glass of brandy, but then looked at it skeptically.  He returned it to its tray without partaking of it.  Where was Sir Simon when he was needed, I mused cynically.  But my thoughts turned to the doctor’s words.

“I noted a wound on the side of her head when I found her.  I assume that was the fatal blow?” I said to him.  At his nod, I went on, “But how can you be certain that is what caused her death?  Could the body not have struck a rock or something beneath the surface of the sea after she had drowned?”

“Possibly.  But it would have to have been an awfully sharp rock and the body tossed hard against it.  Besides, if the body had been pitched about to cause a blow like that, one would think there would be other wounds, scratches even.  But there are none.”

“What are you telling us, Doctor?” Lord Perry asked.

“Although it is true that I cannot be absolutely certain, it is my learned opinion that the blow to the head is what killed her.  The murderer likely took the corpse to the sea, thinking the body would never be recovered.  Or if it was that the cause of death would be viewed as an accidental drowning.”

Lord Perry looked at the magistrate.  “This will be a matter for the law then.”

Mr. Kearley’s mouth opened and closed.  I thought him shaking in his shoes at the very thought of having a murder on his hands.

The Prince did not look much better.  

“But who was the young lady?” Lord St. Clair asked.  “We must contact her family.  How can we notify them if we do not know who she was?”

Doctor Pitcairn looked at each of us.  “That is where I hope you gentlemen can be of assistance.  Though the body is somewhat bloated, the cold sea water has kept it preserved.  The corpse should be recognizable to anyone who knows the girl.  Mr. Brummell says he does not know who she is, but he is newly arrived in Brighton.  Perhaps one of you who have been here longer could view the body for identification.”

“Zounds!” the Prince cried, recoiling in revulsion.  “I am positive she is unknown to me.  Absolutely positive.”

“I shall do it,” Lord St. Clair said quietly.  “I have divided my time between Brighton, London, and my estate since June, but we have been in Brighton the majority of the time.  I might have seen the young lady.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Doctor Pitcairn said.

“I shall be glad to help if I can,” Lord Perry said.  “My wife and I have only been in Brighton two weeks, but still, it is worth an attempt.”

Everyone waited for Mr. Kearley’s response.  Finally, the magistrate cleared his throat.  “There haven’t been any reports of missing young ladies.  I’ll have a look at her as well.  If none of us recognizes her, I’ll put a notice in the
Brighton Advertiser
and see if anyone comes forward to claim her as kin.  Otherwise . . ..”  The magistrate shrugged. 

With the Prince’s permission, Doctor Pitcairn departed the room with Lords Perry and St. Clair and Mr. Kearley.  Prinny and I were alone.  “Sir, I know this latest development has heightened your anxiety—”

The Prince rounded on me.  “Why you felt you had to bring the dead girl here surpasses all imagination, Brummell.  You know I have been treading gingerly since I received those death threats.  My being subjected to this latest mess is unnecessary and it rankles.”