Barbara Cleverly - The Blood Royal

Cousin Seb lit a cigarette and looked on, narrowing his eyes against the smoke. Joe had waved away the offer to join Marland in a cigarette and helped himself to a slice of cake. He knew he ought to be relieved that Cassandra and the boys were being cared for and, it seemed, cared about. This was one self-imposed burden he could now slip from his shoulders. Yes, it was all turning out well. He couldn’t account for the feeling of foreboding he was experiencing.

With everyone finally herded back to the tea tables, the conversation began to flow on more conventional topics. Eventually Cassandra broached the question of the admiral’s funeral and, at a suitable moment, Joe inserted the information he’d come to deliver. Everyone fell silent to hear his announcement.

The Yard had completed its investigation of the murder, he told them, and the trial of the two perpetrators was to be held at the earliest possible date. He left a space for their reaction and unobtrusively watched for any sign of dissent.

Marland interrupted Cassandra’s whispered thanks. ‘Hang on a minute, Commander. You’ve skipped a paragraph. Wasn’t there a question of a third assassin? The girl in the taxi? The high-calibre bullet that finished off my uncle? Cassandra tells me she voiced her suspicions to the police.’ He shot a glance at Lily, who nodded back.

Sandilands looked a warning and spoke crisply. ‘We are indeed aware, but this is not perhaps the place, Marland, or the time-’

‘Nonsense! If it’s the boys you’re concerned for, forget it. They know how their father died. They’re au fait with the case. Cassandra and I see no reason to hold back the details from them.’

The boys nodded. Cassandra nodded. Joe realized that he was addressing a unified family and refocused his delivery.

‘Very well. The pathologists’s report upheld Cassandra’s assertion. She was not mistaken. However, the girl in the taxi has been exonerated by the cabby, who has had a lucid interval or two in his hospital bed and has made a statement saying that it was not she who pulled the trigger.’

‘Glad to hear it. Common sense — and science of course — have prevailed, then. Not a woman’s crime, shooting in the street. Sure you’d agree. But if not her, nor the cabby, then who did pull the trigger?’ Sebastian persisted. He was clearly not going to let Sandilands off until he’d revealed all he knew.

‘The solution, as it often is, was staring us in the face,’ Joe admitted with a shamefaced grin. ‘The killers have been questioned at length and have made full confessions. The tougher one of the pair, in the end, admitted that he was issued with two guns, just in case one jammed. Sensible precaution.’

Marland gave an understanding nod. ‘Makes sense.’

‘Fleeing to the taxi, the gunman noted that the admiral was still on his feet, selected his more powerful weapon and shot again. Unnecessary, as Dr Spilsbury is of the opinion that the two Webley bullets would have done for him in minutes anyway. But, in the heat of the moment, the villain must have seen it as a wise precaution. We haven’t recovered the gun. We assume it was thrown out of the window somewhere between here and the police station where they were arrested.’ He noted that Lily looked aside as he told his fluent lies.

‘Mmm … probably picked up and kept or sold on. There’s a market for such things,’ Marland said. ‘I see. Sounds reasonable to me.’ He looked questioningly at each boy in turn, silently gathering their views before continuing. ‘As you say then, all done and dusted. Case closed. And now that your chaps have finally released the old bird, we’ll be able to move on and finalize our plans for the funeral. Cassandra didn’t want the State ceremony that was on offer. I have that right? Do correct me if I assume too much.’

‘Oh, yes. I couldn’t bear it. And I don’t believe Oliver would have expected it. He was, at heart, a plain sailor, a modest man, you know.’

Sandilands and Marland exchanged astonished looks and indulgent grins over her head.

‘All the same, it was so kind of the prime minister and Their Majesties to offer. But, in the end, we’ve decided on a small service for family and friends to be held in the church at his family seat in the country, next Saturday. We’re so hoping you’ll be able to come, Joe.’

‘You won’t be the grandest guest there, sir,’ said William. ‘Not by a long chalk! Tell him, Mama!’

‘Shh! Don’t brag, William. Anyway, it was a charming gesture. The king and queen have made it understood that if we were to send them an invitation they would be pleased to attend the ceremony.’

‘The king and queen?’

‘Yes. And such of their offspring as are staying with them. It’s only just down the road from them after all … a mile or two.’

‘Cassandra, where exactly are you planning to hold the funeral?’ Joe asked carefully. ‘I had imagined Westminster. Or St Martin’s …’

‘I’ve just told you, Joe. Weren’t you listening? At St Mary’s, Upper Dedham. Had you forgotten that Oliver was, like his hero Nelson, a Norfolk man? And — isn’t it surprising how these things turn out? — the royal family has gathered together for the next few weeks in Sandringham. Not their usual annual progress — one might have expected them to be up at Balmoral by now, surely? Odd, that … but conveniently for us, that’s where they are — in Norfolk.’

‘Surprising, indeed,’ said Joe. ‘But — convenient? Not so sure about that.’ He caught the flare of alarm in Wentworth’s eyes and began to get to his feet.

He clamped Lily’s arm under his and set off at a fast lick up the boulevard towards the taxi rank in Grosvenor Place. The scene he’d just witnessed had disturbed him and he wondered how much of the undercurrent had been picked up by the sharp young woman trotting at his side. He decided to find out. He’d come at it crabwise.

‘Well, what did you make of Cousin Seb, then?’

‘A dangerous man, sir.’

‘Really? In what way?’

‘In the way a sixteen-point stag is dangerous to any rival. He’s marking out his territory, bellowing about the place and making sure of his hind.’

‘Great heavens! You make that genteel drawing room sound like a Scottish moor in the rutting season.’

‘A good analogy, sir. And if I were you, I’d pause for a moment to count up my own points. Because it’s your eye he’s planning to poke out.’

So it was out in the open. She’d seen that much at least.

Joe stopped and turned her to face him. ‘I’m not sure I understand your implications,’ he began, ‘but I am quite certain I don’t like the sound of them. The chap’s no more romantically interested in Cassandra than am I. If that’s what you’re suggesting. Good Lord! Attractive woman, of course, and not short of a bob or two, but the man’s totally unsuitable. A good five years younger than she is for a start. No money to speak of. And somewhat of an assertive character. Men with a high kill rate in their fighting years rarely settle down to peaceful domesticity, you know. No — too much of a daredevil for comfort.’

‘Exactly, sir. A modern man. A nice change for Cassandra. You forgot to add good looking — if you can accept the Ramon Novarro moustache. But with those heart-melting hazel eyes who’s going to quibble about a ’tache? He’s a bit bashed about but he’s energetic, and I’d say exciting. I bet he’s got the tickets for Venice booked already. Yes, Venice … that’s where he’d take her. Lucky woman. I envy her.’

‘Good Lord!’ Joe said again faintly. ‘Perhaps you should register an interest? Join the hinds? But — seriously — ought I to warn Cassandra of her danger?’