The Blood Royal (41 page)

‘No, we jolly well don’t! Not now I’m fourteen!’ came the mock rebuke.

Joe listened until he heard Lily making sociable noises and beginning to chatter with the boys and he decided it was safe to come off watch. His assistant had been struck by a fit of unaccustomed shyness as they entered the room and had nearly bolted. But, now, smiling with these two, she appeared calm again. And she was in safe hands. They had impeccable manners, the pair of them. And, in their different ways, they were thoroughly nice chaps. A credit to Cassandra’s upbringing. The admiral seemed never to have quite managed to ruin their lives, thanks largely to his prolonged absences at sea, Joe reckoned. Out of the corner of his eye, he was pleased to see them reacting in a coltish way to the easy laugh and big eyes of a pretty girl.

And why not? With her yellow frock and shock of yellow hair, Lily looked like a sunflower in the gloomy room, he thought. She raised the spirits. John, serious and competent at seventeen, was a good head taller than Lily, Billy on eye level. Joe checked covertly for signs of distress in the sons and saw none. In fact Billy, he would have said, was a little over-excited for a Sunday teatime, and so soon after his father’s death. He was talking loudly, even laughing with Lily.

Cassandra caught his concern. ‘Goodness. The little ones will be asking permission to play with their marbles on the carpet next,’ she said indulgently. ‘I’ve just sent Sebastian to organize a pot of fresh tea. On Sundays we mostly do our own fetching and carrying. There’s only Eva left scurrying around. Darjeeling suit?’ Cassandra broke off to perform her duties. ‘There are still lots of sandwiches left and we haven’t set about the cake yet. I sent out for your favourite, Joe – a Fuller’s walnut. Ah, here’s the tea.’

The door was opened by a flustered Eva who stepped aside to make way for a gentleman dressed in mourning and carrying a heavy tray.

‘Company,’ the stranger said cheerily. ‘Thank you, Eva. Now do stand clear and don’t fuss me. That’ll be all, my dear. We’ll wait on ourselves now – you and Cook can put your feet up,’ he said.

Eva smiled, cast him a shy glance and bobbed her way out.

Joe froze as Sebastian Marland ran an assessing eye over the distance to the nearest table, made his calculation, and set off across the Afghan rug. Always a tricky decision: whether to dash forward and snatch the tray from his hands or studiously ignore the disability. Taking his cue from Cassandra, who was nonchalantly busying herself clearing a space, Joe stayed put.

Sebastian Marland touched down safely and turned to greet Sandilands. ‘Commander. Good to see you again. Though I could wish it were in different circumstances.’

Joe nodded and smiled with equal pleasure. ‘Captain. Gloomy time for you all … May I—’

‘No need for all that. Commiserations taken as understood.’

Sandilands began to relax into the familiar exchange of military brevity. You knew where you were with Marland.

Open and brisk, the young host came straight to the point. ‘And thank you for all you’ve done, Commander. Cassandra’s a lucky woman to have you in her corner – and I’ve said as much. But I see you bring an accomplice?’ An enquiring eye sought out Lily.

‘You’ve found exactly the right word.’ Joe smiled. ‘Miss Wentworth is, indeed, my partner in crime. Let me introduce you to her. Lily, this is Sebastian Marland, Admiral Dedham’s nephew.’

Marland shook Lily’s hand and murmured a welcome. Joe was intrigued to witness the instant effect of warm eyes and a sincere voice. He observed flirtatious smiles and batting of eyelashes. And Wentworth didn’t appear unmoved either. Joe grinned. But Marland’s attention was quickly drawn back to Cassandra, who was beginning to fuss and call everyone to the table. ‘No, no. Sit down, my dear, and I’ll pour out. That full pot’s a sight too heavy,’ he said. ‘John, come and make yourself useful. Grab a cutlass and section up this cake, will you? And don’t mangle the walnuts.’

‘Sebastian is rather more than nephew now, Joe,’ Cassandra began quietly, watching the steady hands at work with the tea things. ‘When Oliver’s will was read, we discovered that—’

‘Oh, come now, Cassandra, Sandilands knows the contents. If he’s any good at his job, he’ll have known before we did!’ A disarming grin was directed at the commander. ‘But Miss Wentworth may be unaware? The thing is, Lily … I may call you Lily? … I was appointed joint guardian of the boys until their majority, along with their mother, of course. With immediate effect.’

Joe nodded his understanding and approval of the situation. Sebastian was far too young to exert paternal authority but he was a man any boy could look up to and he had a sound head on his shoulders.

‘And, being a working man – a businessman of sorts – I shall interest myself in the family’s affairs in an active way,’ Marland went on. ‘A few changes to be made—’

‘And one of them made already!’ Billy sang out happily. ‘I’m going to tell the commander my good news. Sir! Cousin Seb says I needn’t go back to that frightful hole when term starts. He’s sending in my papers or whatever nonsense you have to do to break out of there. He can do it! He just has to sign something. I’ve served my last day at naval college!’

Cassandra exclaimed and pressed a handkerchief over her mouth. Huge eyes appealed to Joe for understanding.

‘I say, steady on, old man! It’s surely a bit premature to be thinking about unpicking the admiral’s arrangements …’ Joe began to murmur, but was firmly interrupted by Marland.

‘
Au contraire!
Not a moment too soon. One more term of bullying and beatings and they risk breaking the boy’s spirit. They’ve already broken his hide. The lad’s cut raw by the last effort to make him like the Navy. It won’t do. He has his mother’s sensitive nature. And he’s not a born sailor like his brother.’

Everyone in the room turned to look at the born sailor. John, blushing at the attention, defiantly put an arm along his brother’s shoulder. ‘We can’t all be a Nelson.
I’m
not, never will be. But I love the Navy.’ He spoke in sharp phrases, clearly embarrassed by William’s outburst and directing his remarks to Joe. ‘It’s a tough system, sir, but I agree with Cousin Seb – I must survive it and try to change the things I don’t like. And I can survive because I love the life. Billy can’t because he doesn’t. Could never … I mean …’

Cassandra, sniffing and exclaiming, hurried across the room to clasp both of her boys to her bosom. They stood, arms at their sides, enduring the show of affection for a count of ten.

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.

Chapter Thirty-Two

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.’