Authors: David Roberts
‘Not in my view – for what it’s worth. She was mad when she killed Mrs Harkness. Her reason for killing was not that of a sane person. I don’t dispute that she did it as
surely as if she had cut her throat. Even though she didn’t administer the poison herself, leaving that lethal brew by her bed in a flask she could see she had been drinking from . . . I
suppose I should have realized who had committed the murder earlier, but I couldn’t see the motive. There were motives for almost anyone else to have killed Mrs Harkness except
her.’
‘And of course we were confused by the open window and the creeper – which anyone might have climbed up.’
‘Except they didn’t. I must say I thought it was unlikely,’ Edward added comfortably.
‘Do you think Sir Geoffrey did go to Mrs Harkness’s room? I mean, did they have a tryst?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think she would have been surprised if he had.’
‘To plead with her not to give him up?’
‘Maybe. My belief is she had not yet given him his quittance and that she intended to tell him the affair was at an end that weekend . . . that evening, perhaps. If he did go to her room,
he would have found her dead. Chief Inspector Pride will get that out of him.’
‘And when Scannon was killed . . . ?’
‘Well, like you, I thought it must have been either Hepple-Keen or Carstairs. I never thought Miss Conway had done it – she’s been released now?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Good! When I talked to Carstairs, I saw it certainly wasn’t him. He was too transparent. He is what my brother would call a cad and a bounder, but he isn’t a killer –
except of animals, of course. He was – and is – a great hunter but quite out of place in London. I gather he’s on his way back to the colony?’
‘Yes. Apparently, rather to everyone’s surprise, he did quite well here – met a lot of important people. Was that anything to do with you, my lord?’
‘I gave him a couple of introductions,’ Edward said modestly. ‘Anyway, if Hepple-Keen killed Scannon it had to be because he was being blackmailed, but there I came unstuck. It
was Verity who spotted that I had gone off the rails and my theory didn’t ring true. When we had dinner at the Café Royal to celebrate the success of the Jarrow march I was miffed when
she called my summary of the case mere speculation – and yet . . . ’
‘So Miss Browne “cracked the case”? Smart lady,’ the Inspector said admiringly.
‘She did, as you say, “crack the case” but in the process, I think, cracked my chances – if you follow me, Lampfrey.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that, my lord. Of course, it’s not my place to say so but you two belong together. I may be just a country copper but even I can see that.’
‘Get away with you,’ Edward said, nudging him just as he was lifting his pint to his lips. ‘I was never fooled by you, Lampfrey. You’re as shrewd a copper as ever
I’ve met.’
‘Good of you to say so, my lord, I’m sure. Since we have finished our beer and finished complimenting each other, if you’ll take my advice – as a friend, mind you, not as
a policeman – you’d best be getting on over to Mersham.’
Without further ado, the two men got up from their bench, shook hands and parted – Edward in the pursuit of love and Lampfrey, with a shrug of distaste, to meet the Chief Constable who he
knew would be full of praise for the way Chief Inspector Pride had ‘nailed’ two celebrated murderers. Lampfrey would listen patiently and say nothing.
After breakfast, Edward took Verity for a walk in the garden. It was cold and Connie said they should only be ten minutes if they did not want to catch pneumonia. When they
reached the bottom of the lawn and looked over the ha-ha at the fields beyond, Verity said, ‘It’s so peaceful here, I have even begun to sleep at nights. It was so kind of Connie to
bring me to Mersham. I’m going to start work on my book again this afternoon. I spoke to Mr Gollancz on the telephone yesterday and, despite the King’s abdication, he still seems to
want it. He said the readership for my book is not interested in royalty and I think he may be right.’
‘Verity,’ Edward said in a rush, ‘I wanted to apologize to you for my behaviour over the last few weeks. I have tried to bully you and I was pompous and I got so worked up
about those damn letters and, in the end, they really didn’t matter. I thought I knew what I was doing and who had murdered Molly, but it was you whose instinct was right. You sorted it all
out.’
‘Oh, Edward – that was just being in the right place at the right time.’
‘Like any good journalist.’
‘Maybe. There’s one thing, though – just something trivial. You said Molly told you she was fancy-free. Why did she say that if she was Hepple-Keen’s mistress?’
‘I was discussing that with Lampfrey. I think she had chosen that evening at Haling to give Hepple-Keen the boot. That was what was so ironic. If only Molly had told Daphne she was
finished with her husband! You see, Molly had convinced herself the King was going to summon her back. Madness, of course, but despite what she said to Daphne, she believed the baby she was
carrying was the King’s – and it probably was. Her logic was that, if she were to get the King back and make him acknowledge the baby as his, she had to be purer than pure. She had to
be able to say she had no lovers – no one else could possibly be the father – so she wanted nothing more to do with Geoffrey. She saw him as an obstacle to regaining royal favour. She
even thought she was being followed by people who would report on her behaviour, and it could well have been true. Major Ferguson’s people keep the King’s friends under close scrutiny
for security reasons. Mrs Simpson’s relationship with Ribbentrop is enough to make the government uneasy, to say the least of it.
‘As I say, it was all madness – a pipe dream. Molly would never have been allowed anywhere near the King again whether she was bearing his child or not; whether she was, or was not,
sleeping with the whole of Knightsbridge. In fact, her life was in danger once it became known she was claiming to be pregnant with the King’s child. The government could never have allowed
the scandal. It might have meant him having to abdicate but, as it happened, it was all beside the point. Molly died at Daphne’s hand and the King abdicated anyway.’
‘So, if Molly had told Daphne she had given up her husband and the child she was carrying was not his but the King’s, she would have lived?’
‘Yes, but who knows for how long. She had a talent for making enemies.’
‘But Edward, how do you know for sure the baby was the King’s?’
‘I can’t be absolutely sure but Molly certainly was. You know those letters from the King I found in her flat?’
‘Yes. You said they were love letters.’
‘They were. But they included one from Molly – a copy of one she had sent the King telling him she was pregnant. That was why she never heard from him again – why he would not
speak to her when she rang, why he never said goodbye.’
‘And the jewelled swastika you found under the bed?’
‘I still don’t know if it was given her by the King or Hepple-Keen. Ribbentrop apparently dishes out such gewgaws to his favourites, so the King might have had one to give his
mistress, but Mosley also has rubbish like that to hand out and H-K might have got one from him.’
‘One last thing, Edward. Do you think Daphne was right?’
‘Right?’
‘When she refused to accept that her husband might have murdered Leo Scannon in order to save her from the gallows, not just because he feared for his reputation?’
‘Who knows!’ Edward said, taking out his cigarette box and offering it to Verity, ‘Who knows. Their marriage, like all marriages, is a mystery that outsiders can never
decrypt.’
As Edward escorted Verity back to the house he felt his heart beating rapidly. For a moment he did not understand why, but then he knew his body was telling him that this was
the moment when he ought to take her in his arms and ask her to marry him. It probably wasn’t fair to ask her in her weakened state but, to hell with that; he would ask her anyway and, if she
refused him, there was an end of it.
He tossed away his half-smoked cigarette and turned to Verity. Just as he was about to speak, he heard Connie calling. There was an anxiety in her voice which immediately made him conscious that
she had had bad news.
‘Ned! Ned! I have just had a telephone call from Eton – from Frank’s housemaster, Mr Chandler. He says Frank has run away with a junior master, a man called Devon.’
‘Run away?’ Edward said, coming up to his sister-in-law and putting his arm around her. ‘Where has he run to?’ As he said the words, the answer burst upon him. ‘To
Spain? Has he run off to Spain?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so, Ned. He left a note. He’s gone to join the International Brigade. Oh Ned, I’m so frightened. If Frank were hurt or even . . . even killed, Gerald
would never . . . we would never get over it.’ Her voice faltered and she grabbed Edward to stop herself falling.
A cool, clear voice broke in upon their embrace. ‘Connie, I am so, so sorry. This is all my fault. I must start out immediately. I know Spain – I can find him. I know I
can.’
Edward looked at her. ‘And I shall go with you, V. Connie, this isn’t Verity’s fault. Frank has made up his own mind and you must try not to worry. We’ll bring him back.
I promise you, we’ll bring him back to you.’
The three of them gazed at one another in dismay, full of fear for the future.
‘Yes, bring him back to me, Ned,’ Connie said in a dark, urgent voice he had never heard before. ‘Bring him back.’
It was brought home to him once again that no love could ever be stronger than a mother’s love for her child.