The Balmoral Incident (14 page)

As I began my climb I was soon aware of my own danger for the first time. The narrow path worn by the sheep occasionally disappeared completely or came perilously near the edge of the cliff with only feet between me and a rapid descent onto the rock-strewn beach below. I decided not to look down again, once was enough for
vertigo, another kind of sickness eager to take over as my main concern. Above, the path turned and twisted like a drunken man’s progress. Seemingly endless, it was often slippery with sheep droppings, another hazard to be avoided.

I stopped to draw breath, no sign of the boat any longer. As my path veered to the left I hoped it was just out of sight, hidden by sea spray and not under the waves. Far above my head, I heard an ominous rumble. A deep, sharp rumble of falling stones. I stepped aside, flattened myself against the shelter of the protective cliff wall.

And not a moment too soon, for it no doubt saved my life as I watched the shower of large stones bounce off my path and thunder down to the shore.

Horrified, I realised had it not been for my swift movement I would have been carried with them. Heart pounding, I was afraid now to resume my perilous journey, for the path in front of me was also partially blocked by the fallen stones which I would have to negotiate. What if this was just the start of an avalanche? What and how had it started? An animal, one of the sheep – and yet another more terrifying thought – a human?

Had someone from Glas-Allt tried to kill me, aware that I was getting too close to Lily’s killer?

Another sound, more stones, more in the path ahead, so I was trapped. I crouched flat against the cliff face, considering how I could possibly continue my upward journey, my legs shaking now. Obviously the person, for person it must be, was pushing the stones over the edge and my only hope was to stay rigid against the cliff. But how long could I remain there and who on
earth could ever come to my assistance?

I tried to negotiate one of the larger stones in the path and suddenly realised that my presence was known. A face looked down from above, the top of the cliff, some twenty feet above, a face growing quite familiar now.

My rescuer from the dark forest and my executioner.

‘Stay where you are, miss. I’ll come down and give you a hand. Are you hurt?’

‘No. Just petrified!’

‘Wait. Don’t move. I’ll explain.’

I hoped it would be a good explanation as I heard another ominous rumble, and minutes later the rest of the tall figure of my rescuer edged down the path, a hand held out for me to grasp. A strong, warm, somehow reliable hand. As I clung to it, he said:

‘Follow in my footsteps and I’ll see you safe to the top. It isn’t far now.’

His hand was like a lifeline, I had to trust him. At last, breathless, the flat top of bitten grass. Around us the sheep darting away.

‘There go your beasts who started the avalanche, two of them were fighting and dislodged the stones.’

Was that the truth? I had to believe it. ‘Thank you,’ I said and he released my hand. ‘How did you know there was anyone on the path?’

He grinned, pushed a strand of dark hair off his forehead. ‘Saw you leave the boat. I was wondering about that. Not a good day for a row on the loch. Those sudden squalls can be very nasty. Blowing hard and I could see the rowers were having a job pulling against it.’

As we walked towards Glas-Allt, I saw that there were a lot more gathered than when we had set off in the boat. The fishers had been increased by some of the sportsmen who had abandoned the guns to fish for trout instead. They were distinguished by their tweeds and their hats – popularly known as ‘deerstalkers’ – from the kilted ghillies.

My rescuer did not adhere to either sportsman or ghillie, informally dressed, hatless in breeches and jacket. The sportsmen had gathered outside the hut, relaxing after their fishing efforts with a long line of trout strung across the veranda.

Even at a fair distance the air was heavy with cigar smoke and the pungent odour of whisky, useful also for keeping the dreaded midges at bay, although it was early in the day for their onslaught.

The King was with the fishermen, seated on the veranda, easily spotted in any crowd, a large, regal and commanding presence, suddenly just a man enjoying a joke and a drink with his friends and doubtless a few foreign princes who were distant relations. I recognised one of them, Graf Hermann von Mueller, Alice’s husband who I had seen walking with her in the gardens. He looked genial enough,
hard to believe that he treated her so cruelly.

There were no women present, this was an entirely male activity and as I hesitated, my rescuer, tall at my side said: ‘You’re still a bit shaken, aren’t you? Scary thing to happen.’ He was warm and close, a supporting arm which I no longer needed but was in no hurry to decline. He took out a flask.

‘Here, have a dram, well known for its restorative powers.’

I lifted it gladly and he watched, those strange amber eyes on me, as I drank.

‘What on earth made you leave the boat, miss?’

So he had seen it all. I felt a shiver of fear, realising that this had also been his opportunity to get rid of the woman who might be dangerous, for even if he denied all knowledge of Lily I was still certain that if he had not killed her, then there was some connection.

What if the gardener I saw at Penby and this man were one and the same, could he have been her lover and pursued her to Scotland? Her interest in the Lipizzaner horses and her reluctance to converse with us hinted that she might be foreign. My mind raced ahead. Perhaps there were more sinister depths to her death, she’d been sent here on a secret mission.

As we neared the veranda, I shied away from the idea of joining this male enclave with explanations of my presence. And as my rescuer also had an uncanny aptitude for reading my mind, he was aware of that and said: ‘Perhaps you’d rather return to the cottage?’

I nodded gratefully and he smiled. ‘Very well. Allow me to escort you.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I am sure or I wouldn’t have offered. Excuse me one moment.’ A bow and he walked swiftly to where the main group of sportsmen were gathered. Gestures and nods indicated messages to be passed on. Then he was back again and leading the way to where the motors were parked and stable boys looked after the horses.

‘Do you drive?’

He shook his head. ‘Not one of my accomplishments, I’m afraid. But over there, look – there’s Dave snoozing at the wheel. He’ll take you safely home. There’s plenty of time, his services won’t be needed for a while yet.’

Dave bolted upright and saluted him as we approached. A word and we were installed in the car.

I felt an apology was needed to my travelling companion about taking him away.

He laughed. ‘Not at all. My work’s done for the day and as I don’t enjoy cigars and bad jokes, all of which I’ve heard before, I’m glad of an excuse to leave.’

We sat in silence after that, the return journey seemed a lot shorter than when we set out this morning. Perhaps that was because I enjoyed the presence of this man, warm and strong and close, especially on the swerves of the motor, which brought us into even closer contact. I liked his profile too, now that I had a chance to study him near at hand, the straight nose, the firm chin. I was beginning to like everything about him and not only because at first encounter he had reminded me of Danny, of a life and a love lost for ever.

But the possibility that he was Lily’s killer I could not shake off. Intuition played an important part, a useful
accessory to a career as a successful detective. That much I had inherited from my father, Chief Inspector Jeremy Faro.

All my intuitions were basic and the evidence pointed strongly in his direction. There was something alive and dark and threatening swirling unseen below the surface of what appeared as a pleasant summer holiday on a royal estate. That something I must unravel. Even if it proved him guilty.

What if he had already tried and failed to kill me once that day and the sheep’s activities causing an avalanche were an invention? However, for the precious moments of that drive back through Glen Muick in a smiling landscape calm and beautiful in the late afternoon, I was willing to suspend my suspicions that I sat by the side of a ruthless killer, who might well strike again.

At the cottage Mabel had watched my arrival from the window. Thane leapt out to greet me. His almost human look of concern reminded me of an anxious parent for a missing child. That he had been aware of my danger was confirmed when Mabel grumbled: ‘That Dog has behaved in the most incredible way ever since you departed. Wanting to get out. I knew I must restrain him since that was expressly forbidden,’ and eyeing him at my side: ‘He is the most spoilt animal I have ever seen.’ That said she asked where were the others and why had I come back alone?

There was no point in dissembling. I told her the truth, that I was a martyr to seasickness. She shrugged. ‘It was your own fault then for agreeing to accompany them. Besides, picnics are an intolerable waste of time and effort and the maximum in discomfort. All that sitting around
on damp grass, having to eat without proper implements, fighting off insects.’ Another shudder.

I took Thane for a walk and talked to him. At least he seemed more understanding than Mabel. Had he been afraid for me? Again that look of concern. ‘I wish you could talk and answer me, Thane. It has been the one important missing factor in our life together. And at this moment there are so many missing clues regarding poor Lily that I am sure you could help with.’

We had just returned ahead of Vince. Leaving Olivia and the girls, he was driving Alice back to the castle. Leaning out of the motor, she asked anxiously how I was and assured that I had completely recovered, she smiled.

‘You look yourself again,’ she said and stretching out a hand she added sadly, ‘I had hoped for a long talk today but the opportunity never came. Perhaps we can meet again before you leave.’

I was sure by her anxious look that the long talk would be a repetition of her problem, which she hoped in vain I would be able to solve, but I gave the polite response expected.

Mabel had made a pot of tea. She had found herself quite accomplished at minor kitchen tasks without a personal maid. ‘I suppose I had better get used to it,’ she grumbled with a long-suffering sigh and as we ate a swiftly prepared meal of ham, sausages and eggs for the hungry homecomers, they wanted to know what had happened to me. Leaving out alarming details of the avalanche, I explained that one of the ghillies had brought me in a motor car driven by Dave who had passed on the information to them when he returned to Glas-Allt-Shiel.

Meg and Faith were ecstatic about the row on the loch, all the things they had seen, herons and a golden eagle and all manner of wading birds. ‘It wasn’t nearly as bad as you imagined, Mam. The storm only lasted minutes and after that it was quite smooth. You really would have loved it, you should have stayed and we would have looked after you.’ And taking my hand, ‘We missed you.’

Everyone was tired and Olivia reminded Faith that it was bedtime. Tomorrow they would be travelling back to London to prepare for the family wedding. Faith, reminded of their departure, was again near to tears at leaving Meg, only the prospect of that bridesmaid’s dress awaiting made her smile.

I felt sad at them leaving so soon, as Olivia insisted that Jack and I and Meg must come to St James and enjoy all the marvels London had to offer. At that moment it was as remote as the prospect of visiting another planet and although in retrospect I had spent far less time with Olivia than I had hoped for, my sadness was nothing compared to Meg and Faith, who parted with tears shed, promises of everlasting friendship, with letters and as many visits as they could possibly fit in.

A story I had heard before, it was also the story of Olivia and Mabel to some extent as they again parted outside the cottage where Vince awaited to drive them to Ballater. The same promises that they must have made many years ago, and I wondered if both of them had felt let down at the meeting they had looked forward to for so long. They had a walk together most days, when the weather was fine, but from my conversations
with Olivia I gathered that their meeting had failed as the joyous reunion those letters over the years had anticipated.

Vince returned from the railway station looking rather bleak too but with stiff upper lip intact. He was used to longish separations from Olivia, Faith and the boys. He merely looked sadly round the now so empty cottage to where Meg was sitting tearfully with her arms around Thane, her accusing wounded looks in our direction blaming us for taking her best friend away.

As Vince departed I suspected that Meg was gearing up for another impossible argument about Faith staying with us, so I went upstairs to my bedroom, made some notes about the visit to Bobby and settled down until supper time to finish off the drawing begun on our train journey to Ballater.

It was of Lily sitting opposite, remembering that I had hoped to give it to her as a present. Perhaps if we found her parents I might send it to them, as offering it to Mabel might be regarded as a merely tactless reminder. I sighed; it belonged among my many other sketchbooks containing portraits and drawings from over the years – some happy times, some sad – an ability, Jack said, which was quite remarkable since I was able to draw from memory.

‘You should have been an artist,’ he said. ‘It’s a great gift.’ I smiled wryly; the only use it had been to me was in my profession, remembering faces and being able to reproduce them as Jack now did with such ease, his new toy a photographic camera.

There was still no word from him, but that was not
surprising. We had said all the things to each other that mattered, but those daily postcards to Meg had become less frequent. I had hoped there would be one that would have cheered her up, now that she was very low in spirits, feeling the whole world was against her.

I was finding problems watching over Meg allied to the role of a detective with a possible murder to solve. There was no one I could turn to except Vince, with whom I must discuss my visit to Bobby Biggs, although I was pretty sure what his reactions would be. Perhaps that’s why I put it off.

I was right about that. If I expected to be applauded for my actions I was sadly mistaken. Even as I began I could see from the way his face closed in at the mention of Lily that he did not approve. Even before he sighed and said sternly: ‘You put yourself to a lot of unnecessary trouble, Rose. Why on earth don’t you just enjoy the holiday, this unique opportunity of a cottage at Balmoral that I was able to arrange for you? Everyone has been most accommodating, all meals prepared for you once more if you wish, since Olivia, who enjoyed the role of chief cook has left us. You have everything that I had negotiated for you,’ he repeated reproachfully.

‘Dear Vince,’ I said, ‘Please don’t think for a moment that I’m ungrateful.’ I paused. ‘It was all going so well until Lily—’

He held up a hand, but before he could utter more than a murmur of protest, I went on: ‘There have been developments. The stable lad, Bobby Biggs, was threatened.’

He looked at me. ‘Wait a minute. What do you mean, threatened?’

‘Warned off. I don’t suppose you know or realise the significance of that?’

And as I told him the exact words from my meeting with Biggs, I expected a reaction, natural curiosity, but his expression never changed. He merely sighed.

‘Aren’t you even just a little surprised?’ I asked indignantly.

‘No, Rose. I’m merely thinking the obvious.’

‘The obvious?’ I repeated.

‘Yes, Rose. Don’t you see it yourself?’ he added patiently. ‘That was the prepared story he was telling everyone. If you searched his employment record, you would find that Biggs had committed some misdemeanour which had upset a person in authority.’ Pausing he shook his head. ‘That sort of thing will not be tolerated here—’

‘To the extent of having his life threatened?’ I interrupted. ‘That person must have been very high in authority.’

Again Vince sighed wearily. ‘All I meant is that he overstepped the mark. The moral standards are very high for even the most menial in royal employ. They have to be. And it’s fairly clear from your talk to the stable lads that he fancied his chances with the ladies, and the likelihood is that he made some improper advance to one of the maids up at the castle. A complaint was made and as it probably hadn’t been the first time, knowing the lad’s character, he was dismissed.’

‘With ten quid in his hand,’ I said slowly, ‘that’s a lot of money.’

Vince smiled. ‘Not at all and not a bribe. A year’s wages, Rose, and rather generous in the circumstances, if you consider it.’

We went on walking, silent for a moment. Suddenly I decided to tell him about the man I had seen when we went to collect Mabel at Peebles and then seeing him again and on the Ballater train.

‘Could you be sure of that?’ Vince interrupted. ‘There was a man working but he was some distance away. I certainly would never have recognised him again.’

Although I was no longer sure, I was reluctant to admit that.

‘I have very good eyesight and an excellent memory, never forget a face. It’s an essential in my profession,’ I reminded him. ‘If this was the same man, then he followed us to Scotland.’

Vince was silent. He studied me, frowning, then said quietly. ‘You could be mistaken, Rose. The man on the train, who I think is one of the ghillies, maybe reminds you …’ He paused and eyebrows raised, added casually, ‘A slight resemblance to someone?’

‘So you’ve seen it too.’ I had a heart-sinking feeling, knowing he meant Danny but would never say so.

He smiled sadly. ‘It is not unusual, a medical fact indeed, that when one loses someone close, particularly in tragic circumstances, in the depression that follows, a patient shows a tendency to imagine strangers who bear a slight resemblance to convince themselves that their loved one is still alive.’

‘I am not imagining that,’ I said indignantly. ‘I know Danny is dead. I saw him die – to save my life. Remember!’

My voice broke and he put a comforting arm around me. ‘I know, I know, Rose dear. He is dead, but not for you, not ever. You’ll keep on seeing him. The Penby gardener was the first and the ghillie fellow who was on the train—’

‘What is his name?’

Vince frowned, thought for a moment, shrugged and said. ‘Not sure. Brown, I think.’

I laughed. ‘Mr Brown and Mr Green, very colourful names for those working at the castle. Are we to meet a Mr Blue, Red and Yellow and even Orange – we already have – or had – a Miss White.’

Vince didn’t think it funny. ‘Brown is very common hereabouts, the name the Highlanders adopted when their clans were sequestered.’

A moment to let this information sink in then he said sharply: ‘Take my advice, Rose, that part of your life is ended for ever. Be thankful you have a husband like Jack, who understands you so well, and don’t go chasing a ghost of the past.’

This was the nearest Vince and I had ever had to a disagreement, but worse was in store.

‘And I must beg you, Rose, for my sake if not for your own, if there is any mystery regarding Lily or anyone else for that matter, it is not yours to deal with, and by mystery I mean meddling in affairs that don’t concern you. Remember you are on royal property, the rules are different here and your actions could well endanger my future too.’ And reminding me again: ‘You are my guest and I am responsible to HM for you. And if you do something to offend him, then I will suffer too.’

At least there had been no repercussions over the King’s interest in Thane and Meg’s spirited reactions, as Vince went on: ‘In the nature of my situation here it follows that I am trusted implicitly not to introduce anyone who might be a troublemaker.’

I wanted to ask if the description ‘troublemaker’ could also apply to a killer, but we were interrupted by one of the footmen hurrying towards us.

Doctor Laurie was needed urgently. There had been a scalding accident in the kitchen to one of the maids.