The Missing Duchess (20 page)

There seemed little point in making a special journey with the cloak for Miss Fortescue's further identification. That could wait, he decided as he returned to the Central Office.

McQuinn was walking up the front steps.

Trains all back to normal, sir. Delivered the young lady right to the Castle door. She suggested I leave her at the Aberlethie halt to make her own way across the grounds, but I insisted on escorting her.'

His glance was enigmatic, then he grinned. 'Much against her will, I fear. That's a strong and independent lady - benighted in Edinburgh - all on her own too,' he added, shaking his head.

'Don't I know it. I had to give her a night's lodging.' Faro hoped he made it sound casual and unconcerned enough to convince his sergeant. 'How did Sir Terence and his lady react to her reappearance?'

McQuinn shrugged. 'They're very good at concealing their feelings, that class of people. Give nothing away, but Lady Lethie seemed uncommon relieved to see her. Quite pink she went. However, his lordship had more pressing problems than Miss Fortescue's return.'

'What kind of problems?'

'Well, as I was walking the young lady towards the house, one of the servants came rushing out followed by Mrs Hall, the housekeeper. She was very excited and agitated. She'd seen us coming down the drive from the kitchen window, "You got here fast, officer," says she. She'd recognised the uniform and thought I was there about the burglary.'

'Burglary? What burglary?' Faro demanded.

'Seems that one of the family treasures had been stolen.' He took out his notebook and read. 'The Luck o' Lethie, they call it. Very old and very valuable. According to Mrs Hall, it was in its usual place a couple of nights ago when she checked that the windows were secure before going to bed. But the next morning, when she went in to see if the fires had been laid for the Laird's return, the cabinet containing the Luck was empty.

'Naturally she gave the alarm and told the local constable -I've talked to him, sir, he confirms all this. Mrs Hall was in a proper panic, wondering what his lordship would say when he got back this morning. Wringing her hands, she was, usual story. They'd hold her responsible for what happened in their absence. Like as not lose her situation, be packed off without a reference.'

Faro's thoughtful expression indicated that he was well ahead, reconstructing the scene with quite a different explanation.

It was so simple, he should have known immediately. 'How did Miss Fortescue take all this? Was she scared?' he asked.

'Not a bit of it. Didn't seem to find it particularly interesting. Just dashed into the house and left us.'

'Ah,' sighed Faro happily, as McQuinn continued:

'I took the usual statements from the staff, sir. This had to be an inside job, there was no sign of forced entrance, doors and windows securely locked. I was assuring Mrs Hall that no one could blame her in such circumstances when his lordship appeared in a great hurry. Said it was all a mistake, that the Luck hadn't been stolen at all.'

'Indeed!'

'Rum business, sir, if you ask me. His lordship then went on to say it was back in its usual place, would I care to look? Right enough, it was there in the cabinet. His lordship then explained that he had had it removed for cleaning, and had completely forgotten to tell Mrs Hall. He was most apologetic for wasting our time.'

McQuinn stopped, frowned. 'You know, sir, I didn't believe a word of it.' He paused. 'He was protecting someone - I just got that feeling. Do I proceed with this one, sir?'

'No need. We'll take his lordship's word for it.'

Faro didn't need to go to Lethie Castle to find the answer to the Luck o' Lethie's miraculous reappearance. He knew where it had been and who had taken it. All he needed to know was why.

A lot of light was suddenly being shed on the mystery. The only complication was that one particular facet which now concerned him personally was becoming darker and more sinister than ever.

As he was making some notes in his office, the door opened to admit Superintendent McIntosh.

'Where do you think you've been, Faro? I've been waiting for you for hours.' He flourished a paper, effectively cutting short any of Faro's explanations.

'Never mind about that. You have a special assignment here. Faro. Direct from the PM. You're to take Miss Roma Fortescue. at present residing at Lethie Castle, to an assignation in Perth -to be presented to the Queen -' Pausing, he read, 'At Enrol Towers, home of Her Majesty's equerry, Sir Piers Strathaird -'

'Why Perth?' Faro interrupted. *Why can't she come to Holyrood?'

McIntosh stared at him angrily. 'I wasn't aware that we had any rights in deciding Her Majesty's movements about the country. It's one of her favourite jaunts, a decent distance from Balmoral, less than a day's ride.'

'I was thinking of security, sir,' said Faro.

'Oh, she knows what she's doing. Besides, what happens in Perth isn't the business of the Edinburgh City Police, Faro. I expect they have it all tied up nicely. Can't teach them their business, can we?'

McIntosh's grin suggested relief, a complete absence of the anxiety that generally added ten years to his age and decreased his life expectancy by a similar amount each time his sovereign set foot in Edinburgh.

'Seems the Grand Duchess of Luxoria is at present with Her Majesty at Balmoral.' He stared at the paper again.

'Naturally wants her lady-in-waiting -'

Faro stared at the Superintendent. The Grand Duchess is with the Queen? At Balmoral?'

Mcintosh nodded. 'That's what it says. Here, read it for yourself.'

Faro stared at the letter written on the familiar personal notepaper of the Prime Minister. He had seen it many times and while it usually spelt trouble for him, the signature was undoubtedly Mr Gladstone's.

'The Grand Duchess wishes to be reunited with her lady-in-waiting Miss Roma Fortescue at the earliest.'

'How did the Grand Duchess got to Balmoral, sir?'

Mcintosh shrugged. 'How the deuce do I know?'

'Well, aren't you curious, sir? She was reported as missing,' Faro reminded him. 'The last we heard of her was in an overturned carriage on the road from North Berwick from which she apparently vanished without trace.'

'Presumably someone assisted her.'

'They did indeed,' said Faro grimly. 'But who?'

'Don't ask me. She has a tongue in her head.' He gave Faro an arch look and shook his head sadly. 'I'm surprised at you not being sharper on to this one, Faro,' he said in the manner of one wise after the event. Tapping the side of his nose, he winked broadly. 'A secret assignation. Get the drift? One she was so canny about, she wasn't even taking her lady-in-waiting into her confidence.'

Pausing, he regarded Faro triumphantly. 'A man, Faro,' he said heavily. 'There's undoubtedly a man in this somewhere. I decided that right at the beginning,' he added carelessly. 'Knowing the circumstances of her unhappy marriage - and various rumours - it's quite obvious that the whole disappearance was a ruse, prearranged very carefully to get her and this man together.'

Faro sat back in his chair. Not for the first time, he wondered what kind of literature the Superintendent read in his leisure time. Here he was talking like a lady's novel and providing a rather superficial and improbable, but highly romantic, solution for a sinister disappearance.

Bewilderment was followed by relief. Although Faro couldn't yet believe that he had been wrong all the way along the line and that the man in St Anthony's Chapel and the beggar-woman in the West Bow were purely coincidental and unrelated deaths.

The Grand Duchess, whom he thought had died in mysterious and inexplicable circumstances, her body disposed of by medical students, was not only alive and well, but sitting happily with her royal godmother in Balmoral Castle.

And Faro was suddenly angry. 'They might have kept us informed, sir. We've been wasting time searching for a missing duchess, thinking the worst -'

McIntosh cut short this tide of justifiable resentment. 'Ours not to reason why, Inspector,' he said smoothly. 'The ways of royalty are not for us to question. Ours but to obey their command, however unreasonable it seems -'

'What about the woman in the West Bow - ?' Faro began.

Mcintosh held up his hand, regarding him as if he had taken leave of his senses. 'A beggar-woman, Faro,' he emphasised. 'Are you seriously suggesting - ? Good Lord, what absolute nonsense.' And with a barking laugh of derision. 'How could you ever have entertained such a notion for one moment?'

Mcintosh wagged a finger in Faro's face. He smiled, a happy man from whose shoulders all responsibility had been removed.

'After all, Her Majesty hasn't been in the best of health Perthshire seems a suitable halfway meeting place. She and the late Prince Consort enjoyed many happy days at Errol Towers, you will doubtless recall. It no doubt has sentimental connections for their god-daughter too, more pleasantly informal than Holyrood. And takes far less heating.'

Pausing, he regarded Faro's sober expression. 'Come along, man. You should be glad, too, far less work involved for you.' And producing a map, he unrolled it carefully. 'Here, see. And as the railway goes right across a corner of the estate, there is a halt.'

This arrangement had become popular as well as desirable since the increase in train travel had opened up the length and breadth of Scotland. Now landowners were eager and most agreeable to allow this arrangement of a special halt, in return for permission to take the railway line directly across their estates, thus saving the cost of many extra miles of new track. A new era had begun, hitherto undreamed of, offering travel from their very back doors, so to speak, instead of the slow, tortuous travel by carriage over often unmade roads with attendant inconvenience and discomfort.

'I don't need to tell you that you are to go alone, make this look as informal as possible. Travel by train as a couple can be done very discreetly. Besides, it is safer that way than by carriage.'

Faro looked at him quickly. 'You are suggesting by "safer" that some attempt might be made to stop Miss Fortescue joining her mistress?'

'Not at all,' was the smooth response. 'Merely in accordance with the desire of Her Majesty and the Grand Duchess for complete informality.'

McIntosh considered Faro's sombre expression. 'Come along, you are showing too much imagination.'

But it seemed that the Superintendent's laugh had a hollow sound and Faro could not shake off a sense of looming disaster.

The word 'safer' continued to haunt him and he left an urgent message for McQuinn on his way out of the office before returning briefly to Sheridan Place to thrust toilet articles, nightshirt and change of linen into a travelling bag.

As he closed his front door, he would have been happier with a more plausible explanation than the romantic supposition provided by Superintendent McIntosh of how the Grand Duchess of Luxoria had escaped presumably quite unhurt from an overturned carriage approaching Edinburgh one stormy night on the North Berwick road.

And, more important, what kind of woman was this, who would disappear with her lover without a second thought to the fate of a coachman as well as her closest friend and companion?

If McIntosh were wrong, and Faro was certain that there was no lover involved, it was even more baffling. The Duchess had to have an accomplice, otherwise how had she got herself, a lone woman from a foreign country, with no experience of travel in Scotland, to the remote Royal residence of Balmoral Castle, two hundred miles away in Aberdeenshire? To complete such a journey, to arrive safely and thereupon to have access, unchallenged, to the royal drawing-room, would have presented a daunting prospect for any British national. For a foreign duchess who was used to having all arrangements planned in elaborate detail, to make such a journey unaided was beyond belief.

Beyond belief. Faro sighed, for that summed it up exactly. And instead of becoming clearer, the whole bizarre situation aroused every instinct for caution. In his vast experience of intrigue and crime, the pointers indicated a great deal of misinformation still to be unravelled. The signs also suggested that he was running out of time. He had better discover the truth quickly.

If he wished to stay healthy - and alive.

Chapter 18

Faro met Vince on the doorstep.

'Good! I left a note for you. I haven't much time, lad. A train to catch -' And drawing Vince inside he told him of the Queen's letter and his growing suspicions. This time he omitted nothing.

'But this is incredible. It can't be -' Vince protested.

'It is, I assure you. At the same time and with so much at stake, I'd give anything in the world to be proved wrong,' he added sadly.

Vince looked at him. 'You're going to need some help. And I'm committed to our damned Perth golf tournament.'

'You can't let down the team, lad.'

Faro listened carefully as Vince outlined his arrangements.

'At least we'll be heading in the same direction.'

'Damn the golf, Stepfather. Lives are at stake. Actually, it will fit in very well if I appear to be going there - I'll think of some last-minute excuse. In fact, I have a plan -'