Page 7 of Deadly Murder (Angus Brodie and Mikaela Forsythe Murder Mystery #14)
Five
MARLBOROUGH HOUSE
The royal manor was located at The Mall, near St. James’s Park in Westminster, set amidst a park with a stone wall along the roadway that enclosed the grounds and the manor.
The tree-lined roadway along The Mall passed several stately buildings at the edge of St. James’s Park that included private men’s clubs, stately residences, along with upper class shopping and the War Office.
In the faint light from the lantern inside the coach, I caught Brodie’s expression.
It could be more accurately described as distracted.
In that way he had of turning over what we had learned in his thoughts, little as it was.
Our driver pulled through the gated entrance, then pulled to a stop where Brodie presented our engraved invitation.
The guard handed the invitation back and nodded to our driver, then we continued to the cobbled courtyard flanked on either side by a four-story wing of the mansion.
Those wings contained private rooms, sitting rooms, and other private chambers of the ‘Marlborough Lot’ as they were called, which included gaming rooms, as well as the Prince of Wales’s office, those of advisers, and an enormous library that I had found to be most interesting on a past visit.
“Good God!” Brodie remarked at the lights that glowed on all floors of the mansion. “How many rooms does a man need to lay his head?”
This from a man who was raised on the streets as a child and had lain his head wherever it was safe for a few hours or had not when it wasn’t.
“Several, I would guess, with his assortment of mistresses and other casual acquaintances,” I replied, with no need to elaborate further.
“Have ye been here before?”
“I attended a holiday celebration some years ago with my sister and Aunt Antonia. It was all quite boring, and I persuaded Linnie to go exploring,” I added.
“It was quite an adventure. We interrupted a well-known lady in flagrante with a man who was not her husband. Most entertaining and revealing regarding the ‘ act ’ between a man and woman.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Our driver stopped at the entryway to the main entrance hall, and we stepped down from the coach. Two liveried attendants flanked the entrance, and Brodie once more presented our invitation. We then made our way, along with other guests, into the main hall.
It was ornately decorated with bunting and swags that led into the grand saloon.
I felt Brodie’s hand on my arm as we joined the procession of well-wishers who had been invited to join the celebration and now offered their best wishes and greetings to HRH and the Princess of Wales.
Along with Prince George and his wife, Mary of Teck, recently married in July, and sister Princess Louise, Duchess of Fife and her husband.
“Lady Forsythe,” HRH greeted me with a keen eye then to Brodie. “We are pleased that you have joined us this evening, and Mr. Brodie. It is good to see you as well. Perhaps the evening will allow the opportunity for us to speak of your work.”
I caught the unspoken comment beneath the formality.
“Of course,” Brodie replied.
“Lady Montgomery arrived earlier,” the Princess of Wales then informed us. “Always a pleasure to see her once more. She does make the festivities quite lively.”
With that, we moved ahead toward the saloon. I took the opportunity to point out guests I knew.
“Lord Salisbery?” Brodie inquired.
With a look about, I finally saw him. “Near the arched entrance to the great hall, speaking with a man wearing an obvious wig and wine-colored waistcoat.”
He watched both men.
“And the man who just approached them?”
“Sir Knollys, His Highness’s personal secretary.”
It did appear that the Prince of Wales wasted no time as Sir Knollys glanced toward us and then approached.
“Mr. Brodie, His Highness has asked if you might join him and Lord Salisbery in the library.”
Brodie gave me a look, then replied, “Of course.”
He was no stranger to royal encounters and HRH had spoken of a meeting that would be easily accommodated at the gathering. Still, there was some urgency in Sir Knollys’s manner.
And it very much appeared that I was not to be included. I ignored the omission as it was not the first time. But far more important, I had no desire to cause a scene or to delay his meeting with Lord Salisbery.
It was one of those things that was most irritating—putting a woman in her place. Said place being the receiving line at a society function or the bedroom.
Not my first experience, and assuredly not the last. However, I knew that Brodie would share everything with me afterward, and it was possible that Lord Salisbery would reveal things with him that he would not otherwise in my presence.
I smiled at Sir Knollys as they departed for the library. He was, after all, simply performing his duties. Yet I was mindful to keep any comment to myself.
I watched as they departed, then went in search of my great aunt. Finding her in the crowded saloon was not difficult. She looked up as I approached.
“Here you are!” she greeted me as she sailed toward me in a brilliant blue gown that emphasized her silver hair and vivid blue eyes.
She did have a way of parting the crowds with a simple nod and a smile as she greeted one guest, then another.
“So good to see you again, Arthur.”
“Jonathan, how marvelous and your lovely lady as well,” she greeted them as she swept toward me. It was quite entertaining to watch her.
The last greeting was for Lady Sharp, who had taken her husband’s name and whose features were quite…sharp! To the point of being almost frightening. Proof that title and wealth could always be relied upon to acquire a husband.
“Mikaela, dear.” She finally reached me and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “So good to see you again.” She looked about as if searching for someone.
“And Brodie?” she inquired. “Or was there some matter that required his attention elsewhere?” She leaned in close. “I did see him with Sir Knollys and Lord Salisbery. So very tragic about his son.”
Her subtle way of asking about our new inquiry case. Sly like a fox.
“Will the Queen be attending?” I inquired as a diversion for the conversation.
She gave me a knowing look but chose not to pursue the question.
“It is doubtful,” she replied instead. “She chooses to avoid such things, still in mourning after all these years.
Such a waste, and there is the estrangement between her and the Prince of Wales.
It might prove difficult with the Marlborough Set here for the festivities, considering the usual rumors of their activities here.
“Hunting parties, they call them. The question might be just what or whom is the quarry.”
Aunt Antonia, who had experienced several decades of royal scandals and rumored liaisons, was always most entertaining. She was not usually concerned about proprieties over such things, which admittedly had included her own ancestors.
“Do you think that perhaps she embellishes her stories?” my sister had once asked after a particularly colorful story that our great aunt had shared.
I sincerely doubted it. She was merely honest in that way of someone who had experienced such things and dared anyone to contradict her.
“Ah, Sir Richard Huntingdon has arrived,” Aunt Antonia exclaimed now with a nod across the room.
“A schoolmate of the Prince of Wales. From their university days.
There were four of them—reckless, carrying on as young men have a way of doing, getting themselves into, shall we call them ‘situations,’ the way young men have a habit of doing when they believe themselves invincible and above the law.
“There was more than one scandal that made the newspapers, and the one where Prince Albert was forced to intervene on the Prince of Wales’s behalf. The poor man died shortly after, and it is said the Queen blamed young Albert for the ‘difficulty of the situation’ and has never forgiven him.”
She nodded a greeting to Sir Huntingdon, and he in turn nodded across the floor of the saloon with its sweeping staircases, paintings of royal ancestors that filled the walls in gilt frames, and full-sized statues looking down on the festivities.
“The newspapers called them the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in one article before it was banned from referring to them as such,” she continued with that smile. “However, they did seem to revel in the attention, until the Queen stepped in and ended it all.
“They have all been part of the Marlborough Set since, as well as occupying high level positions.”
Most interesting, I thought, as we continued around the enormous room and I did wonder what those statues set upon the walls high above the room and at the balustrade of the landing to the second floor might have witnessed of the Prince of Wales’s indiscretions in the past.
“I see that they have brought out champagne for the guests, a favorite of the Princess of Wales,” Aunt Antonia commented. “I suppose that will have to do. I have always thought it to be highly overrated.”
A comment from a connoisseur with a preference for her own Old Lodge whisky.
“You’re finally here!”
That excited exclamation rushed toward us in a wave of dark emerald-green that emphasized the young woman’s dark eyes and dark hair that lay over one shoulder.
I was taken somewhat by surprise as I was familiar with Lily in a walking skirt and blouse for lessons with her tutor, or a dueling costume when practicing in the sword room.
I was reminded of Brodie’s comment that she was no longer the young girl we had brought from Edinburgh after one of our inquiry cases, but a young woman. And a beautiful young woman, according to the stares that followed her.
Not that she was aware as she joined us.
“Bloody hell, this gown is tight. I can hardly breathe.” The Scots accent was there, subtle, but still there along with her blunt assessment of the gown.
“However, do ye wear such clothes? And a bloody corset!” she added.