‘All right.’ She screwed up her face as if awaiting a slap. ‘He was killed?’
‘Probably.’
‘I knew it.’ Her hands were twisting in her lap.
‘The Palace works in mysterious ways. He was found in his office. Pistol on the floor, that’s all I know. Next thing, his body is whisked away and brought here. Can’t have a suicide – or whatever it is – on royal premises.’
‘I knew it! I knew it, when I walked into this house. There was no sense of . . . violent death, d’you know what I mean? It may sound silly but I can sense these things, Guy. I knew it didn’t happen here.’
Quite a lot did happen here though, thought Guy, after he’d gone. Including pinching your family jewels.
‘So what happens now?’
Guy looked at his tea, untouched, going cold. ‘Ed will be given a hero’s send-off at the Guards Chapel. You will be the grieving widow. The Palace will send its best men to bid him farewell, and that’ll be that.’
‘Will the best men include that odious snake Dighton?’
‘The Master? I imagine so. Wasn’t he related to Ed?’
‘In a vague sort of way. He got Ed the job at the Palace. You know, Ed was wounded so badly in the First War he found life difficult – he’d been reduced to being a Kleen-e-ze salesman. Selling shoe brushes door-to-door. If it hadn’t been for Daddy, we shouldn’t have had a roof over our heads.’
‘Poor man. I had no idea.’
‘Dighton saved Ed’s bacon – but then never let him forget it. He’d have Ed doing all sorts of dirty jobs for him – spreading rumours, blackening people’s names, all sorts of things that were absolutely against Ed’s own principles. He was very upright, Guy.’
‘You could tell that at a glance.’
‘Topham Dighton is not. I suppose he thinks it’s his job to protect the Crown, but actually he’s not much more than a jumped-up hotel manager for Buck House and Windsor Castle – he just loves intrigue, and of course he’s been there so long nobody can get rid of him. I think the King detests him.’
‘Well, I daresay you’ll put on your best smile for him at the funeral.’
‘Naturally. There are the school fees to think of – I expect the Privy Purse to cough up for those.’
She’s tougher than she looks, thought Guy.
‘And then that’ll be the end of the matter, Mr Courtier? My husband?’
‘Strictly speaking, yes. My orders are to close the whole thing down as soon as possible. He’s had a good write-up in The Times, and that should be enough to satisfy most people’s curiosity.’
‘Nobody seems very curious about the pistol. The one that killed him, the one he didn’t own.’
‘No, they don’t. What can I say, Adelaide? It’s not a time for questions.’
‘Did you like him, Guy? You shared an office with him, even if only for a few short weeks.’
‘You and I have known each other since our schooldays, we’re the same generation. Ed was that much older, it was difficult to get to know him. I was surprised to hear you’d married.’
‘He was a wounded hero. I took pity on him. Did you like him?’
‘We were very different people. I’ve never been in the army.’
‘What I’m trying to say is – did you like him enough to want to do something about this or are you just going to let it go? Are you going to turn your back on what happened – in his office, with somebody else’s pistol – are you going to let somebody murder my husband and get away with it?’
‘Well,’ said Guy uncomfortably. ‘When you put it like that . . .’
The women sat in comfortable companionship, two aliens caught by war in an elegant apartment overlooking Grosvenor Square. ‘I preferred it when Joe Kennedy was still here,’ said Foxy Gwynne, looking out on to the US Embassy. ‘Sociable, a wonderful ambassador. Gave great parties, did a remarkable job in preparing for the war. I’m not sure about the new man.’
‘Kennedy didn’t think much of Britain’s chances, though – that was the big strike against him. I saw Winston just before he became Prime Minister, he was talking hot and strong about what he called “our special relationship”.’
‘Naturally. His mother’s American.’
‘So Kennedy didn’t fit in any more, he had to go.’
‘What’ll happen to Kick? I heard she’s going to marry the Marquess of Hartington.’
‘Joe made her go home with him, but she’ll be back – she’s fallen in love with England.’
‘And with a man who one day will own half of it!’
‘While your future husband owns the other half!’
Foxy Gwynne laughed and rang the bell. ‘What’ll you have?’
Mrs Granville Lee Welch Kendall Cody III, a very rich woman by virtue of a succession of shrewd marriages, smiled and said, ‘If this was New York I’d be ordering a Manhattan, in honour of Lady Randolph Churchill.’ Her diamonds glittered in the lamplight. ‘As it is, I suppose it’ll be the usual gin and orange. Though it’s disgusting, isn’t it? Sticks to your teeth.’
‘Oh, go on. You love being in London, Betsey, in the thick of it.’
‘Granville has important work to do here.’
‘And you have important people to see.’
‘Oh, George!’ she laughed. ‘He’s like a puppy dog, follows me about wherever I go. Writes me letters, sends me flowers. I’ve never been wooed by a prince before.’
Wooed, thought Foxy, that’s a good one. After all those husbands.
‘He’s bored though,’ said Betsey. ‘Thinks he’s undervalued. I keep telling him he’s doing a grand job, but he wants more. Says he’s snipped enough ribbons to last a lifetime, made the same stupid speech a thousand times, wants something that’s a bit more of a challenge.’
‘He’s extremely popular.’
‘He knows that. But, darling, he said to me, “All that handshaking. It broke my father’s hand once. And the Duke of Windsor’s. It’ll be my turn next.” He wants to get away from the crowds and do something more political – he’s very keen on forging Anglo-American relations.’
‘Well, he seems to have put that into practice with you, Betsey. Quite energetically.’
‘Ha ha! I’m giving a dinner for General Knox again next week – will you and Hugh come? I daresay my young princeling will look in – I want him to meet the general.’
‘That would be lovely, let me know when. Now, in return, I want you to think about my friend Guy Harford.’
‘I don’t think I ever met him.’
‘He’s only just back from Tangier. Working at Buckingham Palace now in some tiresome job which I think will only cause him headaches in the long run, but Betsey, he’s a gifted painter. You have so many friends here – is there a gallery you know which might stage an exhibition of his work?’
‘Harford, did you say? Tangier?’
‘Yes, does it ring a bell?’
‘It does now. Wasn’t there a dreadful schemozzle – everybody threatening to shoot everybody else, even though it’s neutral territory? I had General Montgomery to dinner the other night, he made a terribly good story out of it.’