A Death in Diamonds полностью

They were getting ready for their final banquet in Washington. The Queen knew it was ungrateful to long for a nursery tea in front of the fire, and tried to put the thought from her mind as Bobo helped her climb into the sequinned net dress that Mr Hartnell had designed for her. Philip came in, looking divine and adjusting his cufflinks, and told Bobo to ‘buzz off’ so that he could ‘appreciate Her Majesty privately for a moment’.

Bobo complied.

‘Not everybody gets to kiss the Queen of England,’ he said, before doing so. Then he stood back to admire her dress. He was learning.

‘Just heard a terribly funny thing,’ he said. ‘My valet told me. There was an actress who tried to get into my room last night. Absolute bombshell, apparently, all glitter and zips. Not like you, Lilibet, you know, very racy.’

The Queen didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended. ‘And?’

‘And she insisted I’d told her to wait for me upstairs, because there was something I needed to give her. Can you imagine? Swore blind we’d met. Even produced a note with my handwriting on it, except it wasn’t, obviously. Ha! Poor girl. Obviously, I was in here with you so it would have been a wasted evening.’

‘For you or for her?’

‘For her, Cabbage! Don’t be ridiculous!’ He frowned. ‘You’re not finding this funny.’

‘You know about Charles,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think this might be part of the same plot?’

‘Well, good luck to ’em. I think I can spot when a gold-digging blonde tries to worm her way into my affections. You’re right, it sounds just like the tomfool, half-cocked sort of thing they’d try and do. Presumably they couldn’t call her off. Anyway, she got ejected PDQ, poor thing.’

Philip chuckled as he fiddled with his cufflinks again. The right one always took a little more work, left-handed. His valet could do it for him, of course, but cufflinks were one of the areas where her husband liked to maintain a modicum of autonomy.

She was thrown back to the ambassador’s residence in Paris. The broken chain at the mention of Cresswell Place.

She realised that she was tired, and hadn’t had enough to eat today, and it probably wasn’t Philip’s fault that she felt suddenly dreadful, but something in her cracked. She went over to her dressing table and sat down. She was tearful, which was rare and dreadful, so she turned her head away so he wouldn’t see.

‘What is it, Lilibet?’ He’d stopped laughing. He sounded confused.

‘It’s . . . been a busy day, that’s all.’

‘Do you want me to get Bobo?’

‘No.’

She grabbed a handkerchief and wiped her eyes quickly. Philip rushed over and knelt in front of her, which was the last thing she wanted. She wanted him to go.

‘What’s happened? What can I do?’

‘There’s nothing you can do.’

He smiled nervously. ‘This sounds serious. It’s not like you. Is someone hounding you? More of that bloody plot? I can protect you, you know. It’s what I’m here for.’

He reached out to hug her, but she pulled back.

‘I’m not a frigate, in need of a flotilla.’

His expression clouded. ‘Of course you aren’t. What are you talking about?’

‘I’m your wife.’

She glared at him through tear-filled eyes, feeling that she knew how to say what she didn’t want, but not to ask for what she needed. Wife said it all to her. The vows they’d made, the life they were trying to build. The children.

‘It hadn’t escaped my notice.’

He was gritting his teeth now, clearly offended at being pushed away. The Queen could feel it all falling apart, this tour, herself, them both, everything that was personal to her. She could do the job. She would do it always. But what would it be like if the soul had gone out of it? If she were entirely alone?

‘Lilibet! You’re really crying. You never cry. Has somebody hurt you? I’ll bash the bastard’s head in. I’ll kill him, God help me. Who did this?’

‘You did this!’ she shouted, exhausted and too furious to hold it back. ‘You did this! You lied to me!’

‘When?’

‘You told everyone you were at the palace the night of those murders. You were with a woman. MI5 know all the sordid details . . .’

‘A woman? What woman?’

‘Abigail Pinder. William Pinder’s sister.’

There. She’d said it.

‘What? Abigail isn’t a woman,’ he said, frowning. ‘I mean, she’s a woman. But, you know what I mean. She’s a friend.’

‘Oh, Philip.’

‘I never lied to you,’ he said more gently. He looked hurt and confused.

‘You said you were at the palace,’ she repeated.

‘Yes, well . . . that’s what I told the busybodies who were asking about my whereabouts. It was none of their business. You might have overheard me . . .’

‘You used me as your alibi!’

He frowned and looked less certain. ‘It stopped them prying. You didn’t mind, did you?’

‘Of course I minded!’

‘You should have said so!’

She turned to the mirror and started fixing her tiara in place, to give her hands something to do.

‘I asked you about it at Balmoral,’ she told him, as calmly as she could, looking at his reflection, ‘and you lied again.’

‘Did I? I didn’t think it mattered. It was only to protect a friend. I was doing it out of decency.’