A Death in Diamonds полностью

‘Jeremy?’ Margaret asked. ‘I’ve seen him around today. He has the tallest top hat you can imagine. It’s as if he’s wearing a chimney pot.’

‘But was he with Mummy?’

‘No. His brother Tony was, earlier. He rescued me from the duke.’

‘Hmm.’

The Queen wondered whether her mother had been led into some sort of trap. Was a press photographer waiting, ready to take a compromising picture? It seemed the sort of thing the plotters might do, although, as ever, why they would bother remained a mystery.

‘Ah, Lilibet! What a lovely atmosphere out there.’ Her mother appeared at the door to the royal box, looking bright and cheerful. ‘Everyone’s so excited about the Oaks. I really think this could be your day, darling. I know all the money’s on Mulberry Harbour, but I thought Carrozza was looking marvellous in the collecting ring. Someone said you wanted me?’

‘I just wondered where you were,’ the Queen said, evenly.

‘I was talking about the Highlands with Clement Moreton and Stephen Seymour, and then your press secretary popped up and collared a man with a very large camera, and persuaded him not to take any pictures. Very understanding, I thought. The last thing those two men want is to be on the front pages again.’

‘Oh.’ The Queen felt wrong-footed. She forcefully suspected Jeremy and his brother of being behind the plot, and yet here her press secretary was, doing the job he was paid for. It was hard to read anything into it but helpfulness. ‘Why the Highlands?’ she asked.

‘Clement goes there every summer, to contemplate the world, you know. I assumed he meant some sort of religious retreat, but actually, he’s a fly fisherman, like me. So, I invited him to Balmoral.’

‘Mummy!’

‘And Stephen Seymour is thinking of buying a castle on the west coast, so I was recommending a few I know of whose owners would be thrilled with the cash.’

‘Why does he want to live in Scotland?’

Her mother looked surprised. ‘I didn’t ask. Why wouldn’t he?’

The Queen smiled at this. As a daughter of the Earl of Strathmore, growing up in Glamis Castle, home to Macbeth, her mother found Scotland perfect in every way. She couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to cut themselves off in a draughty, windswept medieval building overlooking nothing but moor and sea, and the foothills of rain-clad mountains.

‘Does Lord Seymour need to retreat from London?’ she asked.

‘Darling, I have no idea. He had a very romantic look in his eye, though. He and his wife know the Arisaig estate quite well. I think he was stationed there in the war. Lucy had a Scottish look about her today. She was wearing the most beautiful silk tartan two-piece and a clever little thistle hat that was quite the thing. Quite the best-dressed woman at the Oaks. Her husband must spend an absolute fortune on her.’

Margaret looked annoyed. ‘I was told I was the best-dressed woman at the Oaks.’

‘Well, yes, they would say that, wouldn’t they?’ her mother said, adding just in time, ‘And you look perfectly enchanting, darling.’ Then she returned to her theme. ‘Lucy really is very attractive. I can quite see why he bought it for her.’

‘What?’

‘The Zellendorf. It would have looked lovely in her hair. Lucy’s perhaps a little old for something so summery. Personally, I’d have recommended a bandeau, but taste in tiaras is very personal, isn’t it?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Margaret muttered.

‘It would have looked far better on you,’ her mother said gamely. ‘But it will be locked away now, won’t it? Or else it will be notorious and sell for a fortune, which would be dreadful. I must say, they seemed a devoted couple, if rather sad, but that’s understandable, in the circumstances. I wonder where he got his penchant for tarts and other men’s wives.’

‘Mummy!’

‘Everyone knows, Lilibet. He’s famously unfaithful. Men are so very complicated, aren’t they?’

‘I always thought they were rather simple,’ the Queen said.

‘Don’t underestimate them, darling. What would the world be without them? Oh, look, they’re lining up for the first race. Can somebody pass me my binoculars?’

Carrozza won the Oaks, with a brilliant young jockey called Lester Piggott edging her over the finish line, and the rest of June rather paled by comparison, until Ascot brought more successes on the turf. July went by in a flurry of visits, from the Wirral in the north-west to Jersey in the Channel Islands, and all of them went off without a hitch.

There were times, especially when the Queen was reminded of her victories by the Racing Post, when she began to wonder whether she had imagined treachery and sabotage after all. Was the suspect face cream in Denmark just a faulty batch? Had she read too much into what happened in Paris? Until she remembered Ingrid Kern. That brief addition to Philip’s Danish schedule had been no accident. Somebody wished her, and her marriage, harm.