In the past few weeks, liaising with their godmother, Sarah Eve, who was also the housekeeper at Marquess House, they had followed her advice about how Mary had always organised presents and bonuses for everyone who lived or worked at the ancient manor. Now they were working through a list of gifts for the Mackensies and each other, including collecting a surprise present for Susan from Alistair, which meant when his name flashed up on Perdita’s phone, they were amused.
“Hi Alistair,” she said, putting him on loudspeaker, “do you have more things to add to the shopping list?”
“Not at present,” he replied. “I was calling to let Piper know she dropped her phone. Cal found it in our car park and I didn’t want her panicking.”
“Thanks, Alistair,” said Piper, “that’s thoughtful. Has it smashed?”
“No, it’s perfectly intact.”
“What a shame! It hasn’t been working properly for ages. I’ve been meaning to get a new one and if it had properly broken I’d have run out of excuses. Do me a favour and stamp on it, Alistair!”
They laughed but when Alistair next spoke, all the amusement had faded from his voice. “When did it begin playing up, Piper?” he asked, his tone sharp.
“A few months ago,” she replied. “When I left America, I think.”
There was silence.
“Alistair, are you still there?” asked Perdita.
“Yes,” he said, but his voice was serious. “Piper, would you mind if I examined your phone in more detail?”
“If you like,” she said, sounding perplexed. “Why?”
“I think it may have been tampered with.”
“What?” spluttered Perdita. “By whom?”
“Kirstin Chaplin,” replied Alistair. “For a while now, I’ve been wondering if our security has been breached but I couldn’t work out how. Perhaps your handset was the cause, though the bug seems to have damaged the operating system, hence the reason the phone has been malfunctioning. This has worked in our favour because it’s meant Connors and Chaplin won’t have heard as much as they would have hoped.”
“Alistair, do you want us to come back to the castle?” asked Perdita, exchanging a horrified look with Piper.
“No, you’ll be safe in town but if you wouldn’t mind coming home before it’s dark, it would ease my nerves.”
“We’ll be back by early afternoon,” Perdita assured him.
“See you later then.”
The line went dead.
“Do you think he’s being paranoid?” said Piper into the stunned silence.
“I hope so,” replied Perdita, but the excited anticipation they had been sharing melted away.
“So much for a relaxing day shopping,” Piper sighed.
“Let’s do what we have to and get back,” said Perdita.
“Definitely,” agreed Piper, pulling into a parking space.
Perdita climbed out of the car and looked around at the smiling faces of the Christmas shoppers. She felt twitchy and unnerved by Alistair’s revelation and as distant from the festive crowd as if she were on a different planet. Slipping her arm through Piper’s as they headed into the throng she wondered if they would ever be free from the looming danger of both MI1 and Randolph Connors.
“What is it?” asked Kit later, as they stared at the tiny metallic device.
“A listening bug,” replied Callum, “but it’s been disabled now.”
“And it was in Piper’s phone?” checked Perdita.
“Yes. It was inexpertly fitted, as though it had been done in a hurry, which is rather a relief for us because it means it has never transmitted properly,” said Alistair.
Piper stared at the grey metal square with fury on her face. “Isn’t it bad enough that she trashed my marriage without spying on us, too?”
All eyes turned to her and Perdita moved to her sister’s side but she could tell from the set line of Piper’s mouth that she was in no mood to be comforted.
“I’m sorry, Alistair,” said Piper. “It appears I allowed Randolph Connors into the heart of Jerusalem.”
“Piper, this isn’t your fault,” said Susan, stepping forward. “You are not to blame in any way. Thankfully, the bug caused your phone to malfunction so the transmission was probably unclear for most of the time.”
“But they will have heard how much we’ve discovered with the letters and the ring,” Piper said.
“As to that, there’s nothing we can do about it,” said Alistair, his tone calm. “The leak has been plugged and until we can safely reactivate your phone number, I have this pay-as-you-go handset for you to use.”
He slid an expensive looking Smartphone towards her but Piper did not pick it up. Instead she walked to the windows and stared out at the cold, clear evening. They were in the cosy sitting room, off the Grande Hall, but the tense atmosphere was at odds with the roaring fire and the twinkling lights on the large Christmas trees.
Perdita watched her sister for a few moments, then turned back to Alistair.
“Is Connors interested in uncovering the historical mystery?” she asked. “You’ve told us the reasons why he wants access to the house and our titles but is he actively searching, as we are?”
Alistair considered her, then choosing his words with great care, said, “Connors would like the mystery to be solved for him so he can use it as a tool to blackmail as many governments as he feels is viable. It would put him in a position of even greater power than he presently commands.”
“And he was hoping that by bugging Piper’s phone he would have been able to eavesdrop on our discoveries and use the information?” clarified Perdita.
“I don’t know, but that would be my assumption.”
To break the tension, Kit and Callum busied themselves pouring drinks for everyone. Before the discovery of the bug, the plan had been to meet for a glass of wine in the sitting room, then head down to the local bar, The Terrace, for the evening, but none of them were in the mood any longer. Perdita took the glass of Prosecco he offered her and sipped the cold bubbles.
“Alistair, what happened to Randolph’s mother?” she asked.
He turned to her in surprise. “You mean, Cecily, Mary’s younger sister?”
“Yes, our great-aunt.”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m curious, but I also want to try and understand why someone who has so much can’t be satisfied. Why must he strive for more and use such underhand methods to achieve his ends?”
“Goodness, Perdita, those are huge questions,” said Susan.
“He’s a psycho?” suggested Kit. Callum grinned as he walked over to hand Piper a glass of Prosecco. She turned away from the window, her face calmer and joined Callum on the sofa.
“You said Cecily died young,” said Piper, glancing at Alistair as they all settled in the assorted chairs around the fire. “Please, Alistair, even if Granny left a hundred letters requesting you spare us the gory details, I think it’s important we know. There seems to be danger coming at us from every angle and Cecily’s death may have some relevance on Randolph’s determination to steal our inheritance.”
Alistair looked at Susan, who nodded and with obvious reluctance, he conceded to her request.
“I may not be correct in all the dates, as I don’t have the paperwork in front of me, but I can give you an outline,” he said and Perdita noticed a hint of anxiety in his voice. “As you know, Mary had a younger sister, Cecily. She was born in 1940 and very sadly, your great-grandmother, Eleanor Fitzroy died not long after from a haemorrhage. From what I’ve been told, she had never been a strong woman and her pregnancy with Cecily had been a difficult one. Mary and Cecily’s father, David Fitzroy, your great-grandfather, was abroad when Eleanor died.”
“Why?” asked Piper.
“It was 1940, the Second World War was raging and he was an officer in the RAF,” said Susan.
“David came home on compassionate leave,” continued Alistair, “and, a few months after Cecily’s birth,
Mary was sent to a boarding school that had been evacuated to Welshpool, while Cecily was cared for by David’s younger sister, Tabitha.”
“What?” said Perdita, sitting upright. “We have another great-aunt? Why did no one ever tell us?”
“There are Fitzroy cousins, too,” admitted Alistair. “You weren’t told for the same reasons you were cut off from us. Fear that you would be murdered while you were children by MI1 Elite. I believe there is a full family tree in the Marquess House library. Those members of the family who are best avoided I’ll ink in red,” he said, with an attempt at a joke, but Perdita and Piper stared at him, aghast. “However, the family who interest us at present is Cecily and her offspring. After the war, David bought a house near to his sister and her family…”
“Where was that?” asked Perdita. She and Piper had grown up thinking they were alone in the world — these casual revelations of cousins, aunts and uncles were more unsettling and painful than she could ever begin to explain to Alistair. She understood her grandmother’s desire to keep them safe but she could not help feeling that in isolating them so completely, Mary had denied them so much.
“They lived in Cornwall, so quite a long way from Marquess House,” said Alistair. “Are you sure you want to do this now, Perdita? It’s a lot to suddenly divulge.”
“Yes, Alistair,” she said. “We want to know everything. So, David Fitzroy?” she prompted.
“He had been a similar age to your great-grandmother and worked as an accountant in London, however, when war broke out, as Susan said, he enlisted in the RAF. At first, Eleanor had planned to stay in London during the war but shortly after David was posted, she discovered she was unexpectedly pregnant. It was then Eleanor and David decided it would be safer for her to return to the family home that she had inherited from her mother…”
“Marquess House?” asked Perdita.
“Yes,” replied Alistair. “David survived the war and on his return, as I said, moved to be nearer to Tabitha and her husband Michael. Eventually, Cecily followed your grandmother to boarding school. Mary had excelled there and gone on to study at Cambridge University, where she met her future husband, your grandfather, Hector Woodville.
“Cecily was the complete opposite — she wasn’t interested in schoolwork and once she discovered she would inherit a sizeable trust fund on her 21st birthday, she threw herself into the fun of post-war London. Mary once told me how she dreaded Friday afternoons as there was inevitably an irate telephone call from the school saying Cecily had run away again to attend a party somewhere. She avoided being expelled because Mary and her father managed to persuade the headmistress to keep her there with a sizeable donation to the school. Once she was 18 and had left school, Cecily spent a few months at Marquess House with Mary, which is when they must have hatched a plan. There was a seven-year age gap between them, so Mary had already come into her inheritance, but Cecily, bored with the remoteness of Pembrokeshire, needed distraction, so Mary gifted her one of their London properties and gave her an allowance until she would receive an income of her own. Cecily had a few months of hi-jinks with the jet-set and was beginning to become a staple of the tabloid press, when she surprised everyone by eloping with businessman, Albert Connors, who was 19 years her senior.”
“Was he rich?” asked Perdita.
“Excessively, but then, so was she, so perhaps it was a love match,” replied Alistair. “A year later, she gave birth to Randolph. He was six months younger than your mother, Louisa. After Cecily came into her inheritance, she and Mary only really kept in touch via Christmas and birthday cards. There was no rift, despite what many gossipmongers have stated — they were simply two very different women. Then, in 1974, Cecily and Albert were on holiday in Monte Carlo. They had hired a yacht and were entertaining an array of minor European royalty, Hollywood stars and musicians, when Cecily disappeared. She had been complaining of a headache and had told Albert she was going to lay down but when he went to check on her an hour later her bed hadn’t been slept in.
“The yacht was searched and one of the crew found a damaged railing. Cecily’s Pucci silk scarf was caught on the side of the boat — it had snagged on a rusty bolt below a porthole, according to the official inquest. The police were called, a huge rescue mission was launched, funded by both Mary and Albert, but Cecily’s body was never found. The coroner concluded accidental death by drowning. Cecily had suffered from intense migraines all her life and they often caused her to faint. The inquest stated it was possible Cecily had fainted and fallen overboard. Albert found it very difficult to come to terms with her death — he blamed himself for not escorting her to their bedroom.”
“How awful,” gasped Perdita.
“Mary was devastated,” he said. “Their father, David, was still alive and after Cecily’s death, he dissolved his accountancy practice in Cornwall and moved in with Mary at Marquess House. He lived there until he died.”
“What happened to her husband and son?” Piper asked.
“Randolph was at boarding school, where he remained, coming home in the holidays,” said Alistair. “Albert Connors moved first to Africa, where I believe he had an older spinster sister, Dorothy, who had a farm. Although when they say farm, it was thousands and thousands of acres of wildlife reserve. When she died a year later, he moved to India and increased his fortune by buying a string of tea plantations. He was a very able businessman and exceptionally good at predicting trends. His tea business boomed and when Albert died five years after Cecily, Randolph inherited everything. It transpired he had also inherited his father’s business acumen and with the fortune left to him by both his parents, he has made himself a powerful player in the world’s commodity markets. He has houses all around the world, and, although he was born in the UK, he spends most of his time on his tea plantation in Darjeeling.” Alistair drained his glass and smiled at Perdita. “I can only apologise for not telling you both this tale sooner but with Mary’s instructions and the years we’ve all spent protecting you, it felt strange and uncomfortable to be revealing so much. However, you’re right — you do need to know everything.”
To Perdita’s surprise, Piper jumped to her feet and enveloped Alistair in a hug.
“And you did keep us alive,” she said. “Now that we know more about Cecily and Connors, hopefully, we’ll be able to contribute to our continuing existence.”
Perdita could not help but laugh.
“Now, weren’t you going to The Terrace?” asked Susan.
“Yes,” said Kit, “but this rather took precedent.”
“It’s only 8pm,” continued his mother, “why don’t you go now? I think after these revelations you should go and let off steam.”
Having grown up with only their father, who had always been very protective of them, if felt peculiar to Perdita to hear a parental figure suggesting they go out and have fun. Susan’s words fell into silence, before Perdita realised Piper, Kit and Callum were all looking at her. When did I become the leader of the gang? she wondered.
“Perds?” questioned Kit.
“You’re right, Susan,” she said, knocking back the rest of her Prosecco. “We need a night out. This is ancient history and we can’t change it — we also shouldn’t be afraid of it. Would you be able to order us a car to take us to The Terrace in half an hour, please?”
“Of course,” replied Susan, beaming.
Piper nodded her agreement, while Kit and Callum grinned and hurried off to get changed. Perdita was the last of the four of them to leave the room. She turned to Alistair and Susan.
“Thank you for telling us all this,” she said. “I feel better equipped to deal with Connors now. Incidentally, has Piper told you that Jeremy and Kirstin are travelling to India?”
“She hadn’t, no,” replied Alistair.
“Even though she’s angry with him, Piper still cares about her husband and wouldn’t want anything untoward to happen. Would we be able to have someone tail him for his own safety?”
“Of course, my dear, consider it done.”
“And,” continued Perdita, “even though it makes me uncomfortable because I don’t like keeping secrets; at this stage, it would be preferable if Piper didn’t know — I wouldn’t want to worry her.”
A rueful smile spread across Alistair’s face as he nodded his agreement.
“Welcome to my world, Perdita,” he sighed.
Chapter Two
“The trouble is, Kit,” said Perdita, her tone hesitant. “I’m not sure Lettice is the missing heir.”
“Why not?”
“Lots of things. For instance, there is no record of her travelling to the north as a child and we have a comment about the baby girl being sent there — it’s in the account books. If she was the heir and she was living with Kathy Knollys as one of her family, would they really have allowed her to marry into a family with Welsh connections, who lived so near to Marquess House that Lettice might discover the truth?” she said.
They were in Kit’s office where he was creating an illustrated family tree of the Tudors and Stuarts, showing the potential missing heirs. Prominent in this vast and eccentric collage was a picture of Lettice Knollys. There was no denying Kit’s endeavour was packed full of relevant information, but if Perdita was honest, it was also hilariously funny and even Kit had consented to admit that it was reminiscent of a school project he had completed when he was ten years old.
“But it’s useful,” he had laughed. “We won’t have to keep double-checking dates and it shows the links between the families very clearly.”
Which was something Perdita could not deny as her eyes followed one particular line. It began with Mary Boleyn and swept down to Lady Kathryn Carey, who had married Sir Francis Knollys and produced up to 15 children, with at least 12 surviving into adulthood. No wonder poor Kathy died so young, thought Perdita. Only 45 and probably pregnant for most of her married life. Her body must have been exhausted.
Perdita’s eye flickered to the window where a grey sky glowered, threatening another snowfall.
The Elizabeth Tudor Conspiracy Page 19
