Royal Flush

by Rhys Bowen

  “I know,” I said. I tried to stop crying, but I couldn’t. I knelt on the seat with my cheek against his leather jacket and sobbed. “I feel such a fool,” I said at last. “And I’ve made your leather jacket all wet.”

  “That’s okay. Cows get wet from time to time, don’t they?” He smiled and stroked my hair, which by now resembled a haystack. “But the rest of you is already wet. How did that happen?”

  “I swam to the aeroplane. She tricked me. I thought that Podge was in it, but he wasn’t.”

  “You’ve had quite a morning so far.” He was still smiling. “At least you can’t say it was dull.”

  “I thought you’d gone away again.”

  “Well, fortunately I got in touch with your Sir Jeremy and it turned out we had a few friends in common, so the need to go somewhere was avoided.”

  “How did you find me?” I asked, at last.

  “Pure luck. We were sitting outside the house and we actually watched the plane take off. Next moment I received a telephone call to say that the rifle that killed Hugo Beasley-Bottome had been found at the Padgetts’ house and that your nephew was missing. Then someone said they’d seen two people in the plane, so we assumed the worst. Luckily Paolo had come back from London in his own float-plane this time, so we were up in the air shortly after you. And Paolo’s machine is a lot faster, so we caught you quite quickly. I take it Ronny was in the plane at some point? You didn’t actually take off by yourself?”

  “Of course she was in the plane.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She jumped out,” I said. “She said she was wearing a parachute but I didn’t see it opening. I think she just fell.”

  “A suitable ending for her.” Darcy nodded gravely. “I would have hated to see someone like that be hanged or put into an insane asylum.”

  “Her mother is in one,” I said. I was about to say that she had contracted syphilis, but I couldn’t discuss such an unmentionable subject with Darcy.

  “Maisie McPhee, right? Sir Jeremy’s men looked her up at the New Register House in Edinburgh, you’ll be pleased to know. She did have a child—unnamed baby girl about the right age for Ronny.”

  “And the father?”

  “Someone named Eddy Axton, although it looks as if the birth certificate has been tampered with.”

  “Eddy Axton. That sounds very ordinary. And she didn’t marry him or have any other children?”

  “No.”

  “Poor Ronny, all those grand illusions for nothing.”

  “As you say, poor Ronny.” He ran his hand down my cheek. “You are freezing. We should get you home as quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, we must get back to Rannoch immediately,” I said, remembering, “I know where my nephew is hidden. We have to save him.” I looked around us. Nothing but hills and moorland, lapping water and seagulls circling overhead. “Why on earth did you choose to land here? We’re miles from anywhere.”

  “I have no idea where we are, but I wasn’t taking any chances with a plane I’d never flown before. I chose the first open area of water I saw, where I wasn’t likely to bump into a mountain.”

  “Well, come on. Let’s not waste any more time. We have to get to shore and telephone the police.”

  “Your wish is my command, my lady. Now I suppose you’d like me to swim to shore.”

  “It’s shallow. You can wade,” I said. Then as he went to climb out of the aeroplane, I touched his hand. “Darcy. Thank you for coming to my rescue. You were very brave, and you landed it jolly well too, considering.”

  He laughed and lowered himself into the water.

  “It’s absolutely freezing,” he shouted up to me. “The things I have to do for you!”

  Chapter 34

  Soon Darcy had found a telephone, rounded up a local policeman and borrowed a car. As we were driving back to Castle Rannoch, I sat beside him, snuggling up to him for warmth, for once in a glow of happiness. As we came over the pass to Castle Rannoch, we spotted Paolo and the American standing on the jetty, jumping up and down, waving their arms and pointing.

  “What’s going on there?” Darcy asked. He had the driver stop the car and we both got out. “What’s happening?” Darcy shouted, running toward Paolo.

  “She’s taken my boat, without my permission,” Paolo shouted back.

  “Who?”

  “Ronny, of course.”

  “Ronny? But I thought she was dead. She jumped out of a plane,” I said.

  “She must have had a parachute then,” Paolo said, “because suddenly I heard my boat engine start and she was in it.”

  “Where is she now?” Darcy asked.

  “Look, there, at the far end of the loch. You know what she’s going to do, don’t you? She’s going to make a run at the speed record, but the boat isn’t ready yet. Damned fool. She’ll ruin everything.”

  “She hasn’t got Podge with her, has she?” I shouted. “We must stop her.”

  Before I could get the words out, a blue shape came hurtling down the loch, motor screaming. Faster and faster it went until it shot past us as a blue blur. Then someone yelled, “Look out!”

  And someone else screamed, “It’s the monster!”

  The wind was ruffling the water, driving it into a great wave that curled up along the middle of the lake, looking for anything like the coils of a giant serpent. The boat hit the wave full-on. It became airborne. For what seemed like an eternity it soared, flying over the surface of the water, then it rose straight up, flipped, bounced and broke apart, with pieces flying in all directions. The wave subsided. There was silence. Small pieces of blue floated on the oily surface of the lake.

  I found I was running along the shoreline, yelling, “Podge. Not Podge.”

  Darcy caught up with me. “Georgie. Come on, I’ll take you home. There’s nothing you can do here.”

  “But he might still be alive.”

  “If he was in that boat, he won’t be. But you told them where to find him. I’m sure he’s safe.”

  I found I was holding my breath all the way up the drive to Castle Rannoch. As the car came to a halt outside the front steps, the door opened and Fig came running out to meet me, with Binky behind her, hobbling on crutches.

  “Georgiana, thank God you’re safe,” she said.

  “Never mind about me. What about Podge?”

  “In his bed, sleeping,” she said.

  “They found him in time, then?”

  “Thanks to your wonderful grandfather. He saw you driving off in a car and he was sensible enough to note the license plate number. The police found the car right away and discovered my little boy in the boot. Imagine doing that to a child. That woman is a monster. I hope they catch her.”

  “She’s dead,” I said.

  “She always was reckless.” Major Padgett looked across at his wife, who sat silent and grieving in their cold, dreary drawing room. “Even when she was a small child she took risks and didn’t respect boundaries. Too much like her father, I’m afraid.”

  “She claimed her father was the Duke of Clarence,” I said.

  “Did she tell you that?”

  I nodded. “But her birth certificate gives her father’s name as Eddy Axton. Not royal at all.”

  “Eddy Avon,” he said. “I tried to alter it.”

  “Why? Who is Eddy Avon?”

  “The Duke of Clarence was also known as the Earl of Avonlea and among the family he was always known as Eddy.” Major Padgett sighed. “I knew it would come out eventually. How can such a monstrous secret remain hidden? It has eaten into me all these years.”

  “Then it really was true that he was kidnapped and kept alive? He didn’t die of influenza?”

  He sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

  “You were one of the people who kidnapped him? Who held him prisoner in a mental institution?” I looked at him with undisguised revulsion.

  “I was, God forgive me.” He stared down at his highly polished shoes. “I was
removed from a promising military career to act as equerry to His Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence, the heir to the throne. Everything I learned about him distressed me and disgusted me. His depraved sexual behavior with both men and women, his use of drugs, his errors of judgment . . . I hoped that he would never come to the throne. He would have been the ruin of the monarchy. When his doctor confided to me that he had contracted syphilis from a prostitute, I thought I should die of shame.

  “Then a miracle happened: a most virulent strain of influenza swept the country. It felled the prince. He was at death’s door, lying in a coma. There were certain powerful personages at court who saw this as a chance to make sure he never recovered. They wanted me to finish him off, but I would not be party to deliberate killing.

  “However, a second miracle occurred. On that very day a young footman succumbed to the disease. He was not unlike the prince in stature and coloring. A small group of conspirators managed to replace the comatose prince with the dead footman. The royal family was kept at a distance because of the risk of contracting the disease. The footman was buried with royal pomp, while the footman’s coffin contained several large rocks.”

  He looked up at us with hopeless eyes. “The Duke of Clarence was whisked away to the country estate of one of the conspirators. Against all odds he recovered, at least partially. The high fever had damaged his brain and his heart and also sped up the progression of syphilis. He remained bedrid den, sometimes violent and not always coherent. A doctor told us he was not expected to live long, so it was decided to secret him far, far away, up here in Scotland.”

  “Did members of the royal family know about this?” Darcy asked.

  Padgett shook his head. “Of course not. And they must never know. Nobody must ever know. Has it already gone beyond this room?”

  “Sir Jeremy Danville knows what I suspected,” I said.

  “But he is head of the special branch,” Darcy said quickly. “They do not divulge secrets. And you can rely on Georgie and me.”

  Major Padgett nodded. “It has been such a burden, all these years. I was assigned the task of being his keeper, you see. I can’t tell you how I despised that task—how I felt the whole thing was morally wrong.”

  “Why did you accept if it was so repugnant to you?” Darcy asked.

  “I am a military man,” Padgett said. “I obey orders, I put my country before myself and my word is my badge of honor. I was present at the first meeting of the conspirators when a vow of silence was made. I do not break vows, whatever the consequences, but I have regretted it every day since. It meant the end of my career. It banished my poor wife to a life of loneliness and social withdrawal.”

  “I didn’t mind, dear,” she said from across the room. “I married you for better or worse, you know. Watching you sink into despair has been hardest. And we did have Ronny for a short while.”

  “So he recovered enough to father a daughter?” I asked.

  Major Padgett nodded. “Even in his incapacitated state, he couldn’t keep his hands off the maids. We watched him closely, but young Maisie McPhee was his night nurse and he didn’t always sleep. My wife had always wanted a child so we decided to adopt this one and make sure it was raised in a good home. And the Duke of Clarence’s heart finally gave out soon after Veronica was born. We raised her as our own. It was like two guinea hens trying to raise an eagle chick.”

  “You told her about her real parents then?” I asked.

  “Of course not. Only a handful of prominent men were party to that secret. We thought it only right to tell Veronica she was adopted when she was old enough. As I said, she always sought danger and the forbidden. She went into my office, which was off-limits to her. She snooped through my private files and she found regular payments to Maisie McPhee. She went to visit that woman, who was already slipping into insanity. Apparently Maisie spun our daughter a grandiose tale about her royal parentage and claimed they had actually married, which wasn’t true. Veronica blackmailed and coerced me into confirming who her father was.

  “After that she started having grand ideas about being a member of the royal family. We tried to make her see sense. We were glad when she took up flying and started to make a name for herself as an aviatrix. But obviously it wasn’t enough for her.”

  “She told me before she jumped from the aeroplane that nothing was enough to fill the void.”

  “God rest her soul,” Mrs. Padgett said. Darcy crossed himself.

  Daylight was fading when Darcy and I finally drove down the winding road to Castle Rannoch. The sky was glowing pink and gold. A flight of wild duck circled the loch. It felt as if the world was finally at peace.

  “Darcy,” I said after a long silence, “why haven’t you given up on me? What do you see in me? I’m not your sort of girl at all. I’m penniless, for one thing. I’m not glamorous. I’m not sexy. I’m not beautiful.”

  “True enough,” he said with that horrible Irish candor. “I have to confess, to start with it was the challenge. You were so impossibly haughty and virginal, and it was intriguing to see if I could bed a granddaughter of Queen Victoria.”

  “Great-granddaughter,” I corrected.

  “Great-granddaughter, then. And after a while I started thinking, ‘You know, I think one could have a good roll in the hay with her, once she’d been warmed up a bit.’ ”

  He looked at me and I blushed.

  “And now?” I said.

  I suppose I was hoping he’d tell me that he loved me.

  “I never like to give up on a challenge,” he said breezily, “especially when the goal is in sight.”

  Not the answer I was looking for. We drove on for a while in silence.

  “Is that the only reason?” I said. “I’m a challenge to you? And when you’ve finally achieved your goal, you’ll lose interest instantly?”

  “Not exactly,” he said. “The problem is, Georgie, that I can’t seem to get you out of my head. I know I should be going after a rich heiress who will keep me in the style to which I’d like to be accustomed. But I keep coming back to you. I don’t know why.”

  He reached across and covered my hand with his own. “But here I am,” he said. “And here you are. Let’s just take it from here and see where it goes, shall we?”

  “Yes, let’s.” I turned my face up to him to be kissed. Then I yelled, “Look out!” as several sheep wandered across the road.

  Historical Note

  Ronny Padgett is modeled on famous aviatrix Amy John-son who broke many records in the 1930s, including flying solo to Australia in her Gypsy Moth. She was killed in WWII.

  Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale, 1864-1892, has long been a subject of rumor and speculation. He was the oldest son of King Edward VII and thus heir to the throne. Although there is little firm evidence, his reputation was one of dissolute behavior. He is reputed to have frequented both male and female prostitutes, to have been whisked away from a raid on a homosexual brothel, and even to have been Jack the Ripper. So when he died of influenza at the age of twenty-eight, leaving the path to the throne open for his solid and reliable younger brother, who later became George V, rumors flew that his death had been aided or even that he had been kidnapped and was kept prisoner in an insane asylum.

  None of these rumors has ever been substantiated, but they certainly make for a good story!

  His future bride, Princess May of Teck, later married his brother George and the royal couple were reported to be extremely happy.

  The activity on the Scottish loch—both the speed boat and the monster are quite correct for the time. Attempts were being made on the water speed record, some with fatal results, and the Loch Ness Monster was about to capture headlines and enthrall readers throughout the world.

 

 

 
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