Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [19]
“Elsa, take command of yourself!” Cahoon snapped. “Do you want to come or not?”
“Yes, of course,” she answered, because she could think of no excuse. Or perhaps it was because she could not let go of the chance to spend time with Julius, whatever the cost. All reason was against it, and yet she had chosen to do it unhesitatingly.
She used to feel as if she and Minnie were a world apart from each other, so different there was no possibility of understanding between them. Perhaps she was wrong, and in reality she was just like Minnie, only with slightly less flair.
THE AFTERNOON WAS miserable. The men resumed their discussions, joined at about three o’clock by the Prince of Wales, who looked formal and very serious. Elsa spoke to him only briefly, but she could see that he was still suffering from the effects of a night of self-indulgence and then the most appalling shock. He greeted her with his usual courtesy, but did not say anything more than to inquire after her well-being and wish her a good afternoon. She could not help noticing the relief in his face when he saw Cahoon walking over toward him, smiling and with a confidence in his stride and in the set of his shoulders that suggested he was master of events. There was nothing to fear after all.
Of course there wasn’t, she told herself. It was tragic for the woman concerned, and it was most unpleasant, but no more than that.
She filled in the afternoon walking in the gardens alone for a while, then played cards for an hour with Olga, who seemed to find as much difficulty as she did in concentrating. At afternoon tea she made conversation with Liliane, mostly gossip neither of them cared about. Who had said what to whom had never mattered much to either of them.
At about quarter to six Bartle came to Elsa’s room to tell her that the policeman would like to speak with her.
“With me?” Elsa was startled. “Whatever for? I have no idea what happened.”
Bartle’s expression was grim. “I don’t know, Miss Elsa. But he an’ the other one’ve been talking to the regular servants here all afternoon. He just spoke to Mrs. Quase, an’ now he’d like to see you. I think there’s something badly wrong, ma’am.”
Elsa opened the door to the small sitting room with more curiosity than trepidation. The man she found inside was taller than she had expected, but otherwise he appeared fairly ordinary, apart from an unusual intelligence in his eyes. He was clean-shaven. His hair was curly and too long, and she noticed immediately that his coat hung badly, possibly because the right pocket bulged with something large inside it. His shirt collar sat crookedly and his tie was too loose. He looked tired.
“Good afternoon,” she said, closing the door. “I believe you wished to speak with me?”
“Yes, Mrs. Dunkeld,” he replied, stepping back a little to make room for her to pass him easily and choose whatever chair she wished.
“My name is Inspector Pitt.”
She was surprised. His voice was excellent, deep, and with both the timbre and the enunciation of a man of education, which he could not be, or he would not be employed in such an occupation. Everyone knew that except in most serious command, police were from the lower social orders. Even the better servants frowned on them.
She sat down in one of the smaller wing chairs and adjusted the skirts of her afternoon gown. “I cannot help you,” she said politely. “I know very little of the Palace. This is the only time I have been here, and it is only two days since I arrived.”
“Yes, I know that, Mrs. Dunkeld.” He took the seat opposite her, which was upright and less comfortable. “Are you aware of what happened here last night?”
She noticed that he looked concerned, as if he were obliged to tell her something she would find distressing. She wanted to put him at ease. “Yes, I am. One of the women who came