So you fancy yourself a detective, Alleyne? I must say, I would have never foreseen that you’d trade your big poufy white hat for one of those tweed ones that look like they’d go down to your ears but actually don’t. You know what I mean, don’t you?’ Some rosé tipped into her mouth, some onto her chin – none actually went down her throat as she spluttered it all back up. ‘What are they called?’
Jon regretted bringing the wine. It was the only way he could get her to come. He’d had to go get her, after she refused Matthew’s request.
‘You mean a toque for a deerstalker, ma’am.’
‘Yes. Both of those words seem to fit the bill, Alleyne. Well done.’ She gathered herself. ‘I’m afraid if you are looking for answers, you won’t find any here. I’m only here for the free drinks.’ She snorted. ‘David and I agreed to a vow of silence, and it still stands.’
‘Ma’am, Prince David has already talked to me. Indeed, everyone else has, apart from Prince Martin. You are almost the last person on my list.’
‘Oh.’ This was clearly not what Marjorie had expected to hear – her front line of defenders had all conceded, and now she was all alone, which by her face, was not somewhere she wanted to be. Had this been the Marjorie of five bottles ago, let alone five years, maybe she would have made a show of standing her ground, but that Marjorie had vacated the premises, and as it was, she threw in the towel, while eyeing her glass, of course. ‘Well, maybe just some very short and to-the-point questions. I don’t have all day.’
‘If I may, I would like to start with this morning. We crossed paths in the drawing room when Prince David and Princess Maud were arguing. I was stoking the fire, and Princess Emeline was sorting the presents under the tree, if you recall.’ He was including these seemingly innocuous details to try and seize something in Marjorie’s mind, as he knew alcohol had a habit of erasing key events.
‘Yes, yes,’ Marjorie said.
‘Was this your first port of call upon waking?’ For his sanity, he was trying to find different ways to phrase the same questions.
‘Yes, it was. I walked the halls in search of a glass of water and heard the perfectly shrill voice of my youngest calling my head like a siren guiding a sailor to some jagged rocks. I thought it my duty to intervene. The situation with the children and David is becoming so banal that I simply cannot stand it. So, my headache be damned, I entered. And I found something better than a glass of water. I stayed in the drawing room with David until my loving husband called me to his study.’
‘You are referring to the private audiences that several of you partook in?’
‘Yes,’ Marjorie seethed. She clearly was not happy with this particular line of questioning.
‘Do you mind if I ask you what was discussed during your private audience with the King?’
Oddly she conceded, ‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Good,’ Jon said, and waited for any kind of revelation.
However, Marjorie stayed silent, seemingly revelling in some unspoken victory. Finally, she must have had enough, as she spat, ‘Well?’
‘Ma’am?’
‘Are you going to ask me what we discussed during my private audience with the King?’
‘I think I just did, ma’am.’
‘No. You asked me if it was alright to ask me what was discussed during my private audience with the King. You did not actually ask me what was discussed during my private audience with the King.’
Marjorie was being difficult for the mere sake of being difficult. He’d expected nothing less. He wanted to shout at her. Instead he voiced: ‘I’m very sorry, ma’am. What did you discuss during your private audience with the King?’ Those words had been said so many times in the past minute they had lost any and all meaning.
‘It does not matter what we discussed, as it has no relation to what eventually befell him. It does not matter how snippy we were to each other, how he didn’t even say goodbye, how he brandished that damn folder. It is all inconsequential.’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am. You said a folder?’
‘We all come to nothing in the end, Alleyne. Everything said to one another, the way we treat each other, our love and our hate, all becomes dust on the wind. We can only hope, for the ones left behind, the dust does not blow back into their faces.’
‘Was the King showing you a folder? A dossier of sorts?’
‘I know what people think – yourself, the rest of my quaint little brethren, the establishment, the family outside the lion pen. They think we hated each other, and maybe we did – towards the end. But we had some damn good years – years of love.’
Jon tried to change tack, although all he wanted to do was talk about the folder. He knew that he was not going to get her to though. ‘I saw that you loved each other. And you shared your two wonderful daughters.’
Marjorie paused. ‘Shared? Oh yes, I see what you mean, Alleyne. It’s your accent.’ Jon had the faintest Bajan accent, and was perfectly understandable. There was something odd about what Marjorie had just said, and it wasn’t even the casual racism. ‘Yes. The twins were a blessing. And to come so late in life. They were panicking, you know. The government. They thought that once Eric turned forty it would all be over. No heirs. And then they came along, like gifts from above. So yes, we had years of love, and even if we did hate each other at the end, that does not diminish what we had.’
‘Quite right, ma’am.’
‘In some ways, I still loved him. Eric always liked to think that he was the cleverest man in the room – but he rarely ever was. It wasn’t entirely his fault – he’s a Windsor.’ Marjorie, incredibly, drained the last remnants of the wine from the glass and started to eye another. Jon, against his better judgement, poured her one.
‘As are you, ma’am.’
‘Yes, I am a Windsor. But I was a Nueberner first.’ Marjorie’s family hailed from Austria, a fact that was more than a touch controversial given the time when she and the King first started their relationship. ‘It is a good job I never wish to forget where I am from, because I would be constantly hounded by it regardless.’
‘On that subject, ma’am, do you think the Nueberner connection has any relevance as to why you have never been named queen?’ It was like walking on the crisp top of a crème brûlée, trying not to crack it. But sometimes secrets lie below and they need to be broken free. Maybe one of those secrets was the key to this case.
‘I beg your pardon, Alleyne! I will not talk on such matters with you.’
‘A king’s wife is usually announced as the queen. Do you know why King Eric denied you that? And did it lead to you resenting him?’ Now he was overstepping. But in some way, it did feel as though he was running out of time. He had only one audience left after Marjorie and such rash measures were justified.
‘Alleyne, that has nothing to do with you.’ She seemed to realise her mistake, giving any voice to this notion, making it a reality. ‘But no, Eric loved me. He knew of my family and did not care.’
‘Then why deny you queen?’
Marjorie knew why. He could see it on her face.
‘Does it have anything to do with the King’s death? Were you resentful, vindictive, angry?’
‘All of the above. And I admit there were times when I wanted to kill him. But I didn’t kill him.’ Marjorie threw back her neck and another glass was gone. She poured her own this time. ‘We are done here.’
Marjorie staggered to a stand, taking the bottle with her. In a second, she was gone.
Jon simply sat there. He did not know what to think. Marjorie had a secret and Eric had known it. But what was it?
The Princess Royal was like one of the King’s puzzle boxes.
Unfortunately, he did not have time to solve her.