The excitement shown on every Royal’s face as they saw Miss Darcy Tharigold gliding into the room was palpable. They gathered around her, as children would gather around a favourite teacher, asking questions, telling her how happy they were that she had arrived, offering her tears of relief. Jon would have been offended, if he did not pity Miss Darcy for now having to be the object of their attentions. It was nice to be adored, but that came with a certain expectation. Everyone in this room understood that now.
‘What happened to you, Miss Darcy?’
‘Where have you been?’
‘Thank the Lord you are here!’
‘Did you turn the power back on, Miss Darcy?’
Not embroiled in the gaggle was Princess Maud, who was looking tentatively to Jon. He gave a slight shake of his head – not Crockley. She seemed to understand and run the gamut of emotions. Relief gave way to confusion gave way to fear. She stood back from the rest of them and remained deep in thought for a long while.
Jon stood back as well and watched the gaggle of Royals embrace their new leader. He was forgotten, left behind, merely the chef again. This was what he had wanted, wasn’t it?
He was at a loss for something to do.
Jon went to the dresser next to the fireplace. The right cupboard in the dresser was for anything the Royal Family might need in the room. There was a stack of the King’s favourite board games – Monopoly, Scrabble, Cluedo – and a selection of stationery and paper. There was also a bundle of Marjorie’s failed pursuits, such as a half-completed cross-stitch, a barely grazed puzzle book, and several untouched paperbacks. In the left cupboard, however, were items that a servant might need for the room. He searched among the bottles of antibacterial spray and the extra linens to find a bin bag. He ripped one off and went about collecting up all the rubbish in the room. This was not usually to be done in front of the Royals, but he doubted they would even notice.
As Miss Darcy explained to her adoring audience how she came to be in the drawing room, Jon collected up all the wrapping paper, organised the empty glasses, and tidied the presents, with the swiftness and uniformity of a seasoned veteran. It was nice to be good at something again.
‘That was when I met Jon outside. Jon here has brought me up to date with what has transpired.’ Miss Darcy commanded the room, more so than he ever had. The Royal Family were a collective organism then. ‘I am truly and deeply sorry to every one of you for what has happened. In some ways I hold myself responsible.’
‘No, Miss Darcy!’
‘You must not think that!’
‘You were not here, how could you be responsible?’
‘That is exactly why I hold some responsibility. I should have been here. I know the King requested for this to be nothing but a family affair, and I wanted to honour that request, but myself and the establishment had the power to overrule him and we did not.’
‘Do not blame yourself, child,’ David said. ‘This could not have been foreseen.’ It seemed as though the rest of the family echoed his sentiments, even the ones usually pitted against him.
Miss Darcy was leading them as a conductor did an orchestra. It was really a sight to behold. He did not see any malice in it particularly. Rather, she knew exactly what she needed to get out of this exchange, and she would stop at nothing to get it. If it was some kind of absolution from the situation, she had just obtained it, but Jon thought that there was more she desired.
‘Wherever blame is placed,’ Miss Darcy began, ‘it will not change where we are. The King is dead, and now I am here.’
‘Thank goodness,’ Marjorie said, with a flourish towards Jon.
‘There will be a change in tack to what came before my arrival,’ Miss Darcy continued. ‘I will act accordingly.’
‘You mean summon us all and declare who the murderer is?’ Martin asked almost excitedly, and then in response to glares from his father and brother, ‘That’s what Enola did.’
‘I will not declare anything, young Martin, because that is ridiculous. And we all seem to be under some kind of shared delusion here. A delusion perpetuated by your leader, Jon.’
‘And what is that?’ Emeline said.
‘Why, simply, this delusion that the King was murdered.’
The room stopped.
‘What?’
‘Wait . . . ’
Jon was staring at Miss Darcy – he didn’t know who had spoken. It didn’t really matter. What was she doing? Miss Darcy’s smile never faltered. She seemed almost like an emotionless automaton. If there had been any chance that Miss Darcy killed the King herself, Jon would have thought this was a plot.
‘Miss Darcy . . . ’ Jon started, but the woman held up a hand.
‘We have heard enough from you, Jon,’ Miss Darcy said. ‘Now, Jon has recounted events and to me, it is clear. The King died of some natural cause. Jon himself said that it is not beyond possibility. The King was hiding certain things from all of you. He was not well. His death was not caused by any whiskey or poison. It was caused by illness and old age. I agree that it must have looked very dramatic, but death does. I am sorry for what you all have experienced. I should have prepared you all for what may happen, and if I were here I could have offered support.
‘I think you have all been led astray by a man who fancied himself more important than he actually was. Through misguided actions, no matter how well-intentioned, this man has used a family tragedy for his own ends. It is perverse, and it stops right now.’
Jon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Unfortunately, the family could.
‘Finally, some sense!’ David laughed coldly.
‘We told you all not to appoint this idiot as an investigator,’ Marjorie shouted in victory.
Jon hung his head in the shame thrust upon him.
There were two hesitant parties among the Royals – Maud and Matthew. Emeline had taken a step towards her uncle and mother – a move that would have seemed unbelievable a few hours ago. Even Martin was peering at Jon with suspicious eyes. Miss Darcy’s word meant a lot in these rooms. Jon was in trouble.
‘Maybe I made a mistake,’ Emeline said. ‘It just . . . It looked like he was poisoned so . . . I thought Jon was the best option.’
‘Your Royal Highnesses, the Royal Family is the most important commodity in this country. You all are the most important people in this country. Do you really think we would have left you all if there was any possibility of an assassination?’
Miss Darcy was building to a crescendo, and Jon did not like where the music was taking them. ‘I am aware that your one protector seemed to like swanning around thinking himself some kind of detective, when he was simply the chef. He was acting out some kind of bizarre power fantasy. This will not stand any longer.’
David cackled, as did Marjorie. Now even Matthew was faltering. Only Maud stood with Jon.
‘You all were following the lead of a man who needed to feel some kind of control. He has always desired to be more than he is. And now, just for one final time, he wanted to be important. You were following a dying man into battle.’
Jon’s eyes were threatening to fill with tears. He must not show weakness against her.
‘Is this true, Jon?’ No, not Maud too. They were all turned against him now.
‘Jonathan Alleyne is ill himself, you see. He is dying. Maybe seeing the King perish finally broke his mind.’ Miss Darcy almost seemed as though she was enjoying this.
Jon couldn’t find the words. There were none. No one reacted to his secret at all, like they didn’t even hear it.
Miss Darcy’s sunny disposition came back, snapping on just as the lights had snapped off. ‘So we are going to spend the end of our Christmas as usual. Jon is going to serve you all some supper and you can all relax by the fire.’
They were really going to act like nothing had happened. Of course they were – they were going to do everything Miss Darcy said.
‘We will salvage what festive spirit we can. We will try and remember that it is Christmas Day – we will eat, drink, and be merry. We will celebrate the life of Eric Windsor. And when the blizzard is over and this day is behind us, Jonathan Alleyne will face the consequences for this foolishness. And he can leave this castle for good. Once and for all.’