A Death in Diamonds

‘Damn!’ All eyes turned to Philip. ‘I’ve bust a cufflink. You!’ He held out the offending article to the young equerry standing nearest to him. ‘Find my valet and get replacements. Quick, or we’ll be late.’

He caught the Queen’s eye and she could see how irritated he was. They looked like the Britannia cufflinks he’d had personally designed to commemorate his recent trip to the Southern Hemisphere.

‘I suppose they’ll say in the papers that I was involved somehow,’ he grunted.

His new private secretary coughed. ‘They already are. I’m sorry, sir, I haven’t had the chance to update you. I’ve just read the piece. They noted that you dined at the club that night too.’

Philip glowered at him. ‘And did they equally note that I was tucked up safe in bed by eleven?’

‘They didn’t.’

‘They wouldn’t.’ He gave a theatrical shrug and glanced at his wife. ‘I only have my security detail and Her Majesty to plead my case.’

At this, five pairs of eyes turned quizzically to the Queen. After the minutest of pauses, she smiled back at them with a raised eyebrow and a little shrug of her own. They allowed themselves a chuckle.

‘The papers didn’t suggest you were part of the dean’s party, sir,’ the private secretary assured him. ‘Merely that you were in his set.’

‘I’m damned well not. Who is this blasted dean anyway?’

‘Bath,’ the Queen told him.

‘Oh. Yes, we do know him, vaguely. Decent sort. Worked at St George’s Chapel. Hardly a friend.’

‘Cufflinks, sir.’

The pink-faced equerry was back, spurs clinking on the boots of his uniform, hand outstretched with the replacement links in his palm.

‘Let’s go,’ Philip said. ‘I can fix these in the car. Bring the papers, too. I can read ’em on my lap, nobody’ll know. Time to be zoo animals again.’

* * *

The final event of the day was to be a river cruise down the Seine, and the Queen had been hugely looking forward to it. What could be more romantic, in April, than a trip under the bridges of Paris, accompanied by her husband, with the Eiffel Tower behind them, and in the distance the illuminated towers of Notre Dame?

What she had failed to imagine, and perhaps she should have done because it was there in black and white on her itinerary, was that the President of France would be sitting on her other side. They were on his launch after all. Both he and Philip were positioned at arm’s distance from her, too far to chat comfortably to the president, and certainly too far for Philip to tell her what he really thought of all the tableaux that had been set up for them to admire along the banks.

It was difficult to see very much, because there was a spotlight trained on her face from a few feet away. She could just about make out that the river was lined with thicker crowds than ever, all craning their necks to see and packed so tightly one worried they might push forward and fall in. If it were possible to spend a less romantic evening in Paris, it would take some doing.

Nevertheless, her new dress sparkled obediently under the lights and her cheeks grew numb from smiling. Philip, grinning at a floodlit tableau of Napoleonic soldiers near Les Invalides, seemed to be enjoying himself. He always did, on the water.

As they glided along, the Queen thought about what Bobo had said about the Artemis Club, and the night the murders must have taken place. She pictured the poor girl, strangled to death in a room with a man who was essentially a stranger, wearing nothing but silk and diamonds. A true pause for thought, when one happened to be wearing silk and a large array of diamonds oneself.

What an awful way to die. She must have felt so terribly alone.

The Queen realised she wasn’t concentrating and glanced out to see several ranks of floodlit choristers singing ethereally in front of Notre Dame Cathedral. Soon, the launch was floating past the Île Saint-Louis, and the sky lit up with a sudden explosion of fireworks.

Her initial surprise gave way to gradual delight. She imagined an anonymous young couple in the crowd, his arms around hers, his chest warm and solid against her back, craning their necks towards the fireworks together, unseen.

Yes, that would be lovely.

She turned her head to the president and called out something pleasant and diplomatic, in French. The spotlight still trained on her face, they headed back the way they had come.

Chapter 4

‘Just a simple lunch,’ the Queen Mother said. ‘For the three of us. You must be exhausted after your trip. You need to get your strength back, Lilibet.’

The Queen was delighted to be back at Windsor Castle, after a packed five-day schedule in France. She had spent a joyful evening with the children and another hour playing with them this morning. They were keen to know about their gifts, which were inevitably too delicate to play with, but they soon forgot about them anyway in a ridiculous game of chase with their father, who was just as happy to be in their company as they were to have him back.