Murder Most Royal

‘I’m not going to pursue it. She has enough to deal with now. She said she thinks her father was thinking of her when he headed for that high fence. He knew what we’d find. He wanted to spare her a trial and all the scandal. That must be very difficult to live with.’

‘I wonder,’ the Queen said. Sitting on his high horse, however much he ranted and raved about his children, Hugh had still been thinking of himself. His lust for vengeance had been as strong as ever. She had always thought of him as the mature cousin of the two, but it was really Ned who was more settled in the end. Hugh was stuck in the past and Ned was thinking of the future. Now Flora had to live with the consequences. She must see how the poor girl was getting on.

She thanked Bloomfield and his expansive team for all their work on the case.

‘We got there in the end, ma’am,’ he said happily. ‘I’m not sure we’d have looked in the moat without the help of the industrious Mr Knight. Thank goodness for the hard work of the British media, eh, ma’am?’

‘Absolutely,’ the Queen agreed. ‘What would we do without them?’

Chapter 34

‘What will you do?’ the Queen asked.

Flora shoved her hands in her pockets and looked towards the statue of Estimate. It was another blue winter’s day, cloudless, with a low sun that cast long shadows.

‘Carry on,’ she said. ‘I don’t really have much of a choice. And I don’t want one.’ She squinted up at the sky. ‘The girls will do brilliant things with Ladybridge one day. I can see them making something extraordinary out of it for the twenty-second century. It’s got this far – I just need to keep it going.’

The Queen knew exactly what she meant. They headed round the side of the house, towards the north garden, overlooked by the Queen’s bedroom, whose box-edged rose beds Flora’s mother had helped design. The dogs ran ahead, paws crunching on the gravel path.

‘Will Valentine help you?’

Flora smiled. ‘He will, actually. Ladybridge is in his . . . Ha! I was going to say blood.’

‘I gather things weren’t always easy between him and Hugh,’ the Queen said gently.

‘No. But he didn’t know why. He was hardly short of friends who had stuffed-up relations with their parents, though. It seemed normal. He didn’t think about it much until Mummy’s funeral. He’s suspected since then that he wasn’t Dad’s child. Some look of Ned’s. He said he just knew. He didn’t know what to think of Mummy, though. And he couldn’t ask Dad, for obvious reasons. That’s what he was trying to find out from Ned – how it all happened. He couldn’t imagine Mummy being unfaithful. It was just too weird. But I suppose . . .’ Flora shrugged. ‘You think you know someone. Even your own mother. And maybe you don’t, completely. They were happy for fifty years. I suppose that’s all you can ask.’

The Queen could have explained, but chose not to. It wouldn’t help.

‘Did Ned explain anything to him about his birth? How it came about?’

‘No, he wouldn’t talk about it. He wouldn’t even admit it. He said Valentine was going to make a great thirteenth baron. Val got the impression he didn’t want to get in the way of that, but he was pretty disgusted. Just between the two of them, he could have embraced his own child. Mummy was gone by then: it wouldn’t have hurt her to explain the truth.’

‘Perhaps Ned was trying not to break family bonds, after all this time,’ the Queen said diplomatically.

Flora was dismissive. ‘If he cared about Val, he had an odd way of showing it. He said he’d heard about Val and Roland and he hoped Val was going to do the decent thing and find “a nice young filly”, like he had himself, and settle down before it was too late. Val was crushed. He felt like he’d lost two fathers.’

‘He has you,’ the Queen said.

Flora paused on the path and gave the Queen a warm, frank smile and a quick, not unwelcome hug. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘He does, doesn’t he? And he has Roland. He can make his own family. We keep being told we have a lot to live up to and a lot to live down. We’re just going to hold our heads high, and live.’

‘You will survive,’ the Queen told her. ‘Your father knew Ladybridge would be in safe hands. Now, let’s find your mother’s rose beds. There isn’t much to see at the moment, but in summer they’ll be quite splendid.’

* * *

When she returned to the house, Julian Cassidy was waiting to see her, as arranged. She received him in the small drawing room. It was a stand-up meeting.

‘I gather you’re leaving us.’ she said.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ The bean counter looked defeated.

‘Well done for making the right decision.’

He had handed himself in two days ago. There would be a hefty fine, and a possible prison sentence for “failure to stop and report an accident.” His belated confession made jail unlikely, but his job was untenable.

‘I’m sorry for letting you down’, he said.

‘It’s Mrs Raspberry’s forgiveness you need, I hope you earn it.’ She wondered if this would be the end or the making of the man. Either was possible.

‘Good luck’ she said, and meant it. He had a long road ahead of him.