need arise. Only a frightened young man, his whole future at stake should she betray him to Prince George or Prince Frederick, had seized upon that rope of pearls so conveniently around her neck as the only way out of a particularly nasty dilemma, of ruin posed by exposure to the royal displeasure.
Glad to turn his back on the now decently covered corpse in the prince’s bed, Tam walked around the room reconstructing the scene from the dead woman’s angle. There were no signs of a struggle. Quite the opposite, and,bearing in mind the implications of the secret door, he was fairly certain that the marchioness had not been taken by surprise. The scene suggested that she might already be on terms of intimacy with her killer, since she had not considered it necessary to cover her nakedness, the natural reaction before an interloper.
Tam rubbed his chin thoughtfully. What had she to gain apart from an hour’s titillation? And a measure of paying the prince back for abandoning her to look elsewhere for his pleasures – the novelty of a shipwreck as rival to her voluptuous charms.
Whatever this crime, it had not been planned, that was for sure. It was a crime of passion and anger, of terror, and doubtless somewhere in the Pavilion at this very moment, the killer sat trembling at the consequences of exposure, and the dreadful payment for his dalliance with the insatiable marchioness.
While Tam was still walking round the room, picking up and laying down objects, deep in thought, the prince returned. ‘You were quite right, Mr Eildor. No message was received at the stables, no carriage summoned. The bell pull was silent all night.’
Tam nodded. He would have been surprised at any other information. ‘May I ask Your Royal Highness, who else has access to this room – in your absence?’
‘During the day, servants and so forth. But from the hour when we take our evening repast at eight o’clock until five in the morning, when we depart for our sea bathe, no one – absolutely no one – is allowed access beyond the Grooms of the Bedchamber who are on constant alert. Beyond their quarters in the withdrawing room, guards of the Tenth Dragoons, our own regiment, sir, are on duty patrolling the corridors approaching our apartments.’
A pause for Tam’s reactions, and he continued: ‘All these measures, you will realise, are of vital importance for the safety of our realm since several attempts have been made on the life of our royal father, especially during the last year when he has so unfortunately declined in health and spirits.’
So the killer had to come from within the Pavilion, someone known to the duty guards who would go unchallenged. Someone aware of the prince’s daily sea-bathing and that he was absent watching the shipwreck. Which put an end to any theory that the fatal assignation was prearranged.
‘London is not Brighton, Your Royal Highness,’ Tam pointed out tactfully and was rewarded with a scowl.
‘Is it not, sir, is it not? Upon my soul, we have to inform you that the conclusions you have drawn are quite incorrect. Remarkably so! Brighton is no longer the genteel spa where we chose to build a retreat far from our capital city.’ Pausing, he shook his head sadly. ‘During the last few years, our residence here has become a magnet for the activities of that vile underworld which has followed us down from London.’ And with a sniff of disgust, ‘Encouraged, we do not doubt, by the wicked and false insinuations of our former wife, the Princess of Wales.’
Allowing a moment for Tam to digest this interesting piece of information regarding his domestic life, the prince continued: ‘We have narrowly escaped with our lives on two occasions in the past few weeks since we were created Regent. Out riding on the Steine, as is our habit, shots were fired at our person. But before the criminal could be seized and identified, he vanished into those narrow lanes and alleys, seeking the protection of a
Glad to turn his back on the now decently covered corpse in the prince’s bed, Tam walked around the room reconstructing the scene from the dead woman’s angle. There were no signs of a struggle. Quite the opposite, and,bearing in mind the implications of the secret door, he was fairly certain that the marchioness had not been taken by surprise. The scene suggested that she might already be on terms of intimacy with her killer, since she had not considered it necessary to cover her nakedness, the natural reaction before an interloper.
Tam rubbed his chin thoughtfully. What had she to gain apart from an hour’s titillation? And a measure of paying the prince back for abandoning her to look elsewhere for his pleasures – the novelty of a shipwreck as rival to her voluptuous charms.
Whatever this crime, it had not been planned, that was for sure. It was a crime of passion and anger, of terror, and doubtless somewhere in the Pavilion at this very moment, the killer sat trembling at the consequences of exposure, and the dreadful payment for his dalliance with the insatiable marchioness.
While Tam was still walking round the room, picking up and laying down objects, deep in thought, the prince returned. ‘You were quite right, Mr Eildor. No message was received at the stables, no carriage summoned. The bell pull was silent all night.’
Tam nodded. He would have been surprised at any other information. ‘May I ask Your Royal Highness, who else has access to this room – in your absence?’
‘During the day, servants and so forth. But from the hour when we take our evening repast at eight o’clock until five in the morning, when we depart for our sea bathe, no one – absolutely no one – is allowed access beyond the Grooms of the Bedchamber who are on constant alert. Beyond their quarters in the withdrawing room, guards of the Tenth Dragoons, our own regiment, sir, are on duty patrolling the corridors approaching our apartments.’
A pause for Tam’s reactions, and he continued: ‘All these measures, you will realise, are of vital importance for the safety of our realm since several attempts have been made on the life of our royal father, especially during the last year when he has so unfortunately declined in health and spirits.’
So the killer had to come from within the Pavilion, someone known to the duty guards who would go unchallenged. Someone aware of the prince’s daily sea-bathing and that he was absent watching the shipwreck. Which put an end to any theory that the fatal assignation was prearranged.
‘London is not Brighton, Your Royal Highness,’ Tam pointed out tactfully and was rewarded with a scowl.
‘Is it not, sir, is it not? Upon my soul, we have to inform you that the conclusions you have drawn are quite incorrect. Remarkably so! Brighton is no longer the genteel spa where we chose to build a retreat far from our capital city.’ Pausing, he shook his head sadly. ‘During the last few years, our residence here has become a magnet for the activities of that vile underworld which has followed us down from London.’ And with a sniff of disgust, ‘Encouraged, we do not doubt, by the wicked and false insinuations of our former wife, the Princess of Wales.’
Allowing a moment for Tam to digest this interesting piece of information regarding his domestic life, the prince continued: ‘We have narrowly escaped with our lives on two occasions in the past few weeks since we were created Regent. Out riding on the Steine, as is our habit, shots were fired at our person. But before the criminal could be seized and identified, he vanished into those narrow lanes and alleys, seeking the protection of a
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