‘Thank God… What do you mean “nothing as literal”?’
‘I have been trying to understand you better, Tancred, to see what kind of person you are… What your priorities are… Life is so short… I care an awful lot about you, you know.’
‘I care about you too,’ he said after a pause.
‘Do you, Tancred? Do you really? My dear boy.’ She rose slowly from her seat. Her shoulders, he noticed, were less hunched than before. ‘That is what I always thought, but it’s good to hear the actual words spoken out. I knew it from the very start of our association. I knew we were meant to be together, work together, exist together, the very moment I saw your photograph, the very moment I heard your name!’
‘Really? What photograph?’
‘Oh Tancred, you have moved the flowers from left to right.’ She pointed with her forefinger.
‘Have I?’
‘Yes!’
Her face had gone pink. He didn’t see what the fuss was about, but she seemed absolutely delighted by this discovery. She meant the little bronze vase with the petunias she had brought him during her previous visit – pale mauve with deep red complicated veins that made them look like a medical diagram of human lungs.
He didn’t know why he chose that particular moment to tell her about the lodge.
18
Light Thickens
‘I saw something on the internet last night. You know I’ve been looking for information on the internet as well? I told you, didn’t
I?’
‘No, you didn’t. Information – you mean information about Prince Cyril?’ She resumed her seat beside the window.
‘Yes. I told you sources were scarce. King Simeon’s office sent a very stiff letter saying he was reluctant to discuss his late uncle with anyone. Anyhow. I’ve been looking for information on the internet and last night I found something.’
‘What did you find?’ She didn’t sound particularly interested.
‘It was an architectural enthusiast’s website. Some Italian – lives in Siena – who seems to be a nut about royal residences. He displays pictures, photos, plans, drawings of European royal palaces, past and present, and so on. There was a picture and a plan of the royal palace in Sofia. A very detailed plan.’
‘I have little patience with detailed plans,’ she said.
‘This Italian had got hold of the original plan somehow, that goes back to the time the palace was first built in the 1880s – after Bulgaria’s liberation from Turkish rule in 1878. The palace was built for Bulgaria’s first German prince, Alexander Battenberg.’
‘I am perfectly familiar with the historical facts, Tancred.’ Miss Hope was looking out of the window, shading her eyes.
‘The palace is very small. I mean, as royal palaces go.’
‘Bulgaria is a very small country, Tancred. Once, centuries ago, it was the largest kingdom in the Balkans, but then it became the smallest. It has had a turbulent history. The Berlin treaty was particularly unfair to it.’
‘The royal palace in Sofia is no larger than a Viennese rentier’s residence, someone wrote.’
‘That is quite true. Here we go again, exchanging bits of not very interesting information, instead of which we could have been talking about things that really matter!’ She was looking at him with great intensity. ‘That’s exactly the point I wanted to make earlier on, Tancred. We could be talking about things that matter.’
‘The plan shows the main building and the gardens around it – but it shows no lodge.’
Miss Hope bowed her head slightly. ‘What do you mean, no lodge?’
‘There are stables and a pavilion or two and a pagoda and what looks like a small ornamental lake, but there is no sign of a lodge.’
‘Where thou lodgest, I will lodge,’ she murmured.
I’ve started slipping up, she thought calmly.
It was inevitable that sooner or later she’d make a mistake. She had always known that, so she was not particularly surprised. Inspector Davidson had caught her out first – then she had given the dog a different name – and now this ridiculous absence of a lodge. Keep your head, she told herself and felt the irresistible urge to laugh out loud. Keep your head. Had Stella ever been given the same advice?
‘Let me show you the plan.’ She saw Tancred, silly boy, pick up a sheet from his desk and half rise from his chair.
She put up her hand. ‘No need. I believe you. I believe you unconditionally. I know you are incapable of telling a lie. Your noble nature would never allow it. Well, what can I say?’ She gave a contemptuous shrug. ‘It is no doubt some busybody’s awkward drawing. I am sure this so-called “plan” you have in your possession will be conspicuous for the absence of a lodge… And what does the absence of a lodge signify to you?’
‘What does it signify? Why – don’t you see? The lodge has played such an important part in your narrative. That is where Prince Cyril and Victoria lived – that’s where Victoria went when she was upset by Giovanna – the party you just described took place at the lodge – it was at the lodge where Prince Cyril made a pass at you!’
‘Of course I see. My dear boy! I see perfectly. The question now is, who do you believe? Me – or some espresso-sipping Sienese?’
‘It strikes me as extremely odd that-’
‘I hope, Tancred, you are not suggesting that I make things up? That all this time I have been perpetrating some infernal swindle?’ Miss Hope seemed greatly amused by the idea. She gazed out of the window. The next moment her expression changed. She gave a little gasp and pulled the blind down.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Tancred, there is a man outside!’
‘What man?’
‘He’s coming up the steps… He is about to ring the front door bell.’ Her voice quavered slightly. She took off her pince-nez and placed it on the little table beside the window seat. ‘Now listen very carefully, Tancred. I wouldn’t open the door if I were you. Please, don’t open the door. Or if you do, on no account allow this man into the house. Something terrible is going to happen if you let him inside the house.’
19
Mrs Henderson
‘You have been exceedingly kind, Miss Darcy.’
‘Not at all. I didn’t wake you up when I phoned this morning, did
I?’
‘You didn’t. Don’t worry. I do tend to wake up awfully early. To tell you the truth I was not aware that she wasn’t in her room. I had no idea that she’d sneaked out last night either. Moon can be terribly argumentative, so I try not to appear prying or spying. Sometimes I find myself within an ace of giving her a clip on the ear, but of course that would never do.’ Julia Henderson shook her head. ‘She’d probably try to knock me down.’
‘Do you really think she would? Is she violent?’
‘I think she can be. Yes. She’s certainly thrown things at her late mother – and at poor James. Do help yourself to some coffee.’
‘Well, I intended to take a look at Brompton Oratory,’ Antonia elaborated untruthfully. The real reason for her visit was to try to learn more about Stella and the events of the fatal day. ‘I then suddenly realized I was standing in your road. So I decided to pay you a visit. Hope you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all. It’s a pleasure to have you,’ said Julia Henderson graciously and she urged Antonia to have a slice of Madeira cake.
Antonia glanced round the room. It was light, uncluttered and pleasantly furnished in a minimalist way. Julia Henderson looked a very pleasant kind of woman too – late forties, early fifties, unobtrusively smart in pastel-coloured cashmere, open weather-beaten face, short brown hair, next to no make-up, forthright, sensible, no-nonsense manner.