Princess Elizabeth's Spy(53)

“Of course!” he said, shocked that, even in a Royal dungeon, with Nazi planes dropping bombs overhead, life would be anything less than civilized. “Did you know, Miss Hope, that the soldiers manning the antiaircraft guns on the roof of the castle shot down a Nazi plane a few months ago? A Messerschmitt one-oh-nine—it landed upside down on the Long Walk. We turned it right-side up and put it on public display. Would you believe people paid a sixpence to see it? The money went to the Hurricane Fighter Fund.”

“How fascinating, Sir Owen.” Through the gloom, Maggie could see groups of people settling in on metal folding chairs, dimly lit by candles or flashlights. She saw Louisa and Polly with a few of the other Ladies-in-Waiting. Making sure Crawfie and the Princesses were all right, Maggie picked her way over on the uneven stones to Louisa and Polly.

“Quite a nuisance,” Louisa was saying in her raspy voice. “I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Maggie looked around, checking who was there. “Where’s Gregory?” she said, taking one of the hard metal seats.

“Oh, goodness knows where he’s gotten to,” Polly said. “He and Lily used to sneak out and go to the roof to drink bottled beer and watch the planes go by.”

“He must be terribly affected by her death,” Polly said, taking a sip of tea. Was Lily’s baby his? she wondered. Do the girls know she was pregnant?

“Oh, yes,” Louisa said. “They knew each other since they were in the cradle. But I’d say he’s been more affected by his injuries. He’s not been the same since he came home.”

“Well, what do you expect?” said Polly. “He was practically burned to a crisp in Norway. I’ve heard him say he wishes it had ended there. But only when he’s ridiculously drunk.”

“Gregory and Lily—they, ah …” Could Gregory be the baby’s father? Could he be the killer? Oh, no, no. Not Gregory.

“We always suspected it,” Louisa said, “but they’d never admit to anything.”

“Tell me about Lily,” Maggie said. “What was she like?”

Polly sighed. “Everyone loved Lily. She had such charm about her, an ease—”

“And that laugh,” Louisa interrupted. “Like a raccoon in heat.”

“Louisa!” Polly exclaimed, and they both giggled.

“Well, it’s true! And if Lily were here, she’d be the first to agree.”

“Was she,” Maggie said, delicately, “seeing anyone else? Besides, perhaps, Gregory?”

Louisa shrugged. “Hard to tell. She was always secretive about her beaux. But she did like to go to London on the weekends. Couldn’t possibly keep her here, you know. Sometimes we’d go with her, on the train, and sometimes Gregory would give her a lift. And always at Claridge’s. Never the Savoy or the Ritz or any of the other big hotels—no, those were for tourists. She always stayed at Claridge’s.”

“My, my,” Maggie said, taking another sip of her tea. And Victoria Keeley was at Claridge’s at the same time. Who had access to the decrypts, could have somehow stolen one, and then given it to Lily. And was murdered in the bath. Maggie had a sudden inspiration. A trip to London, to Claridge’s, to question the staff is in order.

Maggie looked around. “It seems like there are a lot of tunnels.” And a security nightmare, she thought.

Lilibet, approaching with a knitted wool lap blanket, overheard her. “There are—it’s a veritable labyrinth,” she said, handing Maggie the blanket. “Suspected you might be cold.”

“Thank you,” Maggie said, spreading it over her legs. “Have you and Margaret done much exploring of the tunnels?”

The corners of Lilibet’s mouth turned up. “We’re not supposed to play down here, of course.”

Maggie raised one eyebrow. “Of course.”

“But,” said the Princess, leaning in to Maggie’s ear, “let’s just say that we know if you follow the main tunnel, you’ll come out near the Norman Gate. And if you follow them further, you’ll get to the Henry the Eighth Gate. It’s a handy way to cut through a lot of the castle.”

“Good to know,” whispered Maggie. “Thanks for the tip.”

Lilibet looked to Princess Margaret across the chamber and their eyes met, some secret message being exchanged.

Then Lilibet whispered to Maggie, “We’ll give you our special tour.”





Chapter Sixteen


Although Maggie wanted to get to Claridge’s to carry out her own line of questioning, she still had her original mission. The King’s files were kept under lock and key in the King’s Equerry’s office—Gregory’s office. And Gregory, in his position as Equerry, was also Keeper of the Keys. The next evening, with the small bar of clay secreted away in her trouser pocket, Maggie made her way through the maze of the castle to find him. She knocked at the heavy wooden door.