“The prince is in Scotland at present,” she told us. “This is the perfect opportunity to retrieve the jewel before matters get out of hand.”
I blinked at her. “You want us to steal the star?”
To her credit, she did not flinch. “That is not a word I would have used, Miss Speedwell, but I will not quibble over syntax. I want the jewel retrieved so that a small mistake made by my son in a moment of youthful impetuosity will not ruin his chances for future happiness.”
Blood rushed to my head, pounding in my ears like a war drum. “Yes, it would be a pity if a prince had to accept the consequences of his actions,” I said softly.
There was a sharp intake of breath from Lady Wellie, and the two men watched us warily. The princess gave me a level look. “I did not come to spar with you. I hoped you would be sympathetic to my cause. Eddy is not like other boys,” she said, her maternal affection softening her tone. “He is gentle and easily led. He is not, by nature, suited to the difficult decisions that kingship will bring to him. He is far more my child than his father’s,” she added with a rueful smile. “No, Miss Speedwell, I am not blind to my son’s faults, for all that I am an indulgent mother. I know Eddy’s flaws, and if he were a private gentleman, they would touch no one but him. But it is his destiny to become king. And his choice of wife will be the most important decision of his life. She must be stronger than he is, more resilient. She must prop him up when he requires it, give him loan of her strength when he has not enough of his own. She must draw forth his courage and his principles. He has sweetness and devotion, and with the proper wife to inspire him, he will do great things. But not without her.”
“And you think Alix of Hesse can do all of that?” Stoker put in. “You said she is only sixteen.”
“But her character is formed,” the princess insisted. “When she is ready to marry, she will bring strength of purpose and focus to her husband. I want that husband to be Eddy.”
“What of the recipient of the star?” I asked. “Won’t she complain to the prince when it is taken from her?”
“Eddy will understand that I have retrieved it and there will be no need for discussion on the matter. I do not like scenes. All will be as it was.”
I did not glance at Stoker, but I knew his thoughts. He would be as skeptical as I under the circumstances, but he was a gentleman to his marrow. He would not voice the doubt we shared as to the princess’s objectivity with regard to her son. She was clearly besotted with her firstborn and willing to overlook considerable faults while relying on the skills of a mere child to shape him into the king he ought to become.
Suddenly, I hated the lot of them.
“I presume the prince’s inamorata is a woman of questionable virtue?” I asked pleasantly.
The princess gave Archibond an oblique look, prompting him to speak.
“I can provide the details for you later,” he said hastily. “I have learnt enough to get you started, but there is no call for Her Royal Highness to be party to such a discussion.”
“Let us discuss it now,” I said with a deliberately pleasant tone. “His lady must be of questionable virtue. Does she have private lodgings or a place of business to conduct her affaires?”
Lady Wellie thumped her walking stick and the lovebirds in the corner stopped their wittering, stuttering to a sudden silence. “Enough, Veronica.”
Stoker spoke. “It is a difficult subject, but I think in light of what you are asking of us, we have a right to know. What sort of place are you expecting us to go?”
The princess pressed her lips together, sealing her silence. Lady Wellie gave us a withering stare, and it was left to Archibond to speak. “Private lodgings,” he said at last. “A sort of club, as it were.”
Stoker’s response was swift. “No respectable lady would enter such a place.”
“But I am not respectable,” I said with a smile at both Lady Wellie and her royal guest. I nodded to Archibond still sitting quietly in the corner. “That is the point, is it not? You might have asked Special Branch to attend to this particularly nasty piece of business. It is their purview to protect the royal family, after all. I daresay they might have enlisted the aid of a willing female to assist them.”
“Special Branch can do nothing,” Archibond interjected quickly. “Every man is devoted to the Whitechapel murders just now. Even I can spare only minutes to help Her Royal Highness. The princess is adamant upon the point of secrecy. And the fewer who know of this, the better.”
“Not even His Royal Highness, the prince’s father?” I asked.
The princess clasped her hands together tightly. “Not even he.”
“You surprise me, ma’am. I have been given to understand the Prince of Wales is a loving and indulgent father.”
I held her gaze level with my own and felt a rush of triumph when she looked away first. She was silent a long moment, but when she spoke, it was without the dignity of a princess or a queen-in-waiting. She spoke as a mother.
“Please, Miss Speedwell. I will pay whatever fee you deem suitable. He is my son,” she said simply.
“And I am nothing to you,” I told her, rising to my feet. Archibond sprang silently to his feet in the corner. Stoker stood also, at my back. “I must refuse. You may rely upon my discretion in this matter to speak nothing of it. But my assistance will go no further.”
She gripped the arms of her chair, her lips thin and pale. Lady Wellie thrust herself to stand, her gnarled knuckles white upon the walking stick she held in her hand.
“Veronica—”
I put up a hand. “Nothing you can say will change my mind, Lady Wellingtonia. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have made my decision.”
She appealed to Stoker. “Will you say nothing to change her mind?”
He roused himself. “I would not attempt it, my lady.” He bowed to the princess as she stood, slowly, as if in defeat.
“I should have guessed this would be futile,” she said to Lady Wellie. She turned to me. “Good day to you, Miss Speedwell. It has been an illuminating encounter.”
She drew her veil over her features, shadowing them from view. Archibond went to the door, holding it for the princess. He gave me a long, inscrutable look, then disappeared into the darkness.
The princess covered Lady Wellie’s hand briefly with her own before descending the stairs after the inspector. She went without a backwards glance. Lady Wellie closed the door after her, securing the piece of paneling so that it fitted flush against the fireplace wall.
Her silence was pointed as she resumed her chair.
“I meant what I said,” I told her. “I will not speak of this to anyone. The prince’s elegant little debauchery is his own affair.”