Murder Most Royal

’

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?’

‘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.