Chapter 3

Three

Sir Anthony Collingwood was from a well-placed family, highly educated, with a career in the military. He was now retired, as well as holding the very important position of First Lord of the Admiralty. And he was also a close personal friend of the Prince of Wales.

They had first met at Oxford. Afterward, Sir Anthony achieved a military career that the Prince would have preferred to possess himself; however it was rumored to have been vetoed by the Queen in the best interests of the Crown.

The friendship continued through the years. He was asked to join the Queen's private council upon his retirement from the British Navy, due to his exemplary achievements in the military that had included foreign service postings across the Empire.

Sir Anthony had recently accompanied His Highness on an extended tour of European and Asian countries, including India and Hong Kong, to acquaint him with the different cultures of the Empire, and he met regularly with the Queen's private council, advising on certain matters that pertained to the security of the Crown.

"I requested your presence at his behest," Sir Avery then explained, "for the reason that you both have experience in situations that have involved the Crown, and there is now a new and most serious situation that requires the utmost discretion and secrecy."

Particular discretion was necessary as we began our inquiries as the men present that weekend at Sandringham were well-placed, with more than one on the Queen's Council. In addition to hunting game, there had been other games with certain aspects that might be frowned upon were they made known.

As I listened to Sir Avery's account of the evening preceding Sir Anthony's disappearance, I conjured up all sorts of thoughts of what a gentleman's weekend would have included in addition to the usual round of hunting, gaming, and the other things men indulged in that might be frowned upon if it were made public.

"His Highness will be providing a list of those who were present."

"Quite so," the Prince of Wales replied and reached into the front of his long coat.

He handed the list to Sir Avery. "Some of the games were of a very...private nature, you understand," he explained with a look at me. "The sort of thing that men might indulge in along with the usual card games and some trivial gambling."

Sir Avery handed the list to Brodie. He glanced at it then handed it to me.

In the past I had glimpsed some of the games that men played at their private clubs. It was most...interesting and entertaining.

I had made the acquaintance of several of the men on that list socially at one time or another, and could only imagine what games took place at His Highness's country residence far from prying eyes, and wives. I forced my attention back to the situation at hand.

"Would it be possible to speak with the guests?" I inquired.

A look passed between Sir Avery and Prince Albert.

"In the interest of discretion, I have already spoken with most of the gentlemen who were there that night," Sir Avery replied. "None were aware of Sir Collingwood's disappearance. Do you have any questions, Mr. Brodie?"

He indicated the list in my hands.

"Was anything mentioned that might indicate some difficulty that evening between any of the gentlemen?" he asked.

"Wot, if any, ladies that might have been present as well? Is there a possibility that Sir Collingwood had a change of plans and might have returned early to London?"

A look passed between Sir Avery and the Prince of Wales.

"Bluntly spoken, Mr. Brodie," His Highness replied. "I assure you there was nothing to indicate any difficulty, and it is most certainly not in Sir Collingwood's nature to simply take himself off without letting others know. He is a man of discipline, principle, and integrity."

"Have inquiries been made at his office here in London?" I inquired.

"I sent my personal assistant to his offices to inquire, as I would usually after a sporting weekend," His Highness replied. "His staff have not seen him since his departure to join us."

"And the Admiralty offices as well?" I added.

"The same."

"What of his personal residence?" I asked.

"Not as yet," Sir Avery replied. "Under such unusual circumstances there is obvious concern for his well-being, and due to his position as a member of the Queen's Privy Council. It is imperative that he is found safe as soon as possible."

"Please understand that Sir Collingwood is a friend of long-standing as well, and I am deeply concerned for him," the Prince of Wales added. "I am relying on your abilities now to find him."

"Of course," Brodie replied, but in a tone that was hardly pleased.

His Highness rose from his chair as he prepared to depart.

"You have been most discreet in the past, Lady Forsythe. I hope to have such circumspection now as well. Whatever you may need that I have not included in my previous conversation with Sir Avery, you have only to ask and it will be provided."

I thanked him.

Brodie waited until he had gone.

"A single person can easily make the necessary inquiries," he pointed out with obvious meaning. "There is no need for Miss Forsythe to be involved."

Sir Avery cut him off. "Lady Forsythe has the ability to make inquiries with certain parties due to her station, precisely as you have your own unique abilities, and His Highness specifically asked for her participation.

"You will undertake these inquiries together and hopefully all will be resolved quickly. It is not a request, Mr. Brodie."

"Sir…?" When he would have spoken again, he was immediately silenced.

"That is all, Mr. Brodie. Mr. Sinclair will provide you both with additional information that His Highness has made available. It is imperative that you begin without delay."

To say that Brodie was not pleased with the arrangement was quite obvious as we left Sir Avery's office, and there was no opportunity to discuss the matter as he continued some distance down the hallway. He waited until I caught up, and then we both entered Alex Sinclair's office.

Alex looked up with a frown, made all the more serious by those large glasses that gave him a very scholarly appearance. He brushed back the shock of dark hair that was forever falling over his forehead.

"Right." He came out of his chair. "So, it would seem that Sir Avery has explained the case at hand," he commented, coming round his desk to shake Brodie's hand. He gave me a smile.

"We have no information on Sir Collingwood's whereabouts after that last night at His Highness's country home at Sandringham. Point of fact, no one saw him leave. So, it would seem that is the place to start. Are you familiar with Sandringham?"

"I have been there on occasion, though it was some time ago," I replied.

I had accompanied my great-aunt to a holiday party she was invited to attend on behalf of the Princess of Wales after the latest construction of the manor was completed.

I didn't elaborate that it had included a weekend of shooting sports. My great-aunt had taken first prize, besting several of the men.

"That could be helpful" Alex commented. "Although," this was added with a look first at Brodie, then myself, "it is some distance from London. It may require an overnight stay.

"The servants have been instructed to make every accommodation. There is also an inn nearby the rail station," he added. "Sir Avery will want to know how soon you will be able to depart."

"There are arrangements that must be made," Brodie replied. "The morning train would seem best."

Arrangements? I did wonder if there was another case he was working? Or some other matter?

"Yes, of course," Alex replied. "I will see that your travel is arranged and meet you at the station. The train leaves St. Pancras at quarter past ten each day, and arrives in Sandringham, with the manor at Sandringham just beyond by coach."

He looked at me then at Brodie, as if anticipating some objection. There were several, however none that were mentioned.

"I will be at the rail station promptly tomorrow morning," I replied, then turned to leave.

"I'll make certain one of our drivers is available for you now," Alex replied, glancing from Brodie to me.

"That is not necessary," I informed them both.

"Not at all, Miss Forsythe." Once again there was that glance at Brodie then me. Alex picked up the mouthpiece to the device on his desk.

"Yes, right away," he confirmed. "A driver will be at the street entrance momentarily."

"Mr. Brodie?" he then inquired.

"No need for an extra driver. I will continue on after Miss Forsythe is delivered to Mayfair."

Delivered! Like a parcel, or coal for the coal bin!

"As I said, not necessary," I stiffly informed them both. "It's not so late at night that I cannot find a driver of my own."

"I do apologize, Miss Forsythe. You are far too valuable to the matter at hand. Sir Avery would insist of the Agency providing a driver for you as well," Alex replied.

At lease I was valuable to someone!

"Very well," I replied. "Is there anything else?"

"I will provide any additional information when we meet at the rail station in the morning."

The meeting with Alex concluded, I spun about and headed for the entrance at the street at the same time I fought to bring my thoughts and emotions back under control.

I suppose I should have known that Brodie might be there as well, but I had foolishly not considered that. The telegram I had received at Old Lodge said nothing about it and I was not prepared for it.

And in that brief exchange, I had sensed the anger that was still there. Except for the one brief comment that necessary inquiries could easily be made by one person—himself, there had been little if any recognition that I was even in the room!

What did you expect after the way you took yourself off with just that brief note? That little inner voice that had the way of speaking up at the most inopportune moments intruded once again.

And now?

I really did need to speak with Templeton about the subject of muses and interfering spirits. There had to be a way to quiet that bloody nagging little voice that wasn't at all helpful at the moment.

I navigated the hallways, made a wrong turn, and ended up in that part of the Tower that was in fact a prison, in front of one of those ancient cells where others had been imprisoned down through the centuries.

For the writer in me it was an unwelcome metaphor of the present situation. I doubled back to the passage and quickened my pace.

Trying to escape, are you?

"Stuff it!" I replied. Yet, that thought returned...What had I expected?

I knew Brodie quite well with that typical Scots demeanor, the stubbornness, his temper in certain situations, that he had also accused me of.

And then there was that stinging comment during our last case, that things had changed, that he didn't want me to be part of?

What the devil was that about? It was something I had thought of countless times during our time apart. Did he regret the marriage?

The toe of my boot caught at the edge of a raised stone in the passage, and I silently cursed again. Let that inner voice deal with that, I thought!

"Mikaela…!"

It was then that I felt Brodie's hand on my elbow, steadying me.

"Are ye all right?"

A simple question and the immediate thought came—No, I was not all right! I had been caught completely unprepared for this meeting, unprepared for him.

And now?

A driver had not yet arrived and I considered simply leaving, not at all certain at the moment that I wanted to be near Brodie. However, the guard politely asked us to wait inside that fortified, heavily gated entrance.

I couldn't help wondering how many prisoners, both royal and otherwise over the centuries, had awaited their fate at this precise location. It was quite ironic.

Brodie thanked the warder as we continued to wait, the silence between us almost like a voice shouting at me. He was too close as that familiar scent of cinnamon that was always about him drifted over me.

Bloody damn Scot!

We stood there like two strangers, the warder going about his duties as he signed in an envelope from a courier, received a telephone call that filled the heavy silence, then went to deliver that envelope.

"Ye have been well?" Brodie inquired.

"Yes, and yourself?" I replied, cordial as well, as I shifted my bag to my other hand.

I had thought a dozen times how we would meet after I returned, things that needed to be said. I wasn't fool enough to think that he might not be angry. But this? That polite coolness, almost indifference, after our work, after...everything else?

"Yer travels were agreeable?" he then inquired.

Agreeable? And that question, polite, grated like fingernails across a chalkboard, as if it was a trip for health, rather than to get away from that last argument, his overbearing attitude, and that parting comment that he didn't want me to be part of this any longer.

Our inquiry cases? The marriage? Did he now consider it a mistake?

I refused to be drawn into an argument here.

"My aunt and Lily were quite taken with Africa," I replied instead.

"No wild creatures brought back to Sussex Square?" he commented.

"Not at all," I replied.

"And Lily is well?"

"Quite well and now back at her lessons, much to her disappointment that now includes a young woman to teach her, help her with manners and deportment."

Awkwardness drew out between us and I silently cursed the continued wait.

"How is young Rory?" I then inquired, since it had been considerable time since I had seen him, and I did know that Brodie felt a deep responsibility for him.

"He is quite well, thank ye for askin'."

And that, without actually saying so, was obviously all he was going to say. I tried a different topic.

"Have you taken new inquiry cases?" I asked, as I would have anyone I had met after a long absence.

"Two cases, both quickly resolved to the satisfaction of the clients."

Two cases. He had simply continued on in the time I was away. I pushed back irritation and was grateful when the warder returned and announced that a driver had arrived.

Brodie thanked him and escorted me to the street. He gave the driver the address of the town house in Mayfair.

I ignored his offer of assistance, hiked my skirt, and climbed into the coach.

What did you expect?

I frowned as I settled onto the seat at one end of the coach.

You sent round that note with no other explanation and then left for four months.

Five months, I thought. Five very long and boring months.

You were the one who took yourself off to Africa, a place you had already been...

"Oh, do be quiet!" It was only when I caught the sudden frown on Brodie's face, as he settled onto the seat across, that I realized I had spoken aloud. And I thought the evening couldn't get any worse!

The rest of the ride to Mayfair passed quietly. Too quietly.

When we arrived, I hastily made for the door of the coach in order to make a quick departure, and was abruptly brought up short. My skirt was caught in the door opening.

Oh, bloody hell! I thought as I attempted to free myself, one foot on the curb, the other on the step of the coach.

"Ye seem to be caught," Brodie commented.

Did I detect a trace of humor in that?

"Thank you so much," I sarcastically replied.

As I was soundly caught, my choices were obvious—attempt to carefully dislodge my skirt from the opening, simply tear the blasted thing free, or...

"Ye need to be more careful."

How very useful, I thought, as I gave him a look that usually would have stopped a gentleman in his tracks. This was Brodie, however, who never made any claim to be one.

He exited the coach at the opposite side, circled round, then took hold of my skirt and freed it quite handily from the opening all the while the driver attempted to ignore both of us.

There was a moment as we stood there, the hem of my skirt in his hand, myself wishing for something appropriate to say.

I looked at him then—that dark gaze, that bloody handsome face with that dark beard and that slash of a scar that made him seem even...more so!

"Sir?" the driver reminded from atop the coach. "Will you be continuing on, sir?"

Brodie released the hem of my skirt. "Good evening, Miss Forsythe." He then called out to the driver before climbing back inside the coach.

"Number 204 at the Strand."

I swore I would not look back at that departing coach as I climbed the steps to the front entrance of the town house.

Liar...

I was relieved that my housekeeper was not at the door to inquire about the evening, or the meeting at the Agency, or Brodie once again as she had several times since my return from my aunt's safari travels.

It was quite late. I went up to my room, undressed, and promptly lay awake for the next several hours.

I finally gave up, rose, and went back down to the front parlor where I kept my writing desk.

I spent the next few hours making notes regarding Sir Collingwood's disappearance.

Brodie and I were to make the usual inquiries, yet after that meeting at the Tower it could hardly be said that we were working together.

For once that nagging little voice was silent.

My housekeeper, Mrs. Ryan, eventually appeared with coffee and warm biscuits. I informed her that I would be leaving soon with no certainty when I would be returning. I caught the arch of her eyebrows.

"And Mr. Brodie?" she inquired.

"He has a new case. His return is uncertain as well." I left it with that simple explanation, the less said the better.

When I had dressed and packed my carpet bag, I telephoned for a driver to take me to the rail station.

I then placed a call to Sussex Square and learned that my great-aunt and Lily had returned as well, by motor car for part of the distance. I cringed at the thought.

"Mr. Stewart was most accommodating and making a trip to Edinburgh as well," she explained.

The motor car was a fairly recent acquisition, and she was absolutely fascinated by it. However, the roadways in Scotland, no more than coach roads, were quite dangerous.

It did seem that caution had prevailed, and she and Lily had caught the train in Edinburgh to London.

"The weather had begun to set in quite thick at Old Lodge, and Mr. Hutton suggested we return or we might be there for weeks. And I do need to meet with your sister about wedding plans. I do hope you will be available as well."

Of course. I did, however, let her know that I would be gone for a few days.

"Hmmm, yes, Sandringham is it?" she commented over the telephone. "I had heard that His Highness had returned somewhat abruptly from his usual stay with friends."

Why, I thought, was I surprised that she was so well informed, most particularly where the royal family was concerned? And in spite of Sir Avery's insistence on absolute secrecy from everyone involved.

"Most interesting," she continued, then added, "Lily and I will be quite well occupied until your return. With Mr. Munro's guidance, I will be contacting Mr. Thurkle regarding a new sword I am thinking of acquiring for Lily. She must have her own for protection for whenever she is out and about."

Edward Turkle, sword-maker of the finest military blades.

"Do let us know when you have returned, dear."

Thank heavens for Mr. Munro, I thought. My great-aunt and Lily were in safe hands.

With arrangements made, I departed for St. Pancras rail station when the driver arrived.