Our companion’s husband gently reminded his wife that we might perhaps have other matters to concern us on the journey.
“That is my husband’s way of suggesting that I have spoken out of turn. I hope that I have not offended,” she chirped, much like a little bird.
With a long look at me, Brodie assured her that she had not. And it was not necessary for us to join the conversation even if we had wanted.
Our companion was most capable as she commented on the countryside once we had left London property behind, an overlong description of the play they had seen, and then about their children.
Chirp, chirp, chirp.
We arrived at Wolferton station in Norfolk just after midday and then continued on to Sandringham by coach.
The manor had originally been purchased by Prince Albert several years prior, intended for the young Prince of Wales when he had his own family.
Over the years it had been torn down, rebuilt, and the surrounding property transformed to accommodate the Prince of Wales’s growing family and his love of country sports that included hunting and other‘games.’
It provided a respite from duties in the city, and he often departed Marlborough House for Sandringham, met there by close friends, while the Princess chose to remain in London.
It was an arrangement that seemed to suit both of them. She then joined him with their growing family for holidays and long stays in the countryside. The fact that his hunting excursions inthe country were rumored to include his mistress of the moment was apparently tolerated by the Princess.
That brought us to the previous several days, when the Prince of Wales had been entertaining that close circle of friends once more, and Sir Anthony Collingwood had disappeared.
Sandringham was like a grand lady, with double wings of Jacobean architecture in red brick, with an elaborate conservatory off the main entrance, and vast gardens spread around.
It was said to have over thirty bedrooms, a formal dining hall, as well as a ballroom, a second dining room for smaller parties, and a grand hall for family holiday celebrations. There were also living quarters for over two hundred servants and staff, many who had lived in and about Sandringham village all their lives.
The ride from the rail station had been mostly a silent one. That changed as soon as the grand estate came into view. It was monstrous, with two stories and spread out amid gardens that rivaled that of Buckingham Palace. So much for asimple country home,as it had been described.
“How the bloody hell are we to search for clues to the man’s disappearance?” Brodie commented with a dark glower out the coach window. “It would take the full staff of the Metropolitan Police,”
I was of much the same opinion.
Even so, Alex Sinclair had informed us before we departed that billiards and other gaming that the prince’s guests had enjoyed during that recent stay usually took place in the conservatory. That seemed a place to begin.
“We’ll be fortunate not to get lost in the bloody place.”
The sarcasm was there. I chose to ignore it.
“I’m certain we will be escorted by one of the servants. According to Sir Avery, they have been given instructions to assist us in whatever manner we might need.”
The master of the household appeared as we arrived at the entrance and introduced himself. Mr. Compton announced that he had been in contact with the Prince of Wales and he had been instructed that we were to be provided every courtesy during our ‘visit,’ including accommodations for the night if our stay extended.
He was dressed in a simply cut suit of clothes rather than royal livery that would have been required in London.
Brodie assured him that we would prefer to take up our responsibilities immediately so not to inconvenience anyone.
Mr. Compton nodded. “Everything has been left as it was two days ago. I will show you to the conservatory.”
The entrance hall was connected to what was referred to as the saloon. From there, we were escorted down a hallway that contained a rich carpet over wood floors, and walls crowded with portraits of what I could only assume were long-dead ancestors or other persons of note.
As we reached the end of the hallway, Mr. Compton announced the other servants had been instructed that we were not to be disturbed.
I caught the faint sniff of disapproval as well as the curious glances of a handful of other servants at an adjacent hallway as we then followed him into the red brick conservatory with arched floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the gardens.
Another servant waited just inside the entrance. We were informed that Mr. Flannery, head steward, had attended the Prince of Wales and guests during their stay and when it was discovered that Sir Collingwood had gone missing.
Mr. Flannery was older, in much the same attire as Mr. Compton.
“He has been instructed to assist in whatever way you might need in the matter, and should be able to answer any questions you have about the evening in question.
