Julia said, “You want me to examine the body?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. My eyes are no longer up to the demands of a postmortem. I’d planned to ask your grandfather, but Lady Aldridge suggested you.”
“I explained you had retired, Andrew, but that Julia served as a medical examiner for Scotland Yard.”
The queen’s physician took Julia’s hand. “Will you come with me now?”
“Of course, Sir Charles. I’m at your service.”
“Thank you, Doctor. It’s a sensitive case. The victim’s name is Lizzie Dowling, and she was one of the queen’s household servants.”
At sunset, Susan Styles returned from her walk. Two hours earlier, Sir Charles Locock had reappeared after his morningvisit, carrying the news that Lizzie Dowling was dead. Then he drove away, leaving behind shock, a tonic for the Princess of Wales, and Princess Louise in tears. For the past six months, Lizzie had been the only servant in attendance on the independent but emotionally fragile Louise. Susan had left the princesses resting before seeking the solitude of the outdoors and some fresh air.
I should go inside and find Princess Louise,Lady Styles thought.And Alix may be awake and wanting me.Susan had fallen into the habit of thinking of Princess Alexandra as “Alix,” the royal family’s pet name for the Princess of Wales.
Alix had a duo of young maids of honor whose duty was to attend royalty at any hour. But Lady Styles was the lady-in-waiting who was her chief support. At twenty-nine, she felt ancient next to the younger attendants who’d only recently left their governesses behind. While Susan’s duties weren’t taxing, often, they felt unrelenting. She looked up at the tower looming over the entryway and felt the three sides of the courtyard press in on her. Susan thought,Another quarter of an hour. She backed away and turned, her boots crunching on the pebbled drive.
Susan strode away rapidly until she reached the parterre’s flower beds. There she slowed, trailing her hand, brushing the pink globes of the tall, massed amaranth, hearty survivors until the first frost. She walked on, entering the still-leafy glade at the south end of the house where a break in the trees opened a view across the emerald lawn that sloped to the sea. The sinking light caught the distant water. It glittered like a blue, undulating blanket flecked with diamonds.
Susan found her bench—she’d begun to think of it as hers—and thought,Other people’s houses.
The grander they were, the less they felt like home. Marlborough House in London, Sandringham, the country estate of thePrince and Princess of Wales, visits to the queen’s palaces and castles: Susan lived her life in a succession of apartments and rooms, none of them hers. Still, it was the lot of a lady-in-waiting, and she was honest enough to admit her luck.
Her husband’s death nearly three years earlier had left her a young widow with limited means. His cousin inherited the title, the estate, and the town house in London. Susan was grateful for the royal accommodations during two three-month assignments each year and the 300 pounds she earned for “waiting” on the princess. It spared her the indignity of living year-round in her childhood home by her brother’s “grace and favor.” She knew her sister-in-law didn’t welcome the intrusion. Susan readily agreed to Alix’s request that she extend her waiting by another three months to the end of January. She was grateful for the extra money.
Susan looked at the cedar of Lebanon tree at the grove’s edge and envied its rootedness.
I must get up,she thought, forcing herself to her feet, feeling twice her age. Two days hence, she would attend the inquest into Lizzy’s death at the request of the Princess of Wales.
Susan headed back to the house, thinking,Other people’s houses. Other people’s tragedies … and secrets.
Julia’s carriage slowed and stopped at the corner of Birmingham and Mill Streets. The police station’s blue lantern illuminated a trim man in a Wellington hat pacing in front of the doorway.
Marching guard, Julia thought. She asked Sir Charles, “Is the coroner expecting a female doctor?”
“I sent a note informing Mister Milgram that your grandfather was unavailable, but Doctor Julia Lewis had offered her services and would perform the autopsy.”
“Hmm … a Hobson’s choice,” Julia said, smiling. “Take her or take her.”
Sir Charles chuckled and took her arm. “Come, I’ll introduce you.”
The queen’s physician performed the pleasantries. Mr. Milgram’s granite face cracked into a scowl at the end of the introduction. “I think this is highly irregular, Sir Charles. And a grave error.”
“What is?”
He jerked his head at Julia. “The autopsy results will be scrutinized by the palace, the government, the press. By everyone. Having some … somechitof a girl perform the procedure is a mistake.”
“Milgram, I call that damned offensive and—”
Julia touched the doctor’s arm. “I’ve weathered insults far worse than ‘chit.’ Mister Milgram, you’ll find me on the medical register. I’ve lost count of the number of autopsies I’ve performed, and I’ve never had my findings questioned. Doubtless, Scotland Yard can supply the exact figures.”
Milgram glared. Then he dropped his crossed arms and tipped his head at the door. “This way, madam.”
“You have everythingDoctorLewis will need?” Sir Charles said. The coroner nodded. “Then I’ll leave her to get on with it.”
Milgram blinked behind his steel-rimmed spectacles. “You’re not staying to supervise, Sir Charles?”
“No need. Good evening to you.” He walked off, leaving the coroner hesitating at the entrance.
