Page 167 of The Love Letter
Joanna did so, knowing there were so many more questions she wanted to ask. She willed herself to garner patience as Rose searched in her handbag for her glasses, and studied the menu intently. Then she stood up wearily and crossed to the telephone by the bed. ‘Hello there, could you send up two rare sirloin steaks with Béarnaise sauce, and a bottle of Côte-Rôtie. Thank you.’ She put the receiver down and smiled at Joanna, then clasped her hands together like an excited child. ‘Oh, I do so love hotel-room food, don’t you?’
If it was possible to mentally pace whilst sedentary in a wheelchair, then the old man was doing just that. He was not behind his desk; in fact, he wheeled himself towards Simon as he opened the door, comforted by the sight of the only other human being who could share his anxiety.
‘Any news?’
‘No, sir. We’ll try again tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow may be too late, damn it!’ he snapped.
‘No sign of Haslam or Alec O’Farrell your end?’ Simon asked.
‘There’s been a lead on O’Farrell’s whereabouts, which is being followed up as we speak. My bet is that they’re holed up in a hotel somewhere, probably planning the sale of the century for their sordid little story. They’re certainly still in the country at least. I’ve had all my people scouring passenger lists at airports and ferry terminals. Unless of course they’ve left under forged passports.’ He sighed.
‘What about our “messenger”? Rose Le Blanc, neé Fitzgerald?’
‘No flights into England have confirmed a passenger by that name, but of course that means nothing. She could have easily travelled in by car or train. We will find her if she’s here, but – Christ! – if Haslam gets to her first . . . I’m positive Madame Le Blanc knows where that damned letter is.’
‘Sir, until they’ve actually got it in their hands, they don’t have proof.’
He did not seem to be listening. ‘I always knew we were headed for disaster, that the fool would never give it up. The devil even got a knighthood on the strength of his promise!’
‘Sir, I think you’re going to have to widen the net, let others know what it is they’re looking for.’
‘No! They have to work blind. We just cannot risk further leaks. I’m depending on you, Warburton. I want you to stay exactly where you are. My gut has always told me, if that letter is anywhere, it’s in one of Harrison’s houses. If Haslam finds out where it is, she’ll come to get it. Both houses are under heavy surveillance. If she does, she must be dealt with. Do not under any circumstances let emotion cloud your judgement. Tell me now if you feel you are unable to finish the job?’
There was a pause before Simon said, ‘No, sir, I can handle it.’
‘If you don’t, then someone else will. I hope you realise that.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Make sure you carry on as normal. I don’t want either Haslam or O’Farrell getting wind of the fact we’re on to them. Let them lead us to it, understand?’
‘I do, sir.’
He angled his wheelchair to face the river. After a long silence, he sighed heavily. ‘You do realise that if this gets out, it will be the end of the British monarchy. Goodnight, Warburton.’
Joanna watched in an agony of suspense as Rose chewed her way painfully slowly through everything on her plate. She’d wolfed her own food down, not even registering the taste, but knowing she needed to eat.
Eventually, Rose patted her lips with her napkin. ‘Now I feel more like it. A cup of coffee while we chat, I think, my dear.’
Trying to control her frustration, Joanna rang down for room service once more.
Finally, once the coffee had arrived, Rose began to talk again. ‘Now, it’s well known that royals have had mistresses and lovers since the monarchy came into being. The fact the Duchess of York fell in love with her husband’s double was not what the palace would have cared for, of course, but it could be dealt with. Even the fact that she insisted on writing him dangerous love letters, one of which you yourself saw, could be contained. At the time, it was unlikely she would ever be queen, or her husband king.’ Rose paused and gave a small smile. ‘Ironically, history was changed overnight by the most simple, yet potent force in the world.’
‘Love.’
‘Yes, my dear. Love.’
‘And shedidbecome queen.’
Rose nodded and took a sip of coffee. ‘So ask yourself, Joanna, what could it be, what could have happened between Michael O’Connell and the Duchess of York that could in turn become the most closely guarded secret of the twentieth century? And what would happen if proof of this secret was in a simple letter? Written by design, by a woman who, in the midst of an infatuation, wished to save him. Then hidden somewhere and used as his only method of protection against the vast armoury of those who wanted and needed him dead?’
Joanna searched the air, then looked around the room for an answer. Then, the sound of the traffic on the street outside disappeared as realisation hit her.
‘Oh my God! Surely not?’
‘Yes.’ It was Rose’s turn to pour whisky for a shocked and shaking Joanna.
