Free The Pigeon Pie Mystery by Julia Stuart Page A

she was just about to head down the Queen’s Staircase when General Bagshot caught up with her.
    “How the warders never spotted those sweeps is beyond me,” he fumed, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. “I’ve never met such a disreputable bunch of uniformed men in all my life. Apparently the sweeps were also looking for Lady Montfort Bebb’s apartments. What on earth would she want eight for? Really, that woman is as mad as a hatter, and mine has just been carted off to the asylum.”
    As they started down the stairs, he asked whether she had ever seen a ghost.
    “I don’t believe in them,” the Princess replied dismissively.
    “I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you’ve been here long enough,” he said, stepping back as a group of cockneys herdedpast them. He pointed to a door on the right. “Behind that is the Haunted Gallery. Catherine Howard ran along it after escaping from her chamber hoping to persuade Henry VIII to call off her execution, but his guards seized her. She’s now said to haunt it.” He lowered his voice. “It’s closed to the public, but perhaps one evening when my wife is away I could get the key and we could go just the two of us and see whether she appears,” he added, rubbing a cold, thin finger against the back of her hand on the banister.
    Immediately she pulled it away. “That would be delightful,” she replied curtly. “I will be sure to bring Mrs. Boots with me. She’s never seen a ghost.”
    Looking horrified, he continued down the stairs. As they passed along a passageway at the bottom, he pointed to some oak steps. “They lead to the Silver Stick Gallery, which is said to be haunted by Jane Seymour, who died at the palace after giving birth,” he said. “Lady Beatrice lives there. Everyone says the ghost has driven her potty. She wore mourning for years, then suddenly took to wearing so many startling colours she looked like a toucan in a zoological garden. You’ll spot her soon enough. Now, I must show you Henry VIII’s Great Hall, where
Macbeth
was first performed. It will give me the chance to wake up the warders, who, instead of preventing the visitors from damaging the tapestries, will no doubt be sleeping off the effects of their evening in the Cardinal Wolsey public house.”
    As they headed towards it, a tall woman with high cheekbones dressed in mourning came towards them, her blue eyes standing out against the endless black. Her bonnet tied firmly underneath her chin, she nodded at the General, who raised his hat. As she walked quickly past she glanced with unfettered curiosity at the Princess.
    “That was Lady Bessington,” he said, lowering his voice. “Have you met her yet? She’s obsessed with ferns, and her late husband, the fourteenth Earl of Bessington, who was the last in the title.We swapped apartments with her and found she’d made the place into a shrine to him. Their initials are entwined in the marble floor in the hall, and the study walls have been painted with the names of all the battles he had fought in. Unfortunately my wife still hasn’t got round to getting it all ripped out. A lady that good-looking should have remarried.”
    The Princess turned and watched the Countess disappear. “I thought it was against the rules to exchange apartments,” she said.
    “It is,” he admitted. “But the Lord Chamberlain eventually agreed. There are only so many letters the poor man can answer, and my wife is a very determined woman. Lady Bessington was always complaining about the cost of heating her rooms, and we were in some poky Tudor apartments in Fish Court with no view to speak of. Everyone else is furious, of course, because we now overlook the river. Still, we do have to endure Lady Montfort Bebb’s wretched attempts at mastering the pianoforte. The visitors tramping through the State Apartments below us is nothing compared to that torture. Believe me.”
    Suddenly a strangled tune sounded above the cheerful din of the