‘Think too about something more intangible but more valuable even than truth. Think of the relationship between the Royal Family and the ordinary citizens of this country. For some of them, who have attended our great public schools or served in the military, loyalty and patriotism are centred on the person or persons of the Queen and her family. You can be loyal to a flag or to a regimental colour or to your house at Eton, but the supreme loyalty which inspires people to die for this country is channelled through the Queen and the Princes of the Blood. The middle classes absorb this as they are brought up; go into the homes of the ordinary people of this country, working hard to better their lot and that of their families who will come after them, and you will see that loyalty burning bright by fireside and hearth. On the walls there are portraits of the Queen or pictures from the distant parts of her Empire. These people are the ones who turn out to wave the penny rattles when a Royal passes by, or will queue for hours to line the Jubilee parades. They trust you – will you betray that trust? Break that trust and you break the link that unites the people with their sovereign. Break it – and get found out – and all the King’s horses and all the King’s men will not put that trust together again.
‘If you do not take the side of truth in this matter, think of the other trusts and the other duties you are betraying. Think of the duty of honesty, the requirement to tell the truth, however unpalatable it may be. The fabric of the country, its moral centre, its legal system, is held together by the assumption that people will tell the truth. If you do not, why should your subjects? In the name of honesty, in the name of your responsibilities to the Parliament and Church of this land, your land, our land, I appeal to you to do what you must know to be the right thing to do. Tell the truth. Face the consequences. Honour your obligations to your country.’
Even as he finished, Rosebery knew that it wouldn’t work. He had the sense as he spoke that he was swimming against the tide.
‘My dear Rosebery,’ said the Prince of Wales. ‘I am so grateful to you. I always suspected that your eloquence would make you Prime Minister one day. Now I am sure of it. But on this occasion, just for once, I am going to follow a maxim of my father’s.’
Powerscourt groaned inwardly at the thought of some heavy German apothegm from Prince Albert.
‘He always said you should sleep on things before taking a decision. That is what I propose to do. But could I ask you gentlemen, particularly you, Lord Powerscourt, to give thought to how the matter could be concealed, were that the decision. And could I ask you to put your thoughts down on paper for me – rest assured that it won’t fall into the wrong hands.’
‘No more than one side of a sheet of paper,’ Suter advised as the Prince went off to his own quarters. ‘Otherwise there may be a scene. Shall we say nine o’clock in the morning, gentlemen? Thank you so much for your assistance.’
With that Suter and Shepstone glided off into the night, leaving Rosebery and Powerscourt in possession of the drawing-room.
‘Nine o’clock,’ said Rosebery ruefully. ‘I shouldn’t think he’s been up at nine in the morning since he was nine years old. What do you think the old hypocrite is going to decide, Francis?’
‘I have absolutely no doubt,’ said Powerscourt, ‘that he is going to want to cover it up. What do you say to Death by Influenza?’
7
Few people slept well at Sandringham that night. Outside further falls of snow drifted down, covering the great slate roofs and the gravel driveway and lying in weird patterns on the tall trees.
The Rosebery Powerscourt Memorandum, written in Rose-bery’s best copperplate, was waiting in the little drawing-room of Sandringham House for the nine o’clock meeting.
Subject: The Days Ahead.
If the murder is to be covered up, there has to be another cause of death. Death by Influenza is the best solution. Prince Eddy was already suffering from a cold. There have been a number of tragic deaths from this disease in recent weeks. Another would not be surprising.
For Death by Influenza to work as a cover story, the Prince must, as it were, be kept alive for a couple more days. This afternoon or tomorrow a notice should be pinned to the Norwich Gates here and outside Marlborough House reporting that there is grave cause for concern and that additional medical staff have been sent for from London. This will appear in the newspapers the following day.
Tomorrow two further bulletins should be posted. Each one should be more sombre than the last. They will appear in the papers on Tuesday.
On the appropriate day, a last bulletin should be posted in the usual places, reporting that the Prince has passed away. If that happens early in the morning, say eleven o’clock, it will give the papers ample time to prepare special editions.
Sir George Trevelyan, Private Secretary to HM The Queen, is an expert at dealing with all the newspapers. He is particularly close to the editor of The Times. He should be let into the secret of the illness and entrusted with the task of liaison with the Press.
Returning to today, it is essential that the military gentlemen have access to the body and that the room be cleaned up. A Service of Prayer for the sick Prince should be held in the church this afternoon. Attendance should be recommended if not compulsory for all the domestic staff. While that is in progress, the body could be seen to. A brief inspection could be made of the roof to see if there has been any unexpected traffic up there.
Only two other people should be told the true nature of Prince Eddy’s death. One is the Prime Minister, whose authority may need to be invoked to expedite future inquiries. The other is the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, who has files on all known Irish subversives, and may be able to assist with possible foreign suspects.
The Prince of Wales read slowly, pausing occasionally to polish his glasses. Suter and Shepstone were busy making notes on the pads in front of them.
‘I think this is an excellent plan,’ said the Prince of Wales, rising from his seat to gaze out of the tall windows at the white wilderness beyond. ‘Now I must make up my mind. I did not feel I could do so until I saw what the alternative plan might be. Suter, Shepstone, do you think it could work?’
The faithful courtiers gave it as their opinion that if everything was properly managed, and if there were no unforeseen circumstances like a leak of the truth along the way, then indeed it could be successfully implemented.
‘Never say yes and never say no,’ Powerscourt said to himself, remembering Rosebery’s words from the past. ‘Your backs are well covered, gentlemen. Nobody will be able to blame either of you if things go wrong. No doubt you’ve written your reservations down on those little bits of paper, just to be on the safe side. If the plan fails, all the blame is going to attach to Rosebery and me.’
All his life Rosebery had been fascinated by the way people made their decisions. He had watched politicians take great decisions in haste or on a whim, or because they couldn’t think of anything else to do, or because they felt they had to be seen to do something, in one case because the minister was going to be late for the opera. As he watched the Prince of Wales, standing by his Norfolk window, he knew that this was the most bizarre decision he would watch in his life.
‘All right. All right,’ said the Prince of Wales. ‘I want my son’s murder to be concealed. That is my final decision. Will you gentlemen see to the details?’
Sir William Suter was the first to break the silence that dropped on the room after the Prince of Wales’ departure.
‘Gentlemen,’ he announced with the satisfied air of one who is back in control of the meeting, ‘we are most grateful to you both. Let me try to divide up the tasks that yet remain if this plan is to succeed. We have a few days left in which to maintain the necessary deception. After that we must bolt the lie into the history books.’