Oscar Wilde and the Nest of Vipers by Gyles Brandreth Page A

past eleven. Parker is sure of that.’
    ‘Yet she was seen in the drawing room after that,’ said Oscar.
    ‘I did not know that,’ said the duke.
    ‘And when did you discover her body, Your Grace? It was not on Friday morning, was it?’
    ‘No. It was at midnight – just a moment before the prince departed. I expected Helen to join me in the hallway to bid farewell to the royal party, but she wasnowhere to be found. When I asked Parker to search for her, he told me about the telephone call. I looked into the telephone room and there she was – half naked, bloodied, lifeless.’
    ‘Why did you not raise the alarm at once?’
    ‘And cause a scandal? I saw at once that she was dead. I knew at once what must have happened. Lord Yarborough had warned me of the possibility.’
    ‘You should perhaps have called the police,’ I suggested, getting up from the divan and standing alongside Oscar.
    The duke looked at me directly. ‘This is not a matter for the police,’ he said. ‘Or the press. This is a private matter.’ He turned to look at Oscar. ‘Make the private public and who knows what the consequences may be.’
    ‘We will persist with our enquiries,’ said Oscar carefully, ‘unless His Royal Highness requires us to desist.’
    ‘Nothing will be gained by knowing more, Mr Wilde. Persist if you must. I cannot stop you. Talk to whom you will. I will not stand in your way. But ponder as you persist: what is to be gained by what you are doing? My wife is dead. Her life cannot be recovered. Let her rest in peace.’
    The door to the morning room opened. Parker, the butler, stood waiting to escort us from the ducal presence. We shook hands with His Grace, thanked him for his time and courtesy, and made our retreat.
    As we returned across the hallway towards the front door, the servant looked up at Oscar enquiringly. ‘And do you wish to speak to me now, sir?’
    ‘No, thank you, Parker, your master has spoken for you. There will be no need.’
    ‘I’m glad of that, sir,’ said the butler.
    ‘But the duchess’s maid,’ said Oscar, gently staying the butler’s hand as it reached for the front door. ‘Might we speak with her?’
    ‘That won’t be possible, I am afraid.’
    ‘Why not? Is she gone away?’
    ‘Oh no, Nellie’s here, sir, but you can’t speak with her.’
    ‘Why not?’ Oscar persisted.
    ‘Because she’s deaf and dumb, sir. Has been from a child.’
    ‘But I saw her quoted in the newspaper, Mr Parker – at length.’
    ‘So you did, sir. His Grace thought it expedient at the time. Nellie knew nothing of it. She’s deaf and dumb. And she neither reads nor writes. She was one of the laundry maids until not long ago. Her Grace took pity on her and elevated her above her station. Her Grace was very fond of her.’
    ‘Might we at least see her?’ asked Oscar.
    ‘Not today, sir,’ said the butler, pulling open the front door and stepping aside to allow us to pass. ‘She is in bed. She’s in a bad way. She fell down the stairs.’

Mortlake

    36
From the diary of Rex LaSalle
    Last night, as we drove west out of London towards the churchyard at Mortlake, Oscar rested his hand on my arm and said, ‘I never approve, or disapprove, of anything now. It is an absurd attitude to take towards life. We are not sent into the world to air our moral prejudices.’ He pulled down the black blinds on the windows of our carriage. ‘I never take any notice of what common people say,’ he continued, ‘and I never interfere with what charming people do.’ He moved closer to me in the darkness. ‘I have a feeling that Bram’s vampires will prove to be charming people and that we will like them very much.’
    ‘Do you think it’s possible that the Duchess of Albemarle was attacked by a vampire?’ I asked.
    ‘Jules Verne tells us that one day soon men will fly to the moon. Mrs Langtry is to essay the role of Cleopatra. I shall have lost a stone in weight by Christmas. In this world, Rex, all