The Quality of Mercy Read Online Free Page A

was a man called Peter Murphy who supplied him with girls while making no effort to conceal his preference for his own sex.
    Mountbatten had made himself a boon companion of his cousin David, the Prince of Wales, and it seemed a moment of personal triumph when the Prince became Edward VIII. The triumph was short-lived, however, and when the King was forced to abdicate to marry Mrs Simpson, Mountbatten dropped his cousin with, some felt, undue haste and went to considerable lengths to assure the new King of his loyalty.
    Mountbatten was well connected but not rich so in 1922 he married Edwina Ashley. She was beautiful, intelligent and fabulously wealthy. Her grandfather was the millionaire financier Sir Ernest Cassel and, through her father, she was descended from the Earl of Shaftesbury, the nineteenth-century philanthropist, and the dashing Lord Palmerston, Foreign Secretary and later Prime Minister to Queen Victoria. The marriage brought him two fine houses: Brook House – a huge mansion on Park Lane – and Broadlands. In every respect it was a brilliant match and, if Edwina chose to take lovers from almost the moment they were married, it did not seem to affect their mutual affection. On their honeymoon they had gone to Hollywood where they were treated as royalty which, of course, Mountbatten considered himself to be. He adored the shallow glitter of the world of movies which appealed to his exhibitionist side. The glamorous young couple were fêted by stars such as Charlie Chaplin and Mary Pickford. Cecil B. de Mille taught Mountbatten how to use a 35mm cine camera and, it was said, how to satisfy a woman.
    It was hardly surprising that the ‘old guard’, personified by Edward’s brother, loathed him.
    When the Duke had left the breakfast table, Edward eyed Connie quizzically. ‘Aren’t you even the least bit curious to meet the man?’
    ‘Of course, but Gerald’s right – it’s not our world and we would stick out like sore thumbs. Take Frank by all means but I wonder . . .’ She hesitated.
    ‘You wondered?’ Edward prompted.
    ‘I wondered if . . . Oh, I know it sounds silly . . . if the Mountbattens won’t steal him away. You said yourself he will be bored here with just us.’
    She sounded bitter and Edward looked at her with concern. Her only son and the light of her life had left Cambridge without taking his degree and, under the influence of an American woman Edward had detested on sight, went to America to work with Dr Kinsey, an American academic with an interest in codifying sexual preferences. Edward was profoundly grateful that neither his brother nor, he believed, his sister-in-law had any notion of the nature of the ‘research’ in which their son was involved.
    Frank had returned without his American so Edward guessed – and certainly hoped – that his nephew, who was a sensible boy at heart, had had enough of such people. He told himself that at Frank’s age he too had wanted to shock his father and prove his independence. In his case, his rebellion had never even been noticed. The old Duke was only concerned to see Gerald properly educated to take over the title and the estate. As the second son, Edward was of no importance and his father ignored him.
    ‘I didn’t mean that he could ever stop loving being at Mersham. How could he?’
    ‘I know! He’s a good boy. We’re so proud of him.’
    ‘You think Frank might be drawn into the fast set of which you so disapprove?’
    ‘Yes, I do. It would be quite natural if he found it . . . alluring.’
    ‘Look, don’t worry,’ Edward said comfortably. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him. Don’t you trust me? The fact is, I have a scheme. Frank wrote to me a couple of weeks ago and mentioned in a PS that, if he had to join the armed forces, he was quite taken with the idea of the navy. If Mountbatten noticed him it might be no bad thing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and dig him out of bed.’
    Connie was not quite sure she approved