'One cannot inherit honour or morality, Victor,' Vespasia said softly. 'But one can learn from the cradle a sense of the past, and gratitude for its gifts. One can learn a responsibility towards the future, to guard and perhaps improve on what one has been given, and leave it whole for those who follow.'
His face was pinched as he looked at her. 'I am speaking their words, not my own, Lady Vespasia.' He bit his lip. 'If we are to defeat them, we must know what they believe, and what they intend to do. If they can gain the power they will sweep away the good with the bad, because they don't understand what it is to answer only to your conscience rather than to the voice of the people, which comes regardless whether or not they have the faintest idea what they are talking about.'
'I'm sorry,' she said very quietly. 'I think perhaps I am frightened. Hysteria appals me.'
'It should,' he assured her. 'The day there is no one left to fear it we are all lost.' He turned to Pitt. 'Have you any idea as to what specific plans anyone has?'
'Very little,' Pitt admitted. 'But I know who the enemy is.' He relayed to Narraway what he had told Vespasia about the different violent men who loathed each other, and yet appeared to have found a common cause.
'Where is Her Majesty now?' Narraway asked.
'Osborne,' Pitt replied. He felt his heart beating faster, harder. Other notes he had seen from various people came to mind: men's movements that were small and discreet, but of people whose names should have given warning to whoever was reading the reports. Narraway would have seen it. 'I believe that's where they'll strike. It's the most vulnerable and most immediate place.'
Narraway looked even paler. 'The Queen?' He gave no exclamation, no word of anger or surprise; his emotion was too consuming. The thought of attacking Victoria herself was so shocking that all words were inadequate.
Pitt's mind raced to the army, the police on the Isle of Wight, all the men he himself could call from other duties. Then another thought came to him: was this what they were supposed to think? What if he responded by concentrating all his resources on Osborne House, and the actual attack come somewhere else?
'Be careful,' Narraway said quietly. 'If we cause public alarm it could do all the damage they need.'
'I know.' Pitt was aware of Charlotte and Vespasia watching him as well. 'I know that. I also know that they have probably a large space of time in which to strike. They could wait us out, then move as soon as we have relaxed.'
'I doubt it,' Narraway shook his head. 'I think it's urgent, even immediate. The men you named here in England, together, won't wait. You should go back to Lisson Grove and-'
'I'm going to Osborne,' Pitt cut across him. 'I don't have anyone else I can send, and if you're right, we could already be too late.'
'You're going to Lisson Grove,' Narraway repeated. 'You are head of Special Branch, not a foot soldier to be going into battle. What happens to the operation if you are shot, captured, or simply where no one can reach you? Stop thinking like an adventurer and think like a leader. You need to find out exactly who you can trust, and you need to do it by the end of tomorrow.' He glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. 'Today,' he corrected. 'I'll go to Osborne. I can at least warn the Queen's household, perhaps find a way of holding off whatever attack there is until you can send men to relieve us.'
'You may not be let in,' Vespasia pointed out to him. 'You have no standing now.'
Narraway winced. Clearly he had forgotten that aspect of his loss of office.
'I'll come with you,' Vespasia said, not as an offer but as a statement. 'I am known there. Unless I am very unfortunate, they will admit me, at least to the house. If I explain what has happened, and the danger, the butler will give me audience with the Queen. I still have to decide what to tell her once I am in her company.'
Pitt did not argue. The logic of it was only too clear. He rose to his feet. 'Then we had better return and begin. Charlotte, you will come with me as far as Keppel Street. Narraway and Aunt Vespasia had better take the carriage and set out for the Isle of Wight.'
Vespasia looked at Pitt, then at Narraway. 'I think a couple of hours' sleep would be wise,' she said firmly. 'And then breakfast before we begin. We are going to make some very serious judgements, and perhaps fight some hard battles. We will not do it well if we are mentally or physically so much less than our best.'
Pitt wanted to argue with her, but he was exhausted. If it was in any way morally acceptable he would like to lie down for an hour or two and allow his mind to let go of everything. He couldn't remember when he had last relaxed totally, let alone had the inner peace of knowing that Charlotte was beside him, that she was safe.
He looked at Narraway.
Narraway gave a bleak smile. 'It's good advice. We'll get up at four, and leave at five.' He glanced towards Vespasia to see that it met with her agreement.
She nodded.
'I'm coming with you,' Charlotte said, there was no question in her voice, just a simple statement. She turned to Pitt. 'I'm sorry. It is not a question of not wanting to be left out, or of any idea that I am indispensable. But I can't let Aunt Vespasia travel alone. It would be remarked on, for a start. Surely the servants at Osborne would consider it very odd?'
Of course she was right. Pitt should have thought of it himself. It was a large omission on his part that he had not. 'Of course,' he agreed. 'Now let's retire while we still have a couple of hours left.'
When they were upstairs and the door closed Charlotte looked at him with gentleness and intense apology. 'I'm sorry . . .' she began.
'Be quiet,' he answered. 'Let's just be together, while we can.'
She walked into his arms and held him close. He was so tired that he was almost asleep on his feet. Moments later, when they lay down, he was dimly aware that she was still holding him.
In the morning Pitt left to return to Lisson Grove. Charlotte, Vespasia and Narraway took the coach south along the main road to the nearest railway station to catch the next train to Southampton, and from there the ferry to the Isle of Wight.
'If nothing is happening yet we may have a little trouble in gaining an audience with the Queen,' Narraway said when they were sitting in a private compartment in the train. The soothing rattle of the wheels over the rails rhythmically clattered at every joint. 'But if the enemy are there already, we will have to think of a better way of getting inside.'
'Can we purchase a black Gladstone bag in Southampton?' Charlotte suggested. 'With a few bottles and powders from an apothecary, Victor could pose as a doctor. I shall be his nurse.' She glanced at Vespasia. 'Or your lady's maid. I have no skills in either, but am sufficiently plainly dressed to pass, at least briefly.'
Vespasia considered for only a moment. 'An excellent idea,' she agreed. 'But we should get you a plainer gown, and an apron. A good white one, without ornament, should serve for either calling. I think Victor's nurse would be better. The staff will be very familiar with lady's maids; nurses they might know less. Do you agree, Victor?'
There was a flash of amusement in his eyes. 'Of course. We will arrange it all as soon as we arrive at the station.'
'You think we are late already, don't you?' Charlotte said to him.
He made no pretence. 'Yes. If I were they, I would have acted by now.'
An hour and a half later they approached the spacious, comfortable house in which Queen Victoria had chosen to spend so many years of her life, particularly since the death of Prince Albert. Osborne seemed to offer her a comfort she found nowhere else in the more magnificent castles and palaces that were also hers.
The house looked totally at peace in the fitful spring sun. Most of the trees were in leaf, in a clean, almost gleaming translucency. The grass was vivid green. There was blossom on the blackthorn and the may was in heavy bud.
Osborne was set in the gently rolling parkland that one would expect of any family mansion of the extremely wealthy. Much of the land was wooded, but also there were wide, well-kept sweeps of grass, which gave it a feeling of great space and light. The house had been designed by Prince Albert himself, who had clearly much admired the opulent elegance of the Italian villas. It had two magnificent square towers, which were flat-topped, and tall windows on all sides. The main building copied the same squared lines, and the sunlight seemed to reflect on glass in every aspect. One could only imagine the beauty of the inside.
Their carriage pulled up and they alighted, thanking the driver and paying him.
'You'll be wanting me to wait,' the cabby said with a nod. 'You can look, but that's all. Her Majesty's in residence. You don't get no closer than this.'
Vespasia paid him generously. 'No, thank you.You may leave us.'
He shrugged and obeyed, turning his vehicle round and muttering to the horse about tourists with no sense.
'There is nothing for us to wait for either,' Narraway said ruefully. 'I can't tell anything from the outside, can you? It all looks just as I imagine it should do. There's even a gardener at work over there.' He did not point but inclined his head.
Charlotte glanced in the direction he indicated and saw a man bent over a hoe, his attention apparently on the ground. The scene looked rural and pleasantly domestic. Some of the anxiety inside her eased. Perhaps they had been more frightened than necessary. They were in time. Now they must avoid looking foolish, not only for the sake of pride, but so that when they gave the warning the royal household staff would take them seriously. Anyway, it would not be long before Pitt would send reinforcements who were trained for just this sort of duty, and the danger would be past.
Unless, of course, they were mistaken, and the blow would strike somewhere else.Was this yet another brilliant diversion?
Narraway forced himself to smile in the sunlight. 'I feel a trifle ridiculous carrying this case now.'
'Please hold on to it as if it were highly valuable to you,' Vespasia said very quietly. 'You will need it. That man is no more a gardener than you are. He doesn't know a weed from a flower. Don't look at him, or he will become alarmed. Doctors called out to the Queen are not concerned with men hoeing the heads off petunias.'
Charlotte felt the sun burn in her eyes. The huge house in front of them seemed to blur and go fuzzy in her vision. Ahead of her, Vespasia's back was ruler-straight. Her head, with its fashionable hat, was as high and level as if she were sailing into a garden party as an honoured guest.
They were met at the door by a butler whose white hair was scraped back from the high dome of his forehead as if he had run his hands through it almost hard enough to pull it out. He recognised Vespasia immediately.
'Good afternoon, Lady Vespasia,' he said, his voice shaking. 'I am afraid Her Majesty is a little unwell today, and is not receiving any callers whatever. I'm so sorry we didn't know in time to advise you. I would invite you in, but one of our housemaids has a fever, which we would not wish anyone else to catch. I'm so sorry.'
'Most unpleasant for the poor girl,' Vespasia sympathised. 'And for all the rest of you also. You are quite correct to take it seriously, of course. Fortunately I have brought Dr Narraway with me and I'm sure he would be happy to see the girl and do whatever can be done for her. Sometimes a little tincture of quinine helps greatly. It might be wise for Her Majesty's sake as well. It would be dreadful if she were to catch such a thing.'
The butler was lost for words. He drew in his breath, started to speak and stopped again. The sweat stood out on his brow and his eyes blinked rapidly.
'I can see that you are distressed for her.' Vespasia spoke as assuringly as she could, although her voice wavered a trifle also. 'Perhaps in humanity, as well as wisdom, we should have Dr Narraway look at her. If all your staff became infected you will be in a serious and most unpleasant situation.'
'Lady Vespasia, I cannot-'
Before he could finish another younger man appeared, also dressed as a servant. He was dark-haired, perhaps in his mid-thirties, and heavier set.
'Sir,' he said to the butler. 'I think perhaps the lady is right. I just had word poor Mollie is getting worse. You'd better accept their offer and have them in.'
The butler looked at the man with loathing, but after one desperate glance at Vespasia, he surrendered.
'Thank you.' Vespasia stepped across the threshold; Charlotte and Narraway followed her.
The moment they were inside and the front door closed, it was apparent that they were prisoners. There were other men at the foot of the sweeping staircase and at the entrance to the kitchens and servants' quarters.
'You didn't have to do that!' the butler accused the other man.
'Oh, decidedly, we did,' the other contradicted him. 'They'd 'ave gone away knowing there was something wrong. Best we keep all this quiet. Don't want the old lady upset.'
'No you don't,' Vespasia agreed tartly. 'If she has an attack and dies, you will be guilty not only of murder but of regicide. Do you imagine there is anywhere in the world that you could hide from that? Not that you would escape. We may have many ideas about the liberty or equality that we aspire to, even fight for, but no one will countenance the murder of the Queen who has been on our throne longer than the lifetime of most of her subjects around the face of the earth. You would be torn apart, although I dare say that matters less to you than the complete discrediting of all your ideas.'
'Lady, keep a still tongue in yer head, or I'll still it for yer. Whatever people feel about the Queen, no one cares a jot if yer survive this or not,' the man said sharply. 'Yer pushed yer way in here. Yer've no one but yerself to blame if it turns bad for yer.'
'This is-' the butler began. Then, realising he was only offering another hostage to fate, he bit off his words.
'Is anyone sick?' Vespasia enquired of no one in particular.
'No,' the butler admitted. 'It's what they told us to say.'
'Good. Then will you please conduct us to Her Majesty? If she is being held with the same courtesy that you are offering us, it might still be as well for Dr Narraway to be close to her.You don't want her to suffer any unnecessary ill effects. If she is not alive and well I imagine she will be of little use to you as a hostage.'
'How do I know ye're a doctor?' the man said suspiciously, looking at Narraway.
'You don't,' Narraway replied. 'But what have you to lose? Do you think I mean her any harm?'
'What?'
'Do you think I mean her any harm?' Narraway repeated impatiently.
'Of course not! What kind of a stupid question is that?'
'The only kind that needs an answer. If I mean her no harm then it would be of less trouble to you to keep us all in the same room rather than use several. This is not so very large a house, for all its importance. I will at least keep her calm. Is that not in your interest?'
'What's in that bag? Yer could have knives, even gas, for all I know.'
'I am a physician, not a surgeon,' Narraway said tartly.
'Who's she?' the man glanced at Charlotte.
'My nurse. Do you imagine I attend female patients without a chaperone?'
The man took the Gladstone bag from Narraway and opened it up. He saw only the few powders and potions they had bought from the apothecary in Southampton, all labelled. They had been careful, for precisely this reason, not to purchase anything that was an obvious weapon, not even small scissors for the cutting of bandages. Everything was exactly what it purported to be.
The man shut the bag again and turned towards his ally at the foot of the stairs. 'Yer might as well take 'em up. We don't want the old lady passing out on us.'
'Not yet, anyway,' the other man agreed. He jerked his hand towards the flight of stairs. 'Come on, then. Yer wanted to meet Her Majesty this is yer lucky day.'
It was the butler who conducted them up and then across the landing and knocked on the upstairs sitting-room door. At the order from inside, he opened it and went in. A moment later he came out again. 'Her Majesty will receive you, Lady Vespasia. You may go in.'
'Thank you,' Vespasia accepted, leading the way while Narraway and Charlotte followed a couple of steps behind her.
Victoria was seated in one of the comfortable, homely chairs in the well-used, very domestic living room. Only the height and ornate decoration of the ceiling reminded one that this was the home of the Queen. She herself was a small, rather fat, elderly woman with a beaky nose and a very round face. Her hair was screwed back in an unflatteringly severe style. Her large eyes were pale and she was dressed entirely in black, which drained every shred of colour from her skin. When she saw Vespasia for a second she blinked, and then she smiled.
'Vespasia. How very agreeable to see you. Come here!'
Vespasia went forward and dropped a graceful curtsy, her head slightly bowed, her back perfectly straight. 'Your Majesty.'
'Who are these?' Victoria enquired, looking beyond Vespasia to Narraway and Charlotte. She lowered her voice only slightly. 'Your maid, presumably. The man looks like a doctor. I didn't send for a doctor. There's nothing the matter with me. Every fool in this household is treating me as if I'm ill. I want to go for a walk in the garden, and I am being prevented. I am Empress of a quarter of the world, and my own household won't let me go for a walk in the garden!' Her voice was petulant. 'Vespasia, come for a walk with me.' She made to rise to her feet, but she was too far back in the chair to do so without assistance, and rather too fat to do it with any grace.
'Ma'am, it would be better if you were to remain seated,' Vespasia said gently. 'I am afraid I have some very harsh news to tell you-'
'Lady Vespasia!' Narraway warned.
'Be quiet, Victor,' Vespasia told him without turning her eyes away from the Queen. 'Her Majesty deserves to know the truth.'
'I demand to know it!'Victoria snapped. 'What is going on?'
Narraway stepped back, surrendering with as much dignity as possible.
'I regret to say, ma'am,' Vespasia said frankly, 'that Osborne House has been surrounded by armed men. Of what number I do not know, but several of them are inside and have taken your household prisoner.'
Victoria stared at her, then glanced past her at Narraway. 'And who are you? One of those . . . traitors?'
'No, ma'am. Until very recently I was head of your Special Branch,' he replied gravely.
'Why are you not still so? Why did you leave your post?'
'I was dismissed, ma'am, by traitors within. But I have come now to be of whatever service I may until help arrives, as it will do. We have seen to it.'
'When?'
'I hope by nightfall, or shortly after,' Narraway replied. 'First the new head of the Branch must be absolutely certain whom he can trust.'
The Queen sat very still for several moments. The ticking of the longcase clock seemed to fill the room.