his left wrist. “The King’s been shot?” David said, following him, briefcase in hand. It was freezing outside. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, David shivered in his dinner jacket and thin-soled opera pumps. It seemed he was alone. The only sound was the creak of the bare tree branches blown by the wind.
“Gregory!” David called.
He heard a low moan and followed the sound to a stone staircase that lead to a garden. Gregory was sitting on the top step, head in hands. “She’s here,” he whispered.
“Who?” David said, glancing around before sitting down next to him on the cold stone step, setting the briefcase down beside him. “Who’s here?”
“Lily,” he replied, eyes wide. “She’s here, waiting for me.”
“Gregory, Lily’s dead,” David said, laying a hand on his arm. “Maggie told me what happened.”
He shook his head wildly. “No! ‘She walks in beauty, like the night.’ She haunts me. She laughs at me.” He looked around the darkness, indicating the Great Park. “She’s still here, along with the rest of the ghosts.”
David smelled the alcohol on Gregory’s breath and rose to his feet and extended his hand. “Come on, Gregory,” he said firmly. “Let’s get you back inside. Have some coffee. We’ll call and find out how the King’s doing.”
Gregory grasped his hand and staggered to his feet. “Oh, Lily, Lily …” he moaned.
As David moved to help him, he heard a footstep—and just as he registered that they weren’t alone, he heard an explosive noise and felt a blinding sting in the back of his head.
As he blinked and fell to his knees, undone by the pain, he felt darkness begin to close in around him. Just before he lost consciousness, he heard Gregory say, to his unknown assailant, “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
Back in the nursery, the corgis were restless, whining their anxiety. Alah and Crawfie bustled about, helping all the children feel at home by removing their makeup with cold cream and having them take turns in the bathroom getting back into their regular clothes. Lilibet and Margaret helped the other children. “Remember, children,” Lilllibet said, “we’re British.”
“Stiff upper lip!” Margaret added.
Maggie thought about Hugh, then shook her head.
When the Coldstream Guard knocked, Maggie, Alah, and Crawfie looked at each other. “Open in the name of the King!” he shouted.
Maggie went to open the door. It was with palpable relief that she saw it was a guard. He called to the Princesses. “His Majesty wants you to know that he’s all fine,” he said. “Nick to the shoulder is all.”
Lilibet and Margaret hugged each other, and Margaret tried very hard not to cry. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” Lilibet said, stroking Margaret’s hair.
“And are you—well?” the Marine said. “Your Highnesses?”
“We’re fine,” Lilibet answered.
“Good, miss. That’s what I’ll report back to the King and Queen, then. Her Majesty just wanted someone to actually check.…” He began to back out.
“No!” Margaret cried, her eyes overflowing. “We’re going with you!”
Lilibet stood up. “Yes, we’re going with you.”
Maggie walked over to them and knelt down. “I know you want to be with your parents, but you’re safe here and they’re safe there. The entire castle is on lockdown, and they’re going through, room by room, until the man who did this is found. Everyone must stay where she is until we do.”
Lilibet saw the wisdom of his argument, but Margaret didn’t. “Noooooo!” she shrieked. “I want Mummy! I want Daddy!” Lilibet wrapped her arm around her sister and held her tightly.
The Marine left, the corridor echoing with Margaret’s cries, even after he shut the door behind him.
After the shot was fired, the Prime Minister was surrounded by his private detective and a squadron of Coldstream Guards, who shielded his body from any potential shots and got him to safety, ensconced in his suite. Frain was with him.
“Give me your gun!” the P.M. was saying to his private detective.
“No, sir,” the man replied.
“I order you! Now!”
“Winston—” Frain tried to interrupt.
“Goddamn it, man!” Churchill exploded. “Someone tried to assassinate the King of England—within the sacred walls of Windsor Castle, no less! I was considered a crack shot in the last war. I’m going to hunt the bugger down myself—and let him have it!”
Frain poured a glass of Scotch and handed it to the P.M. “Please sit down, sir,” he said. “The castle is on lockdown and the guards will find the shooter. In the meantime, we need to keep you safe as well. You’re worth a lot more to Britain alive than dead.”
Churchill accepted the heavy crystal tumbler. “Very well, then,” he growled, waving a hand. “But if the bugger bounds in here, you’d better take him out on your first shot.”
In the nursery, all the children, including the Princesses, were still on edge. Alah had found a tin of biscuits she’d saved for an emergency and distributed them among the children, who accepted them and ate them greedily.
There was a nervous rap. Maggie jumped up and went to the door. “Who is it?” she asked.
“
Maggie opened the door a crack. There was the young French woman, carrying a tray of sandwiches and pots of tea. “Come in, Audrey,” she said. “Look, children,” she said to the room. “Audrey’s brought you something to eat!”
The young people nearly fell over themselves to get to the sandwiches, while Alah set to work pouring the tea. Maggie noticed that the two Princesses held back, waiting to make sure there were enough sandwiches for everyone, before helping themselves.
“Thank you so much, Audrey,” Maggie said. “The children were getting hungry, although they didn’t complain.”
“Poor little things,” she said. “I couldn’t help but think of them here, especially the little Princesses.”
“They’re doing fine,” Maggie said. “I’m sure this drama will all be over soon.”
“I’ll be on my way then, Mademoiselle,” Audrey said.
“No,” Maggie said. “You couldn’t possibly go back. It’s bad enough you risked yourself by coming here. Stay until it’s over.”
“Of course, Mademoiselle,” Audrey said. “Of
“We hadn’t planned on a lockdown, for Christ’s sake!” Boothby said to Gregory, looking down at David’s body lying on the cold stone terrace.
“No,” Gregory said. “But if we don’t act tonight, we’ll miss our chance. I’ve already contacted Hess. If we don’t do it tonight, we’re stuck here until God knows when. And,” he said, poking a toe into David’s body and jostling him, “he’s our meal ticket out of Britain.”
“Sir, you can’t enter this area,” the Coldstream Guard said. He was standing in front of one of the entranceways to the kitchen. Then he took a closer look at the man. It was George Poulter, out of his usual footman’s uniform, as he had been for the pantomime. The marine narrowed his eyes. “Wait—aren’t you—?”
Poulter pulled out his gun from the waistband of his trousers and shot the guard through the heart. As the man’s eyes glazed over, he dropped to the floor.
“Sorry, mate,” Poulter said as he shoved the gun back into his trousers, then took the narrow stairs down to the wine cellar and began rolling up the carpet. Hidden underneath the carpet was the trap door in the floor, leading
