unworthy of a lavish, ceremonial presentation at court. Trembling and awkward, I didn’t dare look up from the floor until curiosity triumphed over timidity.
This was not the first time I had seen Queen Victoria. While I was at school in Belgium, she had visited Brussels. I’d stood amidst the crowds to watch her procession. When she flashed by in a carriage, I had thought her not beautiful, and I found my impression still valid now, five years later. She was prettily dressed in a summer gown, but even more stout than before, having borne six children, one of them that past spring. She wore her brown hair in a simple knot. She had a florid, heavy-featured face with a pointed nose and receding chin. The Prince Consort, Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, was tall, rather stiff, and clad in an elaborate coat, breeches, and boots. He wore a mustache and whiskers in foreign style, and looked far less handsome than his portraits.
Formal greetings were exchanged. The Queen extended her hand to Lord Palmerston, who politely kissed it. She said, “The Queen is delighted that her foreign secretary chooses to grace her with his presence.” Her voice was well bred yet girlish; she was only twenty-nine, very young for a ruler of the Empire. I detected sarcasm in her courteous tone. “His behavior has led her to believe that he preferred to avoid communication with her.”
Later Mr. Slade explained to me that the Queen and Palmerston were at odds because she wanted to approve all official correspondence from the Crown before it was disseminated, but that he had repeatedly taken action on her behalf and informed her only after the fact.
“Not at all, Your Majesty,” said Lord Palmerston. “Were it not for the demands of my office, wild horses could not keep me from seeking your delightful company.” He spoke with such gallantry that the Queen visibly softened.
Lords Russell and Unwin made their obeisance to the royal pair. The Prince Consort was uniformly cordial to everyone. He spoke with a heavy Germanic accent. Although the same age as the Queen, he appeared much older due to his ponderous manner. The Queen was cool towards Lord Russell. I later learned from Mr. Slade that she thought the cross, unhandsome, and brusque little man failed to measure up to his predecessors, of whom she’d been quite fond. She paid Lord Unwin scant attention. When Lord Palmerston introduced Mr. Slade, she studied him with interest as he kissed her hand. Her cheeks flushed brighter; she smiled. Then came my turn. Shaking in my shoes, miserably aware of my plain looks and travel-worn clothes, I tiptoed up to the Queen. I felt like a criminal, approaching my sovereign under false pretenses. Keeping my gaze downward, I watched the hem of my frock move nearer hers. I made an awkward curtsy, murmuring my respects in a scarcely audible voice.
“This is Miss Charlotte Bronte, Your Majesty’s new governess,” said Lord Russell.
“Welcome, Miss Bronte,” said the Queen.
Her voice compelled me to raise my head that she might inspect me. My heart pounded as I stood face to face with the Queen, close enough to touch her. She had round, protuberant, luminous eyes whose intelligence rendered her better than plain. A regal aura surrounded her despite her youth. Her expression indicated that she didn’t think much of me.
“That the prime minister has recommended you satisfies me that you are qualified to be governess to my children, Miss Bronte,” she said. Mr. Slade later told me that her high officials had a say regarding who worked in her household, and she must often acquiesce, given that handing out political favors was essential to maintaining good relations with them. “But I should like to know something about you.” I saw that she was a mother concerned about the character of the person charged with tending her children. “Who is your family? Where is your home?”
When I told her, she seemed satisfied, albeit unimpressed. I sensed Mr. Slade and Lords Palmerston, Russell, and Unwin marking time until they could attend to their real business.
“Where were you educated?” the Prince Consort asked me.
After I replied, he questioned me in detail regarding the subjects studied and the posts I’d previously held. He was more interested in the education of his children than were many fathers I had encountered while a teacher. I began to understand that he was at least half the brains at the helm of the nation. He conversed with me in French and studied me with earnest, somber attention. When he expressed his opinion that I would do very well, his wife concurred. He had a strong influence over the Queen.
“You should meet the children now, Miss Bronte,” she said.
Lord Palmerston cleared his throat. “In a moment, please, Your Majesty.” She raised her eyebrows, surprised that he should contradict her. “My apologies, but there’s an important matter we must discuss.”
“Very well,” she said, her interest piqued in spite of herself. “What is it?”
“Miss Bronte has been approached by a man who has offered her a bribe in exchange for helping him kidnap Your Majesty’s children,” said Lord Palmerston. This was the story that he and Mr. Slade had invented in order to shield the prime minister.
“Kidnap my children!” Breathless with horror, the Queen clapped a hand to her bosom. Her gaze flew to the window, through which we heard the children laughing in the garden. She glared at me, as if I were at fault, then at Palmerston. “But this is outrageous!”
The Prince Consort’s expression was troubled, but he remained calm. “Who is it that means to engage Miss Bronte in such an evil conspiracy?”
“Mr. Slade has identified the man as a criminal he’s been hunting for some time,” said Lord Palmerston. “His name is Kuan. He hails from Canton, China. He’s a pirate and renegade whose purpose is to upend order in our hemisphere.” He gave a brief, edited history of how Kuan had abetted revolutionaries in Britain and abroad. He spoke rapidly, with an authority that discouraged questions. The Queen and Prince Consort looked too shocked to ask any. Lord Palmerston omitted my role, thinking they might disapprove of my sleuthing. “He has murdered many people in his quest for power. He must be stopped.”
“Well, then stop him!” the Queen cried with a grand, sweeping gesture, as if to send the entire British army in pursuit of Kuan. “Don’t let him come near my children!”
“We shall ensure that he won’t,” said Lord Palmerston. “However, we need Your Majesty’s cooperation.”
“You shall have it,” the Prince Consort said as he laid a soothing hand on his wife’s arm. “But first, we must reconsider Miss Bronte’s employment. In view of her connection with this criminal, we cannot allow her to join our household, even if she is innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“My dear Albert is right,” the Queen promptly agreed. She gave me an icy look. “I regret to inform you that you must seek another post elsewhere.” She then addressed Lord Unwin: “Would you be so good as to escort Miss Bronte out?”
I felt like a leper banished from society, tainted by my unwilling association with Kuan. I would have meekly gone, but Lord Palmerston lifted his hand, stopping me.
“I must beg you to reconsider, Your Majesty,” said Lord Palmerston. “We need Miss Bronte.”
The Queen regarded Palmerston as if he had asked her to take a viper to her bosom. Her eyes blazed with her dislike of his overbearing manner. “Whatever for?”
Lord Palmerston glanced at Mr. Slade, who said, “Kuan has gone into hiding. We don’t know where he is. But he has told Miss Bronte that he’ll be in communication with her as regards kidnapping the children.” The Queen listened, compelled by his personality and the urgency in his voice. “Miss Bronte is a loyal, law-abiding citizen with no intention of abetting Kuan, and she is our only link to him. Unless she is permitted to assume the post of governess, the link will be broken. We’ll lose our chance to catch him.”
“Oh, Albert, what shall we do?” the Queen wailed, on the verge of tears. I recalled that she had just had a baby; perhaps she was in a more excitable state than usual.
After careful deliberation, the Prince Consort said to Slade, “You must find some other way to catch this criminal than by planting Miss Bronte among our children and waiting for him to show himself. Even if she means them no harm, we would prefer some other governess.”
Slade inclined his head. “With all due respect, Your Royal Highness, I must persuade you otherwise. We have good reason to believe that Kuan has accomplices already inside your household. Even should Miss Bronte refuse his bribe, he can enlist others to harm the children.”
“My God!” the Queen exclaimed, looking around as if suddenly surrounded by enemies. “Can no one near me be trusted?”
“Not until Mr. Kuan’s henchmen have been identified and removed,” Slade said. “And the best way to accomplish that is to plant Miss Bronte here among them. I predict that they shall reveal themselves to her when the time comes to carry out the kidnapping.”
The Queen shook her head, too distraught to reply.
