blame if it turns bad for yer.”
“This is …,” the butler began. Then, realizing he was only offering another hostage to fate, he bit off his words.
“Is anyone sick?” Vespasia inquired 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 labeled. 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 toward 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 toward 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 color 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 inquired, 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.”
