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.
