“I hope they’re still alive!” said Catherine. “And that Alice is still on our side. She could be helping them, you know.”
“Of course they are still alive!” said Justine, as sharply as Justine ever said anything. “And I do not believe for one moment that Alice would betray us.”
Mary had been about to say the same thing, in the same tone. Why exactly did Catherine need to bring up such things just now? This was not a time to be pessimistic. Of course Alice and Mr. Holmes were still alive. They had to be. And she had complete—well, almost complete—faith in Alice.
ALICE: Almost complete?
MARY: After all, she was your mother.
Through the dairy window, Mary could see that it was beginning to rain more heavily. She looked at her wristwatch. “It’s half past seven—the sun should just be rising soon. We have to leave—the cows will come to be milked, and we want to be hidden in the chapel by the time the household is awake. I’m sure the kitchen staff is awake already, but I don’t want to run into any footmen or, worse, Mrs. Russell. Come on, help me shake Diana! For all we talk about letting her lie, she’s almost impossible to wake up in the mornings.”
DIANA: So you really do say that about letting me lie—and sometimes you do it! I thought it was some sort of joke. It’s a way of keeping me out of things, isn’t it? If I’m asleep, you can leave me behind whenever you want to. How convenient for you! Why do you even keep me around, if you don’t want me to participate? From now on you can open all the locked doors, and climb all the brick walls, and save all the Lucindas yourselves!
CATHERINE: Well, it sort of is a joke. Diana—Di, come back here. I think she’s genuinely hurt. Di, I’m sorry. Oh, for goodness’ sake, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.…
Getting into the castle was not difficult. Diana was able to pick the lock of the forbidding front door, made of dark wood bound with iron, and a second door that led to a terrace surrounded by a crenellated stone wall, “easy peasy.” From there, Beatrice looked back toward the mainland. The sky was growing brighter—she could see the small white houses of Marazion and whitecaps on the sea where they had crossed over the causeway last night. Now, it was underwater.
“Come on,” said Mary. “The chapel is over there. We need to hide before anyone sees us.”
As far as Beatrice knew, no one had seen them. Once, Catherine told them to hide in the trees beside the path. A minute later two men had passed, bringing a large chair down from the castle. Presumably the chair that the Queen would be carried up in? But Catherine listened carefully before they had opened any doors, to make certain there was no one about. So far, so good, Beatrice thought. It was a useful English phrase that Mary had taught her.
Once they were in the chapel, Diana picked the lock of the small door that led up to the bell tower. Beatrice had to stoop to pass through the doorway. Evidently, the monks that had built it had been shorter than her. Then she turned and said to Mary, “Good luck, and I hope we will be able to tell you that our mission succeeded.” The stairs inside the tower were narrow, and the ceiling was so low that she had to keep stooping all the way up. Lugging a metal container of camphine and two rucksacks filled with rags to the top of the tower was more difficult than she had anticipated. She had to keep stopping and resting on the steps.
“Why do we need this again?” asked Diana.
“To light the beacon fire,” said Beatrice. “You are so very good with fires. Remember how you rescued Lucinda from the Krankenhaus all by yourself?”
“Of course I do.” For a moment, Diana looked like a hen that had laid an egg and was very proud of itself indeed. “All right, I’ll carry this metal thing for a while. Why did they have to make it out of metal, anyway?”
“Because camphine is highly flammable,” said Beatrice. “It will make bright, strong flames.” At least, she hoped it would. Even within the stone walls of the tower, she could hear the wind rising. She wondered how hard the rain was coming down.
They passed a wooden platform and the chapel bells. She hoped no one would try to ring them while she and Diana were in the tower—the noise would be deafening. Ah, there it was, the trapdoor that must lead to the turreted top of the tower. Finally! She raised the trapdoor and looked about her.
Yes, the wind was rising, and darker gray clouds were rolling in from the east. Rain fell fitfully. She closed the trapdoor again.
“We must wait here on the platform, beside the bells,” she said. “It is too wet outside—we do not want our rags to become damp. We must keep them as dry as possible before we attempt to light the fire.” She looked at her lapel watch. Several more hours until the Queen’s yacht would arrive in the harbor. At least the slats that let out the ringing of the bells let in plenty of air. There was no danger of her poison building up.
“I hate waiting,” said Diana.
“But Mary told me that you had invented a most interesting game. I am thinking of something. I bet you cannot guess what I am thinking about.” She sat on the platform—it was ancient, but seemed sound enough to hold her weight.
Diana sat down on one of the steps and looked at Beatrice, eyes narrowed, as though trying to guess what she was thinking simply from the expression on her face. “Is it bigger than an elephant?”
CATHERINE: Diana, I’ll play that game with you, the one where you guess what I’m thinking. I’ll play it as long as you want. Are you seriously not talking to me?
DIANA: Go to hell. And I mean all of you.
If you have to hide in an ancient stone chapel for several hours, waiting to see if you will need to rescue the Queen of England, there are no better companions to wait with than Justine Frankenstein and Catherine Moreau. At least that was what Mary thought as they crouched in one of the pews, the one farthest from the door. It was high enough to hide them completely from anyone coming into the chapel. Justine had found a Bible that someone had left on one of the cushions and was silently reading something devotional. When they had first hidden, Catherine had taken out a piece of string and tied the ends together. Then she had proceeded to teach Mary a particularly complicated version of Cat’s Cradle. “I figured we would need something to do while we were waiting,” she said. “I learned this from Doris and Edith, the Twisting Jellicoe Twins, who made it up when they were children. We have at least two hours to wait. Let’s see if we can make up new variations.”
Every once in a while Justine would read from the Bible to them, quietly so it would not echo around the chapel. “ ‘To every thing there is a season,’ ” she read, “ ‘and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together’.… I think that is the most beautiful verse in Ecclesiastes.”
“Also, a time to fight evil Egyptian queens,” said Mary. “Which should be in about”—she looked at her wristwatch—“an hour.”
Just then she heard a grating sound. It was the chapel door opening—not the large one they had come through, but the smaller door close to the altar. Queen Victoria’s yacht would not arrive for another hour. Had it possibly arrived early? Could the Queen already be here? Unlikely. As far as she knew, queens operated according to regular schedules that were published in the Royal Court Circular and reprinted in the Daily Telegraph as well as other papers of general interest. It must be one of the castle staff coming into the chapel to pray. That seemed the most likely explanation. They were well hidden, and none of the staff members would use the family pews. As long as they were quiet, they should remain undiscovered.
But it was not just one person. She heard several sets of footsteps. She looked at Catherine and Justine—it was clear that they had heard the same thing as well. Justine looked alarmed, Catherine looked resolute
As though in a da
nce to which they all knew the steps, Justine put down her Bible, Catherine put down her string, and all three of them crouched farther down in the pew. Catherine drew her pistol out of the rucksack on the bench. Taking that as a cue, Mary drew her pistol as well.
The footsteps continued down the nave. There was another sound, as of something being dragged over the stone floor.
Catherine held up three fingers. Whoever they were, there were three of them. Mary’s revolver was a reassuring weight in her hand. With it, she had shot Beast Men and vampires. She hoped it would serve her as well today. Justine looked at them both, alert but calm. Thank goodness for Catherine and Justine! She could not have asked for better companions.
MARY: And I still can’t.
The footsteps continued all the way down the nave, toward the back of the chapel. There were some sounds that Mary could not make out, then a door opening. Mary heard what sounded like speech, but it was so muffled and distant that she could not distinguish any words.
Catherine held up a hand, as though to signal Wait. Whatever was happening, it was not over yet. A door closed. The footsteps retreated back up the nave, to the chapel door through which they had entered. Then the chapel door clanged shut.
The three of them looked at one another. “Come on,” said Mary. “Let’s go see what that was all about.”
She crept out of the pew first, pistol in hand. The dragging noises had gone down the aisle toward the back of the chapel. The only thing there, as far as she knew, was the organ, behind an ornate wooden wall that separated the organ from the rest of the chapel. There was a door in the wall, but Mrs. Russell had said it was only used by the organ player to access the instrument, and provided just enough room to play. Why would anyone want to drag something to the organ? “Catherine,” she said. “What did you hear? Your ears are better than mine.”
Catherine was standing at the other end of the wooden wall. “I heard this door open and close,” she said. Ah, there was another door, hidden in the ornamental woodwork! Mrs. Russell had not mentioned that one on the tour. Carefully, holding her pistol in her right hand, Catherine opened the door with her left. When she saw what was beyond, she opened it farther to show Mary and Justine. It was a long, narrow hall, obviously a passageway that led to the service areas of the castle. On the floor, close to the doorway, lay the bodies of three women. Two were in maids’ uniforms, one in the black dress with white collar and cuffs of a housekeeper in her most formal attire.
“Mrs. Russell!” said Mary. “That’s the housekeeper Beatrice and I met yesterday, the one who is supposed to serve elevenses to Her Majesty. The others must be parlor maids. Are they…”
Justine knelt down and put her hand on their throats. “They are breathing, but not deeply. I believe they are in some sort of mesmeric trance. Shall I attempt—”
“Yes,” said Mary. “We must try to wake them up.”
However, as much as they shook the parlor maids and housekeeper, none of the three would awaken. Mary even slapped Mrs. Russell on the cheeks, and Mrs. Russell, if you ever read this, she apologizes for having taken such a liberty. But to no avail. The three remained unconscious.
“Well, at least now we know how to identify Queen Tera and the others,” said Mary. “I’m guessing they brought the housekeeper and parlor maids here so they could impersonate them. Which means they will try to abduct the Queen not in the chapel, but in the blue drawing room, where Mrs. Russell is supposed to serve tea to Her Majesty.”
“Then we must confront them there,” said Justine. “Mary, you must lead the way, since Catherine and I do not know where it is. Should we tell Beatrice what has happened and where we are going? But she is at the top of the tower, on the battlements. I do not think she would hear us from below.”
“There’s no time for one of us to climb up there,” said Mary. “And it would not change what she and Diana have to do—either way, they have to warn off the Queen’s yacht. I think we need to confront Queen Tera and her—what, henchwomen? Whatever we want to call them, we need to find and confront them now.”
“And I suggest we change into their uniforms,” said Catherine. “We would immediately be conspicuous in the castle dressed as we are. But if we’re dressed as maids, there’s at least a chance no one will look at our faces. No one looks at maids, not really. If we go into the castle, we should look as though we belong there.”
As quickly as they could, they took the uniforms off the two maids, leaving them in their shifts. And then, while Mary felt a horrible sense of guilt—imagine if someone had done such a thing to Mrs. Poole!—they took off Mrs. Russell’s black dress. Mary and Catherine attired themselves as the two maids, and Justine put on the housekeeper’s dress, which was the longest. On her, it was both too large and not long enough. Again, Mrs. Russell, if there’s any way we can recompense you, as well as Phyllis and Nora, for this indignity, we shall endeavor to do so.
MRS. POOLE: I should hope so! While I know what you did was necessary under the circumstances, I cannot approve treating a woman like Mrs. Russell in such a fashion.
“Well,” said Mary to Justine, “hopefully no one will look at your ankles!”
Using the silver mirror they had brought to fight Queen Tera, Mary and Catherine put on the parlor maids’ caps, which took some tucking-up of hair. Luckily their aprons had functional rather than purely ornamental pockets. Mary put her .22 in one and the silver mirror in the other, with its handle sticking out. She saw Catherine putting her .32 in one of her apron pockets as well.
Justine pulled down her bodice, which was, like the rest of the dress, both too large and too short. When she raised her arms, there was a gap between her bodice and skirt. “I shall take the bottles of pepper spray,” she said. “Mrs. Russell’s dress has pockets hidden in the lining. How practical.” She put a bottle of pepper spray in each.
Mary looked at all of them critically. “I think we’ll do. Justine, your collar is sticking up. Here, let me smooth it down. Now you look perfectly respectable, except for your short hair. But there’s nothing we can do about that.”
“Why do maids’ uniforms have to look so ridiculous?” asked Catherine. “Look at all these starched ruffles. Why can’t maids wear whatever they want to?”
“You sound like Beatrice,” said Mary. She looked at her wristwatch again. “Whatever you think of maids’ uniforms, we don’t have time to overthrow the social order today. The Queen’s yacht will be drawing into the harbor in a quarter of an hour. Of course, the timing won’t be exact, particularly if there’s a storm. Beatrice should be lighting the beacon right about now. Come on! We need to get to the blue drawing room.”
She led the way out of the chapel, through the door that Miss Trelawny, Mrs. Raymond, and Queen Tera had used. To their right across the terrace was the entrance to the vestibule that led to the blue drawing room. It was a good thing they had dressed in servants’ clothing, because the servants were already starting to assemble on the terrace. The Queen would likely be brought up the way they had come that morning, through the front doors of the castle and directly to the north terrace, then into the blue drawing room—the St. Michael’s Mount staff would try to make it as easy for her as possible. That was good—it meant the blue drawing room was the only place Queen Tera could abduct her now. Well, Mary was going to prevent that from happening!
A man who looked like a butler was bustling around the terrace, directing a small army of footmen. But as Catherine predicted, no one paid attention to them as they passed. The convenient thing about a uniform was that if you were wearing one, no one noticed the woman inside.
As Mary walked through the vestibule, she pulled her pistol out of her apron pocket. She saw Catherine do the same. Thank goodness all the servants seemed to be gathering outside on the terrace! Someone would surely have remarked on two maids carrying pistols.
She stepped through the arched doorway into the blue drawing room, pistol drawn, ready for whatever might happen—for a lightni
ng bolt, even. The room was empty. Well, not empty—there were the Chippendale sofa on which the Queen would be sitting, the rest of the furnishings, the paintings and bibelots. But no one was there.
Where were Queen Tera, Mrs. Raymond, and Miss Trelawny? Had they made themselves invisible? But why? Surely the whole point was for them to look like the housekeeper and two housemaids so they could fool the household—and Her Majesty.
“What about that other room?” asked Catherine in a low voice, pointing at the door to the right of the fireplace.
Through that doorway was another small room, but Mrs. Russell had indicated that it was used primarily to store extra chairs for larger receptions. As quietly as she could, Mary crossed the blue drawing room, waving for Catherine and Justine to follow her. The door to the storage room was closed. Carefully, she turned the handle and opened it, entering the room pistol-first. It, too, was unoccupied, and filled only with chairs and a few small tables. It was painted the same delicate shade of Wedgwood blue as the drawing room.
“I have no idea,” she said to Catherine and Justine. “I assumed they would be here. Why else would they have taken the housekeeper’s and maids’ uniforms? Could I have misunderstood their plans?” If only Sherlock were with them! He would be able to figure out this mystery, as he had figured out so many others. But he was not, so she would need to figure it out for herself. Somewhere in her chain of deduction, she must have made a mistake.…
Catherine put a hand on Mary’s arm. Startled, she looked at the Puma Woman. Catherine did not often touch anyone. Now, she had a finger to her lips. Be quiet, she seemed to be saying. Then she put that finger to her ear, and then her nose. Finally, she pointed back toward the blue drawing room. Justine was listening intently. Could she hear something that Mary could not? No, now she heard it too—someone was in the blue drawing room.
The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl Page 34
