How disappointing. She would have preferred to return to her rather saucy dream, but instead she was to accept the charge of Queen of the British Empire.
Now, Alexandrina Victoria, crowned Queen Victoria, merely tightened her smile and gave the most imperceptible of sighs through her nose. Yes, even queens woke up on the wrong side of beds, even ones as plush and as comfortable as the ones in Buckingham Palace. She had to find a silver lining to this day, or remain trapped in this rut. For the rest of her life. She was queen; but she was human, too. Currently, she was bored and frustrated to the point of tears.
“Finally,” spoke her Lord Chamberlain, “we have a request for an audience.”
Then he paused. Queen Victoria crooked an eyebrow, inclining her head to the Lord Chamberlain. Yes. Yes. Out with it.
“This request is — well…” He went to speak again, but his words appeared replaced by a clumsy silence. “He wants permission to establish a new branch of Her Majesty’s government.”
“I see,” Victoria acknowledged with a nod. Let’s see, she thought, suppressing a wry grin as she dreamt up new ministries. We are in need of a Ministry of Truly Appalling Pub Songs. We have no Ministry of Tweed. I think there are some patterns that are in desperate need of regulation. And then of course there is the priority to establish a Ministry of Silly Wal—
“Your Majesty,” the Lord Chamberlain spoke, his voice shattering her witticism. “This branch he proposes would cover the entire Empire. It would be a global entity.”
That caught her full attention.
“Does this petitioner have a name?”
“Professor Culpepper Source.” The Lord Chamberlain paused to look over the papers in his hands, and then added, “He’s a scientist.”
“Is his name registered or recognised in any of our Royal Societies?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
She turned to look at him. “And the reasons behind how he made it this far in the petition process and why I am seeing him this afternoon?”
“It is the evidence he has presented to his patrons and, in particular, to me personally.”
“Are you saying you yourself have entertained this Professor Source?”
The man’s complexion blanched as he spoke. He looked so pale in that moment that Victoria believed he would succumb to the vapours. “I cannot impress upon you the importance of seeing this man.”
Perhaps Victoria’s silver lining was at hand. “We shall see this man straight away then.”
She was a tad disappointed at catching a glimpse of the petitioner when he came around the corner. The closer he drew, the fatter he became. He was a portly gentleman, with a rather bushy moustache that in some odd manner flattered him. The receding hairline, however, she found slightly irritating. Perhaps with a full head of hair, she would have found him quite dashing. In a rather plump sort of way. The suit seemed common enough. Not of any fashion she recognised, but of a tweed that did not speak of any fortune or elevated station.
A scientist. That is exactly what he looked like. A kindly scientist.
On this deduction, she gave a long, low sigh. This day, I fear, she grumbled inwardly, is not going to get any better.
“Your Majesty,” he announced, giving a deep bow. When he came up, he paused, taking in a deep breath.
“Something amiss, Professor Source?”
He blinked. “Beg your pardon, mum?”
Mum?! Victoria asked, her back straightening slightly. Did he just call me ‘Mum’?!
She began to worry about her appearance; she was only twenty, after all!
The man then released a little cough as he began what appeared to be a case of some sort. “Do forgive my impertinence, Your Majesty. I’m just a bit nervous, is all. I did not expect to see you upon such short notice.”
On that, Victoria softened. An honest man. What a refreshing change. “Well, professor, it would seem that Fortune favours you as we are having a rather slow day here at the palace. Still, our time for an audience with you is fleeting.”
“That it is, Your Majesty, so let us not bandy about.” He clapped his hands together and then motioned to her. “I desire your company tonight, and yours alone.”
That gave the collected court quite a shock. Victoria, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow. A bit bumbling. Sincere. Mindful of manners. And now, forward. With her.
This ought to be fun.
“This is a bold request you make of your Queen.”
“Yes. So bold that you may wish to have me thrown in irons, but what I wish to bring to your attention—more importantly, what I have to show you—are matters pertaining to you and only you.”
“Are these matters pertaining to the preservation of the Empire?”
The odd man nodded, his two chins jiggling as he did. “Of course.”
“Then why not share these matters with my Privy Council, with those whom I trust with my life and with the direction of the Empire?”
“With all due respect and honours, Your Majesty,” Source began, “you may trust them. I, however, do not.”
Her Lord Chancellor stepped forward, and Victoria started at the deep hue of red his face had turned. “How dare you, sir! You did not tell me of this outlandish—”
Professor Source spoke over his tirade. “Sir, may I remind you of our previous luncheon, or should I reveal those daguerreotypes shared in confidence?”
That stopped the Lord Chancellor. Quickly. His red blush quickly receded to a ghostly pale wash. He swallowed, glanced towards Victoria, and then took a few steps back.
“Is this true?” Victoria asked the scientist.
“Did I lie to your Lord Chancellor, Your Majesty? No. I am no cad. Did I withhold a few details in my petition?” His eyes twinkled. “Yes. I am a bit of a rogue, on occasion I am afraid.”
She had worn a smile often in court, but this one was the first in a long time that was truly sincere.
“And why should we trust you?”
“Because I am the only one you can trust concerning the darkness that threatens your empire.” He gave his odd cravat a slight adjustment and then tipped his head back proudly. “I have been witness to things unparalleled and unexplainable, and while some of these revelations are fantastic and inspiring, there are phantasms and evil forces beyond our collected comprehensions that counter their purity and benevolence.”
Victoria felt herself shift from intrigued to positively enthralled.
“You are a most peculiar man.” She rose from her throne, and gestured him closer to her, though her guards flanked them as they walked. “You also have conviction.”
“Shall I expect for your company then upon the hour of nine?” He reached into his pocket and checked the time. “That should give you ample time to dress in something appropriate. Something that would allow for movement and—considering who you are—anonymity.” He then paused, as if a thought suddenly came to him. “Dress warm.”
She crooked an eyebrow at that. “Warm? But it’s summer.”
“I know,” he said with a nod. “Trust me. Dress warm.”
Victoria pursed her lips, looked to either of her guards, then leaned in and whispered, “Outdoors, are we?”
“Avebury Circle.”
“At night?” She glanced over to one of her guards. He looked poised and ready for an order. She leaned forward to make certain her guard couldn’t hear her reply to the odd man with “Sounds like a lovely evening.”
The professor reached into his coat, and produced a small folded parchment held between two fingers. “I will be by the fire, waiting for your arrival, Your Majesty.” His eyes darted to the present gentry, and then he whispered, “Alone.”
“We can make no promises.”
“Nor do I expect you to.” He gave a wink, extending the parchment to her. “I could be mad. Or an anarchist. Or both.”
“Doubtful,” she retorted, taking the paper from between his fingers. “You are far too clever.”
He beamed in re
ply, stepped back from the Queen, and spoke to her again in a full, proper voice. “Your Majesty, my gratitude to you and your devoted court for your time.” He took up the small case by his feet, and then with a few more steps back, his body remaining in a slight bow, the man turned on his heels and walked out.
“Your Majesty?” the Lord Chancellor spoke finally, causing her to start. “Your Majesty, I am sorry, I had no idea—”
“He shared something with you?” Victoria asked. “Exactly what, may I ask?”
His complexion paled even further. “Documents.”
“Really?” She felt her twin shadows follow her up to the man. He flinched as she leaned into him, his eyes seeming to bore into the floor underfoot. “These documents must have some hold upon you.”
“Your Majesty,” he spoke, his voice hard and brittle. “What I saw…”
Tears welled in the man’s eyes, and Victoria stepped back. Now she was to be the one stunned to silence. She was the queen of the most powerful nation in the world; yet an odd man armed only with a large suitcase, it would seem, could win himself a private audience.
She opened her eyes, read the time and place on the parchment, and then folded it back up neatly.
Yes, a bit of intrigue was in order. Things were getting unbearably dull in court. Now free of Mamma’s influence and ruler of the British Empire, it was high time for her to stretch her legs and have a bit of fun.
No one paid her a second glance once she walked into the humble tavern just outside the stones of Avebury Circle. The hearth was modest but managed to give a hint of warmth in this quiet corner of her empire. Just as promised, Doctor Culpepper Source sat in a lovely, high-backed chair, and he stoked coals in the fireplace. Victoria tugged the lapels of her black coat tighter and walked across smooth, worn planks that groaned lightly as she closed on him. She did not concern herself with stealth or with grace. Her attendants were all enjoying a lovely deep sleep thanks to a delightful laudanum concoction that her Mamma used on Victoria when she was younger. She was as he wished her to be—alone, which could have been an invitation for the downfall of the crown. Only two years into her reign as queen and to be kidnapped or worse, assassinated, and the British Empire would be thrown into chaos. And yet, here she was, the Queen of the Empire, in The Red Lion, unattended, meeting what her attendants in court—all save for her Lord Chancellor—believed was a madman.
How thrilling, she thought with a delightful rush.
He placed the poker back into its holder and then sat back into a reclining position. “I would stand upon ceremony,” he spoke over his shoulder softly, “but even with the collected subjects here, few as they are, that is attention neither of us desire, now is it?”
She gave a giggle and took the seat opposite of him. Victoria crossed her legs, taking a moment to enjoy the outrageous outfit she currently wore. The thigh-high boots, even with their dull finish, caught the light of the tiny fire as did the leather trousers she wore. The clothes would have appeared more appropriate for riding, had she decided that black suddenly suited her as a colour. He looked at her and smiled approvingly. No doubt, he found the cleavage she was sporting with her cinched corset and waistcoat most unexpected as well as most appreciated.
“I took you on your word,” Victoria purred, her breath appearing for just a moment before disappearing as wisps of æther, “and dressed appropriately.”
“Indeed. You look hardly ladylike or appropriate.” His eyes sparkled in the firelight. “I approve.”
Victoria gave her lapels another tug and looked around her. “And thank you for advising me on dressing warmly. I had no idea—”
“The chill you are feeling has nothing to do with the weather or even an odd day of the season.” He looked over his shoulder, fixing his eyes on the publican for a moment, and then glanced around at those sitting at tables, many of them enjoying a soup or a pint. When Source spoke to her, his voice had dropped to nearly a whisper. “Your Majesty, what I have to show you tonight are those responsible for the anomaly.”
“Those responsible?” Victoria considered that turn of phrase, and then asked, “You’re saying this cold is the work of man, not God?”
Source went to answer but paused as if remembering something important. He pulled out his pocket watch and clicked his tongue lightly. “Actually, Your Majesty, it would be easier if I got on with it and showed you.” He stood, and then slipped a large haversack across his shoulder. He patted it for good measure, and motioned for the door. “Shall we?”
Victoria looked at the door of the Red Lion and felt something in her slowly recoil, much like a cat feeling growing danger and slinking back into a corner. Stepping through that door carried a cost, something akin to that fateful night when she was first addressed as Queen of England. She knew following Professor Culpepper Source would completely change everything.
Source was standing there at the door. He was far from the hearth, but his eyes still twinkled.
Victoria placed her palms gently on her hips, feeling the two concealed Derringers that the Lord Chancellor insisted she have upon her person. Instinct told her she would be using them tonight, but that same instinct told her she would not need them against the professor.
When she reached the door, he handed her a pair of Starlight goggles, leaned in, and stated quite plainly, “Do not leave my side, no matter what this evening offers. I wish to return you to the throne in one piece, and cannot guarantee as much if you gallivant off without me.”
What cheek! Whatever made Source think he could address her in such a fashion?
She would have voiced her outrage, had it not been for the look in his eyes.
Victoria nodded, slipping the goggles around her neck and giving him a reassuring “Very well.”
The affirmation, however, did not sound all too convincing to her.
At first, there seemed to be no need for the Starlight goggles. They kept to the path defined by the outer circle’s larger stones. While still visible under the light of the full moon, the Red Lion was growing farther and farther off. As clouds began to block out the moonlight, however, the quaint pub seemed to wink out of existence.
When her Starlights revealed the thick darkness, it dawned on her that it had been a crystal clear night moments before. A full moon. No sign of any cloud in the sky. Now, they were both plunged into a thick darkness where even the goggles were struggling to grant her vision. She looked up to see a rippled, tumultuous cover suspended above her. Not a single ray from the pale goddess of night pierced the heavy sky now over them.
“Victoria,” came a whisper.
Hearing such presumption ripped her gaze from the obscured heavens back to a pair of Starlights looking at her.
“All will be made clear to you,” he whispered. “Just stay close and not a word until we are well-hidden.”
Well-hidden? Calling the queen of the empire by her Christian name? And a cloud cover that appeared from nowhere?
This intrigue was more and more exciting with each passing moment.
The stone they crouched behind widened at its base, and it was here that Professor Source seemed to be settling in. Taking her gingerly by the wrist, he guided her to a tree growing just at the top of a deep ditch. He checked his watch, and then adjusted the goggles as he studied the clearing before them. He freed from his pocket a small flask and took a quick sip.
“Care for a nip?” he asked Victoria pleasantly.
When in Rome. “C’est bon,” and she took a swig.
Whatever was in the flash tasted of nuts, burned a bit when it hit her throat, and gave her body a delightful warmth a few moments later.
“Direct your eyes to this open field before us,” he whispered, slipping the flask back into his coat pocket. “The party I wish for you to see should be appearing momentarily.”
A deep rumble sounded in her ears, but instead of casting a glance to the far-off thunder, she concentrated on where Source assured her “all will be revealed.”
Wind rustled through the nearby grove. Again came a threatening rumble of rain. Why was it so bloody cold? She dared to look back up for that full moon she remembered shining over the Red Lion when something caught her attention. Something in the forest. Running. Drawing closer, fast.
Whatever they were, the beasts were about to emerge from the wood just off to their right.
The shadows leapt across the ditch to land softly in the clearing, but the creatures stepping into her enhanced sight were not what she expected. They were human. Women, it seemed, by their gait. Three of them.
She could hear another pattering of feet and then the noise ceased. Coming to meet them from the opposite direction, also dressed in some odd cloak, was a man.
“Professor, they seem to be talking to one another.”
“Yes, yes,” he muttered, and then offered her what appeared to be a palm-sized suction cup. “Place that on your ear, if you please.”
When she did as told, a woman’s voice could be heard as if Victoria stood next to her. She followed the cable connected to the earcup, and it ended at what appeared to be a small gramophone, except that its bell pointed in the direction of the gathered in the clearing.
“What is that?” she asked.
“What I sincerely hope will become a tool of the trade,” he whispered, placing a similar cup to his own ear. “But please, Your Majesty, we must be quiet.”
She turned her Starlights back to the clearing, and now saw a woman closing on the man. “Are you certain it is to be this way, Matthew?”
Thrilling Tales of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Page 28
