A Death at Crystal Palace

by Caroline Dunford

  Amy has already lost the Irish lilt she had in her voice and appears to have no memory of her previous family. All of these were Irish immigrants travelling steerage on the Titanic when it sank. It is miraculous that she escaped as most of the people on the lower decks did not. There are many stories that come from that night that show both the best and worst of humanity. Richenda and I, who were both on the Carpathia, which steamed to her rescue, have chosen not to speak to her about the tragedy until she comes to us with questions. Her near-death experience and loss of family is perhaps why we allow her so much latitude, but I could not help bridling at her comment. Before I could speak though, Bertram cut in.

  ‘Rory McLeod is my major-domo and my friend,’ he said. ‘Major-domo is like an estate manager, only more than that. You need to learn, Amy, that those fortunate enough to employ others have a duty to respect them as fellow human beings.’

  ‘Are you saying that because you are marrying Aunt Euphemia and she used to be a maid?’ said Amy.

  Richenda reached over and boxed Amy on the ears. ‘Enough. You know better than this. I will send you back to the hotel if you do not behave yourself. If you move more than two feet from my side I will send you back to your father who will thrash you for your disobedience.’

  Amy shed a few tears over her sore ears, but she clearly did not believe the threat any more than the rest of us. We knew Hans would never raise a finger against his daughter.

  ‘And,’ said Richenda, obviously realising she was losing control, ‘you will have no pudding for a fortnight.’

  Amy paled at this and promised vehemently to be good. Although not biologically related to Richenda, she has acquired her fondness for cake. However, being a very active child, this has not yet shown in her form.

  Throughout the whole conversation Rory stared ahead.

  ‘Did you really send Glanville third class?’ asked Bertram. ‘I’m not sure I would have dared.’

  ‘I asked her where she would be comfortable,’ said Richenda. ‘She said third. She is most traditional. She keeps misplacing my more modern clothes but is an expert at keeping things tidy and Amy heeds her more than me.’ She added the last in a low voice that only Bertram and I heard.

  ‘Look! Look!’ cried Amy.

  Ahead of us on a hill stood a shining edifice. The autumn sun had come out from behind the clouds and Crystal Palace looked for all the world like something out of a fairy tale. I found myself holding my breath as we wound up the road towards it. Two stories high, the centre of the roof rose into a barrel vault. The true marvel was the amount of glass visible. Only the thinnest of cast ironwork seemed to hold the panes in place. It was all glass.

  ‘What’s that canvas thingy?’ asked Bertram, pointed to part of the roof. ‘Is it broken?’

  ‘It is one of the methods of keeping the temperature inside at an ambient level,’ said Rory. ‘They are shade cloths which also soften the interior lighting. There is also a remarkable ventilation system -’

  Richenda cut him off. ‘Lovely,’ she said as the carriage drew up. ‘Bertram, pay the man and let us go in!’

  I would have liked my first experience of Crystal Palace to have been a full appreciation of its beauty. I had hoped to stand next to one of the many trees inside and simply gaze up and around. In truth, the Anglo-German Exhibition had little interest for me. However, I had barely walked through the doors when I heard a voice that jumped out at me. I remembered it from our days at Stapleford Hall.

  ‘I tell you I am not one to manipulate the cards,’ said the staunch voice of Madame Arcana, self-styled medium and covert British Intelligence agent. ‘They say what they say.’

  Bertram had stiffened at my side. He pivoted on his heel rather like a gun dog pointing at the fallen bird. ‘Is that…?’ he said.

  Amy was already tugging Richenda forward. ‘Meet at the tea shop in an hour?’ she called. I nodded. ‘You’d better go with ’em, McLeod,’ said Bertram. ‘She’ll never control Amy on her own.’ Rory nodded and headed off.

  ‘He never met her, did he?’ said Bertram. ‘I know he’s signed the same stuff as us, but introducing agents and all that, I don’t know the protocol.’

  ‘We’re not agents,’ I said. ‘We help out sometimes.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Bertram. ‘If we were agents they would likely pay us. Not that a gentleman should care about such things if he’s serving his country.’

  ‘Fitzroy certainly appeared to be well-paid,’ I said. ‘Oh look, she’s seen us. She’s waving us over. We either make a run for it now or go over.’

  ‘She doubtless knows what we’re going to do,’ said Bertram. ‘And there’d be no point in her waving to us if we were going to run off. So, we must head over. If you believe in all that stuff.’

  ‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘But I do believe in being polite.’

  ‘We should have moved on when we had the chance,’ muttered Bertram. He took my arm and linked it through his. ‘If she says anything about how she foresaw the two of us becoming betrothed I will not be responsible for my actions.’

  Our beckoner was standing in front of a booth, the curtains of which were closed. Above it ran the legend, ‘The Greatest Medium the World has Ever Seen’. The drapes were purple with golden tassels and had mystical symbols running down both sides in shades of red and gold. Presumably one entered into the depths for a reading. For now though, she stood outside, hands on her hips, looking more like an outraged dowager than a master of the arcane arts.

  Madame Arcana, who would never see her fortieth year again, but who was otherwise ageless, was dressed much as she always was. She wore a floral-patterned dress that clung to the sides of her ample hourglass figure. This time it was turquoise with extravagantly large lilies. Around her neck were multiple loops of pearls, some of which hung down past her waist, and on her head was a purple turban, decorated with a short peacock feather. She was unmissable. The man she had been addressing stood with his back to us. From the hunch of his shoulders we gathered he did not like the public display of their conversation.

  As we reached them, Madame Arcana said, ‘There you are, Eric. This was why we couldn’t go inside before. I told you they were coming.’

  Fitzroy glanced at us and glowered. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Let’s get inside before the whole of London sees us.’

  Bertram gaped, and I felt something inside me sag with resignation. Fitzroy, who is deliberately one of the least remarkable featured people one could ever meet, held up the side of the curtain for us to enter. Today his hair was as dark as his eyes. He wore a good but plain long coat and held an innocuous-looking brown walking cane. I imagined it could be made to explode or bristle with blades or some such thing.

  ‘It is made of wood,’ said Madame Arcana.

  ‘What is?’ said Bertram.

  ‘His cane. He hurt his foot when he -’

  ‘Enough,’ growled Fitzroy. ‘What the devil are you two doing here? And why did you tell her you were coming and not me?’

  The inside of the tent was suitably dim. A total contrast to the brilliance of the Palace outside, it took my eyes as much time as it was taking my mind to adjust to the situation. Fitzroy jerked out a chair in front of me and helped me into it. Bertram blundered around to my left until he too was seated. Fitzroy pulled out a chair, turned it the wrong way around and sat down legs apart. I could not see clearly yet, but the unusualness of the position left me feeling awkward in a hot sort of way.

  As I adjusted to the darkness, I realised it wasn’t pitch black. There were two lanterns hung in the corner. Madame Arcana turned them both up and I saw that we were seated about an oaken, round, occasional table. While our seats were normal chairs, the one the medium took for herself had a high rectangular back that rose above her head and had sturdy armrests. It was reminiscent of a throne. This was no doubt why Fitzroy had chosen such an ungentlemanly position. He is never one to be outdone by one of his own people.

  ‘We did not tell Madam
e Arcana we were attending,’ I said. ‘We knew nothing about it until very recently. Richenda Muller gave us the tickets as an engagement present.’

  Madame Arcana reached over and touched Bertram lightly on the arm. ‘I won’t say it, dear, if it will upset you. But I did see it.’

  Bertram frowned. I interrupted before he could work out what she was saying.

  ‘I suppose I should not be surprised you are here, Fitzroy, or is it Lord Milton today?’

  ‘Eric will do in here.’

  ‘He’s a little tense,’ said Madame Arcana. ‘There is no way to win the game he has been asked to play.’

  ‘A card game?’ said Bertram.

  Madame Arcana chuckled. ‘Ah, that’s only a small part of it. Eric wants me to do readings for the German contingent and convince them to increase their diplomatic efforts. But of course, I cannot force any card onto the table. I suppose I could choose to misread them, but it only takes someone with a very little knowledge to tell when someone is saying the opposite of what is being shown. I do have my reputation to consider.’

  ‘I am asking you to do this for the sake of your country, woman,’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘I am not a card sharp,’ said Madame Arcana. ‘I cannot make certain cards appear.’

  ‘Actually, it is a damn difficult thing to do,’ said Bertram. ‘I spent a good part of my teens trying to learn how to do it. Never could.’ He glanced at me. ‘One of my disreputable cousins kept cheating me out of my tuck money and I needed to know how he was doing it.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Fitzroy, not meaning it in the least. ‘But the whole point of having you here, Arcana, was to help the peace process.’

  ‘Does it have to be cards Madame Arcana reads?’ I asked.

  ‘It is what I am known for.’

  ‘But you do excellent séances,’ I said.

  ‘Bless you, dear.’

  Fitzroy’s frown lightened. ‘Actually, that gives me an idea. If I slipped one of the German delegates into a séance and you happened to say…’

  ‘I suppose that could work.’ She turned to me. ‘I said I wouldn’t do a séance for the contingency as a whole as they were carrying a great deal of negative energy around with them. But if we had you and your husband-to-be there, and maybe another of your party, we could weaken their negativity.’

  ‘Whatever it takes,’ said Fitzroy.

  Bertram coughed. ‘I don’t wish to be rude, but it sounds rather as though you are pinning the hopes of the nation on a magician’s trick. No offence, Madame.’

  Madame Arcana bowed slightly. ‘I am the real article, Mr Stapleford, but I do, on occasion, shall we say tune my gifts for the sake of my country.’

  ‘Bah!’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘Is it that desperate?’ said Bertram.

  Fitzroy took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. ‘It is part of a cascade I am running.’ Bertram frowned. Fitzroy sighed loudly. ‘You set a series of incidents in motion that appear unrelated, but all reinforce a central idea. In this case that it serves neither the interests of Germany or England to go to war. Madame Arcana is but one small step in the process, but she is proving disproportionally difficult.’

  ‘The target of this cascade being the German contingent over here for the exhibition,’ I said. ‘Are they important enough to make a difference to the political situation back in Germany?’

  ‘They are all I have to work with,’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘Is the situation really that dire?’ said Bertram, still seeking a clear answer to his questions. ‘Do you expect war to break out any day?’

  ‘No,’ said Fitzroy. ‘It may be months, even a year or two, before we hit the brink, but right now the course is set.’

  I leant back in my seat. In my mind’s eye I saw a dream I had while staying at the Stapleford’s Hunting Lodge many years ago. At first, I thought I was dreaming of men marching to war, but then in the dream I realised the men were already dead and were marching to the afterlife. There had been row upon row of them, reaching numbers my mind could not comprehend. Rory had been among them.

  ‘Breathe, dear,’ said Madame Arcana. ‘Nothing is ever set in stone. We only ever glimpse possibilities.’

  ‘What happens when you read your tarot cards?’ I demanded.

  Madame Arcana’s shoulders slumped. ‘When I ask about the possibility of peace between the two nations they always come up with war. I fear if I read for the German gentlemen, in that as they are all nobles or diplomats, war will be the strongest feature of the reading. I have tried over and over, but the cards are clear.’

  ‘But you said nothing is set in stone,’ I said.

  ‘Some possibilities are more likely than others,’ said the medium sadly.

  ‘A clerk in the home office would tell you the same,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Anyone who reads the papers knows which way the wind is blowing. My job is to see if we can change the course of things.’

  ‘And if that isn’t possible?’ said Bertram.

  ‘In that case I am tasked with learning as much about the German armed forces and tactical plans as possible from the delegation.’

  ‘I see,’ said Bertram. ‘This would be the game you cannot win.’

  Chapter Five

  Messages From The Other Side

  ‘I do hope you’re not referring to war,’ said Fitzroy severely. ‘Because I can assure you that His Majesty’s Armed Forces are the best in the world and can trounce any enemy.’

  ‘But at what cost,’ I said quietly.

  ‘Any man would be honoured to give his life for his country,’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘Of course,’ said Bertram stoutly.

  ‘What about the mothers, daughters and wives who would lose their menfolk?’ I said, but only Madame Arcana paid me any heed.

  ‘Mankind learns slowly,’ she said. ‘And women generally pay the price.’ Bertram and Fitzroy both opened their mouths to speak, but she continued. ‘I take it you are agreeing with me, Eric, that war is coming whatever you do today?’

  Fitzroy closed his mouth and furrowed his brow. It was some time before he spoke, but all of us waited on his words. I half expected some quip from him about Madame Arcana knowing more clearly with her abilities, but when he finally spoke, his voice was grim. ‘I do not relish the thought of war. I will do everything I can, to my fullest ability, to avert it, but I do not see how to avoid it.’

  ‘But your cascade,’ I said

  He pressed his lips together in a thin smile. ‘I empty out my entire box of tricks, Euphemia, and yet it does not appear to be enough to change the collision course that both sides seem determined upon. If you mingle among the general public at this exhibition - one designed to strengthen ties between England and Germany - you will witness everyday men and women openly discussing their dislike of the Germans. The hostility is already entrenched, and it will take a more powerful man than I to lift it.’

  ‘But you will still try?’ I said.

  ‘Of course,’ said Fitzroy. ‘It is my job to protect our realm in whatever function I can serve. At this time, I believe it would serve us best to avoid war, but I will not make the decision. However, since you are so keen to be a dove at this time, Euphemia, I take it I can count on you and Bertram to aid me in the following days.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Bertram at once. ‘Whatever you need.’

  ‘Bertram,’ I said urgently. ‘Have you forgotten our situation?’

  ‘What situation?’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Bertram. ‘We’re dealing with it.’

  ‘Euphemia?’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘It is merely my brother up to his old tricks,’ said Bertram. ‘Family business.’

  ‘So, this is how you will be in marriage?’ said Fitzroy to me. ‘An obedient wife whose husband speaks for her.’

  I knew he was attempting to needle me. I placed my hand on Bertram’s arm. ‘My fiancé appears to want to keep the situation between us, so I will only confirm that Richa
rd Stapleford is indeed making a nuisance of himself once more and possibly, this time, to deadly effect.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Fitzroy. ‘I cannot have your focus divided. It is too important. Obviously try and not let yourselves get murdered, but otherwise, forget Stapleford. I need your help.’

  I felt this was a bit rich considering he hadn’t even known we were going to be there that day but said nothing. He caught my eye. ‘Madame Arcana was sure you would be here today.’

  ‘The British Secret Service is relying on omens and portents now, is it?’ said Bertram. ‘How long before you are giving us magic potions to drink?’

  ‘I think Eric only wants the séance today,’ said Madame Arcana. ‘You’ll need to increase my fee if you want more.’

  Fitzroy threw her a black look. She winked back at him. Fitzroy’s scowl deepened yet further. I stifled a giggle and unfortunately drew attention to myself. ‘Ah, yes, I think the séance would seem more believable if there were some normal people there. Euphemia, why don’t you attend with Richenda? I believe modern women are into these kinds of things.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Madame Arcana. ‘Euphemia is unusually strong with death.’

  Fitzroy stood up. ‘None of your nonsense for me, please, Annie. I’m not one of your stooges.’ He looked at me. ‘It’ll be in an hour. Be here. Bertram, with me.’

  Bertram threw me an apologetic look. ‘I’ll see you afterwards,’ he said and followed Fitzroy out of the booth.

  ‘Do not take it to heart, Euphemia,’ said Madame Arcana. ‘Eric is always at his sternest when he feels a situation slipping from his control. He would call it his professional demeanour. I would term it deeply concerned. I do feel for him. Whatever he does today will not please his masters.’ Her voice did not change but her eyes seemed to lose focus on me. Instead her gaze seemed to fall on a place far away. ‘There are very dark times ahead. However, if it helps I can see that Bertram will not be called upon to serve. His heart is too weak, and Eric has a way of surviving, so do not fear for either of them.’