The Chronicles of the Tempus

by K. A. S. Quinn

  Dr O’Reilly bristled at the word ‘trade’ but bowed grudgingly to Prince Albert. This was not the outcome he had anticipated from his grand speech.

  Alice was overjoyed, but at this moment there was something far more crucial she had to discuss with her father. She had to get her father alone, to tell him about the intruders and the kidnap attempt. ‘Father,’ she blurted out, ‘I cannot thank you enough for all you have given me today, but there is one more thing of great importance – if we could talk in private for but one moment.’

  Bernardo DuQuelle was once again at the Prince’s elbow, a paper in his hands. Katie noticed, again, how DuQuelle seemed to drink in the words. ‘I do apologize for interrupting,’ he murmured. ‘But I have had a report from the O’Reilly nursemaid, the Honourable Emma Twisted …’ DuQuelle’s lip curled slightly as he pronounced her name. A twitter was heard amongst the courtiers. Dr O’Reilly turned bright red.

  ‘Does it need to be discussed now?’ Prince Albert enquired. He didn’t think much of Emma Twisted, but he particularly disliked the cattiness of the courtiers.

  ‘I am afraid so. She has reported a break-in. Someone has entered the O’Reilly baby’s room by night and they have, well, drunk all her porter and eaten her supper.’ DuQuelle held a handkerchief to his mouth, stifling a laugh. The courtiers sniggered and giggled.

  Prince Albert wheeled around. ‘Silence,’ he admonished. Even the gentlest of princes could be galled. ‘DuQuelle, I suggest we discuss this another time.’

  DuQuelle, following him from the room had the grace to look apologetic. ‘Sir, on face value I know it looks like a trifle,’ he whispered to Prince Albert. ‘But with the threat of the anarchists all Palace security must be rigorously reviewed. If the Black Tide…’

  ‘Father,’ Alice interrupted. ‘Please, one more thing.’

  Prince Albert had had enough. The courtiers, the governesses, and the ever-present irritant of Bernardo DuQuelle; even his young daughter could not stop pressing him for more.

  ‘My dear Alice, will there always be “one more thing”? To importune like this is not an attractive trait.’ Stopping at the door, he had one more decree. ‘Baroness Lehzen, please do mend the Princess Alice’s little toy. I know the lamb is a favourite of hers, and the ears seem to have fallen off.’

  Katie had been utterly absorbed by the scene before her. But she was still very weak, and standing on tiptoe behind the screen had made her dizzy. ‘I don’t know what to make of him,’ Katie thought, staggering back to the chaise longue. ‘How can Prince Albert say women can’t be doctors – but then agree that Alice can study medicine? And he is maddened by the flattery and falseness of the courtiers, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Why? And one minute he’s a really good and loving father, and the next he snaps, cold and withdrawn, like he barely knows her. But one thing’s clear, Alice thinks the sun shines out of his moustache – so I’d better keep my thoughts to myself … and he did really stick it to the Baroness. She must be totally hacked off …’ Katie smiled and sighed. But she was still far from well. Alice was right, she needed sleep.

  It was hunger that finally awoke Katie – the kind of hunger that yells inside of you ‘hamburgers, doughnuts, cookies!’

  ‘Fat chance,’ Katie told her churning insides. Not a lot of eating goes on here, at least not in the nursery. We’ll be lucky to get a cucumber sandwich. She could hear the rain beating against the schoolroom windows. Peeking over the screen, she was surprised to see Alice asleep at her desk, one cheek resting on a map of India. The room was cold and dark, the fire was out and Alice was in her rumpled day-dress. Katie padded across the room and gently shook her shoulder.

  ‘Wha? Oh dear. What time is it?’ Alice asked, rubbing her eyes and shivering.

  ‘I’m having enough trouble with the century, so don’t ask me about the hours,’ Katie replied. ‘What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in bed?’

  ‘Punishment, Baroness Lehzen. She intercepted my note to Papa and then …’

  ‘I know, I saw the whole thing this afternoon. How can she punish you after your father’s visit, though? He won the day, hands down.’

  Alice smiled. Her father, he had been wonderful. But then he’d left. And the moment he was gone, Baroness Lehzen was back in charge. ‘She returned, and quite rightfully found fault with my needlework. So now I’m being punished – I fear with doubled harshness due to the incidents of this afternoon. No food or water and no fire in the hearth until I have correctly filled in all the territorial lines of the sub-continent.’

  Katie looked at the map, strewn with rulers, slides and compasses. ‘Double yuk. I’d starve or freeze before I could do that, but then we’re doing both already. Alice – can we get to the kitchens without anyone seeing us? I’ve just got to eat – real food – not gruel food.’

  Alice looked at the tiny watch hanging from her waist. ‘We can certainly get to the kitchens without being detected. Bertie scavenged ninety per cent of his meals that way. I’ll just let Jamie O’Reilly know you’re awake and hungry – a definite sign of returning health.’ She shot Katie a sly look. ‘He has been terribly worried about your illness.’

  As Alice stepped towards the door, Leopold called out from the next room. He was still in bed – cross, bored and hungry too.

  ‘Alice, what are you doing up?’ he asked fretfully, ‘and who were you talking to? I know you’re being punished, I heard it all.’

  Alice went to her brother’s bedside and stroked his hot forehead. ‘Don’t worry yourself, dear, I’m just talking to my dolls to keep myself company. Poor Leo – you haven’t done anything wrong, yet it’s as if you are being punished too. Are you in pain?’

  ‘Mostly just hungry, and so tired of lying here alone, thinking and thinking of what I don’t want to think about. The Reverend Duckworth is here all day, but I can’t bear his put-on cheer. He’s a dreadful tutor, paid to be nice to me, all servants are. Father’s been to visit me every day since my bleeding attack, and Mama came once too. But they both looked so grave that I became even more frightened. Alice, am I going to die?’

  Alice ruffled his dark hair and managed a bright false smile. ‘Now that is nonsense. Dr O’Reilly has everything under control. I’ll tell you what, suppose I sneak down to the kitchen and get us both a bun and some fruit?’

  Leopold smiled back, but then looked anxious. ‘I am absolutely famished, but O’Reilly says too much food will thicken my blood and bring on the bleeding. He says only strong tea and beef broth for five days.’

  ‘Maybe just a bit of fruit then,’ Alice reassured him. ‘And some wine. That will thin your blood down and give your stomach something to hold on to.’

  ‘Alice, you will come back soon?’

  ‘Quick as a flash. And then why don’t we read some stories together – yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ Leopold answered, tossing his head on his pillow. ‘But don’t let them catch you. All the shouting when you get into trouble hurts my head. And don’t read anything too frightening or adventurous to me – that will certainly quicken the blood and you know how bad that is for my recovery. And you shouldn’t be talking to your dolls – you’re too old for that, and besides you’re being punished, and …’

  Alice sighed and, plumping Leopold’s pillow, crept out of the room. Katie turned to her in exasperation. ‘A lowering diet? Wine? And do you really think Dr O’Reilly has everything under control?’

  Alice had tears in her eyes. ‘I can only follow Dr O’Reilly’s instructions. If you really understand this disease, Katie, then tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.’

  ‘I’m not a doctor,’ Katie replied. ‘I’ve barely started studying biology, much less medicine. But I do know what not to do. Don’t bring him any wine, and do give him something solid to eat. It won’t hurt him, I promise.’

  They both jumped when the door opened, but it was only James. ‘I came to see how Katie was getting on. I can see she’s back to her old self: not only up, but already a
rguing.’

  ‘Alice and I were not arguing.’

  ‘Of course not – Princess Alice is far too well mannered to argue, even with a know-it-all like you. Now that you’re on your feet we can try and send you back to your own time, if you really do come from …’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Alice ordered. ‘Katie, you’ve been so ill you could barely speak for several days. Jamie, you’ve been worried beyond all recognition, popping in every hour or so with a possible new cure. But the moment you two are together it’s bicker, bicker, bicker. I’m too hungry for all this. I’m going to find something to eat – if you wish to join me, fine.’

  With muttered apologies, the two followed Alice behind the screen and into the secret passage between the Palace walls.

  Chapter Six

  MacKenzie’s Cupboard

  They twisted and turned, went down stairs and up ladders. ‘I don’t remember the kitchens being such a long way from the nursery,’ Katie thought.

  ‘I sense that we’ve walked in a circle,’ James ventured after quite some time.

  Finally Alice had to admit: ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry, but I’m afraid we’re slightly lost.’

  ‘There’s a door,’ said James, ‘just opposite that niche in the wall. We can nip out for a moment to see what room it leads to and catch our bearings.’

  Opening the low door, they ducked into a large room, which would have been comfortable if it hadn’t been so crammed full of things. In the centre of the room, two large mahogany desks were placed flank to flank, each piled with red leather boxes. They were surrounded by a battalion of upholstered chairs and sofas – all tasselled, braided and fringed. Little tables scattered about held an endless number of objects: miniature bronze statues, porcelain vases, dried flowers, framed photographs, carved ivory. Katie picked up a curious item and immediately put it down. It seemed to be some kind of animal’s hoof.

  ‘We’re in Papa’s private study,’ Alice explained. ‘He and the Queen sit side by side at those desks – often late into the night – there’s so much work to be done. And he keeps the books and reference materials he most needs in here.’ One wall was crammed with books – floor to ceiling – with a little brass rail halfway up, supporting a ladder on wheels. Katie could just imagine clambering up the ladder to find the book she wanted. With a pang she remembered her own library, but it was under the bed, in New York City, trapped in another century. They really must be looking for her by now.

  The other walls were covered with paintings: men in Roman tunics, women in Grecian draperies, children, dogs, the odd cow, landscapes, seascapes, Highland idylls, still lifes of fruit, fish and artfully broken crockery. Hanging behind a plump sofa was a large pastel of the baby Alice, dimpling and dancing in a Spanish shawl. Above the fireplace, in a place of honour, was a vivid oil painting of a much younger Prince Albert – his close-fitting hunting jacket and tight leggings leaving little to the imagination. He looked dreamily into the middle distance, one suede booted foot resting on an enormous dead stag.

  ‘The last of Bambi,’ Katie thought, ‘of all the stupid paintings …’ But then she remembered the one in her mother’s bedroom: Mimi, stark naked, except for some flowers in the wrong places. Maybe it was just parents … Her attention was diverted by something that looked like a large doll’s house. On closer inspection, she could see it was an architect’s model. The child-sized building wasn’t stone, or brick or wood, but was made up, almost entirely, of iron arches filled with glass. Each storey was shorter and narrower than the one below, so that the building resembled nothing more than a greenhouse in the shape of a gigantic wedding cake. It was very pretty.

  ‘This is Papa’s grand project,’ Alice told her. ‘It’s the model for a great exhibition hall that is being built in Hyde Park. It will show everyone the outstanding design and quality of our manufactured goods – all under one roof. It will celebrate our country’s achievements in modern times. Father has worked so hard, putting all his time and effort into this wonderful plan to better the nation. But the newspapers have, well, they’ve been more than cruel, calling the project a “white elephant”, an albatross, and begrudging Papa the funds for this building, even the land it is being built upon.’

  James looked at Katie. ‘You say you know the future. So what is the outcome? Will the exhibition be the failure they’re all predicting?’

  But of course – Katie recognized the building now. She’d seen pictures of it in history books – so it must be a big deal – though the pictures somehow looked different from this model. For once her knowledge of the future brought good news. ‘The Prince’s project, it’s still called the Great Exhibition – and there have been like zillions of exhibitions since then. Everyone, all over the country, and from other countries too, will rush to see just what Britain can do. It’s a really big deal – it changes the way the world sees you. It kind of makes you into a super power.’

  ‘And Father?’ Alice asked. ‘Does it finally make the country value Father?’ Katie looked at the portrait of the man standing on the dead stag.

  ‘Yes, it helps people to understand that he is much more than Mr Queen.’

  ‘And the press will admit that they’ve been wrong about him?’ Alice asked.

  James laughed. ‘I don’t need Katie to tell you that future. The newspapers will pretend they always knew the exhibition was a brilliant idea and probably suggest that they thought it up in the first place. Then they will find some other grievance against the Prince. Don’t look so shocked, Alice. Do you think the press actually wants to tell the truth?’

  Katie had to agree. ‘Look at Mimi,’ she explained. ‘She has a personal stylist, a PR agent and a media manager, but ninety per cent of what they write about poor old Mimi is total rubbish. Just made-up stuff.’

  Alice looked so downcast by this worldly wisdom that Katie decided to change the subject. ‘Can we get back to looking for the kitchens? I’m sick with hunger.’

  ‘You think more about your stomach than anyone I’ve ever met,’ James retorted. ‘And girls aren’t supposed to talk about their appetites. It’s unseemly.’

  ‘So you starve girls then, do you? Is that how you keep them in their place?’

  Even Princess Alice had to laugh. They re-entered the secret passageway, giggling and scuffling, when a sound at the far end of the low dark corridor froze them in their tracks.

  ‘Shhhh,’ said Alice, ‘someone else is in this passage.’

  James blew out their candle. ‘It must be the kidnappers. We knew they had access. How else did they get to Alice’s room the other night?’ The sound of footsteps was coming closer, and they could see a faint light appearing some distance behind them. ‘Quick,’ he hissed, ‘a door, any door.’

  ‘But some of them lead into bedrooms or servants’ quarters,’ Alice cautioned, ‘we might be caught.’

  ‘Well, we’re going to get caught here, and by someone we know to be brutal. Now hurry! Go!’ The sounds were coming closer.

  Katie spied a particularly squat wooden door, different from the others. ‘This might be a storage cupboard.’

  ‘You’re probably tumbling us down a coal shoot,’ James grumbled. But crouching down, he pushed Katie and Alice through the low door, shutting it firmly behind him. Within minutes they could hear the footsteps in the secret corridor passing by. Everything around them was dark and there was no sound of human life. ‘Now, where are we?’ James asked, relighting their candle.

  The room was surprisingly large, and filled from bottom to top with boxes, crates and baskets. Katie opened one after the other – there were jams, smoked meats, cordials, wines, pickled vegetables and rounds of cheese in their waxy rinds. On other shelves she found candles, boot polish, beeswax, string, pillows, linens and cutlery. ‘Is this some kind of housekeeping station?’ she asked. ‘Like in a hotel?’

  Alice looked puzzled. ‘I don’t believe it is. Just look around you. It’s a terrible mess. And most of the things have been ever so
slightly used. The candles lit and quickly extinguished, a single spoonful taken from a jar of jam.’ Her eyes widened. ‘It looks as if someone has been taking these things from the Palace and hiding them here. But why?’

  ‘I think someone is hording all this stuff, then moving it out of the Palace and selling it on,’ James said. ‘This is someone’s private little kingdom, and it’s earning them a pretty penny.’

  Alice looked appalled. ‘I remember now. There’s a household rule that the Queen must be served with new things at all times. If a candle is lit once, it is inadmissible to light it again. No wonder we never have enough supplies in the storerooms and pantries. Father is always complaining to Baroness Lehzen and Mr MacKenzie. He’s written many a memorandum on the subject. They’re always saying they will look into it thoroughly, but …’

  Voices from the next room stopped her mid-sentence. James blew out the candle again and the three moved cautiously through the clutter towards the sounds. There were several voices, but one of them made Katie clutch Alice’s arm in horror. She could distinguish a voice they all knew well – the Scottish burr of Mr MacKenzie.

  ‘How many trips will it take?’ he was asking. ‘We’ll need to clear out the perishables tonight. The meats will spoil and then they’ll be of no worth to us.’

  ‘We’ll try to take the meats and cheeses, but it’s too dangerous to go back and forth all through the night. There’s too much of a chance that someone will see us. We need more frequent access to the Palace and we need to come and go as we please.’ Alice let out a gasp. James put a finger to his lips but he too was unnerved. It had been startling enough, hearing MacKenzie blatantly swindle the Royal Family – but the other voice held even more terror. All three recognized its sliding cadences; they’d heard it before, at the foot of Alice’s bed, on the night of the kidnap. ‘Our leader is unhappy with the progress we are making.’

  MacKenzie gestured impatiently. ‘Tell that overseer of yours that he can save his breath to cool his porridge. He’s a slippery character enough. I can see your point, though,’ he conceded. ‘It would be easier for me if you could let yourself in. It’s a risk to meet you each time with the key. Plus I have my own duties to attend to, and these sleepless nights are affecting me badly… and then there is that other matter… I will look into obtaining a separate key for you.’