by Kari Bovee
“I’m not a cowgirl.” Annie felt her temper flare. She shouldn’t let Lillie know she got under her skin, but the woman brought out something in her that made her act unlike anything she was or wanted to be.
“Well, aren’t you full of yourself? Let’s go. We need to get in line.” Lillie grabbed Annie by the wrist and dragged her toward a crowd of people lining up to greet the prince and princess.
Mr. Patel approached them wearing a dark suit and a tall, beaver-skin fez.
“Hello, Mr. Patel,” Annie said, nodding to him. She still wasn’t certain how she felt about him, considering he was one of her prime suspects in the murder investigation of Mr. Bhakta. But both she and Emma felt certain they’d found the killer. The evidence against Miss Brady was too overwhelming to deny.
Mr. Patel graciously bowed and took Annie’s hand. His hand felt small as a sparrow and just as fragile.
“I’m here to instruct you on how to greet their royal highnesses.”
Lillie snorted, obviously in reference to her previous joke. The guests again turned a disapproving eye on the two of them. Annie cringed inwardly, but focused her attention on Mr. Patel.
“Do we shake their hands?” she asked.
“You must first address His Royal Majesty. Curtsy with your eyes cast downward. Once you rise, then you may make eye contact and whatever you say, be sure to address him as ‘Your Royal Majesty.’ Then you may move on to the princess.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Lillie gave Mr. Patel a stiff salute. Annie stifled a groan.
“Have a good evening.” Mr. Patel bowed again and then moved on down the line where more of the performers, including Buffalo Bill, the chief, and Mr. Salisbury, waited their turn to meet the royals.
“Please show some taste, Lillie. We don’t want to reflect badly on the colonel. I don’t think the people of Europe have seen anything quite like us.” Annie scanned the room, noting the appraising eyes of the gentry.
It had taken her so long to be comfortable in front of a crowd performing. Now, that seemed easy compared with standing in a fancy parlor of an estate, unable to move—or breathe. Her corset dug into her waist, and Annie envisioned the angry red lines she would see on her skin when she undressed. To rid herself of these binds and sink into a warm, soft bed with Frank seemed like a fantasy, and one that wouldn’t manifest for hours yet to come.
“We are special,” Lillie said tugging at the teardrop pearls hanging from her earlobes. “My ears feel afire! Are they red?”
“Be quiet, and stop grabbing at your ear.” Annie said through a clenched and forced smile. “You’re getting too much notice.”
The line quickly moved forward, and Annie and Lillie were only one other couple away from meeting royalty for the first time.
The woman behind them cleared her throat, and Annie stole at glance at her; her nose rose straight in the air. Annie took in a steady breath, praying that Lillie wouldn’t do anything even more embarrassing.
As the prince addressed the man in front of them, his eyes traveled to the back of the room. Annie turned to see Mrs. Langtry blow the prince a kiss. She turned back and saw a mortified expression on the face of Princess Alexandra. Her mouth twitched at the corners, and her eyes narrowed slightly, but she still held her bearing and smiled graciously at the couple in front of Annie and Lillie, exchanging a few words with them. Annie’s heart went out to the princess. She must be so humiliated at Mrs. Langtry openly flirting with her husband. The couple ahead of Annie and Lillie moved away from the royal couple, leaving the two of them left to face the prince and princess.
Lillie stepped forward first and bowed low to the ground, her head almost between her knees. She lost her balance and had to put her hand to the floor for support. Giggling, she stood up, red-faced, her bosom nearly falling out of her dress. She held her hand out toward the prince. He looked over to his wife, as if for an explanation. The princess blinked several times in rapid succession, her smile close-lipped and tense. The prince took Lillie’s hand, his crooked smile belaying his astonishment at the young woman’s clumsiness.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Lillie said, batting her eyelashes.
Annie wanted to sink into the floor. Instead, she turned her full attention to the princess, dipped to a small curtsy and then rose, holding her hands together at her waist.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness,” she said.
A collective gasp filled the room. Mr. Patel had instructed her to greet the prince first, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it because of his behavior with Mrs. Langtry.
The princess smiled wide at Annie and held out her hands. Annie placed one of hers in the princess’s warm grasp.
“I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Oakley. I hope you have found everything to your satisfaction in our fair kingdom so far.”
“It’s lovely.” Annie then turned to the prince and curtsied. “Your Royal Highness.”
“Miss Oakley.” His eyes met hers for a brief moment and then he focused on the couple behind them. Annie grasped Lillie’s plump arm and guided her away from the royals. Lillie shook her off and walked away.
In seconds, Emma was at Annie’s side. “Oh, dear, darling. I’m afraid you’ve slighted the prince. Annie, what were you thinking? You know this will be the talk of the town.”
Annie led Emma over to a small alcove off the main parlor that led into a great hallway lined with paned glass windows that soared to the ceiling. When she felt they could not be heard, she whispered to Emma, “He is unabashedly unfaithful to his wife and flirts with his mistress in front of everyone. My heart went out to the princess.”
“Annie, the royals do things differently.”
“I don’t care.” Annie planted her fists on her hips. “It’s cruel. I don’t suppose the princess can go off and have affairs with anyone she pleases. A man and woman are equal partners in a relationship.”
“Not here, and not in most cases, Annie. You have something very special with Frank, but believe me—not everyone is so fortunate.” Emma’s gaze penetrated Annie’s heart, and she felt a sudden pity for Emma. She always seemed so strong and fiercely independent. Annie never considered she might be lonely.
Annie sighed. “I understand. But I still don’t regret my actions. In that moment, Princess Alexandra needed to know she is valued.”
“You have a true heart.” Emma patted her shoulder, the earlier sadness in her eyes gone.
Annie heard voices echoing down the long hallway and turned to see Dr. Adams speaking with another party guest. From the tone of their voices and the rigid body language of the two men, the conversation seemed to be heated.
“Is that Dr. Adams?” Emma asked. “And why is he wearing that appalling orange ribbon on his lapel? The color does not suit him.”
“He seems very upset. I’d like to speak with him about Frank.” Annie tilted her head to see if she could hear the conversation. They listened to the voices. “Do you hear that, Emma?”
“No, I can’t hear what they are saying. You have good hearing, my dear.”
“It’s not what they are saying it’s how he is saying it.”
“I don’t get your meaning.”
“He is speaking with an Irish accent.” Annie turned to look at Emma. “Don’t you hear it?”
Emma shook her head. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. On the ship, he had an English accent, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“But how—?”
A white-gloved servant holding a small silver tray appeared in the alcove.
“Miss Oakley. A letter for you.”
“What? Here?” It seemed strange to get a letter delivered at a party. Everyone who knew her was in attendance. Why would she receive a letter at Baron Wolverton’s estate? She hoped it wasn’t about Frank.
The servant stood silently, his back straight and the tray held out to her. She removed the letter and held it to her chest. “Thank you.”
The se
rvant bowed his head and left.
“How very strange,” Emma said, leaning in to get a look at the letter. “Well, open it.”
Annie turned the letter over and saw a red seal was holding the folded paper closed. She couldn’t make out the mark, which was blurred as if the sender had been in a rush. She opened the paper and unfolded it. All of the life melted out of her body. She raised her hand to her mouth.
“You look wretched, Annie. What is it?”
Annie stared at the paper. “It’s not a letter. It’s a message.”
Emma grabbed the paper from Annie’s hands and read.
“Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate are necessary to human existence. From these contraries spring what the religious call good and evil. Good is the passive that obeys reason. Evil is the active springing from energy. Good is Heaven. Evil is Hell. The queen betrays these laws. She should not be allowed existence.”
“Another section from Blake’s poem. And another threat about the queen,” Emma said, raising her eyes to meet Annie’s.
“But what does it mean?” Annie shook her head in confusion. How could this be? Another letter? And why sent to her? Was this person aiming to torture her, to play with her, to prove how wrong she had been? She swallowed hard, her mouth turning dry as a dust.
“I’m not sure. I think this part of the previous poem. Here Blake speaks of contraries: good and evil, Heaven and Hell. His theory explains that both are necessary and part of human nature. I think the person who sent this note feels that the queen has put herself above good and evil, and so she should not exist, but I’m not certain. I’m not sure what it means,” said Emma.
“I do.” Annie took back the letter and crushed it to her chest. “It means the murderer is still at large, and I’ve accused the wrong person.”
Chapter Eighteen
Annie suddenly felt lightheaded, and her knees wobbled. She had to sit down. Pushing past Emma, she headed toward one of the plush sofas and sank into it, grasping onto the arm and digging her fingers into the fabric.
“That poor girl!” Annie exclaimed as Emma sat down beside her. “What have I done? What did they do with her? Where is Miss Brady?”
“Annie, calm down.” Emma grasped her by the shoulders.
Annie’s mind reeled. “Do you know where they’ve sent her? We have to get her out. I was wrong. How could I have been so stupid?”
“Are you sure, Annie? We compared the fingerprints.”
“Yes, I know, but who else would be quoting Blake? The fingerprints were not substantial evidence—that is obvious, now. We have to find out where she was sent.” Annie’s heart raced. How could she have been so quick to judge Miss Brady? But the evidence had seemed so solid.
“All right, we will find her,” Emma said, in an obvious attempt to soothe her. “Dr. Adams is here, remember? He examined Miss Brady on the ship before we disembarked.”
Annie closed her eyes, remembering. The girl had sunk into a deep depression. She wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t eat, and couldn’t sleep. She had walked down the ramp of the ship like a ghost, her eyes vacant, her skin sallow, and her cheeks bony and sunken.
“We have to find Dr. Adams.” Annie stood up too fast. Suddenly dizzy, she grasped the arm of the sofa again for support. “I hope he hasn’t left the party yet. Was he to meet the royal couple?” Annie swayed, her head feeling airy and light, her breath shallow.
Emma stood up and grabbed hold of her elbow. “No. Only those of you in the Wild West Show. Are you all right, Annie?”
Annie waved her free hand in the air. “I’m fine. A little lightheaded. I can’t breathe in this damned corset. Oh, I’m sorry, excuse my language. I’m just—I suppose it’s also from the shock of knowing I’ve accused an innocent woman of a crime so heinous—” Annie pressed her fingers to her lips, squeezing her eyes shut, fending off a wave of nausea. She took a deep breath and gazed into the eyes of her friend. “I have to make this right, Emma.”
“And we will, Annie. How were we to know? All the evidence pointed to Miss Brady. You did nothing wrong.”
Annie felt a little steadier on her feet. She took in another breath and squared her shoulders. “Let’s find Dr. Adams.”
“You stay here. I’ll find the doctor.” Emma indicated for Annie to sit again.
“No. I have to find him. I have to do this, Emma.”
Emma sighed. “All right. Let’s go together, then.”
Annie shook her head. “No. It would be better if we split up. We can cover more of the party if we aren’t together.” Annie felt the blood rush back into her limbs, along with her determination.
“Fine. I’ll go this way—” Emma took off before Annie could say anything more.
Annie headed in the opposite direction. She weaved in and out of little groups, trying to smile as she slid past people. Many made eye contact with her, as if they wished to speak to her. She hated to appear rude, but she had to set things right for Miss Brady. God only knew what she had been going through. All because of her.
To her relief, she spotted the doctor talking to Mrs. Langtry and Oscar Wilde, of all people. She tried not to appear rushed as she glided over to them. Her eyes went immediately to the orange ribbon he had pinned to his lapel. She thought it a very unorthodox accessory.
“Miss Oakley!” Oscar Wilde beamed. “Your greeting the princess was highly entertaining. I’m sure you made her feel the belle of the ball.”
“Bertie was none too pleased, but I admire your spunk,” said Mrs. Langtry. “He’s a man who needs to be kept on his toes.”
“Which you manage to do quite well, my lovely, I must say.” Mr. Wilde held his champagne glass up to Mrs. Langtry in a toast. She burst into a hearty laugh.
Annie bit her lip. She would love to tell Mrs. Langtry how she felt about the situation between her and “Bertie” but she had other pressing matters to attend to.
“Dr. Adams, may I speak with you, please?” Annie directed her gaze at the doctor.
Dr. Adams bowed to Mr. Wilde and Mrs. Langtry. The two raised their brows at Annie’s request and walked away, but she refused to let their flippancy bother her.
She swallowed hard, not knowing how to begin with the doctor. “That is a lovely ribbon, Dr. Adams.”
He glanced down at his lapel. “Yes. Thank you. In remembrance of my late mother. It is the anniversary of her death today.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”
“Wonderful woman, my mother.”
“Yes, you’ve told me. May she rest in peace. Dr. Adams, I have to know, who alerted the queen about the death of Mr. Bhakta? I’m sure she was quite distressed.”
“I don’t know. The captain sent word before we arrived in London.”
“What became of Miss Brady?”
“The police came aboard when we docked. After all the passengers disembarked, they took Miss Brady away. It is my understanding she was sent to the Middlesex County Asylum at Hanwell.”
“Asylum?”
“Yes. For the mentally disturbed. I am sure she is being adequately taken care of. Why do you ask?” Dr. Adams focused on Annie with rapt interest.
Annie could barely make the words come out of her mouth.
“She didn’t kill Mr. Bhakta.”
“How do you mean?”
Annie told him about the note she’d just received, with the continuation of Blake’s poem, “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.”
“So, you see,” Annie continued, “not only have I accused the wrong person of the crime, but the murderer is still at large, and the queen’s life is still in danger. We must get word to the queen’s security people. And we must get Miss Brady out of that asylum.”
“Excuse me.” Mr. Wilde appeared again. He peered around the doctor’s shoulder, smiling. “I couldn’t help but overhear. You say our beloved queen’s life is in danger?”
Annie took in a shaky breath. She hadn’t meant for an
yone else to hear.
“It appears so, from what Miss Oakley just told me,” said the doctor. “What makes you believe this is true, Miss Oakley?” Mr. Wilde asked. Mrs. Langtry rejoined them, and leaned into Mr. Wilde’s arm.
“What’s this? Old Vic in danger?” she asked.
Annie wasn’t sure what to say. It could be a disaster if too many people knew what had occurred on the ship. She didn’t know how to reply. Before she could think of anything, the doctor began recounting the story. When he finished, Mr. Wilde addressed Mrs. Langtry.
“J. L., did you know this Indian servant, Mr. Bhakta?” Mr. Wilde asked.
“I’ve seen several Indian servants at the queen’s beck and call. She’s grown quite fond of their people. I usually do not move in the same circles as the royal family, well, for obvious reasons, so I don’t know the gentleman you are referring to.” She smiled prettily at the doctor, who seemed enchanted with her.
From the corner of her eye, Annie saw Lillie on one of the sofas speaking to a man in uniform, leaning in so close to him that she was nearly resting in his lap. Lillie had said she would look for Hulda, but Hulda was nowhere to be seen. Panic gripped Annie’s heart. Where was her little sister? If someone had taken the time to send the threatening note to Annie, it could mean Hulda was in danger too. At this point, Annie couldn’t be too careful.
“Dr. Adams, Mrs. Langtry, Mr. Wilde, I must go. I have to find my sister. She was upset with me and ran off. She is very young and new to all of this—this—”
“Miss Oakley, you are distressed.” Dr. Adams placed his hand on Annie’s shoulder. “I think you should find your sister, go back to Earl’s Court, and get some rest. I’m sure you haven’t recovered from your journey yet. I hope your husband is doing better.”
The lightheaded feeling returned. She wanted to scream that no, Frank was not better; in fact, he was worse; her sister had left the party upset and unchaperoned; and she, herself, had committed a grievous error resulting in the false institutionalization of an innocent woman— and she could be responsible for an assassination attempt on the queen.
“He’s not well. I—I must go. Please see if you can alert someone about the queen.” Annie’s head pounded, and her insides churned. Dear God, what had she eaten? When was the last time she ate? The room grew hot and her corset tighter by the moment. Perspiration dampened her palms and armpits. It suddenly occurred to her that Dr. Adams’s English accent had returned. The Irish brogue she had heard bellowing in anger down the hallway before had vanished.
