“Stop him!” Lord Unwin shouted.
Captain Innes burst through the French doors with Mr. Slade and the agents in pursuit. He ran straight towards the children as they laughed and chased one another on the sunlit grass.
“Vicky! Bertie! Alfred!” the Queen cried.
She and her husband hurried to the doors. “My God!” exclaimed the Prince Consort. “Don’t let him near them!”
Their voices rang across the garden. The children and ladies turned; they caught sight of Captain Innes fleeing Mr. Slade and the agents. The children’s laughter gave way to frightened shrieks as they realized that something was amiss. Panic scattered them and the ladies.
Lord Unwin was on the terrace. He ordered the agents, “Draw your weapons!”
They halted and shouldered their rifles. “Captain Innes! Stop or they’ll shoot!” Lord Unwin called, as the Queen, Prince, and I looked on in speechless horror.
Captain Innes kept running. Bertie, crying and confused, veered into his path. The Queen screamed.
Lord Unwin shouted, “Fire!”
Mr. Slade shouted, “No!” as he ran. He was almost within reach of Captain Innes.
Gunshots boomed. Captain Innes jerked; he gave a yowl of pain. His gait faltered and he crashed facedown on the grass. All was suddenly still. Everyone stood paralyzed-the Queen, Prince, and I at the doors; Lord Unwin on the terrace; Mr. Slade, the agents, the children, and ladies-in-waiting ranged around the lawn. At the center of the tableau lay Captain Innes’s prone figure. Blood from bullet wounds in his back spread crimson patches across his shirt.
The Queen let out a moan. She and her husband rushed across the garden and gathered the children into their arms. Bertie began shrieking hysterically. A lady-in-waiting fainted; the others ran to her aid. Mr. Slade, Lord Unwin, the agents, and I clustered around Captain Innes. The agents trained their rifles on him in case he should move-but he did not.
Mr. Slade crouched, felt Captain Innes’s pulse, and spoke to Lord Unwin in a tone sharp with accusation: “He’s dead.”
The agents lowered their rifles. “Well,” Lord Unwin said, sounding dazed by the course of events and taken aback by Mr. Slade’s manner.
I’d never before seen a man gunned down like a rampant beast. My mind noted his hand curled limp on the grass, his eye already glazed, his body reduced to soulless flesh. My emotions were many, but foremost was a sense that things had just progressed from bad to much worse.
“You shouldn’t have given the order to fire,” Mr. Slade said as he stood and faced Lord Unwin. “You should not have killed him.”
“You dare to criticize me? Who do you think you are?” Lord Unwin’s pale eyes blazed. “What should I have done? The man was a menace. He might have hurt the Crown Prince.” Lord Unwin gestured towards Bertie, whose cries shrilled loud while the Queen tried to soothe him. “He might have gotten away.”
“I almost had him,” Mr. Slade pointed out, matching Lord Unwin’s fury. “We should have taken him alive.”
All the animosity between the men had risen to the surface. I wanted to berate Lord Unwin myself; I wanted Mr. Slade to thrash him, for I now understood the terrible consequences of Lord Unwin’s quest for glory.
Lord Unwin was too indignant to think of anything other than justifying his actions. “Captain Innes was a traitor to the Crown. He deserved to die.”
“Even a bloody imbecile like you should be able to see what his death has cost us,” Mr. Slade retorted. “Whatever Innes knew of Kuan’s plans, his whereabouts, or his other henchmen, he’ll take to his grave.”
38
The death of captain Innes had immediate and serious repercussions. Lord Unwin confined Mr. Slade to his quarters, and I to mine, while he notified the local authorities about the incident and they removed Captain Innes’s body. I spent many distressful hours wondering what would happen next. At midday Lord Unwin gathered Mr. Slade and me in the cottage where they were lodged. Mr. Slade and I sat in hard wooden chairs in front of the cold hearth, while Lord Unwin stood before us, severe and formal. Outside, rain began to fall, pelting the thatched roof; mist cloaked the forested hills.
“John Slade,” said Lord Unwin, “you are hereby dismissed from the employ of the Foreign Office.”
“What?” Mr. Slade exclaimed, leaping up from his chair. “Why?”
“Sit down,” Lord Unwin said.
Mr. Slade remained standing face to face with Lord Unwin. “Is it because I pointed out that you made a mistake by giving the order to fire on Captain Innes?”
“It is not,” Lord Unwin said, but annoyance twitched his mouth, and I knew that Mr. Slade had deduced at least part of the reason for the dismissal. “Rather, your actions have led to the death of an important witness in an official investigation.”
Enlightenment and dismay struck me at the same moment they became apparent in Mr. Slade’s expression. “Ah. I see. You intend for me to take the blame for your mistake.” His eyes flashed with anger. “You’re seizing on the death of Captain Innes as an excuse to get rid of me.”
Lord Unwin puffed with satisfaction. “Think what you wish. Tomorrow morning you will take the train to London, where you will settle your affairs at the Foreign Office.”
“You can’t do this!” Mr. Slade clenched his fists and took a step towards Lord Unwin. “Kuan has still to be captured. My mission is not yet finished!”
“The mission is yours no longer,” Lord Unwin said spitefully. “I am assuming charge of the hunt for Mr. Kuan.”
“I’ve brought the hunt this far,” Mr. Slade said, loud with indignation. “And for the sake of the kingdom, you had better let me finish it. You couldn’t catch a fish in a barrel by yourself!”
I wholeheartedly agreed; yet my opinion would count for nothing with Lord Unwin. His face reddened with ire at Mr. Slade’s insult; he spoke with haughty derision: “Save your breath. My decision is final. Here ends your career in the service of the Crown.”
Mr. Slade’s indignation subsided into defeat. Humiliation sagged his posture and quenched the rage in his eyes. I felt deep sympathy for him, but he wouldn’t look at me.
“As for you, Miss Bronte,” said Lord Unwin, “Her Majesty has decided that she no longer wishes you to serve as governess to the children. The Prince Consort agrees.” Here ended my brush with royalty. I bowed my head in shame at the ignominious dismissal. “The Foreign Office also has no further need of your services. You will join Mr. Slade on his journey to London and thereafter proceed to your home.”
“You’re dismissing Miss Bronte?” Mr. Slade stared as though he couldn’t believe it. “But she’s the only connection you have to Kuan. Now that his accomplice is dead, you need her more than ever.”
“Her assistance has produced little result beyond a wild goose chase across the kingdom and continent, and at considerable expense, I might add,” Lord Unwin said. “The pursuit of Mr. Kuan will be carried out according to my own plans.”
What those were, I could not imagine, and I would have wagered that Lord Unwin didn’t know, either. In his haste to be rid of Mr. Slade and me, he strode to the door and opened it. Outside, the cold rain poured.
“Goodbye, Mr. Slade,” he said. “Goodbye, Miss Bronte.”
My belongings took only moments to pack, and I had nothing else to do for the rest of that day. The Queen and Prince Consort kept the children away from me, the ladies-in-waiting shunned me, and servants brought my meals to my room. I felt like an outcast. To my further distress, Mr. Slade also avoided me. I supposed that he was preoccupied with the loss of his profession and his honor. What had happened last night might as well have never been. I had hoped we might at least talk over what had happened and devise some plan to counter Lord Unwin, but our only communication was a letter from Mr. Slade that said he’d had no word from the agents he’d sent to Haworth. Such fear I suffered for my family! Now that I could never accomplish the task Kuan had set me, were they all doomed? My despair increased with each passing hour.