Byrne went first to the mirror. The paper backing appeared newer than the mirror itself, which had undoubtedly come with the room’s furnishings. In fact, as he squatted over it he could see that it already had a much sturdier cardboard backing, probably the original. So Rhodes had hidden something of value here. Something thin. Letters or money? Maps? Or plans of some sort. Maybe blueprints of a targeted building. Whatever it was, it was gone now.
His stomach churned. Why remove something you’d hidden in a presumably safe place . . . unless you are ready to use it?
He turned to the disheveled bed. More than half of the straw stuffing was gone from the mattress. Not just pulled out, totally gone. Something had been stored in its place, stuffed up inside the mattress casing.
Byrne squatted down to study the canvas sack. He thrust his hand inside, felt around. Just straw. He ran his hand along the bed frame. He stretched out flat on his belly and slid head first beneath the oak frame.
“Hey, what you doing there, mister?” The landlord, at the door.
Byrne paid him no mind.
“You’re destroying private property. Won’t have none of that, will we now? I’m fetching the bobby down the corner, I am. Mr. Rhodes he’ll be furious when he sees . . .” The voice faded down the stairwell. An outside door banged shut.
Byrne rolled to his side, letting in more light from the window, through the frame’s slats and past his shoulder. There. There it was, as he’d suspected. He licked his finger and touched it to the floorboards midway across the width of the bed. When he scooted out from beneath the frame and lifted his finger to the light, fine blue-black flecks speckled his fingertip.
Charcoal, saltpeter, and sulfur. Black powder.
Rhodes had stored it here. A terrifyingly powerful supply, he estimated from the portion of the mattress that had been left empty. And now it was gone.
Which meant the Fenians were about to use it. For all he knew, the bomb might already be in place.
The question was—where?
Forty-seven
Louise peered out through the window at the top of the grand staircase overlooking the courtyard. Preparation for the Accession Day celebration had proceeded with all the energy of a military campaign. Servants had prepared elegant suites in the palace for distinguished guests. A steady stream of vendors delivered meats, fish, produce, grains, vegetables in abundance to the kitchens, hour after hour, day and night. Tonight the gala dinner would place immense pressure on the staff. Extra help had been hired, trained, liveried. Two footmen would attend each guest. The concert following the banquet included performances by scores of musicians and two famous composers.
Every person allowed entry into Buckingham Palace to work there was interviewed by the queen’s security detail. No guest would be allowed inside without identification.
But it was the procession by carriage to the church the following day that most concerned Louise, despite her support for her mother’s journey across London.
“I’m sure all will go smoothly,” Amanda said to Louise’s fretting.
Louise turned to her friend with a smile. “You’re probably right. Are you sure you and Henry and Eddie won’t join the parade? He’d love it, and I can arrange for a carriage.”
Amanda grimaced and pressed a hand to her immense stomach. Louise couldn’t believe only one child grew in there. “A bouncy carriage ride then sitting on a hard bench in church is not my idea of a pleasant day.”
Louise remembered her own baby’s ponderous weight and mysterious little kicks. His movements within her told her he was healthy, full of life, but also brought heartache every time she remembered he would not be allowed to stay with her. She looked down at little Edward now, entwined in Amanda’s skirts. He was small for his age. With his brown hair and eyes so much like her own, it was a wonder to her no one had guessed the truth. Even his mouth had the same gentle bow as hers.
Yet Victoria, well aware that he was her grandson, seemed immune to Eddie’s charms. Louise wondered if her mother actually had convinced herself the baby was Amanda’s, since she’d never seen Louise holding him as an infant. Her mother had a gift for pushing to the back of her mind anything she found unable to deal with on her own terms. Whereas Louise never seemed to stop worrying about every little detail. Only while she’d been with Stephen Byrne in the tiny servant’s room had all her worries flown away, like so many doves released in a carefree burst of flight, up and into the air. Such bliss.
She sighed, aloud apparently, for Amanda turned to her with a frown. “Something wrong?”
“No, my dear friend. I’m only concerned for you. Most women I know, with less than a month before their babies are due, take to their beds. Henry still encourages you to stay up and travel about?”
“As active as I feel able, he says. It’s the new way of dealing medically with pregnancy, he says. As long as I’m healthy and have the energy, he claims I’m less likely to suffer complications and will have an easier labor. We shall see if he’s right.” Amanda’s eyes sparkled with anticipation of the blessed event.
“I still think that working at the shop is far too great a strain on you,” Louise said.
“Well, you had better take advantage of my time now. After the baby is born, I will likely need all of my strength to nurse this brute.” She smiled, stroking her bulging belly.
Louise wasn’t sure she believed Henry’s rather revolutionary medical theories, but today Amanda seemed convincing proof. She glowed with inner health and joy.
“But you will come join us for the banquet and performance this evening?” Louise asked.
Amanda hugged her, as best she could in her current rotund form. “I wouldn’t miss it. The performance will take my mind off this child’s fierce kicks. Oh!” Amanda yipped, her face puckering with momentary pain.
“That must have been a hard one. Are you sure that baby won’t come earlier than Henry predicts?”
Amanda whispered, “As it’s my first, he says it’s more likely to arrive late rather than early.”
Louise nodded. Sometimes, for just a moment, she forgot the little boy with them had indeed once been hers. She closed her eyes to forestall a wash of tears.
“Let me see. Let me see!” Eddie shouted.
Louise bent down to the child’s level and peered over the windowsill to see what had caught his interest. He was only able to peer outside by clinging to the sill and jumping up and down on his toes. He ran to his mother and tugged on her dress, lifting his arms to her.
“Come to me, Eddie,” Louise said. “Your mother can’t pick you up these days, fat as she is.”
“Oh, I like that!” Amanda cried, laughing, and swatted her with her fan. The day was warm. Even within the cool stone walls of the castle, Louise felt the rising heat. So unusual for June. Rain, she thought, let it rain tonight to cool things off.
Eddie spotted another carriage rolling into the courtyard. He pointed frantically at the horse pulling it. He loved horses and delighted in naming them, as if they came from his personal stable.
“Oh yes,” Louise crooned, “that’s a lovely gray, isn’t it?”
“Smoky,” the little boy crowed. “I name him Smoky.”
“Whose carriage is that?” Amanda asked.
Louise looked more closely. It wasn’t one of theirs, with the royal crest on the door. A tall man with a graying beard stepped out; he carried a black leather bag. “Dr. Lister,” she said, surprised.
The famous surgeon had been summoned before to the palace by her mother’s personal physician, Dr. Edwards, a gentle soul with considerable ability. However he sometimes became nervous at being the sole physician responsible for the aging queen. When it had become necessary to cut and drain a painful abscess on the queen’s arm, he’d called in Lister to perform the operation.