Incarnation (37 page)

“How extraordinary,” I said. My view of the queen empress was changing rapidly. Had I the opportunity to live in such a place, I would have taken it, too.

“This way,” Gladstone said. He led us toward the wing that housed Her Imperial Majesty’s receiving rooms, staff offices, and private chambers. The opposite wing, he told us, was reserved for the public reception areas including those in which the final Jubilee celebration was due to take place. I was fascinated to see that given the opportunity to build interior walls, Victoria had chosen to make those, too, mostly of glass. Through them, officers of her court could be seen going about their business at their desks or around meeting tables. Others hurried to and fro bearing red boxes of government documents. It was not until we reached Her Imperial Majesty’s own chambers that the walls became concealing.

A lady-in-waiting greeted us at the door to the inner sanctum. She peered down the long beak of her nose, sniffed, and said, “Fifteen minutes, no more. Her Imperial Majesty must rest before this evening’s activities.”

The Lion of Parliament brushed past her without comment.
Marco and I followed. We found ourselves in a parlor that appeared to have been lifted whole from a more refined time. Victoria’s taste apparently had been frozen in the early years of her marriage, that is to say in the elegant neoclassical style. A graceful desk with an inlaid wood surface in the design of a sunburst sat at the center of a gently worn Persian rug. Nearby a grouping of high-backed couches and chairs faced out toward the grounds.

Everywhere I looked, my eye fell upon some small but pleasing detail—family photographs on a circular table the base of which was a tripod of carved winged griffins, several Chinese vases likely of great antiquity filled with peonies, and a chinoiserie cabinet displaying porcelain so thin as to be almost transparent. The only jarring note was the large portrait of the late Prince Albert propped against an easel. The prince was portrayed as he must have appeared on his wedding day. A black mourning swag was draped over the frame.

“She talks to him,” Gladstone muttered. “Morning, noon, and night. Tells him everything and asks his advice.”

The prince had been dead for more than thirty-five years. For the first time, I began to fear that Her Imperial Majesty might not be entirely sane. But the moment she appeared, garbed in black as always and leaning heavily on a cane, I knew otherwise. In the face of that small, plump woman—little more than the height of a child and swaddled in so many garments as to be almost round—I saw a keen intelligence that not even the loss of her only love could diminish.

However much he resented her for thwarting so many of his political initiatives, Gladstone clearly respected the queen empress. He approached, bowed low before her, and said, “Your Imperial Majesty, thank you for seeing us. I assure you that
we would not intrude upon you in such a way without good cause.”

“I’ll decide that, William,” she replied. Peering through her lorgnette, she said, “Mr. di Orsini. Any news of your father?”

Marco bowed before he replied. “I’m afraid not, Your Imperial Majesty. But we have not given up hope.”

I knew nothing of Marco and Nicolas’ father, Cornelia’s husband, and wondered what had happened to him, but that would have to wait for another time.

“And this,” Her Imperial Majesty said, “must be the subject of Mr. Stoker’s very odd novel. Where is the Irishman, by the way?”

“He’s a bit indisposed, ma’am,” Gladstone said quickly. “May I present Miss Lucy Weston. It is through her efforts and Mr. di Orsini’s that we have gained the information that brings us here.”

The queen empress fixed her gaze on me. I stared back, caught by the gimlet brightness of her eyes. She reminded me of nothing as much as a crow that would sit on a branch outside my window at Whitby and caw whenever it wanted to be fed. After a time, I came to realize that it had trained me to respond.

I curtsied, not particularly well or gracefully and certainly not to a standard that would have pleased my mother, but Her Imperial Majesty appeared satisfied. When she had taken her seat, she flicked a finger in permission for us to do the same.

“Well, then, William, what brings you here? Your message said something about the greatest urgency?”

The former prime minister nodded. “I am not certain how much of recent events you are aware of, ma’am, but—”

“I know that Mr. di Orsini and Miss Weston in company with Mr. Stoker removed a patient from Bethlem Hospital yesterday. Should I conclude that Mordred has been found at last?”

Her awareness of Mordred’s existence was not surprising. Although her family line had only the most tenuous connection to that of the Tudors, if any at all, she had been crowned and anointed on the same throne as had Elizabeth. She was in every sense her successor. That she knew about the presence of vampires in her realm and their role in its history was only to be expected.

But I was surprised that she knew Mordred had been missing. Did that mean she also understood how close the pact between humans and vampires was to being undone altogether?

“He has been found, Your Imperial Majesty,” I said. “Unfortunately, during his absence, a challenger to his rule emerged. She is—”

“Lady Blanche, I assume? I warned him about her. Vampire or not, a jealous female too long denied what she regards as her rightful place is not to be trusted. What is she planning?”

“Something quite dreadful, ma’am,” Gladstone said. As gently as he could, he told her what had happened to Harley Langworthe and how Blanche intended to acquire more victims for the stone table. Concluding, he said, “The simplest way to prevent the attack tonight is to cancel the event. We can give it out that you are fatigued by all the celebrations. Everyone will understand and—”

A wave of color swept across the queen empress’ face. She suddenly looked a much younger woman. “Poppycock! I will do no such thing. Do you imagine that I, Victoria, by the
Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland Queen, Defender of the Faith, and Empress of India, will quail before an upstart vampire with delusions of grandeur? Let her come, I say. By God, we will give her a fight!”

I was beginning to understand why the sun never set on the empire ruled by this woman. Tiny, aged, the embodiment of loss, she still had an indomitable will and the presence of a force of nature.

“But ma’am—” Gladstone began.

Before he could continue, Marco stood, inclined his head to his queen, and said, “As you say, ma’am. We’ll give them a fight they will never forget.”

I looked at him in dismay. If the gala went ahead as planned, the illustrious guests attending it would be little more than bait to draw Blanche into battle. Surely, I could not be the only one who thought that it was wrong to use people thusly?

Victoria appeared to harbor no such concern. She bestowed a smile on him. “Well said, Mr. di Orsini. I have always been able to count on you, and your brother as well, I hope?”

“I’m sure that Nicolas would have it no other way, ma’am.”

“Good, then it is settled.” With a glance at Gladstone, Her Imperial Majesty said, “Shall I ring for tea, William? You look a bit peaked.”

The lion began to reply, thought better of it, and said, “If you would be so kind.”

Servants came and went, silent and efficient. Tea appeared in a golden pot on matching tray. I inclined my head in thanks for this act of courtesy even as I took note that I apparently was not the first vampire the queen empress had entertained.
How often had she and Mordred met? What had they talked about? Had he charmed her with tales of her predecessors? Or had he warned her of the trials they had faced?

Beyond the high walls, the life of London went on, ordinary people going about their day with no awareness that they stood on the edge of an abyss. But others did know—de Vere, wherever he was; the members of the Star Committee; Mordred and all the rest. In a matter of hours, a decisive battle would begin. Out of it would come a world in which humans and vampires could still exist, or one in which neither species survived.

What would come after us, I wondered, if the worst happened? What would rise in our place? Apes, perhaps, such as the one I had seen in de Vere’s lab. Would they remember their tormentors and be glad that we were gone?

Or perhaps the denizens of the hidden world would emerge again to reclaim the land that had been theirs long before the coming of either humans or vampires. Little Alice and the others like her would stand guard once more beside the rivers and streams. Water sprites would return to the Thames and fairies would dance in whatever was left of Kew Gardens. In time, the air would clear of both soot and dirigibles. The machines would fall silent. The clamorous struggle to give meaning to life—whether mortal or immortal—would be over. And the world would be poorer for it.

The beak-nosed lady-in-waiting pressed a tray on me. I accepted a watercress sandwich politely and resisted the urge to ask if she happened to have a bit of stag’s heart. I was hungry but not intolerably so. The thought that I might become human again was enough to hold my appetite at bay.

Marco had sent word back to the Golden Dawn that Her Imperial Majesty was aware of the threat and prepared to meet it. Another message was dispatched to the Serjeant’s Inn.

Then there was nothing to do but wait in the Crystal Palace, where rainbows bloomed and a dead husband still lived, if only in the heart of a queen.

CHAPTER 28

A
s anxious as I was for evening to come, and as much as I dreaded what it would bring, the hours until then did not drag. Victoria sat—a small, round, still presence—at the center of a maelstrom of activity. A word or a glance from her was sufficient to send men and women scrambling to carry out her every wish. Early on, she met with the head of her household guard to assure that those charged with protecting her knew what was going to happen. The man protested her determination to go forward with the event and to be in attendance herself. But at a look from her, he bent his head in acquiescence.

His mood improved somewhat when Marco tactfully suggested that it might be wise to move the Prince of Wales to a secure location. While no one wanted to think that the queen empress would be in mortal danger, neither could that reality be ignored. Although she had given birth to nine children, Victoria lacked the natural instincts of a mother to protect her progeny. However, she had no difficulty understanding the need to assure the continuity of the succession.

“An excellent idea, Mr. di Orsini. William, send word to Bertie that he is not to come tonight. It is my wish that he
depart for Windsor at once and remain there until told otherwise.”

What the Prince of Wales, whose relationship with his mother was difficult to begin with, would make of such preemptory banishment was anyone’s guess. However, he would obey rather than risk the humiliation of being compelled to do so.

The current prime minister, the Marquess of Salisbury, arrived, looking pale and harried. He and Gladstone scowled at each other until Her Imperial Majesty called them to heel. Grudgingly, they both got down to crafting a plan of defense.

Meanwhile, Marco and I set out to acquaint ourselves with the area between the encircling stone walls and the palace, where the stand against Blanche and her followers would be made. As we were doing so, Mordred joined us. He came silently and without warning, alighting out of the twilight. His appearance was such that I wondered if he had fed again, hopefully not on Stoker. Perhaps some other member of the Golden Dawn had volunteered. Whatever the cause, he was in good humor.

“I’ve seen our stalwart lady.” As one monarch speaking of another, he did not hesitate to refer to Victoria familiarly. “We are in accord that every effort will be made to stop Blanche and her followers before they can enter the palace. However, we must allow for the possibility that some will slip past.”

Marco nodded. “The Protectors will take the first wave. Nicolas knows who to bring and he’ll also have his own forces with him.”

That Marco would be on the front line was not a surprise. As much as I would have liked to persuade him otherwise, I knew that was impossible. The best I could do was make sure that I was beside him.

“Teams of vampires, werewolves, and Protectors fighting together would have the greatest effect,” I said.

“They would,” Mordred agreed. “Unfortunately, I doubt that any such cooperation is possible.” He paused, then added, “Apart from the two of you, of course.”