Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Sword Princess (23 page)

“Cover the body, Princess,” Mirabella commanded in a whisper as she ran to the window with Elena’s gun, promising herself that her pistol would never be far from her again.
 
She took aim at a black brougham carriage speeding down the street.
 
She aimed, fired, and was sure she saw the driver flinch—had she hit his arm? —but the horse almost hit a pedestrian in its speedy escape, so she thought better of firing into the crowd.

Thud!
 
Thud!
 
Thud!
 
The enormous bodyguards ran down the hall and were now pounding on the door and shouting. "Otvorena vrata! Mi
ć
emo ubiti ako vam smetati naša Princeza!" “
Open the door!
 
We will kill you if you hurt our Princess
!”

“It is too late for that,” Princess Elena murmured.

Mirabella glanced at the man bleeding onto the oriental carpet and her stomach heaved as her hands shook.
 
Elena yanked at the curtain to cover him.

I hope it was not me who killed him.

And yet, what had he intended to do to Princess Elena?
 
And to me.
 
The thought was horrid.

Mirabella glanced behind the couch.
 
Good, they are all still hidden.
 
If the other ladies saw the dead body, the reality of what had happened would be greater than their appreciation for being saved.
 
As it stood now, she might be able to turn their relief and fear into gratitude, using it to advantage—unless they saw the body.
 
This would no doubt lead to hysteria, the girls would run screaming to their parents, and the school would be closed.

I will have failed
.

“They might have killed you!” Elena exclaimed with obvious admiration in her eyes for Mirabella, after she had yanked a thick orange curtain from the window and thrown it on the body.
 
“How brave you were, Miss Mirabella.”

“Not as brave as you, Princess Elena!
 
I had no choice but to cause a distraction,” Mirabella replied, returning the smoking gun to Elena.
 
“You acted as I hoped you would.
 
I must commend you for your calmness in the face of danger.”

Elena shrugged.
 
“It was them or us, and I did not wish it to be us.”

The other three young ladies, Bethany, Alexandra, and Jacqueline, were only now emerging from the couch in a stupor, staring at their rescuers with their mouths wide open, appearing to be in a state of shock.
 
They had not yet seen the lump on the rug under the curtain.

Bethany had the presence of mind to open the lock of the door that the body guards might cease breaking it.
 

Crash!
 
Nonetheless, one side of the door fell heavily to the carpet, torn from its hinges.

“You may enter,” stated Princess Elena, but it was a command rather than an option, and only half of the door was left anyway.
 

“
Entre´ vous, s’il vous plait
you meant to say,” admonished Miss de Beauvais, pushing the remaining door aside, which fell apart as she did so.
 
Miss de Beauvais entered before the bodyguards, stepping over the wood splinters in her typical fearless manner.

“
Entre´ vous, s’il vous plait
, Miss de Beauvais.”
 
Princess Elena’s gun was unwittingly pointed straight at Miss de Beauvais’ heart as Elena had not yet returned the firearm to her reticule, now torn.
 
Even after being attacked and nearly abducted, her wrists and neck still pink from the pressure, the princess looked quite regal indeed.
 
She might be soft-spoken, but there was no fear in that one.
 

“Princess Elena!
 
You have a
weapon?”
exclaimed Miss de Beauvais, noticeably shaken.
 

“I always carry it with me,” replied Elena without apology, attempting to return her gun to her reticule before she recalled that the bottom had been blown out.

“
Most
unacceptable!”

“Thank goodness Princess Elena had a weapon or she might now be abducted—or worse,” Mirabella murmured, motioning to the covered body with her eyes.
 
Miss de Beauvais mouth opened wide for the merest second before she snapped her jaw shut, positioning her body in front of the other three students’ view of the carpet.

Stop it!
 
Stop it!
 
Mirabella’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking and her teeth began chattering.
 
Heaven help us!
 
I am the most unprofessional operative who ever lived.
 
She felt her eyes watering as the thought occurred to her that she was not able to perform this job.

“What is wrong, Miss Carnegie?
 
Are you alright?”
 
Bethany put her arm around her.
 
Which was a good development as it temporarily drew the attention of the other two.

And enabled Mirabella to walk forward.
 
But she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks.

“Get the hartshorn!” Miss de Beauvais commanded as she herded the girls into the adjoining parlor.
 
“Girls, there is nothing in here for you!”
 

“Miss Carnegie is crying for all of us,” Bethany stated solemnly.
 
“I don’t know why I’m not crying.”

“I was so afraid—I almost f-f-failed—” Mirabella took advantage of her body’s reaction to create a distraction.
 
Though she didn’t know if she would be able to stop herself if she wished, she couldn’t seem to stop crying.
 
It might have ended so badly.
 
I was not prepared.

A picture of Sherlock flashed before her again, but for some reason he was smiling.
 
One of those rare moments when he showed his appreciation of something she said.
 
The twinkle of his eye, the twitching of the corner of his mouth—as if it pained him to smile, which it no doubt did—and his unruly dark curls flying everywhere.

For all the trouble he gave her, Sherlock believed in her.
 
He had to or he wouldn’t have given her the job.
 
He trusted her
.
 
The great Sherlock Holmes trusted
her
.
 
And she had come very close to proving his trust was utterly misplaced.
 

Elena was on Mirabella’s other side as they walked into the adjoining parlor, whispering into her ear.
 
“They spoke in Serbian.”

Mirabella turned her head towards the princess suddenly, the importance of the information immediately obvious to her, which also had the effect of diverting her from the trauma of their experience.

That would come later.

“I wanted to inspire them to speak, and that was accomplished,” Mirabella whispered back.
 
“But why would a Serb wish to hurt you, Princess Elena?
 
You are of Serbian blood.”

“They may have spoken in Serbian, but it was with a
Turkish
accent,” Elena murmured to Mirabella so the other girls might not hear.
 
There was a new respect in Princess Elena’s eyes for Mirabella.
 
If the princess approved of her, Mirabella’s place in society was now secure.

And I only had to kill a man to accomplish it.

“T-they were after Princess Elena!”
 
Bethany managed to utter, as if realization had just hit.
 
She was now holding Mirabella’s hand, for whose benefit it was difficult to say.
 
“And Mirabella acted all frightened, but she wasn’t really, she—”

“What happened to ze one who held a knife aimed at us?”
 
Jacqueline asked.
 
“I only heard ze one jump out the window.”

“There was s-s-something under the curtain, I think,” Alexandra murmured, wringing her hands, her eyes open wide.

“No!
 
Are you quite serious?” Bethany demanded, her cornflower blue eyes so wide they overtook her face.
 
“Was it a body?”

“Certainly not!” Miss de Beauvais stated.
 

“If it was, I am glad!” Alexandra retorted, regaining her composure.
 
“He tried to hurt us, and he had no business doing so!”

Jacqueline turned to Princess Elena and gave her a hug.
 
“
Mon Dieu!
 
You killed him!
 
Je vous aimez!
 
You saved us,
ma belle princesse
!”

“I do not think you were in danger.
 
They wanted me,” replied Princess Elena in a murmur.
 
“And it was Miss Carnegie who saved me.
 
I could not have acted with out her.”

“Did the one who had Princess Elena get away?” Bethany asked.
 
“Oh, I wish you had shot him, too!”
 
Everyone was hugging everyone else and talking all at once.

“I
did
shoot him.
 
I think I may have hit him in the arm,” Mirabella replied.
 
“In which case he may be caught.
 
A horse team is difficult to maneuver with a wounded arm.”

“Mon Papa—what will he say?” exclaimed Jacqueline.

“There is no need to tell your parents,” Miss de Beauvais assured them, interrupting their chattering.
 
She raised her chin as she looked at Mirabella, as if she didn’t believe Mirabella could have had anything to do with the rescue.
 
“You girls were in no danger.
 
They were after the princess.
 
And he is dead.
 
They will catch the other one.”

“Tell my parents!
 
I wouldn’t dream of it!
 
They would remove me
immediatement
!”
 
replied Jacqueline, beginning to pace the room, and giggling.
 
“Oh mon Dieu!
 
It was so
excitement
!”

“Oh, my goodness!
 
Princess Elena shot him!”
 
exclaimed Bethany.
 
“There were two
big men
—villains with weapons!—and these ladies scared them away!
 
I was never so amazed in my life!”

Mirabella smiled at Princess Elena.
 
She had no doubt that Elena would not wait for a savior to come to her rescue—she would save herself and everyone else within a ten-mile radius.

“They had guns!
 
And knives!
 
They could have killed us!”
 
Alexandra began sniffling and dotting her eyes with her handkerchief, when suddenly her expression became determined, as if she had hit upon a new resolution.
 
“I wish I had a gun and I wish the one would come back.
 
How dare he
!”

“They won’t be back, there is no need to plan a military maneuver.
 
Come, sit, dear,” Miss de Beauvais took Alexandra’s hand and led her to the settee.
 
She rang for the maid, commanding, “Bring a hartshorn at once!”

Mirabella thought it more advantageous to channel Lady Alexandra’s fear into anger rather than placating her.
 
“I wish you might teach them a lesson as well!”

“Will you . . . teach me to shoot, Miss Carnegie?” Alexandra whispered.

“Of course I will,” Mirabella replied.
 
Perhaps Alexandra was so mean because, in spite of her prestigious position, she felt powerless—causing her to attempt to bully everyone around her.

“No you will NOT, Miss Carnegie!” Miss de Beauvais pronounced.
 
“HUSH, Alexandra!
 
You are perfectly safe!”

“Do you think we are s-s-safe, Miss Carnegie?”
 
Bethany turned to Mirabella, for the first time since their meeting looking to her for advice.

“Whether or not there will be another attack and whether or not we are safe are two different issues,” Mirabella considered.
 
“Certainly we will be more cautious henceforth!”

Miss de Beauvais cleared her throat, glaring at Mirabella.
 
“Of course you are safe!
 
And, after this, I will triple the security!
 
For goodness sake, where were Princess Elena’s bodyguards?”

“Outside in front of the building, I presume,” Mirabella murmured.
 
“The attackers entered through the alley window.”

“Until the villain is caught, how can we know if we are safe or not?” Princess Elena considered.
 

“We do not know if these men were working alone or if there are others,” agreed Mirabella.
 
“We do not know if they will try again or if we have frightened them away.”

Mirabella felt a pang of guilt for threatening the school’s continued existence, knowing that she owed it to Sherlock to assist in catching the culprits.
 
If the school were closed down, the assassins would simply follow Princess Elena to her new location.
 
But Mirabella would not lie about the danger to these girls, they must each decide for themselves.

“Nonsense!”
 
exclaimed Miss de Beauvais.
 

“Where were the Italian police, that is what I wish to know,” Princess Elena added in a whisper, suddenly frowning.
 
“And where is Prince Vittorio?”

“Girls!”
 
Miss de Beauvais spoke in a commanding tone.
 
“If you mention even
one word
of this to your parents, you will be pulled from the school, and there will be no debutante ball for you.”