Betrayal at Lisson Grove (Treason at Lisson Grove)

Unless, of course, they were mistaken, and the blow would strike somewhere else. Was this yet another brilliant diversion? Narraway forced himself to smile in the sunlight. “I feel a trifle ridiculous carrying this case now.”

“Hold on to it as if it were highly valuable to you,” Vespasia said very quietly. “You will need it. That man is no more a gardener than you are. He doesn’t know a weed from a flower. Don’t look at him, or he will become alarmed. Doctors called out to the queen are not concerned with men hoeing the heads off petunias.”

Charlotte felt the sun burn in her eyes. The huge house in front of them seemed to blur and go fuzzy in her vision. Ahead of her, Vespasia’s back was ruler-straight. Her head with its fashionable hat was as high and level as if she were sailing into a garden party as an honored guest.

They were met at the door by a butler whose white hair was scraped back from the high dome of his forehead as if he had run his hands through it almost hard enough to pull it out. He recognized Vespasia immediately.

“Good afternoon, Lady Vespasia,” he said, his voice shaking. “I am afraid Her Majesty is a little unwell today, and is not receiving any callers whatever. I’m so sorry we didn’t know in time to advise you. I would invite you in, but one of our housemaids has a fever that we would not wish anyone else to catch. I’m so sorry.”

“Most unpleasant for the poor girl,” Vespasia sympathized. “And for all the rest of you also. You are quite correct to take it seriously, of course. Fortunately I have brought Dr. Narraway with me and I’m sure he would be happy to see the girl and do whatever can be done for her. Sometimes a little tincture of quinine helps greatly. It might be wise for Her Majesty’s sake as well. It would be dreadful if she were to catch such a thing.”

The butler was lost for words. He drew in his breath, started to speak, and stopped again. The sweat stood out on his brow and his eyes blinked rapidly.

“I can see that you are distressed for her.” Vespasia spoke as reassuringly as she could, although her voice wavered a trifle also. “Perhaps in humanity, as well as wisdom, we should have Dr. Narraway look at her. If all your staff became infected you will be in a serious and most unpleasant situation.”

“Lady Vespasia, I cannot …”

Before he could finish, another, younger man appeared, also dressed as a servant. He was dark-haired, perhaps in his mid-thirties, and heavier set.

“Sir,” he said to the butler. “I think perhaps the lady is right. I just had word poor Mollie is getting worse. You’d better accept their offer and have them in.”

The butler looked at the man with loathing, but after one desperate glance at Vespasia, he surrendered.

“Thank you.” Vespasia stepped across the threshold; Charlotte and Narraway followed her.

The moment they were inside and the front door closed, it was apparent that they were prisoners. There were other men at the foot of the sweeping staircase and at the entrance to the kitchens and servants’ quarters.

“You didn’t have to do that!” the butler accused the other man.

“Oh, decidedly, we did,” the other contradicted. “They’d ’ave gone away knowing there was something wrong. Best we keep all this quiet. Don’t want the old lady upset.”

“No you don’t,” Vespasia agreed tartly. “If she has an attack and dies, you will be guilty not only of murder but of regicide. Do you imagine there is anywhere in the world that you could hide from that? Not that you would escape. We may have many ideas about the liberty or equality that we aspire to, even fight for, but no one will countenance the murder of the queen who has been on our throne longer than the lifetime of most of her subjects around the face of the earth. You would be torn apart, although I daresay that matters less to you than the complete discrediting of all your ideas.”

“Lady, keep a still tongue in yer head, or I’ll still it for yer. Whatever people feel about the queen, no one cares a jot if yer survive this or not,” the man said sharply. “Yer pushed yer way in here. Yer’ve no one but yerself to blame if it turns bad for yer.”

“This is …,” the butler began. Then, realizing he was only offering another hostage to fate, he bit off his words.

“Is anyone sick?” Vespasia inquired of no one in particular.

“No,” the butler admitted. “It’s what they told us to say.”

“Good. Then will you please conduct us to Her Majesty. If she is being held with the same courtesy that you are offering us, it might still be as well for Dr. Narraway to be close to her. You don’t want her to suffer any unnecessary ill effects. If she is not alive and well I imagine she will be of little use to you as a hostage.”

“How do I know ye’re a doctor?” the man said suspiciously, looking at Narraway.

“You don’t,” Narraway replied. “But what have you to lose? Do you think I mean her any harm?”

“What?”

“Do you think I mean her any harm?” Narraway repeated impatiently.

“Of course not! What kind of a stupid question is that?”