“Miss Bronte is lying, too, Your Majesty,” Lord Eastbourne said. “She’s a murderess, and a fugitive. And Mr. Slade, well, Mr. Slade is a traitor.” His voice was unnaturally thin. “Don’t believe them. They’re trying to… to incriminate me to save their own skins.”
Neither the Queen nor the Prince was fooled. They regarded Lord Eastbourne with hurt, reproachful expressions. She clasped a hand to her chest as though his betrayal of her trust had pierced her heart and said, “Why?”
Lord Eastbourne seemed to realize that there was no use denying what he’d done, but he hurried to provide an explanation that put him in a good light. “I didn’t tell you about Dr. Kavanagh because I wasn’t sure that he could really deliver what he promised, a weapon with destructive powers such as the world has never known. But I felt duty-bound to investigate his claim, in case it had validity. I entered into a private arrangement with Dr. Kavanagh because I didn’t want to bother Your Majesty about a project that might come to nothing. I paid for his research myself, in order to spare your treasury the expense. As it turned out, my misgivings about Dr. Kavanagh were justified. He is a fraud.”
The Queen shook her head. Lord Eastbourne couldn’t hide his fear now, but he blustered on. “The laboratory was in a building that I had purchased. Dr. Kavanagh had left it in such bad condition that it was beyond repair. I was within my rights to burn it down. I didn’t know that Mr. Slade and Miss Bronte were there.”
“That’s not why you burned it down,” Niall Kavanagh said. “You wanted to get rid of anything that could connect me with you. You wanted to destroy me and my work. But here I am.” He bowed to the Queen, wobbled, and righted himself. “Your Majesty, I have the weapon here.”
He fumbled with the latches on the suitcase. He opened it and lifted out the bomb. It had appeared more impressive in the dungeon than it did here, surrounded by splendid inventions. Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, Lord Eastbourne, and Stieber gazed dubiously at the glass jars strapped to the canister of gunpowder, the limp fuse. “That is the weapon?” Stieber said.
“See, Your Majesty?” Lord Eastbourne said, jubilant. “It’s not a new miraculous weapon of war. It’s an ordinary bomb that an idiot could build. This fellow is clearly mad.”
“Please don’t let appearances deceive you, Your Majesty,” I found the courage to say. “The bomb isn’t the innovation. The innovation is the powder in the jars.”
Slade quickly and concisely explained that Dr. Kavanagh had discovered that animalcules caused disease and had learned how to cultivate them. “Those jars contain enough culture to infect thousands of people with woolsorter’s disease, which is fatal. The bomb is only the mechanism of spreading the culture through the air.”
“It will work,” Dr. Kavanagh insisted eagerly.
“Bosh and nonsense,” Lord Eastbourne said. “Everyone knows that diseases are caused by bad air. Whom are you going to believe, Your Majesty? A madman, a murderess and traitor, or me? I have served the Crown long and faithfully. My record is unimpeachable.”
“Not anymore,” Slade said. “You blotted it when you succumbed to your ambitions. You didn’t keep Kavanagh and his research under wraps for Her Majesty’s sake. Rather, you wanted the weapon for yourself. You wanted the power that it would give the man who owned it. You wanted a place in history as much as Dr. Kavanagh does, at the price of your loyalty to your sovereign. You’re the traitor, not I.”
With a visible effort Lord Eastbourne ignored Slade. “I advise you to judge for yourself, Your Majesty.” He flung his hand toward the bomb in a gesture of disdain. “Is this a weapon that will revolutionize warfare, or a joke?”
“It’s not a joke!” Kavanagh wailed.
The Queen looked uncertain, although she liked Slade and I saw her incline toward taking him at his word. Slade said, “Let’s try a test. Dr. Kavanagh, open one of those jars. Lord Eastbourne, you breathe the culture and show Her Majesty that it’s harmless.”
Lord Eastbourne took a step backward, his expression filling with alarm.
“Just as I thought,” Slade said. “He’s afraid to take the test. He knows Dr. Kavanagh has succeeded in creating the weapon he paid for. He reneged on their contract because he realized that the weapon is too powerful for him to control, too dangerous to use. And he had another reason for burning down the laboratory besides covering up his involvement: he knew it was rife with disease.”
“That is proof enough for me,” the Queen said. Indeed, it was obvious from Lord Eastbourne’s face that everything Slade had said was true. “Lord Eastbourne, you have committed such serious breaches of protocol and crimes against the state that it will require a court to determine-”
Lord Eastbourne’s eyes glazed with panic. He’d changed from a suave, confident gentleman into a cornered animal. He shuffled a few quick steps backward, then turned and ran into the receding horde.
“Wait!” called the Queen. “How dare you leave while I’m speaking to you?” She saw four soldiers hurrying to her aid. She ordered them, “Go arrest that man!”
Two of them hurried off; the others remained to guard her. Prince Albert said, “Don’t worry; he won’t get far.”
“In the meantime, I have business with Dr. Kavanagh,” the Queen said, turning to the scientist. “I am declaring your invention the property of the Crown and the British government. If you would be so good as to hand it over.”
Kavanagh looked startled. “No.” He knelt and flung his arms around the bomb.
“My dear sir, that was an order from the Queen,” Mr. Thackeray said, regaining his eloquence, even though fear blanched his big, florid face.
“You have to obey,” George Smith said. He, too, was pale and shaken. I saw him glance from me to Slade, trying to discern our relationship.
“I won’t,” Kavanagh said.
“Take it,” the Queen told the two soldiers.
They started forward. Stieber pointed his gun at them and said, “I claim the weapon in the name of Russia,” then started toward Kavanagh. “Put it in the suitcase and give it to me.”
“Don’t move!” the soldiers ordered, aiming their rifles at Stieber.
He froze. Kavanagh took a loose jar of culture from the suitcase and cried, “Nobody come near me, or I’ll drop this.” Everyone stood still, terrified. “There’s no use fighting over my invention.” Kavanagh gloated because two such powerful heads of state wanted it. “I’m not giving it away to anyone. I’m going to stage my demonstration. You can all watch.”
He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a box of matches. I gasped with horror. That the Queen herself, and Prince Albert, would be among Kavanagh’s first victims!
“Your Majesty and Your Highness should leave,” Slade said urgently. “Go somewhere far away.” He told George Smith, Mr. Thackeray, and me, “You should leave, too.”
“I’m staying.” I would not abandon my husband.
“I won’t leave Charlotte,” George declared. Not only did he wish to protect me, I observed; he’d figured out that Slade was his rival for my affections and he wouldn’t let Slade be a hero while he decamped like a coward.
“Nor will I,” Mr. Thackeray said. “A proper Englishman doesn’t desert the battleground.”
Prince Albert took his wife by the hand. Her expression was anxious, conflicted. Stieber said, “Everyone will stay,” but he sounded uncertain. Events were moving too fast, too unpredictably. The Queen and the Prince, George Smith, and Thackeray were wild cards that he’d not had time to figure into his game. He moved the gun back and forth, as if he couldn’t decide whom it would be best to shoot.
“Let the Queen and the Prince Consort go,” Slade said. “If you hurt them, you’ll be shot dead the next moment. You won’t be able to do your duty to the Tsar.”
I watched Stieber realize the truth in Slade’s words, even though he was clearly loath to cooperate with Slade and wondered what tricks he might have up his sleeve. “Very well.”