The Secret Adventures of Charlotte Bronte

35

The remainder of the voyage to Scotland passed without incident. The Queen and Prince Consort kept Bertie by them, relieving me of his irksome care; I had only the well behaved Princess to amuse. If there was danger on the royal yacht, I saw no sign of it. Indeed, I felt safer than I had since before Isabel White’s murder. Thirty-seven peaceful hours after setting sail, we arrived at Aberdeen on 7 September. Carriages and horses that had been shipped to Scotland ahead of time conveyed us to the new royal estate at Balmoral.

The Queen was as popular in Scotland as at home. Along our way, the Scots turned out to greet her. The Queen, Prince Consort, and their two elder children rode in an open carriage at the head of our procession. Crowds cheered them uproariously. The entrance to each village was decorated in the Queen’s honor with a triumphal arch made of barley or wheat sheaves, flowers, evergreens, or stags’ heads. The day was a whirlwind of happy faces, voices shouting greetings in a strange dialect, music from bagpipes, speeches by local gentry, and guns firing salutes. Riding in a carriage with the Queen’s other attendants, through a landscape of farms and distant, snow-capped peaks, I felt myself part of a grand, historic spectacle. In the joy of our reception, I was temporarily distracted from the horrific events that had brought me to this very place.

We reached Balmoral to find a Scottish Regiment’s Guard of Honor waiting at attention. Balmoral, located on the River Dee, on the eastern side of the lofty Cairngorm Mountains, comprised ten thousand acres of fields, woods of towering birch and pine trees, and meadow. The Forest of Ballochbuie abutted its northern border; on the south rose the dark crags of Loch-na-gar. The pretty white castle had many turrets and gables, gingerbread trim, an ancient square tower surmounted by a battlemented parapet, and a glass conservatory. It was surrounded by expansive gardens that sloped towards the river in a series of natural terraces.

Inside the castle was a hall paved with Dutch tiles; a broad staircase led to the upper floors. The rooms were furnished like a grand country house, with chintz upholstery and curtains; they were fewer and smaller than I’d expected, insufficient for the royal family and entourage. The servants and attendants-Mr. Slade, Lord Unwin, and other Foreign Office agents among them-were quartered in neighboring cottages. I had a tiny chamber upstairs in the castle, near the children’s nursery and the Queen’s chambers. The gentlemen of the household had rooms above us; the ladies-in-waiting below. After lunch in the crowded dining room, I walked behind the royal family on an inspection of the estate. Not until that evening did I have a chance to speak with Slade.

Local citizens staged a celebration for the royal family. A huge bonfire was lit upon Craig Linne. Fireworks spangled the sky above Balmoral. We gathered on the terrace to watch. Bertie and Vicky jumped up and down, squealing with excitement at the glowing streamers, rosettes, and exploding bursts of colored stars. Rockets boomed, echoing off the mountains. Guards, courtiers, and ladies-in-waiting cheered. The Queen and Prince Consort smiled happily. I stood apart from the others, an interloper. My presence could only remind the Queen of the threat that haunted her and spoil her enjoyment. Presently, Mr. Slade appeared at my side.

“Is all well with you, Miss Bronte?” he said.

“For the time being,” I said.

My senses quickened with the delight that his presence always caused me. I lifted my eyes to the distant heights, where the bonfire’s flames danced in the wind. Smoke and gunpowder scented the air.

“I’ve been inspecting the estate,” said Mr. Slade. “So have the twelve constables sent from London. We found no signs of trespassers or anything else suspicious.”

“I am relieved to hear that,” I said.

All through the journey, despite its many diversions, I had been tense with waiting to see him again. Yet so much time had passed since we’d been alone together, so many things had happened, and we seemed reverted to strangers.

“Would I be correct to assume that no one has yet approached you on behalf of Kuan?” Mr. Slade’s tone was cautious.

“You would,” I said, uneasy because I thought Mr. Slade must be remembering that night in Penzance, when I’d spoken in defense of Kuan’s motives. Did he still wonder if the Chinaman had compromised my loyalty to him and my country? “Had anyone approached me, I would have sought you out and informed you immediately.”

“Of course,” Mr. Slade said, although doubt tinged his voice.

I compelled myself to look directly at him, lest my avoidance of his gaze provoke further suspicion. The fireworks illuminated his face. On it I saw shadows cast by weariness; the burden of his responsibilities, and his vigilant attention to duty, had taken their toll on him. His expression combined concern for me with uncertainty as to where we stood with each other. I thought I perceived in him a wish to regain the comradeship we’d shared. Here, in the lofty altitude and fresh, clear air of Scotland, my time in Cornwall seemed but a fading nightmare. Distance had weakened Kuan’s spell over me; I could scarcely credit that I had ever sympathized with him. Mr. Slade was once more the primary object of my regard.

As our eyes met, the doubt in his eyes subsided; he smiled. His hand clasped and held mine; I enjoyed a warm, glad certainty that nothing could defeat us. The sky dazzled in a booming explosion of red, orange, and gold cartwheels. The audience exclaimed, and the children danced with delight. My happiness was such that I knew it could not possibly last.

Events were to prove me sadly correct.

The celebration soon ended. The bonfire burned out; the last sparkle of fireworks faded. The royal party retired to the castle. Slade went off to his cottage, and I tucked the children into their beds. The Queen and Prince Consort came to bid them goodnight. I walked the corridor, allowing the family their privacy, and there I met Captain Innes, the valiant soldier who had averted the crisis at sea.

“Just checking to see that everyone is safe,” he said, lowering his cheerful, hearty voice to a loud whisper and walking beside me.

“Everyone is well, thank you,” I said.

We reached the landing that overlooked the entrance hall. Dim light from a few lamps shone there; laughter drifted up to us from the chambers of the ladies-in-waiting. Captain Innes signaled me to halt, and his voice rumbled softly against my ear: “Mr. Kuan sends his greetings.”

Shock assailed me. This was the moment I had been dreading. The kindly, jovial Captain Innes was Kuan’s accomplice, bearing the summons to enact my part in his evil scheme. “Why… how…?” was all I could say.

Captain Innes made a rueful face. “Got myself into debt at one of Mr. Kuan’s gambling clubs. Couldn’t pay. Had to agree to do him a favor instead. He’d have killed me otherwise. But enough of that. You and I will take the children the night after tomorrow.”

I looked around with some notion of rushing to tell Mr. Slade that the accomplice had revealed himself to me, but Captain Innes seized my wrist, preventing my flight. “What’s the matter?” he said. “Changed your mind about your arrangement with Mr. Kuan? Well, hear me out before you think of reneging on him. He has men holding your family prisoners as we speak. He’ll set them free after you bring him the children. Unless you do as I say, they’ll die.”

Horror gained ascendancy over all other emotions as I grasped Kuan’s motive. He had never trusted me as fully as I thought; he was too clever to assume that I was firmly under his sway. He knew I would do anything for my family’s sake-he had elicited that fact during his interrogation of me. And now he had taken my loved ones hostage to guarantee my obedience.

“Do you understand, Miss Bronte?” An edge of steel cut through Captain Innes’s cheerful voice.

“Please don’t let him hurt them,” I said, gasping with terror.

“Their lives are in your hands,” Captain Innes said. I struggled to break free of him, but he held tighter to my wrist. “Here’s the plan. Before you put the children to bed the night after tomorrow, give them each a few drops of this in their cocoa.”

He lifted my hand, placed a vial in my palm, and closed my fingers around it. “It’s laudanum. They’ll sleep so soundly, nothing will waken them. You wait up for me. I’ll come to the nursery after everyone else is asleep. We’ll carry the children out of the castle. Understood?”

Captain Innes’s usual pleasant smile had become a ghastly caricature. Desperation burned in his twinkling eyes. Fright and helplessness compelled me to nod in spite of myself, as I realized that I must either commit a terrible crime or doom those that I loved best.

“Should you be tempted to tell tales and upset Mr. Kuan’s plan,” Captain Innes said, “just think of your family.”

Two maids approached us along the passage. Captain Innes let go my wrist, stepped back from me, and bowed with gallant, false courtesy. “Good night, Miss Bronte.”