Everyone looked at Mrs. Raymond. There she sat, a beautiful woman of middle age, her black hair not yet touched by gray, the white lace falling from her snowy shoulders over the gray silk bodice of her gown. She gave a small, grim smile—and suddenly, she was not there anymore. Instead, sitting in her chair—
“What the devil!” said Morris.
Harker sprang up and almost tripped over his chair. “Your Majesty…”
Alice would have cried out in astonishment, but Miss Trelawny had gripped her arm, as though in warning.
The woman who rose from the chair in which Mrs. Raymond had been sitting was as familiar to her as her own face in the mirror. She had seen that countenance all her life, on coins and stamps, in photographs in the newspapers. It was the Queen herself, a compact figure in black crepe, with a lace cap on her head and an expression on her face of determination and resolve. This was the woman who ruled the greatest empire the world had ever known.
And yet—the mesmeric waves swirling around her were recognizably those of Helen Raymond. The illusion would have been perfect, except to a mesmerist.
“Rest easy, we have not whisked Her Majesty from Buckingham Palace to this room,” said Moriarty with a dry chuckle. “Helen, if you would reveal the illusion?”
Before their eyes, Queen Victoria seemed to swirl like smoke—a column of black, gray, and white that reformed into the semblance of Mrs. Raymond.
“That, gentlemen, is the power of mesmerism,” she said. “I was able, for a time, to convince you that you were seeing the Queen herself. It was, of course, merely a kind of trick. If you would like me to demonstrate again—”
“Not for the world!” said Harker. “Can such a power truly exist? I thought mesmerists were merely charlatans.”
“Most of them are,” said Mrs. Raymond. “But some of them can truly manipulate the mesmeric waves that surround us like an invisible ocean. By manipulating those waves, I can determine what you see—for a time.”
“Then you did not truly become Her Majesty?” He still sounded disbelieving.
Mrs. Raymond sighed, as though wearied by his questions. “Mesmerism does not change the physical world—it merely alters our perception of it. Actually changing material reality is theoretically possible, but would take more power than I currently have. And there is a limit even to the visions I can create. I could not sustain this illusion if there were hundreds of spectators present, rather than the nine of you in this room.”
“Which is of course the problem,” said Moriarty. “Over the past decade, my organization has infiltrated government at the highest levels. Colonel Moran and I have assembled a dossier that could bring down half the cabinet. Once we tell certain powerful figures what we know about them, they will beg us to command them, and willingly do our bidding. But the Queen herself, sitting above the daily fray of politics, is nevertheless sharp-eyed. She keeps a watch over matters of state and has her own shadow cabinet, as it were, whose members are loyal only to Her Majesty. While her role appears ceremonial, in reality she is far more than a figurehead. If we are to effect true change in this country, we must replace her with another, more amenable, version of herself—whom you have seen! That version will reign long enough for us to put our members into the government. Lord Godalming will be our new Prime Minister. And then she will abdicate in favor of Prince Edward. From what I have been told by reliable informants, he will be much more sympathetic to our cause. All of us here are loyal to the Crown—that goes without saying. But the Crown is not necessarily the Queen. She shall not be harmed, I assure you. However, she is old, and it is long past time the throne passed to her son. He will understand the problems of the new century, which is almost upon us. What say you, gentlemen? Are you ready to join the Order of the Golden Dawn?”
“Is this not treason?” asked Harker. “What will happen to Her Majesty during this—this interregnum you are describing?
“She will be kept in the Purfleet Asylum,” said Dr. Seward. “I assure you that she will be both safe and comfortable. If she claims to be the Queen of England, she will be seen as yet another madwoman. And when we return her after her abdication, any mention of having been abducted or confined will be treated as evidence of incipient dementia. Either way, she will not be believed.”
“Jonathan, consider,” said Godalming, turning to the solicitor. “You and I have talked about how someone needs to take things in hand. This country is going to the dogs—with this depression, and beggars even in Pall Mall, and Fenians bombing whenever they please. India in rebellion, war coming in Africa… Someone needs to do something. Why should that someone not be us? If we abduct the Queen—for yes, that is what Moriarty is suggesting, let us have no illusions about that. She will be well taken care of, with the comforts that her age and station require, but this is nevertheless an abduction. If we do so, we will be doing it for a higher purpose, a greater good. Is that not true patriotism, to serve one’s country and one’s race, even if no one will ever know what we have done? Even if we earn no praise, receive no accolades, for our actions? Once we are in power, we will close our borders to the unwashed masses that pollute our cities. England for Englishmen! We will administer our empire with a firmer hand—no more rebellions, or at least not ones that go unpunished. No more concessions to native populations who have no idea what is good for them. I assure you that in public policy, mercy is an overrated virtue. Come, man, do you not want to save your country?”
Alice, who still had an uneaten sandwich on her plate, put it aside. She was shocked by what these men were planning to do. Kidnap the Queen? And then hold her prisoner in a mental institution where she would not be listened to or believed while they rearranged the government to suit their purposes? Impose this system of “eugenics,” whatever that meant, on the English people? She did not understand all the details of their plan, but what she did understand horrified her.
Harker still looked undecided, but Morris said, “I’m in, gentlemen. This is about as dangerous as hunting lions in Rhodesia, I reckon. Tell me what we do next.”
“As you can see,” said Moriarty, “Helen has considerable power—but not enough, not yet, to effect our purpose. Initially, we thought that if we found the most powerful mesmerists in England, they could, as it were, augment her power—but they turned out to be poor specimens, after all. One of them led us to Helen’s daughter, whose power I have seen with my own eyes. Helen, show us what Lydia can do.”
What had he just said? Was he expecting Alice to do something, in front of all these people? She shrank back even farther into the cushions of the armchair.
“Here? Now?” said Mrs. Raymond. She sounded surprised and angry. “I thought perhaps later, when Lydia has recovered a little—”
“Yes, here and now,” said Moriarty. “We need to see what abilities she can add to our cause. Or are you not as committed to that cause as you have told me?”
Mrs. Raymond glared at him. He merely looked back at her, imperturbable. “All right,” she said after a moment. “Lydia, come here.”
What in the world was Alice supposed to do? She felt like Galatea before Aphrodite brought her to life—as though she were a statue incapable of motion.