Yes, the wind was rising, and darker gray clouds were rolling in from the east. Rain fell fitfully. She closed the trapdoor again.
“We must wait here on the platform, beside the bells,” she said. “It is too wet outside—we do not want our rags to become damp. We must keep them as dry as possible before we attempt to light the fire.” She looked at her lapel watch. Several more hours until the Queen’s yacht would arrive in the harbor. At least the slats that let out the ringing of the bells let in plenty of air. There was no danger of her poison building up.
“I hate waiting,” said Diana.
“But Mary told me that you had invented a most interesting game. I am thinking of something. I bet you cannot guess what I am thinking about.” She sat on the platform—it was ancient, but seemed sound enough to hold her weight.
Diana sat down on one of the steps and looked at Beatrice, eyes narrowed, as though trying to guess what she was thinking simply from the expression on her face. “Is it bigger than an elephant?”
CATHERINE: Diana, I’ll play that game with you, the one where you guess what I’m thinking. I’ll play it as long as you want. Are you seriously not talking to me?
DIANA: Go to hell. And I mean all of you.
If you have to hide in an ancient stone chapel for several hours, waiting to see if you will need to rescue the Queen of England, there are no better companions to wait with than Justine Frankenstein and Catherine Moreau. At least that was what Mary thought as they crouched in one of the pews, the one farthest from the door. It was high enough to hide them completely from anyone coming into the chapel. Justine had found a Bible that someone had left on one of the cushions and was silently reading something devotional. When they had first hidden, Catherine had taken out a piece of string and tied the ends together. Then she had proceeded to teach Mary a particularly complicated version of Cat’s Cradle. “I figured we would need something to do while we were waiting,” she said. “I learned this from Doris and Edith, the Twisting Jellicoe Twins, who made it up when they were children. We have at least two hours to wait. Let’s see if we can make up new variations.”
Every once in a while Justine would read from the Bible to them, quietly so it would not echo around the chapel. “ ‘To every thing there is a season,’ ” she read, “ ‘and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together’.… I think that is the most beautiful verse in Ecclesiastes.”
“Also, a time to fight evil Egyptian queens,” said Mary. “Which should be in about”—she looked at her wristwatch—“an hour.”
Just then she heard a grating sound. It was the chapel door opening—not the large one they had come through, but the smaller door close to the altar. Queen Victoria’s yacht would not arrive for another hour. Had it possibly arrived early? Could the Queen already be here? Unlikely. As far as she knew, queens operated according to regular schedules that were published in the Royal Court Circular and reprinted in the Daily Telegraph as well as other papers of general interest. It must be one of the castle staff coming into the chapel to pray. That seemed the most likely explanation. They were well hidden, and none of the staff members would use the family pews. As long as they were quiet, they should remain undiscovered.
But it was not just one person. She heard several sets of footsteps. She looked at Catherine and Justine—it was clear that they had heard the same thing as well. Justine looked alarmed, Catherine looked resolute
As though in a dance to which they all knew the steps, Justine put down her Bible, Catherine put down her string, and all three of them crouched farther down in the pew. Catherine drew her pistol out of the rucksack on the bench. Taking that as a cue, Mary drew her pistol as well.
The footsteps continued down the nave. There was another sound, as of something being dragged over the stone floor.
Catherine held up three fingers. Whoever they were, there were three of them. Mary’s revolver was a reassuring weight in her hand. With it, she had shot Beast Men and vampires. She hoped it would serve her as well today. Justine looked at them both, alert but calm. Thank goodness for Catherine and Justine! She could not have asked for better companions.
MARY: And I still can’t.
The footsteps continued all the way down the nave, toward the back of the chapel. There were some sounds that Mary could not make out, then a door opening. Mary heard what sounded like speech, but it was so muffled and distant that she could not distinguish any words.
Catherine held up a hand, as though to signal Wait. Whatever was happening, it was not over yet. A door closed. The footsteps retreated back up the nave, to the chapel door through which they had entered. Then the chapel door clanged shut.
The three of them looked at one another. “Come on,” said Mary. “Let’s go see what that was all about.”
She crept out of the pew first, pistol in hand. The dragging noises had gone down the aisle toward the back of the chapel. The only thing there, as far as she knew, was the organ, behind an ornate wooden wall that separated the organ from the rest of the chapel. There was a door in the wall, but Mrs. Russell had said it was only used by the organ player to access the instrument, and provided just enough room to play. Why would anyone want to drag something to the organ? “Catherine,” she said. “What did you hear? Your ears are better than mine.”
Catherine was standing at the other end of the wooden wall. “I heard this door open and close,” she said. Ah, there was another door, hidden in the ornamental woodwork! Mrs. Russell had not mentioned that one on the tour. Carefully, holding her pistol in her right hand, Catherine opened the door with her left. When she saw what was beyond, she opened it farther to show Mary and Justine. It was a long, narrow hall, obviously a passageway that led to the service areas of the castle. On the floor, close to the doorway, lay the bodies of three women. Two were in maids’ uniforms, one in the black dress with white collar and cuffs of a housekeeper in her most formal attire.
“Mrs. Russell!” said Mary. “That’s the housekeeper Beatrice and I met yesterday, the one who is supposed to serve elevenses to Her Majesty. The others must be parlor maids. Are they…”
Justine knelt down and put her hand on their throats. “They are breathing, but not deeply. I believe they are in some sort of mesmeric trance. Shall I attempt—”
“Yes,” said Mary. “We must try to wake them up.”
However, as much as they shook the parlor maids and housekeeper, none of the three would awaken. Mary even slapped Mrs. Russell on the cheeks, and Mrs. Russell, if you ever read this, she apologizes for having taken such a liberty. But to no avail. The three remained unconscious.
“Well, at least now we know how to identify Queen Tera and the others,” said Mary. “I’m guessing they brought the housekeeper and parlor maids here so they could impersonate them. Which means they will try to abduct the Queen not in the chapel, but in the blue drawing room, where Mrs. Russell is supposed to serve tea to Her Majesty.”