I studied the others. Frank, who still had his sailing jumper, was too small for it now; it hung loose off his shoulders. Sean normally had a lustre, but he was losing it. Even Charles, well-fed as he was, looked wrong close up. He was healthy, but it was hollow health, and now that he had been crying, I could see what he had looked like when he was little. After a while, I squeezed his hand.
‘I wrote about Trafalgar and Waterloo as well,’ I said, because it felt important now to tell the truth.
Sean nodded. ‘Me too.’
Frank and Charles looked up at the same time. They checked with each other, and they had opposite reactions. Frank pressed one hand over his eyes as his shoulders tightened, and Charles looked relieved.
‘So he got it from all of us,’ I said softly. ‘Not just William. We must have all said the same thing. That’s … why he’s so sure it’s true.’
‘What’s William going to do in France, now?’ Sean said. He was frowning at the bubbles in his champagne. He hadn’t drunk any. ‘He’s English. Is he going to be all right?’
‘We can’t do anything about it,’ Charles said. ‘So it’s pointless to worry.’
Sean looked very tired of him.
‘They’re going to go after Nelson and Wellington,’ Frank said softly. He clenched his hands over the sleeves of his jumper. He didn’t seem as though he had heard what the other two had said. ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘They know who Nelson and Wellington are anyway,’ I said. ‘That’s common knowledge even now. Isn’t it?’
‘Maybe,’ he said, looking reassured.
‘If they know when and where they have to win, that’s that,’ Sean said. There followed a quiet in which he refilled all our glasses.
‘I’m sorry,’ Charles said in a brittly steady voice, ‘but I don’t think I can … bear this any more. I want to try and get home. We know it wasn’t the fog that brought us here—’
‘Quiet,’ Frank whispered.
‘We all know it wasn’t the fog that brought us here,’ Charles ploughed on, ‘it was those pillars. Nobody builds a fortification like that wall unless it faces something they must keep out. We get back there, we could still get home. Before he changes anything.’
‘Are you suggesting telling him even more?’ Frank snapped.
‘No, I’m suggesting we escape.’
‘I tried, they caught me,’ I said.
‘You were by yourself,’ Charles told me. He had a feverish shine now. ‘Look, we agree a time. Two o’clock in the morning, tonight. We all have windows. Get out of them, meet on the lawn in front of this room. I’m a coward, I’ll crack if he does anything worse than he already has. I think we all will. We have to go.’
A pause.
‘Cheers,’ Sean whispered.
I chimed my glass against theirs, and didn’t say that the guards had put bars over my windows already.
I saw them go; Charles, it turned out, was only a few doors along from me, and I saw a flash of white as he edged down onto the little mantle-roof of the bay windows below. He sprayed gravel awkwardly when he landed on the path, then shot over the lawn to meet the others. Not long later I heard yells and gunshots. But I think they got away, because I never saw any of them again.
Earlier this evening, Herault arrived with an expensive bottle of wine. We’re friends now. I think he’s forgiven me for growing up like a princess, and I’ve forgiven him for doing his duty for his country.
‘Mademoiselle,’ he said, glowing. He has always called me that, all down the years, though I’m forty now and it sounds absurd. He’s trying to be kind. ‘It’s happened. Trafalgar is won, London is taken, and the war is over.’ He tinked our glasses together and managed to look rueful, despite all his joy. He has such unexpected grace sometimes. ‘I’m so sorry, mademoiselle. Well fought.’
So I thought I had better write it down; how I lost us all. I shall hang myself tomorrow morning. I don’t expect it shall help anything – I’m afraid it’s all past help now – but it will be justice at least. Perhaps, just perhaps, the other Kingdoms made it across to you in England. Perhaps they will help put it right. If not; God help you, because the Terror is coming for you.
*
‘No. What?’ Joe said aloud to the last page of the letter. There was nothing else. But she couldn’t have hanged herself. She must have found the other Kingdoms again.
‘It’s only coffee.’
Joe jumped. ‘Mother of God.’
He hadn’t seen Kite arrive, or set the coffee cup down next to his hand, but he was sitting just opposite him with a plate of toast. He looked bad still. Anyone else would have slumped forward, elbows down on the table, but he stayed fire-iron straight. Joe nearly told him to relax and then realised just in time that, after that beating from Lawrence, Kite wouldn’t be able to slouch for weeks.
‘Sorry. I was reading. What happened to the Kingdoms, did they get away?’
‘Must have,’ said Kite.
‘What about her?’
‘I never met her,’ Kite said, shaking his head.
Joe lifted his hands and let them drop again. ‘You gave this to me because you knew full well she never says anything that would really tell me who I am or what happened to me, didn’t you.’
‘Yeah,’ said Kite. He did look ashamed. ‘Sorry.’
Joe ground the heel of one hand into his forehead, because he was getting a headache from frowning at the letter. ‘No. If I was going to remember, I’d have remembered. But … none of it rings a bell. Not the chateau, or Herault, or any of it. I think it’s just gone. You can relax, at least.’
‘Mm,’ said Kite, who didn’t look like he was ever going to relax again.
Joe sipped the coffee. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Better. Thank you, for … last night.’
‘No, it was good. Amazing view.’ Joe gave him the coffee to share and watched him take it. His bad hand had seized up. ‘Why cigarettes?’ Joe asked. ‘You were fine, until I lit a cigarette.’
‘Jem smoked.’
‘Oh.’ And here was Joe, wearing Jem’s clothes. Even though it wasn’t his fault, he felt guilty. ‘Sorry.’ He hesitated. ‘Agatha must be bringing it all back.’
‘Agatha would be ashamed I was taking it out on random mechanics. I’m sorry.’ Kite watched the docks for a little while, and Joe thought for at least the tenth time that the way he talked about his sister was how most people talked about royalty. The devotion and the fear were servile.
‘I know you’re going to call me too French again, but it’s all right to be sad, you know,’ Joe said quietly. ‘She was your sister.’
Kite set his teeth and Joe thought he wouldn’t say anything, or that he was going to snap, but then something in him cracked. ‘It isn’t all right,’ he said. ‘She isn’t mine enough for me to be sad about.’ He shook his head slightly. ‘A few years ago the old Queen died and London was full of people watching the funeral carriage. Half of England was just – distraught. Like it was any of their business. It was disgusting.’