“None of them seemed to make as much sense as Hatfield, but I still wasn’t completely convinced. There was nothing obvious about Hatfield that fit with the ‘nightmare’ and ‘triumph’ element of her letter.
“And then . . . I realized I had been wrong. It wasn’t Hatfield. Where had Elizabeth had the most nightmarish existence of her life? When she was imprisoned here, in the Tower of London, suspected of plotting treason against her half-sister, Mary the Queen. She was held for two months, having entered through the River Gate of the Tower in the shadow of where her own mother had been executed.
“Indeed, she literally walked past the place Anne Boleyn had been beheaded. Most likely, the scaffolding from Lady Jane Grey’s recent execution was still in place when Elizabeth was brought there, and it’s said she refused to walk through the gate into the Tower until she became so cold and wet she had no choice but to go inside.
“While she lived here for the two months, she must have feared every single day she would be called to the hangman’s stage. It was the most real and immediate threat of her life, for Elizabeth was likely guilty of treason. If any scrap of evidence had come forth, she would have followed in the way of her mother. She must have known it could happen at any moment.”
“Right, then,” Miss Adler said. “But how could it be her most triumphant moment if it was also the place of her nightmares? She was at Hatfield when she learned she was to be queen; I agree that would have been her triumphant, glorious moment. And she lived at Woodstock and Hatfield under house arrest for several months after being released from the Tower, so she was still in some danger then.”
I nodded at my mentor. I couldn’t have planned for her to ask any more suitable question. “Indeed. And that was where I was stopped in my thought process . . . until I remembered the details of our coronation ceremony—an often forgotten task that is instrumental to the crowning of a new monarch. The first thing the new monarch must do is to ‘take’ the Tower of London. In our modern times, it’s merely a symbolic gesture—by ‘taking’ the Tower of London, the new queen or king is asserting his or her sovereignty over the land. And Queen Elizabeth did indeed ‘take’ over the Tower of London on the thirteenth of January in the year 1559. That was, incidentally, the last time she visited the Tower of London—at least publicly. I am quite certain she visited this location once more in her lifetime . . . and that was to hide the chess queen.”
“Brilliant,” murmured someone in the small crowd.
I smiled modestly. “It does make quite logical sense. And then when one considers the element of soldiers and sailors . . .”
“Quite! For the Tower of London overlooks the Thames, and there are sailors there, guiding barges along the river. There would have been a great number of soldiers standing guard over the prisoners as well,” said the director of the museum, Sir Franks.
“Yes, of course, and perhaps that is what one would think . . . if one didn’t realize that soldiers and sailors have another more pertinent meaning in this case.” I swept my hand to encompass the chamber. “This is the bower where then Princess Elizabeth would have slept. Note well the brickwork on the walls. It’s quite ornate and interesting, is it not? And if one were seeking a hidden chess queen, one might look for a loose brick around the fireplace, or in the floor . . . or anywhere else.
“But if one were a bit more thoughtful about soldiers and sailors, one would know that this”—I gestured to a brick that had been set vertically, narrow-side out—“is known in bricklaying terms as a soldier. And these”—I ran my fingers over a row of wide-side-out, vertically arranged bricks—“are known as sailors.” I smiled as murmurs of comprehension and admiration swept the room. “And so from this point, it was quite simple to find the only location in the chamber whereby there are four soldiers arranged above three sailors . . . et voila! The chess queen is located, slipped inside a hollow brick.”
I demonstrated, using a small mechanical tool to quickly and easily cut through the mortar surrounding the piece of masonry. As the small blade buzzed softly, I daresay I appeared calm—but in reality my heart thudded and my palms were mildly damp. I was utterly certain about my conclusions . . . but this would be the telling moment.
Inspector Grayling gallantly stepped forward, assisting me to ease the brick from its position. The dull scraping noise was the only sound in the chamber, and I felt a surge of excitement when I confirmed the brick was indeed hollow . . . and there was a cloth-wrapped item inside.
My fingers were calm and steady as I dug out the bundle and unrolled its protective leather covering. I caught my breath and heard the soft intake of others doing the same. She was beautiful.
And I had been right. Of course.
“I now present to you all, for the first time in more than three centuries: the Theophanine Chess Queen.” I held it aloft for all to see.
It was a lovely piece on its own merit, carved of pure white marble with only a single vein of rose. The piece was nearly translucent it was so pearly. Her Majesty was tall and elegant with sweeping curves that resembled a long flowing gown. The symbol of her royalty was nothing more than a copper crown set atop her head. She was positioned on a lacy copper base that appeared almost modern, and with a little twist, I found I was able to remove the bottom. There were numbers carved into the top of the base, now revealed by the removal of the queen—likely the combination that would enable the chess table to be opened.
Everyone in the chamber broke out into applause and murmurs of congratulations and admiration. I couldn’t have been more pleased with the reaction, and I blushed modestly as I wrapped the queen back in her protective cloth.
“Excellent work, Alvermina,” said my father as he approached. “I am delighted—”
He cut off his words as a strange figure appeared in the doorway of the chamber. He . . . or she . . . was dressed in sleek black clothing and a white shirtwaist. His gloved hand held the knob of a walking stick, and he wore a tall, formal hat over slicked-back hair. He . . . she . . . had no facial hair, but the lower part of her face was obstructed by a sort of mask made of metal. On the front of the mask was a familiar image.
An ankh.
A hush fell across the room. Evaline and Grayling—both of whom were near me—tensed, as if preparing to move, but the figure held her other hand aloft and looked directly at them. She had something in her fingers—a small black object.
“Please don’t make me use this.”
Everyone stilled and all was very quiet except for the sound of her breathing behind the mask. In the distance outside, the sounds of voices and chatter wafted up from below. But no one would bother us here in this private meeting.
The Ankh walked in casually and continued speaking. “If anyone moves, I will detonate this device. The gas inside will be released into the chamber. When you inhale it—and you will, without the protection of a mask—you’ll have only a few short moments left of your life.”
My heart was pounding, but I had been expecting something like this to happen. Not necessarily this—no, not precisely this—but something. This was why I’d planned such a public unveiling.
Therefore, I was prepared. I shifted carefully to the side, using Grayling’s body and my skirt to hide my deft movements.
Everyone’s eyes were on the Ankh as she strolled over to Princess Lurelia. I felt a rush of anxiety shudder through the chamber as she approached the younger woman. She gestured with her walking stick. “Get the chess queen. Now.”
Lurelia paused only a moment before making her way toward me. She was frightened out of her wits and would not look directly at me.
Without hesitation, I gave up the chess queen and placed the wrapped object carefully in the princess’s hand. “Be brave,” I whispered.
She closed her fingers around it and then she looked up at me for the first time. “Thank you, Mina Holmes. We would never have been able to do this without your assistance.” The princess smiled coolly at me, and for almost the first time,
I saw true emotion in her eyes. Triumph, excitement, and life.
This I had not expected.
I was so stunned I could hardly breathe, and yet as I stared at her, all my observations and deductions metamorphosed into a new perspective. It was as if I was peering through a kaleidoscope and had turned the dial . . . and everything looked different.
And yet still made sense.
She’d fooled us all.
She’d lied about everything.
“I see you’re beginning to understand.” Lurelia turned and fairly skipped back over to the Ankh, who watched her with smiling eyes.
“Yes, Miss Holmes has indeed been quite an asset during this entire adventure, hasn’t she?” said the Ankh.
“But . . . why? What is happening?” Trust Evaline to seize the bull by the horns and charge in without thinking.
Princess Lurelia turned to the Lord Regent. “I have no intention of marrying Sparling’s son. You can deliver that message to my father. I will never return to Betrovia, and now that we have this”—she brandished the slender bundle of fabric—“we will have whatever treasure it unlocks.”
“You lied to us, then,” Evaline said. I could tell she was gritting her teeth and trying to figure out a way to attack them.
I moved closer, curling my fingers around her arm—and was relieved to see Grayling do the same from the other side. It would be just like Miss Stoker to leap into the fray, causing the Ankh to set off that ugly black explosive.
“I did what I had to do in order to get your assistance,” said Lurelia. She and the Ankh had begun to edge toward the door. “There was no blackmailer, of course. Ever. Nor, though I tried to make you believe otherwise, did I have a lover. And I stole the letter during the Welcome Event because I didn’t want anyone else to find the chess queen. I slipped it beneath my skirt when the lights went out.”
“I heard you crackling when you moved!” Evaline said. “I thought you just had too much starch in your clothing.”
Lurelia laughed merrily. “Of course, for no one would dare to search a princess, would they? If only you’d investigated further, Miss Stoker, and paid attention to your observations . . . like your friend Miss Holmes here.” She shook her head. “But you’d already realized there was no attack on me during the Midnight Palace ball. I hoped you’d believe I was attempting to hide a love affaire, sneaking off by myself and making up an obvious lie about being attacked. But I had to meet with my mentor while at the ball,” she said, smiling at the Ankh. “We had no other way to finalize our plans. And then I needed another excuse so we could meet again. That was the day I went to Westminster Abbey.
“And then,” Lurelia turned to look coolly at me, “there was the fact that you were stupidly released from your duty to entertain me, and I knew I would need you to locate the chess queen. So I wrote that letter and threw it in the waste can, knowing you’d be called back to assist. I dropped hints and clues about seeing the Ankh so you would be certain to put it all together. It was all very simple, and it was all so that I could be free.”
My vision swam red and my face was so hot I thought it might explode. I knew something was off, I had known Lurelia was hiding something . . . but, as she’d clearly planned, I’d attributed her secrecy and lies to wanting to hide a love affaire.
And despite the fact that the Ankh was here, making her first public appearance and in doing so, proving to everyone my theory that she wasn’t dead, I was infuriated and even a little frightened. Why was the villainess doing this? Why expose herself, revealing that she was indeed still alive? Why be so public?
What did she have planned that made her so bold?
What we’d found in her lair didn’t appear to be finished, or ready . . . Was there something else?
I couldn’t understand it. And at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to launch myself forward and tear the mask free from the Ankh’s face, exposing her identity to everyone.
Lady Cosgrove-Pitt had been here only moments earlier. I’d seen her standing in the corner. It would have been so easy for her to slip off and change into the Ankh while I was explaining how I’d come to determine the location of the bower. No one would have noticed her absence during the time it took to remove the brick.
But now was my chance to at least unmask her, even if I couldn’t apprehend her. I’d prove without a doubt that the Ankh was the wife of one of the most important political figures in London.
I rose on my toes and met the eyes of the Ankh over the crowd for the first time. She looked at me, but I didn’t feel the same shiver of connection I had felt in the past. Her gaze was blank, as if she were attempting to hide any sense of recognition.
“I knew you weren’t dead,” I announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “I knew you were still alive, and I know your true identity!” My voice carried and I cast my glance over those present in the chamber, all of whom stared at me. “And now, I shall—”
My words choked off. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
There was Lady Cosgrove-Pitt. In the same place she had been standing only moments before—and, apparently, all along. Our eyes met across the chamber and I felt a rush of shock, then confusion . . . and then fury.
For as she met my eyes, steady and knowing, she laughed at me with her gaze. And her mouth twitched up at the corners as she lifted her chin in acknowledgment.
She knew.
And then she mouthed a word at me—an unmistakable word that told me everything I needed to know.
Checkmate.
Miss Stoker
The Final Checkmate
Though Mina had stopped talking abruptly, the chamber remained quiet.
But despite everyone looking at her, she merely shook her head and pressed her lips together. Her face was white and drawn. I heard her swallow hard, and had no idea what had just happened . . . but I didn’t care. Mina being speechless was a novelty, but I didn’t have time to enjoy it.
Apparently the Ankh didn’t either, for she handed Lurelia a mask similar to hers and raised the small black device in her hand. “Farewell, all! Until we meet again!”
She yanked off a pin-like item from the black object, then lobbed the black ball into the center of the chamber. It landed on the brick floor in front of us. A spark crackled from it, and smoke began to stream from the device as the door slammed closed behind our captor.
Someone shrieked and someone else gasped, but I had no hesitation. I dove for the floor, bringing one of the metal suits of armor with me in hopes of smothering whatever was coming from the device.
I was a little too late, however, for Dylan—who was closest to the object—had lunged just a moment before me. He kicked the device sharply and it flew straight into the large fireplace as the suit of armor I’d grabbed clanked onto him with a dull rattle.
Inspector Grayling was already moving too, and so was Mina. They wrestled bedclothes from the mattress and yanked tapestries from the walls, stuffing them into the fireplace.
We found as many heavy pieces of fabric as quickly as we could and flung them over the smoking device, trying to choke out whatever it was spewing. Meanwhile, Sir Mycroft and the Lord Regent struggled to open the door, which had been bolted from the other side. The gas filtered into the chamber—sweet and heavy—but the cloths seemed to be doing their job. The windows were hardly more than arrow slits, but the smoke didn’t get much stronger. I felt no ill effects.
Of course, at any moment, I could tumble to the floor, dead, but . . .
Mina grabbed my arm. Her face was tense and white. Her eyes were furious. “It’s not poison. It’s a harmless gas.”
I didn’t ask how she knew, but when no one collapsed, and the men—with the help of Dylan and Grayling, and without my flimsy feminine strength—finally broke through the door, I knew whatever danger there was was over.
“We have to get to the museum . . . now,” Mina said as everyone streamed out, suddenly babbling and chattering with relief. Her eyes were wild and determine
d. “It’s the only chance we have to catch them . . . They’ll want to try . . . and get the treasure.” She looked at Grayling, still panting from her exertions. “I am exercising . . . my prerogative.”
“To change your mind?” He almost smiled, but his eyes flickered warily to Dylan, then back to Mina. “Right, then. Let’s go.”
That left Dylan and me, along with Princess Alix, Miss Adler, the Lord Regent, and Sir Mycroft—as well as the rest of those in the chamber—to find our own speedy way to the museum.
Apparently, Mina was in fact going to ride on the steamcycle again.
Fortunately, Princess Alix’s royal carriage provided us a very quick journey to the museum. Traffic was forced to make way for the carriage marked with her seal, and in a record amount of time, Dylan, Miss Adler, and I were rushing up the steps to the museum.
The sight of a parked steamcycle told me Mina and Grayling had already arrived. But the rest of us were right on their heels, with the princess, Lord Regent, and Sir Mycroft traveling by another carriage.
We hurried to the Arched Room and found Mina and Grayling there, along with three of the museum guards, who’d been assigned to watch over the chess table since the letter was stolen.
But despite Mina’s theory, there was no sign of the Ankh or Princess Lurelia. According to the guards, no one had attempted entry to the Arched Room all morning.
She seemed to read my mind. “The Ankh is very canny. She must have realized it was a fool’s errand to come here immediately. I suspect they will attempt to gain access to the chess table sometime when we least expect it. But when they do, they shall be stymied. For . . .” With a flourish, Mina pulled a slender white object from her skirts.
The Chess Queen Enigma Page 24