Peccadillo at the Palace

by Kari Bovee

  “Miss Oakley, you look quite pale; please sit down.” Dr. Adams grabbed hold of her arm and led her to a salon chaise.

  “I really must go,” Annie protested. “I need to find my sister—to see that she is all right.”

  “You need to sit right here until you are recovered.” The doctor helped her to sit and then took her wrist and placed his fingers on her pulse.

  She studied his face, deciding if she wanted him to see Frank again. Given what she’d heard earlier—his Irish brogue—she didn’t know whether to trust him.

  “Are you feeling warm?” he asked.

  “Yes. It’s just the corset. I’m not used to it.”

  Oscar Wilde came forward with a glass of water and handed it to Annie. She thanked him and gulped it down. Mrs. Langtry knelt down next to her and patted her brow with a monogrammed lace handkerchief. She was so close that Annie could see the tiny pores in her powdered, perfectly alabaster skin and the brown flecks in her violet eyes. No wonder the prince had fallen for her. Annie thought her the most beautiful woman in the world.

  But it still didn’t excuse adultery.

  “All this fuss,” Annie said, suddenly embarrassed at her racing thoughts and all the attention. “Really, I’m fine. Just a bit overwrought.” The crush of everyone made the room seem warmer and the air thicker. All she wanted to do was to go outside and get some fresh air. How she wished she ridden Buck here. A night ride in the cool breeze always cured whatever ailed her.

  “There you are, you found him.” Emma’s voice pierced through the crowd, and, like the words of Ali Baba summoning the cave to open, Mr. Wilde and Mrs. Langtry stepped away, allowing Emma into their circle. At the sight of Annie, the brightness of her eyes dimmed with concern.

  “Oh, my dear. What’s happened?” Emma knelt down next to her.

  “Nothing, Emma. I’m fine. I just want to find Hulda and go home.”

  “Of course, of course.” Emma sat next to her and took her hand.

  “Pulse normal.” Dr. Adams let go of her wrist. “A good night’s rest will help, although I’d like to examine you in the morning. I’d also like to check in on your husband.”

  As much as she wanted to protest, she probably shouldn’t, given Frank’s condition. She hadn’t had time to solicit the services of another doctor.

  “Fine. Tomorrow. But now, we must find Hulda.” Annie stood, the wobbly feeling in her legs gone. “Come on, Emma. Goodnight and thank you for your kindness.” Annie took Emma’s hand and then linked arms with her. They made a circuit of the grand room twice, looked down hallways and out three sets of French doors that led to terraces.

  “Where could she be?” Annie fought the dizziness that threatened to consume her again. “I never should have scolded her. I never should have argued with her.”

  Emma stopped, forcing Annie to stop.

  “Annie, she’s probably found a way back to camp. She certainly isn’t here anymore. We need to get back, and you need to get into bed. I’ve never seen you look so fatigued.”

  Annie shut out Emma’s words. She couldn’t be sick. Not now.

  They would go back to the camp and find Hulda asleep in her tent and Frank resting comfortably, she told herself. Tomorrow, she would set everything straight. She would write to Mrs. Langtry and implore her to get word to the queen through the prince of the impending assassination threat. She only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

  With the help of Oscar Wilde and Dr. Adams, Annie and Emma retrieved a coach and made it back to Earl’s Court without issue.

  They pulled up to the entrance to the Wild West Show camp and found Bobby standing there, as if waiting for them. Annie didn’t wait for the driver of the coach to open the door for her, but instead pulled the handle herself and climbed down the stairs.

  “Bobby, have you seen Hulda?”

  “Yes, Annie. She’s all right. Lillie put her in a coach and sent her back here. I was gathering wood for a fire when the coach pulled up. She’s had a little too much to drink. She was awful sick, but I cleaned her up and put her to bed. She’s going to feel mighty bad in the morning.”

  “Oh, thank God! Wait—drinking? Alcohol?”

  Emma came up behind her. “It’s not then end of the world, Annie. If she was that sick, she probably won’t do it again, at least not in the near future.”

  “Emma, we believe in temperance.” Annie couldn’t hide her annoyance at the situation. “Our bodies are temples of the holy spirit.”

  Emma put her hands up in surrender.

  “Don’t come down on her too hard, Annie,” Bobby said. “I think she’s terribly homesick.” His eyes implored hers. Annie hadn’t thought of that. Annie loved being on the road, traveling the world, meeting new people. That didn’t mean Hulda felt the same way.

  “I won’t be harsh with her, Bobby,” Annie said, trying to calm herself. “Thank you for taking care of her. You are a gem of a friend.”

  “Aw, Annie, you know I’d do anything for you,” Bobby said, a smile splitting his face.

  “Yes. I do. You remind me all the time.”

  “Well, I’m calling it a night,” said Emma. “Are you feeling better, Annie?”

  “Yes. Go to bed. I’m going to check on Hulda and then go to bed myself.” She kissed Emma’s cheek and then Bobby’s, all the while reciting a quiet prayer of gratitude for such honorable friends.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Early the next morning, nausea woke Annie. She looked over at Frank, who lay quietly, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead. He still had a fever. Could she have contracted whatever ailed Frank? She had assumed her nausea on the ship had been due to a mild case of seasickness.

  She pressed her palms to her cheeks. They felt flushed and warm, but she passed it off as overheating from the piles of blankets they had on the bed. She reasoned with herself that she didn’t feel feverish, but the churning of her stomach drove her to get up. She could no longer lie there and feel that way.

  She went to her vanity, dipped her hands into the ewer of cold water, and splashed it on her face. Looking into the mirror, she curled her lip at her wild hair and the pink flush of her cheeks.

  Dressing as quietly as she could, Annie tiptoed out of the tent and made her way over to Hulda’s tent. Her sister lay sleeping under the blankets. She hadn’t seemed to move since Annie had checked on her the night before. Her boots, wrap, and handbag lay on the floor.

  “Hulda.” Annie shook her sister’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

  Hulda squinted, opening her eyes to small slits. “Oh, my head. Go away, Annie.”

  “Get up, Hulda. I’ll not let you lie in bed all day. You need to get moving. You’ll feel better.”

  Hulda rolled over on her side, her back to Annie. Annie could see she still wore her clothes from the previous night.

  “How would you know?” Hulda asked.

  “I’ve taken care of Lillie after a drunken night out, many times. You need to get up.”

  “I feel terrible, Annie. I’m sick. I can’t.”

  “The exhibition opens in two days, and we have our first performance.” Annie grabbed Hulda’s blankets and dragged them onto the floor. “Do you have Lillie’s and my costumes finished? No, I didn’t think so,” she said before Hulda could answer. “Drinking alcohol is a sin, Hulda. Your body is a temple, a gift from God. You will not sit here all day nursing a headache that you yourself caused. Now, get up and get moving. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to send for Dr. Adams.” He’d been so helpful and kind to her last night, and since Frank still hadn’t improved, she felt a visit from Dr. Adams would be a good thing.

  Hulda flopped over onto her back, her face stricken with panic.

  “I don’t need to see the doctor, I’m fine.”

  “Good, then get up. The doctor is for Frank, and—”

  “And?”

  “I have a few questions for him. Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Now, out of bed and get dressed. I’ll be back in a few
minutes, and we can go to the dining tent together. What you need is a good, solid breakfast.”

  Hulda groaned and turned back onto her side, curling her knees up to her chest.

  Although furious at her sister, Annie didn’t want to concern Hulda with any of her own health issues. The girl had enough to deal with.

  She looked at her sister’s small body in the bed, her dress twisted around her waist, and suddenly, Annie felt the weight of responsibility and regret. Hulda had the talent for her job, but Annie now recognized her little sister did not have the maturity to handle life on the road with the Wild West Show. Hulda had always been protected from the world, unlike Annie, who had been forced to be an adult way before her time. Adjusting to life on the road had been difficult for Annie at first, but having been farmed out as a young child to help support the family and having lived under the abuse and neglect of the McCrimmons had made her tough, although she knew in her heart she’d been given the gift of resilience by God.

  Hulda, although bestowed with many other gifts, didn’t have the mental and emotional capacity to deal with a life full of change and upheaval. Or with people who had different cultural beliefs, lifestyles, and extravagances. People who might take advantage of a young, innocent girl.

  Annie would have to be much more vigilant and attentive to Hulda. With the killer still on the loose, and with Annie as his prime conduit of communication, they were all in danger. She had to protect her sister.

  “I mean it, Hulda. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Without turning over, Hulda flapped her arm at Annie, who pinched her sister’s little toes. “Up!”

  Annie went back to her tent and found Frank awake and sitting up in bed. The collar of his night shirt was stained with sweat. She rushed over to him.

  “Why are you sitting up? Lie back down, Frank. You don’t look well.”

  Frank lifted the covers and swung his legs out of bed. “I can’t lie here anymore. I want to get dressed. I’ll sit in a chair. I just don’t want to be in bed anymore.”

  Annie knew incapacitation had been hard on Frank. As her manager, he made sure she had everything she needed to perform her best. As her husband, he made sure she had everything she wanted to be her best self.

  “I’ll help you dress, and then I’m going to call for Dr. Adams.” Annie tried to sound chipper, but Frank’s illness was wearing on her. Since she’d met him, he’d been her rock, her protector, her buffer against the harshness of life and the feeling of vulnerability that came with fame. She’d come to rely on his strength. It had been so wonderful to lean on someone after having to carry the burden of her family. Now, the tables had turned, and Frank needed her to be strong for him. Her one refuge, her safe place, and the sense of balance Frank brought her were teetering on the brink.

  She took in a deep breath, prayed for continued strength, and helped Frank to dress. Afterwards, she led him to the rocker and placed an afghan over his knees.

  “This is intolerable,” Frank said. “You are running yourself ragged taking care of me and your sister and going to parties. Have you even had time to practice?”

  “Mr. Salisbury hasn’t called for practice yet. But don’t you worry— Buck and I run like a well-oiled machine. You know that.”

  “I do. I feel as if I’m fading away.” Frank pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. It was the first time he showed any kind of emotional weakness since he’d become ill.

  “Don’t talk so, Frank. I need you. I need you to be well. We’ll find the answer to this illness. I know it.” She had to believe her own words. Life without Frank would be unbearable.

  With renewed vigor in her voice, Annie told him she would bring him some breakfast and then went to fetch Hulda, who, to Annie’s surprise, was out of bed, dressed, and working on her hair at the vanity.

  “I’m not hungry. I still feel awful,” Hulda said.

  Annie had to admit Hulda’s complexion had taken on an ashen green hue.

  “I know, but some good, strong tea and toast, at least, will fill your stomach.” Annie hoped that some sustenance would make her feel better as well. She fought to keep her own stomach from spasming. “And Hulda, please don’t ever leave like that without telling me first. We are in a strange country, unfamiliar to us both. I worry about you and don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  Again, to Annie’s surprise, Hulda didn’t argue, but got up from the vanity, put her arms around Annie’s waist, and hugged her tight.

  “I don’t ever want to feel like this again, Annie. I’m sorry for having worried you. I promise I’ll behave from now on.”

  Annie wrapped her arms around her sister’s bony shoulders and pulled her close.

  “We have to stick together, Hulda—you, me, and Frank.” Annie couldn’t keep the waver out of her voice. “Not everyone shares our Christian values, and there are people in this world who wish us and others harm. Don’t forget what happened to Mr. Bhakta.” Annie’s stomach sank, remembering she’d accused poor Miss Brady of the terrible crime. She had so much to set right, and on top of everything else, she bore the responsibility of knowing someone was out to kill the queen. Someone who wished to directly involve her, which meant she wasn’t safe, nor Hulda, nor Frank. All this, and their tour hadn’t even begun yet.

  The two of them walked over to the dining tent. Despite her protests, Hulda ate a hearty serving of eggs, bacon, and toast. Annie could see the usual rosiness of her cheeks reappear.

  Annie silently choked down a couple of dry toast points and a cup of Earl Grey tea, which settled her stomach, but she didn’t dare eat more for fear it would only come up again.

  She sent Hulda back to her tent to work on the costumes and then went in search of Mr. Salisbury, the show manager. She found him in his tent, seated behind his desk, with the colonel sitting in a chair across from him, his thigh-high beaded and embroidered boots resting on the corner of the desk.

  “Annie, good morning.” Mr. Salisbury stood up from his chair, but the colonel didn’t move.

  “Good morning, Mr. Salisbury, Colonel.”

  “What can we do for you, this morning?” The colonel took his hat off his head and swiped a hand over his long, wavy hair.

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Last night at the party, I received an anonymous note with a continuation of Blake’s poem written on it. I’m afraid Mr. Bhakta’s killer is still at large. Miss Brady was not at fault.”

  “Are you certain? Could this have been a joke, albeit in poor taste?” asked the colonel.

  “The only people who knew of the note were me, Emma, Frank, Dr. Adams, Mr. Patel, and the two of you. I’m sure none of us would think that was funny.”

  “But why send the note to you?”

  “I don’t know. But it makes me ill at ease.”

  “We should call the police,” said Mr. Salisbury.

  “Yes, I think we should,” Annie agreed. “And we need to see about getting Miss Brady out of the asylum she’s been sent to. It’s my fault. I take full responsibility.” Annie swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She wished her stomachache would go away.

  “The girl was hardly stable, Annie.” The colonel said, in an obvious attempt to make her feel better.

  “Maybe not. But she isn’t our killer, and that is why she’s in the asylum. I need to make this right, Colonel.”

  “Well, then, let’s get the police out here.” The colonel stood, towering over Annie. “I’d like to get this situation rectified before we start our performances. I don’t want any of this mess getting in the way of entertaining these fine ladies and gentlemen. It’s an honor for us to be here, and I don’t want the taint of any murder scandal following us around.”

  “Do you know if the queen plans to attend?” Annie asked.

  “Word has it Her Majesty rarely makes public appearances anymore,” Nate Salisbury said.

  Annie let out her breath
. “Good. I am worried about her safety.”

  “We will tell the police everything,” the colonel said.

  “There is one more thing.” Annie placed a hand on her stomach, trying to hold down the sickness that threatened to overwhelm her. “I’d like to have Dr.—” Annie hesitated. “Colonel, is Dr. Adams English or Irish?” Annie asked.

  The colonel and Mr. Salisbury exchanged glances.

  “English as far as I know. Looks like an Englishman, walks like an Englishman, talks like an Englishmen. Why do you ask?” said the colonel.

  “That’s just it,” Annie said, stepping closer to the two men. “Last night, I heard him in an altercation of sorts with another man, and he was speaking with an Irish accent.”

  Mr. Salisbury let out a chuckle. “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. I thought it very strange.”

  The colonel sat down and leaned his elbow against his knee.

  “You’ve not traveled abroad before, my dear. With all due respect, how would you know an English accent from an Irish one? I think you might be confused.”

  “Colonel,” Annie said, keeping her irritation at his condescending tone at bay, “have you forgotten? Frank is Irish. His accent is all but gone, but he still has a certain lilt to his speech that I heard in Dr. Adams’s voice. I know an Irish accent when I hear one.”

  “What are you getting at, Annie?” Mr. Salisbury asked.

  “Can we trust him?”

  “I don’t see why not. He’s been caring for Frank for three weeks now,” said the colonel.

  “Yes, but Frank seems to be getting worse.”

  “And you think the doctor might be responsible?” the colonel asked.