by Kari Bovee
“Lillie—a little help?” Annie said. The ground shifted again and Annie blinked, trying to fend off her dizziness. Lillie curled her lip at Annie but grabbed Bobby’s other ankle.
Annie glanced over to the royal box where the prince and princess sat smiling, eager to see if Bobby would hit all of his marks again. Bobby didn’t disappoint, and flipped back onto his feet. Far to the side of the royals, Annie could see Mrs. Langtry and Oscar Wilde as well, grinning with admiration.
Next up, a competition between Annie and Lillie with live pigeons. Bobby ran to the box that housed the birds, while Annie and Lillie walked to the weapons table to gather their rifles. When Annie lifted her rifle to make sure it was loaded, her head spun again and nausea gripped her stomach.
The announcer explained the contest. Lillie would go first.
Bobby released six pigeons and Lillie hit them all within ten seconds. The crowd cheered with enthusiasm. When Annie’s name was announced the cheers turned to a static roar. Mr. Arthur stomped his feet on the wooden floor of the box.
Annie wished she could appreciate the enthusiasm, but was distracted by the cold sweat that overtook her body. The pigeons were released. Annie raised her rifle, took aim and hit the first two birds, but nearly fell backward with the impact of the rifle. She lowered it and pressed her hand to her head.
“Shoot, Annie!” Lillie yelled at her.
Annie raised the rifle again, but another wave of nausea seized her stomach. She tried to focus on the pigeons, but they flew out of the stadium. A collective groan echoed through the crowd. Annie closed her eyes, humiliation pounding at the edges of her heart. What was wrong with her?
Lillie, delighted with her win, jumped up and down. “Lillie Smith beats Annie Oakley!” she crowed at Annie. “Now, that’s a cause for celebration!”
Bobby ran over to them to prepare for the cigarette trick. “Are you all right, Annie? You don’t look too well. I’ve never seen you miss so much.”
“I’m fine, Bobby,” Annie said, frustrated and angry at her sudden weakness. She could not be sick. Not now. “But I’ll be the target for the cigarette trick. I don’t trust myself.”
“Are you sure?” Bobby said, incredulous.
“Yes, Bobby, don’t argue.” Annie took her spot and lit the cigarette. Bobby shot it out of her mouth, and the crowd applauded. Bobby held the cigarette for Lillie and she hit her mark as well.
Finally, their time was up, and the three of them grasped hands, Bobby in the middle, and held them up to uproarious applause. They bowed collectively and ran out of the arena.
When the gates closed behind them, Annie leaned against the stadium wall, her head pounding and her stomach feeling like it was going to come up.
“Annie, are you all right?” Bobby asked again.
“Maybe you should practice a little more instead of running around with that reporter,” Lillie said with a sneer. “Or maybe you’re just losing your edge.”
“Be quiet, Lillie,” Annie said. “Take your win graciously.” She motioned for Mr. Post to bring Buck over to her.
“What happened in there, missy?” Mr. Post asked, handing her the reins.
Annie bit back her annoyance at the situation. Settling the reins around Buck’s neck, she held her leg up for a boost.
“I don’t know, Mr. Post. It was horrible.” Annie felt like her insides were collapsing. She had never performed so dismally before—her first international performance had been a disaster. How would she ever recover? She could already see the headlines in the next day’s paper: “Annie Oakley, a has-been at 18, Lillie Smith’s star on the rise!” She swallowed down the bile that rose from her throat. She hated the thought of explaining to Frank what had happened.
Mr. Post took hold of her shin and lifted her up. She swung her other leg over the saddle and reached for the stirrups.
“Wonder what the prince and princess think of you now, little Miss Sure Shot,” Lillie said, her fists resting on her plump hips.
Chapter Twenty-Four
By some miracle, reports of Annie’s poor shot with the live birds did not make the local papers as she had feared. Perhaps reporters were not among the fifty or so persons invited to the prince’s private performance.
“It was terrible, Frank,” Annie said as she draped a blanket across Frank’s lap, despite the summer heat of May oozing into the tent. Her dizziness had subsided, but the nausea persisted. Annie didn’t dare mention to Frank she was late in her cycle. It happened all the time. She never could keep track. In fact, she hadn’t even tried.
“What do you think happened? It’s so unusual for you to miss,” Frank said, his voice gravelly from sleep. Annie handed him the bowl of oatmeal Bobby had brought to the tent for the two of them. Annie had swallowed down two bites, but the texture of the gruel sent her senses into overload. Frank took the bowl, looking down at it with apprehension.
“You must eat, darling. You’re wasting away,” Annie said.
“I know. Problem is, I don’t feel like eating.” He handed the bowl back to her and she placed it on the floor.
“Well, we are to move to Buckingham Palace for a few days, where the princess has arranged for the royal doctor to care for you.” Annie took a pillow from the bed and stuffed it between Frank’s head and the back of the chair.
“But we have Dr. Adams—here.”
“Yes, I know. But it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion.” Annie didn’t feel it prudent to discuss her reservations about Adams while Frank felt so poorly. She wanted to remain as positive as she could—or at least impart that positivity to Frank.
“I agree. No one can seem to find what is wrong with me, and I’m sick of lying in this damned bed. But what about the show? You need me here,” Frank said.
“I need you well. We don’t have a performance until next week, thank goodness. I think some rest will do both of us some good. And you could be well by then, God willing. I’m hoping to get a little more practice in before then, too.”
“Rest? You?” Frank said, teasing her. “You’re determined to find out who killed Mr. Bhakta, and who may be out to kill the queen.”
“And you.” Annie finished buttoning her dress and sat down at her vanity to tackle her unruly mane of hair. “I am obviously missing something, Frank. I can’t let it go. I’m responsible for falsely accusing Miss Brady, and I’m determined to rectify my mistake.”
Annie rose early the next morning and asked the colonel to summon the police again. She wanted to make good on her promise to Miss Parnell. Inspector Grange and Constable Markus arrived at Annie and Frank’s tent as she was finishing a late breakfast. Annie explained the situation between Miss Parnell and her brother, and that they were no longer associated.
“Miss Parnell cares nothing about the Fenian agenda anymore, Inspector, only the well-being of her daughter, and I believe her daughter is innocent.”
“So we should just take your word for it?” the inspector said, grinning at the constable.
“Sir, I believe you asked Miss Parnell about the tear catcher. She told you the truth. Miss Brady found it on the gangway as she boarded the ship. That is why her fingerprints were on it. That was my mistake.”
“Very well,” the Inspector said with a dismissive sigh. “Is that all?”
“Yes. But you will take into account what I’ve said?”
“I will. Good day, Miss Oakley, Mr. Butler.”
“But—” Annie called after them. “Oh, how condescending can one be?” She whirled around to look at Frank, hands on her hips.
“You’ve done what you could do, Annie. You told Miss Parnell you would speak the police again, and you have. You need to focus on the show.”
“If only they would—”
“Annie. . . .”
Annie realized staying at the palace might give her access to more information about the threat to the queen. “Oh, you’re right, Frank. Especially after that last performance. And we need to focus on you getting better.”
“That’s my girl.”
A town carriage pulled by four black horses arrived for them the next morning. The footman, dressed in a smartly fitted deep-red coat, with gold trim and tails, loaded their trunks on the back of the handsome closed coach. Annie had heard of the elaborate coaches used by the royal family, and this seemed quite tame in comparison, but it certainly made more of an impression than the Deadwood Stagecoach.
Miss Tessen arrived with Buck, who was saddled, bridled, and ready to go. Annie wanted Mr. Post to come with them, but he was responsible for all the other horses. If Annie wanted Buck near her, she would have to make use of Miss Tessen. Buck seemed to have taken to the woman well, and she’d given Annie no reason to doubt she was a fine groom. Mr. Post had also given her the seal of approval. Hulda followed behind Buck and Miss Tessen, accompanied by Lillie.
“Oh, isn’t this splendid!” said Hulda. “I feel like a princess.”
Annie smiled at her sister, glad that her spirits were brightened.
“Got room for one more?” Lillie said, out of breath from the long walk from the tents. She glared at Annie. “Well, la-dee-dah, Miss Oakley. Getting special treatment as always, despite your performance yesterday.” Sweat glistened on her upper lip and her eyes, droopy from drink, seemed out of focus.
“It is for Frank’s benefit that we are going to the palace. Not mine, Lillie.”
“I’ll tell you all about it when we get back,” Hulda said, giving Lillie a tight hug.
“I’m counting on it, princess,” Lillie said back.
The coachman in his red coat, gleaming with gold trim and a top hat adorned with a gold band, got Frank and Hulda settled inside the coach, and then held his white-gloved hand out to help Annie up.
“Oh, thank you, sir, but I will be riding my horse. My groom can ride in the coach with Mr. Butler and my sister.”
The coachman stared at her as if he didn’t know what to say. Annie felt sure she had broken some sort of protocol, but she didn’t care. She longed to ride Buck through the expansive beautiful park in peace— not be bounced around in the interior of a carriage, lovely as it was. She knew if Frank were able, he’d be riding, too.
“Very well, miss,” said the coachman, gesturing for the footman to help Miss Tessen into the coach.
The two-and-a-half-mile ride to the palace was too brief for Annie’s liking. She so wanted to gallop through Hyde Park on the enchanting bridle path lined with flowering hedges. A canopy of tree branches soared high above them. Buck seemed to enjoy the ride as well. He took long, relaxed strides, his head bobbing up and down and his ears pricked at all the new sights and sounds.
Annie’s breath caught in her throat as they turned the corner to face the long, wide, perfectly straight, neatly groomed mall to the palace. Annie marveled at the impressive, stately architecture of the massive building. She rode to the front of the coach.
“It’s so grand,” she said to the coachman.
“It is indeed, miss, the pride of London.”
“Is it very old?” Annie asked, mouth agape.
“Built in 1702 as a town house by the Duke of Buckingham. He sold it to King George the Third in 1761, who doubled the size of it. Her Royal Highness, Queen Victoria, was the first monarch to use it as a royal residence, with her Prince Albert, of course, may he rest in peace. She is here on occasion, but since the prince died, she feels more at home at Windsor.”
The guards at the gates, with their tall, furry, imposing hats and resplendent red coats, opened the gates as they approached. The coach pulled up to the front of the palace, and Annie and Buck followed. She dismounted while the footman helped Frank and Miss Tessen out of the coach.
“Heavens, this is magnificent,” said Frank, leaning for support on Hulda, who stood with her mouth hanging open and unusually quiet.
“I have him, thank you, Hulda,” Annie said, coming to Frank’s aid. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The footman motioned for Miss Tessen and Buck to follow him.
“Where are they going?” Annie asked the coachman.
“To the Royal Mews, ma’am. Where your horse will be staying. There are lodgings for your groom as well.”
Annie turned her face up to Frank’s. “Once I get you and Hulda settled, I will see that Buck is feeling comfortable.”
“I want to come,” said Hulda.
“Yes. I would like the company.” Annie chucked her sister under the chin. She hoped this might be a way for her to rebuild the bond she once shared with Hulda. A stay at the palace might be good for all of them.
The coachman helped Annie get Frank up the stairs, where he handed them off to another royal servant—a tall, reedy man with a stern face and a monocle.
“I’m Henry Stanley from the office of the lord steward. Welcome to Buckingham Palace.”
Mr. Stanley led Annie, Frank, and Hulda into the grand entry hall. White walls trimmed with gold rose up to a ceiling resplendent with candle crystal chandeliers. Alcoves built into the walls housed marble busts and statuary. Annie had never even imagined a place of such splendor. She felt Hulda tug at the sleeve of her dress.
“Annie, look,” Hulda whispered, “a naked boy!”
“Shh, Hulda. Don’t be rude.”
“It is a marble statue of a young David, by the artist Michelangelo,” said Mr. Stanley.
Annie blushed at his overhearing Hulda’s outburst. She grasped Frank’s arm tighter as they headed up the long staircase, rising onto the palace’s main floor. As they rose, the light became brighter, and the furnishings, ceilings, and wall coverings grew more illuminated.
Frank slowed, catching his breath.
“Are you all right?” Annie asked.
“Yes. A bit overwhelmed by all of this,” he whispered.
“I know what you mean.”
After a long walk through corridors laden with portraits of royals, noblemen and women, children, and pastoral landscapes, Mr. Stanley finally stopped.
“May I present the Belgian Suite,” he said, motioning for the three of them to enter.
Annie gasped as they entered a large, yellow room with gold furniture covered in lively floral fabrics. A gold screen adorned with the same fabric stood in front of the white marble fireplace. The mantle was topped with elaborate candelabras flanking a beautiful gold clock. A crystal chandelier blinked rainbows across the white carved and paneled ceiling.
“This is named the Belgian Suite in honor of Prince Albert’s cousin Leopold the First, King of the Belgians and a favorite of Her Majesty. Mr. Butler and Miss Oakley, you will reside in the blue bedroom, while Miss . . . Miss?”
“Miss Mosey,” Hulda said, her voice filled with pride. “Oh, Annie, what would Mother think? I must write to her as soon as possible.”
Annie smiled at Hulda, reaching out to stroke the back of her head. “I’m sure she will scarcely believe you.”
“Miss Mosey, you will retire in the Spanish room.” Mr. Stanley led Hulda to her room where Annie heard her squeal with delight.
Mr. Stanley soon reemerged and led Annie and Frank to their room. Two large canopied beds occupied the room, along with two blue sofas and several chairs surrounding a low, marble table with gold legs. Three large portraits of the queen adorned the walls.
Frank made his way to one of the beds.
“I understand Mr. Butler is not well. I will send for the physician directly. Do you require any sustenance? I can have something brought to your rooms. Tea perhaps?”
“That sounds perfect,” said Annie with a sigh.
“Very well. Mr. Ingle will serve as your personal butler, and he will see to your every need.” With a nod of his head, Mr. Stanley left the two of them sitting on the bed.
Frank blew air through his lips, drawing Annie’s attention. The previous flush of his cheeks had vanished, and his forehead glistened with perspiration.
“Let’s get you into bed,” Annie said, turning down the covers.
“Don’t fuss, Annie. I c
an get myself to bed.”
She ignored his ill temper and helped him take off his boots, his coat, and his trousers. She laid his clothes on the back of the chair next to the bed and then helped him to get in, fluffing the pillows behind his back and tucking the covers around his legs. When she straightened up, the room shifted. She closed her eyes to will away the dizziness. Tea might be just the thing she needed, she reasoned. She did feel a bit peckish.
She made her way to the chair and sat down, shifting Frank’s trousers to the arm of the chair.
Hulda bounded into the room. “I’ve never been in a place so big, Annie. And we are in just a small part of the castle. Can I go exploring?”
“I don’t think that would be wise, Hulda. This palace is so immense you might get lost. Besides, the butler is bringing us tea.”
“What’s a butler?” Hulda asked, scrunching her nose.
“A servant,” Frank said.
“Our own servant! I can’t wait to tell Lillie. But we will get to see the palace, won’t we Annie?”
“We’ll see.” Annie put a hand to her temple, suddenly exhausted. They’d had a completely overwhelming day, and it was just nearing three o’clock. How would she make it through the evening?
A man appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, dressed in the vibrant red of the queen’s staff and holding a tea tray. Another servant carried a three-tiered tray with sandwiches and pastries.
“Emma would be in heaven,” she said, grinning at Frank.
“I am in heaven,” said Hulda.
Once the servants had laid the table in the reception room and poured tea for the three of them, they left Annie and Hulda to enjoy their treats. Annie took Frank’s tea and a plate of food to his bed. He didn’t want the food, but welcomed the tea. Annie joined Hulda again in the reception room, where Hulda prattled on about the splendors of the palace. To her surprise and annoyance, the nourishment did nothing to ease Annie’s exhaustion.
When they had finished their tea, Hulda retreated to her room to write a letter to their mother. Annie was about to check on Frank when she heard a knock at the door. She rose and went to open it when she felt the blood drain from her head. As she clutched the chair, her limbs weakened, and then she fell into utter darkness.