“That was strange,” our guide offered.
I managed a smile. “I was overcome by the thought of touching an item held by Queen Mary.”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Itisremarkable. This dagger altered history. When the queen acquired it, she claimed a divine revelation: Three winged seraphim had been cast out to become dragons, and the greatest of them hid in England. She believed this dagger would raise that dragon, restore God’s favor, and reconcile England’s Church with the Church of Rome. But her quest for the dragon became brutal. And, obviously, it was fruitless. All she gained was her bloody title.”
Mary and I thanked our guide, and he escorted us to the museum garden.
When we were alone, Mary hissed, “Tell me what happened!”
“I had a vision,” I said. “I was flying. And I had perfectlyblackhair. That was peculiar. I think it was a memory of some other wyfe. I did not understand much. There was… a black storm…”
“Flying? Like a bird?”
I did not feel ready to answer that. “Did the museum list the meaning of the dragon’s name?”
Mary straightened. “Dragon’sname?”
“The Chinese word on the dagger is a dragon. Fènnù.” The name felt natural on my lips, but it had a different lilt than when Mary had pronounced it.
Mary drew her shawl around her neck. The air had become bitterly cold while we were inside.
“The card listed several translations,” she said at last. “They all mean the same. Wrath. Fury.”
14
THE HONORABLE MR. TINSDALE
EMMA
“Here we are, at last!”I said to Harriet while the coach bounced. “Two ladies exploring London on their own. And this evening, staying in a hotel!”
Harriet did not turn from the window. “I am happy you are well enough.”
That soured my mood. I was tired of concerned companions. Today, I was Emma Woodhouse, mistress of Hartfield.
“We are meeting a prominent gentleman,” I said.
Harriet abandoned the window. “I thought we were shopping for boots!”
“We will shop. But first things first.” I checked the directions in the letter I had received—a reply delivered by private courier. “There!” I pointed ahead.
The road ended at the river. Coaches were stopped every which way. Festively garbed people thronged the cobblestones, the shore, and even the ice. Colorful flags rippled in the breeze, and bright tents and booths had been erected on the frozen white.
“What are they doing?” Harriet cried.
“It is a Frost Fair, the first in twenty-four years. The Thames did not freeze once in our lifetimes! We are clever to be in London now.”
We disembarked and joined the crowd rushing to the river. The ice was several feet lower than the seawall, so wide planks had been laid like angledbridges. Harriet and I descended, our arms playfully stretched for balance, and a sturdy lad of sixteen took our hand for the last steps. I gave him a penny, and he winked. “I’d help two lovelies anytime.” Harriet giggled, and I laughed outright, feeling more festive than I had in a long time.
Harriet caught my arm. “Who is the prominent gentleman? Is it Mr. Knightley?”
That was unexpected, and for a moment the thought of him drove the correct name from my mind. “We are meeting Mr. Tinsdale.”
Harriet’s brow furrowed. “The man with the big eyebrows?”
“You must not think of him like that! He is a member of Parliament, and very distinguished.” Harriet looked let down, so I said, “He is an important man, and this is an important meeting. He has influence. You must present yourself perfectly.”
“Yes, Miss Woodhouse,” she murmured.
