The bird, which had been gazing at us with interest, suddenly hopped from the footboard and skimmed across the carpet, coming to rest near my feet.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly.
I pointed a shaking finger. “It speaks.”
Val nodded mournfully. “Yes. Apparently only a handful of them do.”
“How on earth did Reddy Phillips get hold of it?” I asked, watching the raven’s sharp black eyes watch me.
“His uncle has some sort of post in the Tower. Reddy paid him a visit and managed to smuggle this poor fellow out. He’s not one of the public ravens, you know,” he finished more cheerfully.
“Not one of the public ravens?” The bird had moved forward again, bobbing toward my shoes, pecking delicately at the carpet.
“Yes, some of them are kept in reserve, solely for breeding. This was one of them.”
“And how is it that they have not yet discovered one is missing?” I asked, watching in horror as the creature plucked a long piece of wool from the carpet, unraveling the border.
“Reddy had another raven to put in its place. Apparently the Tower fellows did not much like him and pecked him to death shortly afterward. They buried that raven and still don’t realize this one’s gone missing.”
“Of all the bloody stupid things to do,” I murmured. Matters had gone from complicated to disastrous. “I suppose Father could explain it to Her Majesty, but they haven’t spoken in years. I daresay she’s still angry with him about that Irish business. He will be furious with you, and I cannot think that the queen will be much pleased, either.”
Val gripped my hand. “You promised! Julia, you cannot tell him. We have not rowed for nearly six months. He has just consented to let me attend anatomy lectures at university. If you tell him, it will ruin everything. Besides, I did not steal the thing. I want to restore it.”
He had a solid argument there. Reddy Phillips was the one who should be whipped.
“Can’t you just go to the Tower and say that you found it, walking around outside the wall?” I asked, watching the bird inspect the hem of my draperies.
Val shook his head. “The Tower ravens are all clipped. They cannot fly outside the wall. But if you give me a few days, I am certain I can think of something. Please, Julia.”
I looked into his earnest eyes, so like Father’s, and knew I would not refuse him.
“Very well. But he must stay here, in this room. Pull up any furnishings he might eat, and see to it that you clean up after him.”
Val clenched me into a suffocating embrace. “You are a queen amongst women,” he said fervently.
“Victoria Regina” came the croaky little voice from the floor.
I put Val firmly away from my person. “And above all, keep him quiet.”
“I will, I will, I promise you.” He moved into the room and closed the door behind him.
And through the door, clear as a bell, I heard the croaky little voice say, “God Save the Queen.”
THE TWELFTH CHAPTER
Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee, why so pale?
—Sir John Suckling
“Song”
It was another hour before I managed to seclude myself in my study to read the letter. There were menus to discuss with Cook, laundry orders to give to Magda, and my wardrobe to peruse with Morag. In a fit of industry, Morag had decided that my mourning clothes were beginning to show some wear and that I should order some new ones. This was blatantly false—I had just purchased the black silk and the ensemble with swansdown trim. I strongly suspected she was short of funds and wanted something to sell at the market.
But as we winnowed the garments down to the few items she deemed acceptable, I remembered Aunt Ursula’s remarks about widowhood and considered carefully a life spent in that suffocating black. I thought of the queen, a walking effigy in her widow’s weeds, and I thought of the Hindu widows with their funeral pyres. There seemed little to choose between the two.
“Leave me the new silk, as well as that heap there,” I told Morag, pointing to a pathetically modest pile on my bed. “You may have the rest to sell or make over for yourself.”
