“All right, Paddy. Let’s bring the bastard back.”
Julia arrived outside the queen’s dining room just as John Brown rounded the bend.
“The queen was asking for ye. What were ye thinking, woman, running out on her?”
“I’ll apologize to Her Majesty, of course.”
“It’s bedlam hereabouts. Soldiers, marching, a gunman sent by Major FitzGerald stationed on the roof …”
Julia swung around. “Sent by Major FitzGerald?”
“Aye. Are ye deaf, woman?” Brown barked, just as two footmen opened the dining room’s double doors. Luncheon was over. The queen rose, and everyone at the table stood.
Julia grabbed Brown’s arm. “Major FitzGerald will be arrested today. You must get Her Majesty away. Quickly.”
Brown shook off her hand and headed for his queen. Julia followed him inside. She called out, “May I have your attention? For your safety, please follow Mister Brown’s instructions.”
But they weren’t looking at her. The two footmen at the door brushed by her. Julia turned. A man stood in the doorway with a pistol in his hand. He pointed the gun at Julia and jerked the barrel.
“You. To the side.”
Julia backed away. Everyone else in the room froze in position. Brown stood by the queen, and Louise had her hand on Prince Leopold’s shoulder. The rest of the royal family and the courtiers stared in shock. Only the queen looked composed. She waited with her hands folded, staring at the gunman, her lips compressed and her chin up.
“You know why I’m here,” the gunman said to her. “Atonement. Centuries of British boots at the neck and the crack of the whip. Millions starved or driven from our land.”
When a young courtier shifted his position, inching closer to the door, the intruder shouted, “Move again, and you’re a dead man.”
The gunman’s gaze circled the table. Princess Helena had her arms wrapped around a shaking Beatrice, the youngest of the queen’s children. She’d buried her head in her sister’s shoulder, whimpering.
The gunman said to the queen, “You won’t be hard to miss, but like many a starving mother in Ireland, you’ll see your children die first.”
Prince Leopold lost his grip on his cane and fell back into hischair. The gunman swung the barrel away from Victoria and pointed it at the prince.
“I’ll start with this scrawny fellow.” He fired a split second after Princess Louise lunged in front of her brother. She crumpled, falling at his feet.
Brown sprang, bellowing. He jerked the gunman’s arm, and the next shot hit the chandelier, sending a cascade of shattered crystals pinging around the room. The Scotsman and the intruder struggled for the weapon. One of the young courtiers rushed forward, but the gunman kicked him away. But it was just the distraction Brown needed. He reached down and pulled hisskene-dhufrom the scabbard in his sock. The gunman gasped as the Scotsman thrust once, then again, and twisted. The intruder fell with a sliver-handled knife protruding from under his ribs.
Julia scrambled to Louise’s side. Firmly but gently, she moved the sobbing Leopold away from his sister. “Please help us, sir,” she said to the boy. “The footmen will carry the princess to her bedroom. I will follow and treat her wound.”
The young prince nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Julia instructed two footmen to lift the princess into a dining chair and carry her to her room. Then she asked Susan to fetch her medical bag from the guest room.
The queen looked from her daughter to the doctor. Voice shaking, she said, “Save my darling Loosy.” She turned to her private secretary. “General Grey, see that Doctor Lewis has everything she needs.” Reluctantly, the queen allowed Brown to lead her away as the footmen carried her daughter away in a chair.
General Grey asked, “What can I do, Doctor?”
“Send two more footmen and a housemaid to Prince Louise’s room.”
The shots had finally brought soldiers pounding down the Grand Corridor. “We did yer job for ye,” Brown said, jerkinghis head. “He’s on the floor. Look on the roof, and you’ll find one of yours. Dead, I’m guessing.”
Two additional footmen and a housemaid followed Julia into Princess Louise’s room. The doctor ordered the male servants to shift the table in the center of the room and move the single bed away from the wall to the window.
“I need as much light as possible, so push back the drapes and curtains. Shift that mirror stand to the table. Now, one of you fetch a stack of freshly laundered table napkins.”
When the bed was in place, Julia pulled off the bedcoverings, and the footmen moved the princess. A red stain had soaked through the right side of her gown.
Julia told a housemaid, “Move all those candlesticks from the mantel to the table. Set them in front of the mirror. General Grey, have you a box of matches?” When the queen’s secretary nodded, Julia said, “Light the candles, please.” She stopped a footman as he backed away from the bed. “Move the washing stand next to the table.”
Susan arrived with Julia’s medical bag.
