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Epilogue
1 May 1851
“It’s almost his turn!” Penelope said excitedly, turning to Helen.
The women’s distended silk-covered abdomens brushed against each other, as they were unused to their new and burgeoning silhouettes. Shortly after their joint October wedding, the brides had found themselves in the family way.
Considering the formal circumstance, they suppressed their smiles as best they could and returned their attention to the immense dais covered with red carpet. Sirena stood on Pen’s other side, staring raptly along with all the other ladies attending the inauguration of the Great Exhibition. Nicholas and Adam were on the opposite side of the platform with the men, also enjoying a front row view of the opening ceremony. All around were the other twenty-five thousand spectators.
Queen Victoria and her family stood upon the dais receiving the report of the Commission, starting with Prince Albert, the Chairman of the Royal Commissioners. As soon as His Royal Highness finished, Vassilis read his portion of the report, with all the flourish and pomp befitting the circumstances.
Mr. Paxton’s extraordinary building, known as the Crystal Palace, was a triumph. When Vassilis finished speaking, Helen looked around discreetly, marveling again. The multi-story glass-and-iron wonder was filled with a sea of color. The enormous elm tree behind the dais provided a green canopy against the blue sky visible through the glazed roof. White marble statues gleamed behind the eye-catching scarlet uniforms of the British troops. The nobility wore their sashes, the generals, their medals and ribbons, and the guests were bedecked in their finest.
Helen wore an emerald gown that matched the stone on her pearl necklace. Reminding herself to behave properly, she clasped her hands in front of her midriff, even when the baby shifted and she would have liked to place a hand over the spot.
We’re here!she thought to her child.
Elijah was not; he was aboardAlacritysomewhere between Britain and Australia on a wool run for James Robertson. From England, he carried paying passengers—emigrants—and cargo. Australia needed ready-made clothing, machines and their parts, water and gas pipes, soap, candles, and a myriad of other finished goods. Elijah acquired them from Robertson’s or Chadbourne’s firms, whichever offered the best deal on anything he could sell in Sydney.
Helen had hoped he would be in London for this opening ceremony, but he would return by the time the Exhibition closed in October. Perhaps with the military pageantry on display today, it was for the best he visited another time. Discomfort stirred even in Helen at the sight of the redcoats standing in formation.
At least for the next three years, she could count on Elijah returning to ports in Britain instead of elsewhere. He’d committed to the exclusive wool transport contract with Robertson, four thousand bales of the highest quality in each run, a deal that allowed Elijah to keepAlacrityand engage in a form of trade he could stomach. It didn’t hurt that he set a record in travel times to and from Australia.
For the time being, while residing in London between sailings, Elijah had taken up lodgings with Robertson’s man of business, Chavers.
Pen and Sirena seemed to delight equally in both the ceremony and the displays that awaited, but Helen couldn’t wait for the inauguration to conclude so they could explore. It was a relief when, at last, she, Pen, and Sirena hurried to the pink crystal fountain to await the men. They’d designated the four-ton, twenty-seven foot tall wonder as a safe meeting point in the crowds.
Queen Victoria and her entourage were touring the exhibits first, and only after that inspection was complete would the Great Exhibition be declared officially open. As guests of the Commission, however, Vassilis had arranged for them to pass through on the royals’ coattails.
Half of the space was occupied by objects from the British Empire, but the rest of the world had also sent national treasures for display along the exhibition’s themes of industry. Despite her tired feet, Helen moved relentlessly from country to country, delighting in the ingenuity and variety of machines and objects on display—and as ever, Nicholas delighted inher.
Other guests flocked around the Koh-i-Noor diamond, couched on a red cushion within what looked like an enormous bird cage. A spoil of war, it had been brought recently from India to Queen Victoria by condition of treaty. Helen was far more interested in almost any of the other one hundred thousand objects on display.
She admired the British printing presses, Canadian fire engine, massive vases from China, minerals from Australia, Swiss gold watches, and the sumptuous French tapestries that were already striking fear in the hearts of the British textile barons.
But it was, of course, the display from the United States to which she felt the most attached, and not only for patriotic reasons. Over six hundred exhibitors had sent their contributions on a frigate from New York, but one corner of the American exhibit held special interest to Helen.
“Oh, mercy,” she said in a low voice to her husband, spying the giant bald eagle statue. Wings spread, the figure was suspended atop the American area, with the Stars and Stripes hanging from it. Newly this year, the flag had thirty-one stars, after California, site of the gold rush and Robbie’s demise, was admitted to the Union.
A new round of joyous cheers erupted from the waiting crowds, who periodically roused as Queen Victoria progressed on her tour.
Once the cheers lessened, Nicholas spoke into Helen’s ear. “Don’t tell Elijah, but I’m at a loss for jests about you Americans today. Even with that eagle, your pride is no more conspicuous than any other nation’s here.”
Laughing, Helen conceded he was right, and Vassilis signaled them all to follow him. They bypassed the real suspension truss bridge that could be crossed on the exhibit floor and a double grand piano, then Vassilis stopped in front of one of the alcoves between iron columns.
“Take some time before we join you,” he suggested.
“Thank you,Patéras.”
Helen smiled her appreciation at the man and squeezed his hand before going in.
Sirena’s portrait of Elijah was hung on the back wall, above the first tea chest tossed fromAlacrity’shold onto the West India Docks. A glass box displayed some of the premium first-of-the-season tea leaves so that visitors could behold them. Rather than the dyed and adulterated dust-like consistency so many consumers would have recognized as tea, these were clearly bits of dried, furled leaves.
“Much better than the diagram published in the paper!” Helen declared, standing in front of the large wooden model ofAlacrity.
“It is indeed,” Nicholas agreed.
The ship wasn’t dressed with signal flags, but it was fully rigged, and the American flag flew over her stern. Seeing her long, slim hull evoked a storm of emotions.
