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“You haven’t hurt her yet, James,” Emily said. “It’s not too late.”
“What do you know about too late?” James said, his mouth turning up in a sneer. “You sit here with all the other ladies, drinking your tea and eating your little cakes, and all the while innocent men and women beg for just a crumb of bread and water.”
The queen’s eyes were wide, and her gaze darted between Emily and Will. Will tried to give her a reassuring nod. He worried she would scream or struggle and James would break her neck. Like all the footmen in the palace, he was at least six feet tall, muscular, and strong. In his grip, the queen looked like a doll.
“You have family in Ireland,” Emily said. Will knew she must be guessing, and he could have kissed her. He needed James to keep talking. Every moment he was talking was a moment more the queen was alive.
“My mother’s family lived in Ireland. I saylivedbecause they are either dead or gone to the Americas now. Do you know how my mother wept at the letters she received informing her of the death of her parents, her brother, her nieces and nephews? And all the while, you laughed and rode in the park and sewed pretty flowers on handkerchiefs.”
“And so you went to Innishfree. You joined the separatists,” Will said. The footman’s face was red, his eyes wild.
“They came to me! But I didn’t hesitate to join them. My family deserved better.”
“Hurting the queen won’t bring your family back,” said Will. “And what the separatists want is Home Rule. What if Her Majesty granted that? What if she signed a...proclamation right now granting the Irish independence? Isn’t that what you really want?”
James stared at Will, obviously never having considered this idea. It wasn’t something the queen could do, of course, but Will doubted the footman knew the intricacies of British law.
“The prime minister is right here.” Will gestured to Lord Russell, who stood frozen beside his chair. “He can draw up the papers, and Queen Victoria can sign them.”
James narrowed his eyes, and Will prayed the man didn’t start thinking about logistics and Parliament.
“We will never sign such a document,” the queen said, her voice ringing out. “Ireland is a part of our body, and we will not sever it.”
Will could have sworn aloud. Bloody good time for the queen to decide to be brave.
“Then you can die!” James yelled. He shifted her to face him, put his hands about her throat, and began to squeeze. Will leapt forward, but Emily was faster. She jumped on the footman’s back and rained blows down upon him.
“Help the queen!” Will yelled as he pushed her aside and locked his arm about James’s neck. He squeezed and yanked, and James released the queen and stumbled back, his hands clawing at his neck.
They were of a similar height and size, but Will had trained in hand-to-hand combat. It took him only a moment to render the footman unconscious and drop his limp body on the floor. Then he bent over and tried to catch his breath as pandemonium erupted around him.
EMILY CAUGHT THE QUEENjust as she crumpled to her knees. Her small hands clutched at her throat, where dark red marks were beginning to appear on her pale skin. Lord Russell was barking orders at the guards, and Emily saw that at least half a dozen had stormed into the room. They rushed toward the footman.
“Careful with him!” Lord Russell said as the first man jerked him up. “We need him alive and able to talk. You.” He pointed toward one of the soldiers. “Fetch Lord Palmerston.”
“Your Majesty, are you hurt?” Emily asked, knowing it was a foolish question but asking it anyway.
“I want Albert,” the queen said, looking very young and very frightened. Emily could feel the monarch trembling as she helped her to her feet and then to a nearby chair.
“Lord Russell,” Emily said. “Could you have someone fetch the prince?”
“Of course, my lady.”
Emily knelt before the queen, holding her hand. “You’re safe now. Take a deep breath, if you can.”
The queen tried, but her breath hitched in her throat. She held Emily’s hand in a tight grip, her rings biting into Emily’s flesh.
“The prince is coming!” someone called, and Emily began to rise, to move aside for Prince Albert. Victoria pulled her back.
“What is it, Your Majesty?”
“The tea,” Victoria rasped, gesturing toward the broken teacup and the spill of liquid on the wooden floor. “Was it poisoned?”
“I don’t know, Your Highness, but I feared it was.”
“Then you saved my life.”
Emily shook her head. “Mr. Galloway saved your life.”
