The Black Crow Conspiracy Page 18

  Penny stared up in horror as the Kaiser drew his rapier, the blade glinting in the moonlight. But before he could strike, a deafening chorus of ships’ horns sounded in reply, their ear-splitting roars seemingly coming from every direction.

  “What is this?” the Kaiser gasped. “It can’t be…”

  Taking advantage of his distraction, Penelope scrambled to Monty’s side. The actor’s face was as grey as his beard as she helped him to his knees, but as the two of them turned to look through the window of the bridge there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Penelope shook her head in stunned disbelief as she saw the spectacle that was causing the Kaiser’s despair.

  As the fog slowly cleared, they could see that the Thames was thick with a flotilla of ships. Frigates, cruisers, corvettes and countless gunboats: the pride of the Royal Navy bearing down on the Hohenzollern from all sides. Before the Kaiser could even give his crew the order to take arms, dozens of Royal Marines were boarding the ship from the foredeck and aft. At the sight of Britain’s naval might, the German sailors lay down their weapons without protest, the Royal Marines advancing upon the bridge with a singular purpose. In the shadow of the lifeboats she saw the royal family being escorted to safety, Queen Alexandra lifting her gaze with a look of thankful relief.

  As the Kaiser cursed, Penny caught sight of two unexpected figures amidst the boarding party. The portly figure of King Edward the Seventh, dressed in the uniform of the First Admiral of the Fleet, now accompanied by the more soberly dressed First Lord of the Treasury, Arthur Balfour. And behind them, his features half hidden beneath a Royal Navy cap, she glimpsed a face that caused her heart to quicken: Sea Cadet Alexander Amsel, the boy now wearing the borrowed uniform of a British sailor. Penelope flushed with relief.

  Entering through both wings of the bridge, the advance guard of Royal Marines quickly disarmed the German Emperor and the rest of his officers.

  “This is an act of war,” the Kaiser spat, surrendering his sword with a snarl.

  “How dare you!” his uncle’s voice boomed in reply. King Edward marched onto the bridge, fixing his nephew with a furious glare. “You have abducted my family from their beds, held us captive in the dungeons of the Tower, attempted to force me into exile so that you can steal my throne, and yet you have the audacity to accuse me of warmongering!”

  Penelope watched as the Kaiser returned his uncle’s glare with a withering stare.

  “You would have done well to heed my advice, Uncle Bertie,” he replied coldly. “And spend the rest of your days safely in exile. You may have your grand coronation, for all the good it will do you. I will soon return to these shores, but with my New Atomic Army by my side. Britain will fall along with the rest of Europe as well, but this time I will not spare you the bloodshed.”

  In response to his nephew’s chilling threat, the King stared at him open-mouthed, his worst fears taking flight as he pictured the prospect of war. But before he had the chance to muster his reply, Balfour’s bloodless tones cut across them both.

  “Your Majesty, if I might reply on your government’s behalf?”

  With a nod of irritation, the King acquiesced and Balfour now turned to address the Kaiser.

  “Your Majesty,” he began again. “Any act of provocation on the part of the German nation would be dealt with most severely. You only have to look out of the window now to remind yourself of the strength of the Royal Navy. There is no way your troops would even make it across the North Sea – the British fleet would sink every one of your ships.”

  Beneath his ridiculous moustache, a sly grin spread across the Kaiser’s face.

  “Britannia may have ruled the waves in the last century,” he sneered, “but your navy will be defenceless before a German fleet powered by the rays of twentieth-century science.”

  “Ah yes,” Balfour replied, steepling his fingers as if prompted by a fresh recollection. “I am afraid to report that there has been an unfortunate fire at the Society for the Advancement of Science in Carlton House Terrace. The Metropolitan Fire Brigade was able to put out the conflagration before it reached the German Embassy, but in the basement of the Society, Professor Röntgen’s laboratory was completely destroyed. The professor himself escaped with only minor injuries, but in the interests of his recovery I do not believe that he will be able to return to Germany for quite some time.”

  The Kaiser scowled, the hidden meaning behind Balfour’s words instantly clear. There was no way that Great Britain would allow the secret of Röntgen’s rays to leave her shores now. Professor Röntgen would be put under house arrest; the only experiments he would be allowed to conduct would be in the service of the British Empire.

  “You will pay for your insolence,” the Kaiser hissed. “I swear I will bring this nation of shopkeepers and wayward children to heel. It may take a decade or more, but I promise you war.”

  “And Great Britain will be ready,” King Edward growled in reply. “As long as I live, you will never set foot on these shores again. It goes without saying, Wilhelm, that you are no longer welcome at my coronation.”

  A malevolent cloud passed across the Kaiser’s face, his right hand reaching for his empty scabbard. But before he could act, two Royal Marines stepped forward to seize hold of his arms.

  “These men will accompany you to your quarters,” Balfour declared as the Kaiser struggled in protest. “Once the King and the rest of the royal family have safely disembarked with the Crown Jewels, and our engineers have attended to the problem with the ship’s engine, HMS Revenge will escort the Hohenzollern to the North Sea. I am sure you will be able to find your way home from there.”

  Still muttering darkly, the Kaiser was marched from the bridge, casting a murderous glance in Penelope’s direction as she stood by Monty’s side.

  “We did it,” the actor breathed.

  His nephew now banished below decks, King Edward turned towards Monty and Penelope. He advanced towards them, his arms thrown wide in a gesture of thanks.

  “Mr Flinch, I am forever in your debt. You have kept my family safe and through your endeavours rescued my throne. If it hadn’t been for your timely sounding of the ship’s horn in this maddening fog, then the Hohenzollern would have slipped unseen through the net cast by my rescue flotilla. I do not know how I can ever thank you.” He stared at Monty with a look of wonder in his eyes. “Although I must admit I almost feel as though I am thanking myself.”

  Forgotten again, Penelope silently fumed.

  “It was my honour, Your Majesty,” Monty replied. He turned towards Penelope, presenting her to the King with a bow of his head. “And I couldn’t have done any of it without the assistance of my niece, Miss Penelope Tredwell.”

  Behind his broad smile, a flicker of panic passed across the King’s features. His gaze searched Penny’s face for any sign of the strange glow he had seen when they last met in the dungeons of the Tower. Finally satisfied that she was restored to full health, he took her hand in his own in a heartfelt gesture of thanks.

  “Miss Tredwell, you are a credit to the nation,” he declared. “Is there any way I can show my appreciation?”

  Penelope curtsied in reply, a shrewd smile slowly creeping across her lips.

  “Well, there are a few things, Your Majesty…”

  XXX

  As the last chorus of “Zadok the Priest” faded away, an expectant silence fell over the Abbey. The gothic pews were filled with politicians and peers, foreign dignitaries and diplomats, representatives from all corners of the British Empire: its dominions, colonies, dependencies and protectorates. Most of Europe’s royal families had been unable to return to London at such short notice to attend this hastily rearranged coronation, Kaiser Wilhelm the Second the most notable amongst these, but outside on the streets of Westminster the crowds waited, ready to acclaim their new King.

  From her vantage point in a pew positioned halfway down the Abbey, Penelope saw the King take his seat on the Coronation Chair. Edward the Seventh was re
splendent in robes of silver and gold, his balding head gleaming beneath the vaulted ceiling and stained-glass windows. Penny prodded Monty with her elbow, the actor lifting his head with a start.

  “That could have been you, Monty,” she whispered with a mischievous grin. Inclining his head towards hers, Monty met her suggestion with a sparkle in his eye.

  “I am quite satisfied with the honour the King has already awarded me,” he replied in a hushed whisper. “And that’s Sir Montgomery Flinch to you, Miss Tredwell.”

  From over Monty’s shoulder, Penny caught Alfie’s gaze with a smile. Despite his new morning coat, the printer’s assistant looked distinctly uncomfortable in these august surroundings. He returned Penny’s smile with a blush, his ink-stained fingers itching to return to The Penny Dreadful’s offices to check the galley proofs of the September edition.

  That had been the second way the King had shown his appreciation: lifting the royal decree banning the magazine’s publication and in its place awarding them with a royal warrant of appointment. The Penny Dreadful was now the only magazine on the newsstands that could truthfully claim it was read by the King.

  Seated on the Coronation Chair, Edward was presented with the Crown Jewels by the Archbishop of Canterbury. An orb, gleaming with precious stones and pearls, was placed with great ceremony in the King’s right hand, the sound of the Archbishop’s proclamation almost lost amongst the Abbey’s pointed arches. Next came the royal ring, the sceptre and rod, before finally, with trembling hands, the Archbishop lifted the Imperial State Crown.

  Edward leaned forward impatiently as the half-blind priest paused, peering blankly at a space just past the King’s shoulder. “Get on with it,” he hissed, impatient to begin his reign at last.

  As if remembering where he was, the Archbishop slowly lowered the crown, little realising that it was the wrong way round as he placed it on Edward’s head. But to the watching congregation this didn’t matter one jot as a fanfare of trumpets sounded and a loud cry resounded from every corner of the Abbey.

  “God save the King! God save the King!”

  Penelope turned towards her guardian, Mr Wigram, who was wiping a tear from his eye as he joined in with these repeated shouts of acclamation. Next to him, the newest member of The Penny Dreadful’s staff was still bent over his sketchbook, the King’s portrait slowly emerging as his pen moved confidently across the page. Feeling Penny’s eyes upon him, Alexander Amsel glanced up, meeting her gaze with a shy smile.

  Penny felt a familiar quickening of her heartbeat as she looked into Alexander’s eyes. After taking his oath of allegiance to the King, Sea Cadet Amsel was now plain Alexander – The Penny Dreadful’s resident illustrator. As the final chorus of “God save the King” gradually faded away, the young artist gestured towards his sketchbook page.

  “Perhaps we could include the King’s portrait in the next edition of the magazine?” he suggested in a low voice. “I am sure the readers would want something to commemorate the coronation. But don’t worry,” he added, as if suddenly remembering himself. “I will first finish the cover illustration.”

  At this reminder, Penny’s thoughts turned to the new story that was waiting for her on her desk back at The Penny Dreadful. With Montgomery Flinch’s knighthood heralding his retirement from the world of fiction, it had been time for a new author to take the reins of the magazine. No more tales of the macabre; instead The Penny Dreadful was embracing the thrilling world of mystery with a new lead serial entitled The Lady Investigates.

  This story told of a daring female detective, an amateur sleuth who was drawn into investigating a puzzling series of crimes. As she followed the clues across London, she uncovered a conspiracy that stretched from Paris to Berlin: a devilish plot to launch the world into war. With her quick wits and feminine intuition, the aristocratic investigator was soon on the trail of the mastermind behind this diabolical scheme, but could she convince the Ministers of His Majesty’s Government of the danger they faced before it was too late?

  Under Alfie’s jealous gaze, Alexander had presented Penelope with a mocked-up sketch of the cover to proclaim this new tale. With her dark hair swept high atop her head and the gleam of her pretty green eyes, the heroine of The Lady Investigates bore a striking resemblance to Penny herself. But it hadn’t been this that had caused Penelope to feel a frisson of pride. Instead at the bottom of the page the cover line declared:

  Introducing a dazzling new talent in the world of mystery fiction, The Penny Dreadful is proud to present The Lady Investigates, a thrilling tale from the pen of Miss Penelope Tredwell.

  As the Abbey bells pealed out their glad tidings to the sound of cheers from the crowds outside, Penny lifted her face to the heavens with a smile. Montgomery Flinch had finally abdicated his literary throne. Long live Penelope Tredwell.

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks to Mary Gillespie at the Tower of London, Jeremy Michell at the National Maritime Museum, Heather Johnson at the National Museum of the Royal Navy, Zoe English at the Marylebone Cricket Club and Lee Jackson for his wonderful website, The Dictionary of Victorian London, for their help with the research for this book. Thank you to my agent Lucy Juckes for her continued support, and a huge thanks to everyone at Nosy Crow, but especially Kirsty Stansfield, whose patience, encouragement and wise editorial counsel I found invaluable. With heartfelt thanks to my family for all their love and support, especially my children, Alex and Josie, and in loving memory of my nan, Olive.

  Christopher Edge

  Copyright

  First published in the UK in 2014 by Nosy Crow Ltd

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  This ebook edition first published in 2014

  Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks and / or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd

  Text copyright © Christopher Edge, 2014

  Cover illustration © Eric Orchard, 2014

  The right of Christopher Edge to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblence to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978 0 85763 055 1

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