Chapter 14
Fourteen
Brodie was unusually quiet as he patiently stood while I tied the cravat that my brother-in-law had included with the tailcoat he had sent for him to wear to the reception at St. James's Palace.
There was none of the usual grumbling as I folded one end over the other, made the knot, then widened the satin fabric at his neck and tucked the tails into his shirt.
Nor had there been grumbling earlier when he had returned from meeting with Sir Avery at the Agency Office at the Tower.
He had informed me that all remedies, as he called them, had been put in place. Mr. Conner was to accompany Alex to the reception dressed in servant’s clothes, along with several other agents selected by Sir Avery, who would be discreet as they moved about the guests in attendance.
Mr. Dooley had been in attendance at the meeting as well to coordinate with men from the MET who might be needed, which was pure ‘conjecture,’ as Sir Avery had replied when Brodie informed him what we had discovered.
He had demanded to know the source of the information, which Brodie had refused to provide.
According to what he explained to me when he returned several hours later, he told Sir Avery that it was a reliable source, but for safety purposes he could not reveal the name of the person who had provided that information.
I would like to have been a wall-fly during his response. Sir Avery was the sort of person who insisted on being in control of all aspects of a situation.
Not that Brodie didn’t have his moments, yet as I had heard him say numerous times—there were many things in an investigation that were beyond control.
That included unknown persons involved in a crime, risks that could not be accounted for, and those who waited at the edge of the crime for the outcome.
There had been much discussion about that. He was most adamant about not wanting me to attend the reception, notwithstanding the fact that Aunt Antonia was to attend, along with my sister and her husband.
“I dinna want ye to be part of this,” he had made perfectly clear earlier.
It was not the first time he’d made his feelings plain about my involvement in what might possibly be a dangerous situation.
However...
I had pointed out, quite diplomatically I thought at the time, that while he had no practical knowledge of St. James's Palace and the surrounding grounds, I was familiar with the Throne Room where the reception was to be held.
As well as the State apartments, though I did not go into detail about my adventures exploring those rooms.
I was just past my fifteenth birthday at the time. Nor did I mention the young man with me who thought to give me a belated birthday present and chose to take advantage, much to his disappointment, considering the black eye I had given him.
If memory served me right, it was not nearly as glorious as Brodie’s, which had now faded to a mere shadow above the cut he’d received.
Still, he did cut quite a dashing figure in formal attire, a combination of the proper gentleman and a man who made no claim to be proper. Particularly with that cut just below his eye.
As for the gown I was to wear, I had promptly removed the bows and lace, which exposed somewhat more above the bodice.
Even though I was somewhat taller than Linnie, the volumes of purple satin in the skirt disguised it, as well as my black walking boots.
Linnie had included a black satin wrap and long gloves. I had left my hair down.
“Will Sir Avery be attending?” I inquired.
“Aye.”
He actually spoke! A single word, but an improvement from the silence after our previous ‘discussion.’
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked and braced for another argument.
“I was thinking how beautiful ye are.”
I was highly suspicious. Brodie rarely made compliments, except...those were in private moments. This was somewhat unusual.
“Flattery will do no good,” I informed him.
“Is that right?”
“Most certainly.”
“Wot if I was to throw ye over my shoulder, carry ye into that room, and have my way with ye?”
“We would be late to the reception. However, you are forgetting an important part to that.”
“Wot might that be?”
“What you are suggesting requires two persons.”
“Aye. And ye have never been one to object, from the time I found ye on that Greek Island.”
“I have no clear memory of that.” Although not quite true. “It must have been the ouzo.”
Years before...before so many things. And yet he remembered it very clearly.
“Ye were naked as the day ye were born, and I thought I might have been too late in fetching ye back for her ladyship.”
“You were not too late, Mr. Brodie. Although there was the possibility of that on the return to London.”
“Ye were filled with righteous anger,” he replied. “At myself, her ladyship, and threatened to unman me.”
I slipped an arm about his neck and gently angled him closer. I did consider his proposal.
“So much the better that I did not.”
Yet, I knew him better than he cared to admit. There was nothing I could say, or do, that would prevent him going to the reception. Just as there was nothing he could say that would prevent me.
He pulled me against him, and I felt the anger and the words that he forced back in his hands and the kiss that followed.
Then, unexpectedly, he set me from him.
He had requested the service of Mr. Tavers for the evening. The coach waited as we arrived on the sidewalk below the office.
“Might I say, Mr. Brodie, that you look like a regular toff,” Mr. Cavendish commented and received a glare. He grinned. “And Lady Forsythe is like a purple rose.”
“When have you ever seen a purple rose?” I inquired.
“I must admit that I have not. Miss Effie is fond of red roses. But I imagine that is what you would look like.”
St. James's Palace was in Westminster, not far from the Strand, separated by the Mall that ran between the Palace and St. James's Park.
The evening congestion of the Strand had thinned, and we soon joined the line of private coaches along the parkway lit by gas lampposts, then turned onto the Mall, that was lit as well as the palace. Each carriage and coach in turn approached the main entrance.
St. James's Palace was built more than four hundred years earlier, with three-story red-brick wings that stretched the length of the Mall.
At the main entrance was the five-story tower, with an enormous gilt clock rumored to have been a gift from Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn.
That was, of course, before he had her beheaded.
While Aunt Antonia had never known the man, due to those five hundred years between, she had not cared for him.
“It is a good thing we are not related,” she had once stated. “William might have been a philanderer, but he was not in the habit of beheading his wives so that he could marry another.”
She was referring to William I of Normandy, our family ancestor. I was not at all certain of the source of her information, but she had been quite adamant about Henry.
“And you must admit that Sir William was far more appealing than Henry. One does wonder how he ever managed to sire children!”
There had been more, specifically to the conversation, as part of my education about the Sword Room at Sussex Square. However, she carefully censored it in consideration of my young age at the time.
There was a portrait of our mutual ancestor that she had brought from the old fortress, and I had to admit that he was a great deal more appealing than King Henry, who was quite...portly.
We eventually arrived at the entrance and departed the coach.
“Ye will remain,” Brodie informed Mr. Tavers, who nodded, then guided the team to the open Mall where other drivers had gathered with their rigs.
Brodie then took my arm and escorted me to the well-guarded tower entrance, where I presented my invitation to the reception. The attendant nodded, and we then entered the formal entrance to St. James's Palace.
The reception, small by comparison to other Royal events, was to be in the Queen Anne Room. We were directed to the Grand Staircase that led to the State Apartments.
Brodie and I had both been inside the royal residence of HRH the Prince of Wales during a previous investigation. However, St. James's Palace was far larger, and the royal residence of the Queen at one time, before she chose to live at Buckingham Palace.
It was considerably more ostentatious, as befitted a monarch, with red carpet, gold balustrades on the grand double staircase, and dozens of gilt-framed portraits of kings and queens over the past four hundred years.
“Wot, no portrait of yer own ancestor?” Brodie commented.
“That was a few hundred years earlier,” I replied. “He was quite busy conquering, here briefly, and then departed for France.”
At the top of the first floor was the Guard Chamber, which then led to the Queen Anne Room as well as other State Apartments.
The Guard Chamber contained countless weapons from over the past four hundred years mounted on the walls, one in a particular starburst design with a war shield at the center. We passed glass cases that contained ancient firearms as we followed the procession of guests.
“I was extremely impressed when I first visited the Guard Chamber several years ago.”
That dark gaze narrowed as the line slowed while guests were greeted at the entrance to the Queen Anne Room.
“Ye’ll not be pulling one of the swords from the wall will ye now?” Brodie commented.
“I will try to restrain myself,” I replied as we reached the entrance and were greeted by a footman.
“Lady Forsythe and Guest,” he announced.
The ‘guest’ beside me escorted me into the large reception for the German legation.
After Brodie had returned from his meeting with Sir Avery, we had spoken at length about the reception that lay ahead. I had also made a drawing of the palace, even though it had been some years since I had last visited.