Nineteen
Nineteen
Porchester Terrace: a crown jewel of Bayswater, London. There were quite a few artists who held studios here. I walked inside
the one William Bambridge had never meant for me to find. The room was small and painted blue, with some windows on the ceiling
and some on the left side of the room with the curtains drawn. There were scratch marks on the light wood floor where Bambridge
had shuffled his camera tripod here and there.
Charles Wilkes stood at the front of the room, the heels of his boots pressed back against the stage where Bambridge’s subjects
were to pose for him in front of a black wall. He grimaced when he saw me enter. Rui, on other hand, was delighted. Next to
the inspector, he sat on the stage, his fingers interlocked. His right corner of his lips quirked up into a little smirk.
They had both been waiting for me.
Red-and-black-patterned fabric covered the stage, giving the place the allure of luxury. But there was nothing luxurious about
what Bambridge had been secretly doing in his own time.
Wilkes looked like he’d aged a decade during the last couple of days. I didn’t know how he’d managed to find this place, nor
how he’d broken in, but I suppose that was a detective’s work. He’d done what I told him to do. How useful he was as a pawn.
“They’re in there.”
He flicked his head back, gesturing toward the small closet next to him.
“Have you seen them?” I asked Rui. He was here for insurance.
The criminal prince gave me an intoxicating, mischievous grin. “You won’t believe your eyes.”
I stepped carefully toward the closet and opened the door. It was a darkroom. Yes, most photographers should have one of these
in their studios. The workshop was tiny and claustrophobic, with photographic paper set upon a wooden table in the center
of the room. I recognized some of the equipment on the bench lining the walls: a bath with chemicals. A daguerreotype apparatus.
A thin iron tintype for portable photographs. I was more interested in small golden-framed photographs resting against the
rightmost wall.
Oh... goodness .
Four photographs. Each more interesting than the last.
I checked them, lined them up, and drank them in. So Mrs. Mallet’s intelligence was correct. “When did Bambridge have time
to come to Windsor Castle to do all these?” Or perhaps the Queen had been spirited here in the middle of the night. If anyone
could make it happen, she could—especially if she was desperate enough.
Judging by these photographs, she was certainly desperate for something .
“You know, if you keep the door opened, the photos might get ruined,” said Rui, leaning against the door frame. He wasn’t
looking at me. He kept one eye on Inspector Wilkes, who came into my line of sight, his paling face screwed up in disgust
as he stared at the “special” portraits on the floor.
“I don’t know too much about photography, but I don’t think the light would ruin these already-finished photographs. Like those.” I walked back toward the center table. Thin paper photographs mounted on thick paper cards. These albumen prints were all the rage in photography; for some, they were more sought after than tintypes and daguerreotypes. It made sense that Bambridge would dabble in various photographic styles.
The only problem was, these weren’t his photographs.
“Marcus Sparling’s work is quite good.” I picked up one photograph of an old man smoking a long pipe. “Fenton is an important
member of the Photographic Society. Inspector Wilkes, when I told you to steal his assistant’s work and plant them here, I
didn’t think you’d be able to do it so quickly. I’m impressed.”
“Devil.” Wilkes was shaking as he said it. Rui let the detective pass him and enter the darkroom; I didn’t mind. I loved seeing
a high Englishman brought low. It was the air I breathed. Let him come to me. “You really think your plan is going to work?”
I shrugged. “Now that all the pieces are in place, I don’t see why not.”
Bambridge and the Queen. The gossip. The stain on her image. I almost licked my lips in anticipation. With slow, cocky steps,
I walked up to Wilkes until I was close enough to fix his bow tie. “You’re not going to betray me at this crucial moment,
are you?” And then I did fix his bow tie. “Not with everything you have to lose.”
“Witch!”
Wilkes reached for my neck so quickly, I hadn’t time to gasp. My breath caught in my throat, the blood rushing up to my head.
The bloodlust in the inspector’s snarl almost shook me. But his fingers didn’t manage to reach my flesh. His fingers twitched,
aching for their target. But Rui had caught his wrist before they could find it.
“You’ll do as you’re told, won’t you?” he whispered in Wilkes’s ear. That’s when I saw the pistol Rui had hidden in his brown vest. With his other hand, he stuck the barrel against Wilkes’s temple. “Like the young lady said, you have a lot to lose if you don’t.”
I exhaled, letting my body relax, but seeing Rui fight for me, protect me, moved me in a way that was hard to describe. “Thank
you,” I said, lowering my gaze to the floor.
When I looked up, Rui’s dark eyes were twinkling. “For you? Anything.”
My cheeks flushed. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up so the elegant shape of his muscles were just visible with
the light streaming in from the studio. They flexed as Rui pressed the gun harder against Wilkes’s head, making the man yelp
in terror. I couldn’t admit it to my partner in crime—just how deeply his ruthlessness had etched itself into the most tender
parts of my flesh. All he had to do was show me one more act of aggression and I’d go feral.
I wanted to touch him. Seeing Rui take a man’s life in his hands so mercilessly, here in this claustrophobic room cloaked
in darkness, the reality of it nearly knocked me off my feet. I wanted to hold him. To kiss him. To feel his tongue upon mine.
I wanted us to hold that gun together while we did it.
Returning to reality, I straightened my back and walked out of the darkroom with a haughty lift of my chin.
“Don’t forget the time and place, Wilkes. And, if I may, a little advice?” I turned. Wilkes’s back was still to me. Rui hadn’t
lowered the gun. The two men waited.
I smiled. “Don’t be so stiff. Relax! We’re going to have fun together, you and I.”
At a gallery event no one would soon forget.
The carriage brought me home to the Schoens’ home safely. Mama was horrified to hear what had happened, but ensured that she’d teach me whatever Miss Welsh couldn’t while she was busy with her mother.
“Wow. Thanks, Mama,” I said without an ounce of mirth as she hugged me tightly.
It was already past midnight, but I couldn’t go to bed. The memories of the evening’s exploits still buzzed in my flesh. I
was in an excited state.
But I also didn’t want to go to my room. If I did, I’d take out those pictures—the ones I’d drawn by hand. I’d stare at them
until I became cross-eyed and could no longer recognize who the girls I’d drawn were supposed to be. Not that I could recognize
them now.
I sat out on the front steps as night fell. The Queen of Spades, which I’d slipped out from underneath my bedroom pillow,
was pinched between my fingers. I twisted and turned the card absently. The black queen seemed to vanish in the darkness.
The stars were clear here in Chatham. I could hardly ever see them in London with the filth of industry. Here, greenery enveloped
me—I had to squint to see the next house over. In London, the slums were packed and the streets cluttered with feet, hooves,
wheels, bodies, and every manner of item that could be sold. I always felt the contrast deeply. I always missed the fresh
air when I was away from here. It didn’t matter. Soon, I’d be taken away from England entirely. Brought back to Lagos as someone’s
backup bride.
I didn’t hate Captain Davies by any measure, but like anyone who claimed power over me, I couldn’t let him have his way either.
When I was through with my revenge, I had to find a way to stop the wedding from proceeding. And right now, as I stared up
at the moon, feeling the seconds of my freedom tick away, there was only one way I could think of accomplishing it.
I needed to flee. That was the only option. To disappear such that no one would ever find me on the face of this earth unless I wanted to be found. And I had less than a month to figure out exactly how to do it.
“Disappear,” I whispered, shaking my head. Would I really have to take such drastic measures? “Is there no other way for me
to live?”
“Why not? You’ve made others disappear. I’m sure you’re an expert at it by now.”
My blood froze in my veins as I heard his voice. I held my breath, confused, afraid, and unable to stop my body from turning.
He slid out from behind the corner of the Schoens’ house. He stopped just short of the window on the front exposure and rested
against the brick. He didn’t approach me nearer than this.
Dalton Sass.
No. But that couldn’t be right. I saw him leave with Bertie and Davies....
The Queen of Spades slipped from my hand and onto the front steps. “You... followed... me home? You came to my house ?”
He answered with a grin that made me jump to my feet.
Dalton Sass. He ran his hands through his floppy, curly brown hair and leaned over sideways, taking in the sight of me in
my nightgown. It wasn’t with lust or appreciation but fascination that he stared at me.
“You look so innocent,” he said, rubbing his chin. “If only they all knew.”
“Knew what?” I snapped. My body was poised and ready for a fight. If he made any sudden movements, I’d put my finely pointed
nails to good use.
But Dalton only folded his arms over his chest. He was still wearing the same shirt and brown vest he wore at the garden party.
He hadn’t showered. He must not have had the time if he was following me around like the stalker he was.
I waited.
“If only they knew that you murdered my mother.”
The cold wind nipped at my bare arms, fluttering my nightgown. I could feel the light fabric against my legs.
“According to you, she killed herself.” I lifted my chin. “Your anger is a bit misplaced, isn’t it?”
“You know, she always talked about you when I was little. After the fire, that is.” Dalton kept his gaze on the moon, the
light of which captured his long eyelashes. “How she was sure she saw you running from her office just before. She tried telling
her superiors, of course, but nobody believed her. It was her cigar, after all. Everyone knew she was a smoker. It was one
of her unsavory habits.” He tilted his head to the side. “But I’m sure you knew that. I’m sure you knew their prejudice would
guide their sense of justice.”
“It’s funny.” I tugged at my sleeves nonchalantly. “During all the days she beat us at the Institution, she never once mentioned
she had a son.” And then, when I saw him seize up, I blinked in surprise. “Oh, didn’t you know? What an abusive, evil witch
she was?”
Dalton’s hand instinctively flew to his left arm, sheathed in its jacket sleeve. He squeezed it curiously, but kept his eyes
on me almost as if he hadn’t yet realized what his body was doing.
“Whatever wrong my mother has done in her lifetime, you could never call her a witch without hypocrisy,” he snarled. “Not
you, the disgusting wench who drove her to her death.”
He rubbed his arm for a moment before letting his fingers slide off his jacket. “Yes, I know all about you, Sarah Forbes Bonetta.
Our beloved Queen’s beloved goddaughter. My mother spoke about you constantly. How you challenged her every chance you got.
How you thought yourself smarter, better. How you flaunted your intelligence with the pride of the devil.”
I let out a laugh. “Is that what you’re really angry about? About the fact that she seemed more inclined to talk about me, a lowly African student, than she did her own son?”
Sass boosted himself off the brick. “ Murderer. ”
“I murdered no one. Unless you have any proof that I did, I suggest you put your tail between your legs and get the hell out
of my town.” I squeezed my fists. “Oh, and you should know: in this society, the mad ramblings of a ruined woman, now sadly
deceased, is not exactly what would count as hard evidence. Those aren’t my rules. But take that as you will.”
Sass’s expression looked murderous. I quickly checked his hands to make sure he wasn’t hiding any secret weapons. For a moment,
I almost wished he did have one. I suddenly felt quite hungry for a good fight.
“I’ll go to the prince.”
“And he’ll believe you , someone he just met, ranting about someone he doesn’t even know and has no reason to care about?”
“He may. With the right evidence.”
I remembered his standoff against Lord Ponsonby and felt the blood pumping through my fists. “I don’t believe you have any.
And truthfully? I don’t believe the letter you used to frighten Ponsonby qualifies. After all, what care does that old man
have for me?”
Dalton looked taken aback. He didn’t know I’d seen him that day.
“No... the letter you showed him that day is dangerous to the Queen, not me.” I raised my chin in defiance. “And Ponsonby
wants to protect her—of course he does. That’s his life work: protecting the Queen against evildoers like you who’d use such
foul means to worm your way into the lives of her children.”
Dalton’s sneer made my flesh crawl. “So it seems we know quite a bit about each other. But don’t think about getting to Ponsonby. With how I terrified the old man, I know he’ll keep his mouth shut for as long as I need him to. Self-preservation is quite the motivator. Besides, with what’s in my letter, the last person he’ll talk to is you .”
So the letter did have something to do with me after all. Was Dalton goading me into making the wrong move? I had to think
and act carefully.
“So you’ll use Prince Bertie as a piece on a chessboard.” I made a show of shaking my head. “To think of such a thing. How
incredibly callous.”
“We’ve become quite good friends in such a short amount of time.” And when Dalton’s expression changed from contemptible to
saccharine in a flash, I knew he was telling the truth. He had the skill of a conman. The confidence of a liar. Bertie was
used to sycophants surrounding him. It wouldn’t take much to slip onto his radar.
Then again, I wasn’t just anybody either. I tapped my chin. “That is true,” I conceded. “Perhaps he trusts you already. But
then, you did just try to poison me. Poor Miss Welsh’s mother drank the arsenic tea instead. The old bat may even be dead by now.” I shrugged.
“Should we go to Bertie with both our tales and see which one he believes? I think, then, it would be decided once and for
all: Who’s the better storyteller? And most importantly, which one of us has the stronger bond with the Prince of Wales?”
Sass’s body was tense and poised for attack and I was just as poised to meet him. Good. Come get me. Whatever fear had arisen
within me was long gone. Now all I could remember was Sass’s cane. My fingernails dug into my palms as if each lash came fresh
against my back, my arms, and sometimes my legs for the fun of it. And not just Sass. Bambridge. Bellamy. The Forbeses. Phipps.
McCoskry. Dancing for them in the parlor. The HMS Bonetta . Ade being flung overboard. The beads being ripped from my neck by Bambridge’s clammy hands. Every injustice piled up one on top of another until I was begging for this stupid boy to come after me with everything he had just so I had an excuse to rip him limb from limb.
He didn’t. He relaxed his body. He sighed. And then he lowered his head with a smile.
“Sarah Forbes Bonetta. Goddaughter of Queen Victoria.” His laughter was quiet, like the rippling waves of a river. “Well now.
You’ve shown me your true face. I won’t rest until everyone else has seen it too. I can’t wait to take you apart.”
I knew that look. The thirst for revenge. The ecstasy of having your enemy in your sights and imagining their total annihilation.
I gave him my own, ladylike smile. “Try your best.”
Then I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Mama! Mama! Come quick! A thief! Help!”
Startled and cursing, Dalton backed away before running from the house into the night. By the time Mama burst through the
front doors, he was too far away to identify. If I said it was Sass, would she believe me? For now, she held me close while
I cried.
“Oh, Mama, I was so scared!” I sniffed. “I never imagined I’d see a thief here. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but
he must know of our connection to the royal palace!”
“Don’t worry, Sally, my precious girl. I’ll inform the palace. No thief is ever going to make his way here again.”
I wiped my tearful face. “Thank you, Mama.”
Perhaps I could have just told her it was Sass. But I had my own plans for him. He’d had the audacity to stalk me to my home, putting not only me but Mama Schoen in danger. That was unforgivable. No matter how many arguments Mama and I had had in the past, she was dear to me. That was more unforgivable than trying to poison me. And I was already quite furious about that.
Whatever I did to Dalton Sass required the same kind of care and precision that I brought to the rest of my enemies.
He came to my bloody house. He was now on my list.
And if he wasn’t careful, he’d follow his abusive monster of a mother to the grave.