Sat, May 19 2012
A Royal Adventure or How Phileas Fogg Came By His Secret Sir
A month later, Phileas was home in the country in his own room, with his little cousin Rebecca coming in and out in a bright red blur, pestering him to death playing nurse. He had recovered his sight almost completely. The world was still too hazy for him to read, so his father's twelve-year-old ward had offered to read to him to help pass the time. Phileas dearly loved his little cousin, but he was within a hair's breadth of ordering her barred from his room. He didn't think he could stand hearing another fairy story.
His father had been in his constant company also, at least in the last week. The man's voice had trembled as he had told Phileas how proud he was of his actions. "The other agents I assigned to be nearby were supposed to handle such dangerous matters, son. Jeffery told me you spotted the assassin before they did. He was too far from the blackguard to have tackled him in time. And your running at him like that didn't allow Jeffery to take a shot. We are all indebted to you for your quick actions."
"The assassin is under arrest and will likely be hung," his father had then explained. "Sir Niles, one of the radicals against German influence; hired him, as we expected. He learned of the Queen's sudden affection for her cousin through young Pamela. He, with Lord Quincy, had the girl much more in hand after separating her from you and her other friends. I presided over the gunman, Sir Niles' and Lady Pamela's questioning. The girl will be spared any consequences by virtue of her close friendship with the Queen and the loyalty she had demonstrated helping us earlier. She has been warded to her mother's brother in Kent who has set aside her betrothal to Lord Quincy over his treason. Sir Niles and Lord Quincy will not get off so easily. Conspiring for the death of a sitting monarch is a capital offence after all, and I wish I could have them hung along with their assassin. But for secrecy's sake they will be exiled to Australia instead."
"The man I wanted most however," his father had complained, "the nobleman who would force himself on our queen, never surfaced. After this, we may never know who he was! I have spent the last several weeks rounding up accomplices. No one knows who he was."
Phileas had also learned that ties between Sir Niles and the radical wing Sir Richard was connected to had surfaced, causing his father's friend to fall under close scrutiny. No direct link had been found between the two men and Phileas knew his father prayed there would never be. As it was Sir Boniface's friend might lose his seat in Parliament.
His father had suppressed the news of the Queen's near murder from the public. As it had happened on the palace grounds in a secluded area, it was fairly easy to keep quiet. His father had later told him that Albert had seconded the urge for secrecy, and had lent his aid in convincing the Queen to go along. His father had also filled Phileas in on what had happened after he blacked out in the garden as well.
"You were carried into the palace for treatment on Albert and the Queen's orders. The Queen's own physician came to your bedside." Sir Boniface had paused a moment remembering what the physician had told him after his frantic race to the palace. The weapon had gone off inches from Phileas' head. The ball had not hit him, but powder burns had covered his face and singed his hair. The wounds had been inflamed, black and bloody, but not lethal. The doctor had cleaned and bandaged him quickly. His eyes were declared healable, but no guess was made on how long it would take, or if his sight would be permanently affected. "You had me very worried son."
As quickly as the doctor had allowed it, Phileas had been secretly transported home. There his family servants and his own physician had watched over his recovery. At first, the fact that he could perceive light was the only good sign. It took a week before Fogg's sight cleared up enough for him to read the large print of the Times' banner. Another two weeks passed before his face healed enough to leave off the bandages. He was still pink and tender, but no lasting damage to his face had been done.
This day, Phileas was sitting up in bed listening to Rebecca read Anderson's fairy stories yet again. Sir Boniface had sequestered Phileas to his room until his sight cleared further. Phileas' first attempts to move about yesterday had caused him to stumble over a low table, spraining a foot, bruising his shins and shattering the seventeenth century antique. "For the good of the furniture," his father had joked, "you will have to stay put."
He now had his eyes closed. Phileas was debating on pretending to fall asleep to make Rebecca stop. A rustling of skirts was heard in the doorway. Phileas assumed it was one of the maids. Unrecognizable whispers were heard causing Rebecca to stop reading.
`Good and thank God!' Phileas offered silently. `Some one is having some pity on me.' A moment later he heard more movement. Someone took Rebecca's place in the chair beside his bed. Then a familiar voice took up where the child had left off.
Phileas opened his eyes wide in surprise! Turning his head to the voice, the off focus vision of his sovereign came into view. Phileas immediately sat up. He was so shocked at her appearance he couldn't find his voice to offer a proper greeting. Queen Victoria's hand came quickly to his arm arresting his movements. "Now now, Phileas Fogg, none of that! This is an informal meeting. As a matter of fact, I'm not even here."
Phileas stayed his movements as ordered and settled into the pile of pillows again.
Queen Victoria smiled down on him as she put the book away. "I see my goddaughter is seeing to your entertainment. You must be getting tired of lying about. I'm not sure I could stand being cooped up for a month like this."
"Albert sends his regards and deep thanks to you.” She then stated. “He left England two weeks ago. Our wedding is to be in February. I do hope you will be recovered enough to attend. Your quick action made my present happiness possible, dear friend. I can't possibly express how indebted to you I feel. Those awful men might have succeeded in killing us if you had not been there."
When Phileas tried to make light of his actions, the Queen angrily brushed his words away. "Oh no you don't, Phileas Fogg! Your service to me was heroic and to be cherished. I won't have you expressing false humility! You are to be highly commended for your actions! Unfortunately, the whole thing is being hushed up, and as such, I won't be allowed to do so. Not publicly anyway. Both your father and Albert have prevailed upon me to pretend the event never happened."
Phileas could see in her face how his Queen disliked that notion; but there was something else in her face… Even in the off focus haze he saw something that reminded him strongly of Rebecca when she was up to mischief. The Queen pulled something out of her reticule after she finished speaking. It was a small velvet box, which she gently placed in his hands. Reaching inside again she pulled out something white like a letter envelope. The sound of paper unfolding told Phileas he was right in his guess. "This is a message that was given to me to relay." Then she began reading.
My Dearest Phileas
I am so very grateful of the news that you are recovering from your ordeal. I was most distressed when I heard what happened. I wanted to go to you right away, but no one was allowed in your sick room. Then, that afternoon father and I were arrested and questioned. The gunman named father as the man who had hired him. I knew father did not want a German to become the Queen's husband, but I swear, I never knew he would do such an awful thing!
This ugliness has required me to leave the Queen's company. I have not seen father since we were arrested. I am told he will be banished from England over this, as will Lord Quincy.
The Queen and your father have been very good to me in all this. I will not be sent away with father nor will I be required to marry Lord Quincy now. I have been allowed to go live with my Uncle Mitchell. Uncle Mitchell, however. is in Her Majesty's diplomatic service and travels often. He and I will be leaving for China soon after the Queen's wedding. Uncle expects to be away from England this time for four years.
I may never see you again dear Phileas. As such I had to find some way to tell you goodbye before I left. I will miss you terribly.
With all my love, Pamela
Phileas kept his eyes closed while the Queen read his letter for him. He was grateful that Pamela was not going to be punished with her father, but sick to hear that he might never see her again. "Thank you Your Majesty," he said after a moment, "for your leniency toward her, and the letter." Phileas then lifted the box he held in his hand.
"What is this?"
"That is a token of my gratitude. It is a small thing no one will object to, but when you are feeling better, look at it closely. It hides another token. You won't be able to enjoy it fully for a time, but later, I'll make it publicly official and my champion will be given his due. This I promise you Phileas." Those last words were spoken as a vow of such strength Phileas was honored more in the hearing than any future fulfillment. He cradled the box in his hands cherishing it with all his strength.
"Know this Phileas Fogg. You have won a place in my heart," Victoria said softly. "I will look to you always as a close cherished friend. Now you rest and get well. I must go. I won't have you missing my wedding. I'm reserving you a dance at the reception so don't disappoint me," She ordered in mock sternness.
"No your Majesty. I won't disappoint you."
With that, Phileas saw her smile on him yet again. Then Victoria stood, placing the letter on the coverlet beside him. She hesitated just a moment looking down at him. She seemed to be considering saying something more. But instead of speaking, Victoria honored him nearly more than he could bear by bending down and kissing his cheek. His Queen then turned away, leaving his room as quietly as she had entered.
Phileas opened the box some moments after she had left the room. Inside was a large gold bracelet with a plate for engraving. He ran his hands over the object committing its shape, the number of links and even the texture of the engraving on both sides of the plate to memory. His eyes were too blurry to see what was etched there, but he would find out soon enough. Until then, the young man held it in his hand tightly, repeating over and over in his head what his Queen had said until he fell into a contented joyful slumber.
The End.
Chapter 6 | Chapter 7