Chapter 7

Sir Boniface stood at his son's bedside. He had been taken to his apartment in the palace. He looked to the amenities and décor as he paced about the room. Nice room. Don't get used to this, boy. You will be well. The doctor has said so. And, ah, thank God. You are waking. He watched, holding his breath as the eyes moved and his hand come up to his head. Heavy bandages halted the inspection.

Sir Boniface came forward, pulling his hands away. "No, don't. Your head is bandaged. Leave it be." His voice trembled. "He swallowed, tried to force his heart to a quieter tempo. "I am very, very proud was your actions, son. The other agents assigned were supposed to handle such dangerous matters. Jeffery told me you spotted the assassin before they did. He was too far from the blackguard to have tackled him in time. And you, running at him like that, didn't allow Jeffery a clear shot. We are all indebted to you for your quick actions."

"Where am I," Phileas said.

"You are in your rooms here in the palace. On the Queen's orders, her own physician is treating you."

Sir Boniface paused, remembering what the physician had told him after his frantic race to the palace. "The weapon discharged inches from his head. The ball did not hit him, but powder burns covered his face and singed his hair. The wounds are inflamed, black and bloody, but not lethal. I have already cleaned and bandaged him. If he wakes, his eyes will still be bloodshot and he won't be able to see, but that will heal. They will heal," the doctor said again, stressing the point. "I can say nothing to how long it will take, or if his sight will be permanently affected. Small steps from here, sir."

Sir Boniface squeezed his son's hand. "You had me very worried, son."

"How did the assassin get on the grounds?" Phileas said.

"Sir Niles," Sir Boniface said. "The assassin is one of the radicals against German influence. Sir Niles brought him onto the grounds. They learned of the Queen's sudden affection for her cousin from Miss Pamala. The assassin is under arrest. I will preside over his, Sir Niles's, and Miss Pamela's questioning soon."

"So, it is over? The Queen is safe?" Phileas said.

Sir Boniface smiled. "The danger is over, for now, yes. I will tell you more when I can. For now, you rest. I must go. There is much to do."

Over 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-headed blur, pestering him to death, playing nurse. The world was still too blurry for him to read, so she passed the time reading for him. 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.

As quickly as the doctor had allowed it, Phileas was 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 several weeks before his sight cleared enough to read the large print of the Times's banner. Two weeks after that passed before his face healed enough to leave off the bandages. He was still pink and tender, but others assured him no lasting damage had been done.

Sir Boniface had come home once to see him. "We have found ties between Sir Niles and the radical wing Sir Richard is part of. He admits knowing the assassin, but not the plan. We have him under scrutiny. No other direct link had been found between him and Sir Niles or Quincy, and I pray for his sake there never will be. As it is, he may lose his seat in Parliament." Sir Boniface then stood. "The man I wanted most, the nobleman who would force himself on Her Majesty, has not 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 might be. I must go now. I catch the train back to London this evening." Phileas said nothing as he left. Sir Boniface 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, he said it was fairly easy to do. Phileas thought that was understated. Lord only knew to what he did to accomplish that.

Phileas sat up in bed against pillows, listening to Rebecca read Anderson's fairy stories, yet again. He wasn't allowed out of bed without a servant nearby. Phileas's first attempts to move about yesterday had caused him to stumble over a low table, spraining a foot and bruising his shins. A seventeenth century antique had been shattered in the commotion. "For the good of the furniture, sir," his father's valet had said, "you should stay put. At least until you can see clearer."

Phileas had his eyes closed, 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 brought Rebecca's reading to a stop. Good, and thank you, whoever you are. Someone is finally having some pity on me. A moment later, he heard more movement. Someone took Rebecca's place in the chair beside his bed. 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 attempted to sit up higher. 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 shoulders, 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 on him as she put the book away. "I see my goddaughter is tending to your entertainment. You must be getting tired of lying about. I'm not sure I could stand being cooped up for over a month like this. Albert sends his regards and deep gratitude to you. 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 me if you had not been there."

"Your Majesty, I did nothing...

"Oh no you don't, Phileas Fogg." Queen Victoria angrily brushed his words away. "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. I won't be allowed to reward you, properly. Well, not publicly anyway. Melbourne, your father and Albert have prevailed upon me to pretend the event never happened."

"What news is there on the investigation?" Phileas said. "Pamala is well? Was she arrested with her father?"

Queen Victoria patted his hand. "Pamala has been spared any consequences by virtue of our close friendship and her demonstrated loyalty when assisting you. She has been given to her mother's brother in Kent. He has set aside her betrothal to Lord Quincy over his treason. Sir Niles and Lord Quincy will be quietly tried for conspiring my death. The assassin has already been tired.

Phileas could see in her slightly off focus face how she disliked talking of it. She pulled something into view after she finished speaking. It was a small dark box. She gently placed it under his hands. She then raised something white, the shape of a letter, perhaps? The sound of paper unfolding told Phileas he was right in his guess.

"This is a message from Pamala, given to me for you." The Queen began reading.

My Dearest Phileas

I am so very grateful of the news that you are recovering from your heroic 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, father and I were arrested and questioned. The gunman named father as his accomplice. I knew he did not want a German to marry the Queen, but I swear, I never knew he would do such an awful thing.

The Queen and your father have been very good to me in all this, but the ugliness has required me to leave Her Majesty's company. I have been taken in by Uncle Mitchell, mother's brother in Kent. I am free from my betrothal to Lord Quincy, too. Uncle Mitchell 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 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 the letter. He was grateful Pamela wouldn't suffer for her father's actions, yet sick to hear that he might never see her again. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, "for your leniency toward her, and this letter." Phileas lifted the box. "What is this?"

"That is a token of my gratitude," The Queen said. "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 will make it official. 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 miss my wedding. I'm reserving you a dance at the reception, so don't disappoint me."

"No, your Majesty. I won't disappoint you."

Phileas saw his monarch stand, placing the letter on the coverlet beside him. She hesitated just a moment, looking at him. She seemed about say something more. Instead, of speaking, Victoria honored him more than he could bear. She bent low and kissed his cheek.

Phileas opened the box after she 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, he held it in his hand tightly, repeating over and over in his head what Queen Victoria had said until he fell into a contented joyful slumber.

The End.