FROM THE MIDDLE OF "QUEEN VICTORIA AND THE GIANT MOLE"
MISSING SCENE TWO
Phileas had finished teasing his cousin Rebecca and reminiscing with the French agent. Nice going out and seeing old friends. Heading back to the Aurora, he considered the young Frenchman Verne, who was helping Passepartout in the sewers, placing the mole detectors he designed. "This was almost like old times when he was the senior agent in charge of a mission," Phileas thought.
"It is old times," he reminded himself. I've been drafted back into the service at Her Majesty's request. Galling, but not to be refused. "The price of being a loyal subject…"
He entered the Aurora after giving a nod to the palace guards, who stood about it. That was strange. Upon entering the parlor, he discovered a presence inside. Her Majesty Queen Victoria was sitting in his parlor, apparently very at home, tatting a strip of lace. Phileas recovered his surprise and bowed to her quickly.
"Your Majesty, I… I am honored."
"Phileas," she said, not standing on ceremony for the moment. "My visit is informal. Please be seated."
At a loss, Phileas did as he was bid. He sat in the chair in front of the Queen, pulled from the castle to serve the purpose. Moving things around for the Queen's purposes would have been impossible as all the Aurora's furniture was bolted to the floor. The Queen had taken the comfortable wingback for herself, which was the only such piece in the parlor. There was a divan under the windows, but that would not do for her comfort and was too far away for a cozy talk.
"We would thank you for accepting our request to attend us on this trip to France," the Queen said. "You are not required by position, only by your own acceptance."
"I am always your loyal servant, Your Majesty."
Dropping her shuttle after a sequence, the Queen reached out and touched Phileas's hand, slipping her fingers under the sleeve. It was there; she discovered the bracelet with pleasure. She moved the chain down so she could see it peeking out from under his sleeve. It was still as shiny and beautiful as it had been when she first gave it to him so many years ago. "You honor me."
"The honor is mine, Your Majesty," Phileas said quietly.
The valet's attention to detail will get him a bonus today.
For now, Phileas gave him silent thanks, remembering what her gift had looked like before his attention. He could not be grateful enough that his queen had not seen her present as it had been a week ago.
"At the time, this was all we could offer you," she said. She straightened to look into his face again. "We could make this official now. There is no need for secret honors. Accept your place in our service again and it will be done."
"I… thank you your Majesty, truly… but no. I seek no accolades and I wish no official position. Being in your service as it is present, at your request as a private citizen, is all I wish."
For a moment, all formality was indeed dropped. Queen Victoria looked back on the years and saw an injustice she wanted righted. This man deserved better than was given. She had come here determined to see him properly rewarded.
"It is not as we wish, however," the Queen said, standing.
Phileas quickly rose with her.
"Our most loyal subjects should not have their acts of fidelity shrouded in secrecy! When you saved my life, I should have been allowed to knight you on the spot. But my prime minister cautioned me to silence, and your father claimed you were too young for the honor. And, to my grief, my Albert counseled me to secrecy as well. Are we… Am I not Queen of England? Do I not have some say in these matters?"
At this unexpected show of his monarch's anger, Phileas felt equally upset, but for different reasons. He was both humbled to his knees at her regard for him and filled with terror at what she might have in mind. What might she do to put me under obligations I have studiously avoided? In disowning his father after Erasmus's death, he had thrown aside all positions and duties. Now, with one command, she might undo all that, and he was nowhere near ready to consider that.
Phileas sidestepped away from the queen's skirts and dropped to his knees. "Your Majesty… Please! I beg you to allow me one thing. One thing that is in you power to give."
"And what is this?"
"Time." Phileas said. "Could you be moved to give me time to heal? Time to rest? You surely can understand the need to heal after losses." For a moment, he was certain she would drive over that request, but she backed up a step and sat down, going silent.
Victoria looked at her hands for a moment. Phileas Fogg has indeed suffered several losses of late. He has lost his brother before his very eyes, as the report had read. He has given up his position, a loss of a career that had been his for many years. Worse perhaps, he has lost his father with angry words left between them; words not taken back in time. Father and son had left that chasm standing because of Sir Boniface's untimely death. Perhaps this is not the right time."
"We understand," she said, putting a wealth of meaning into the words. "We will grant you time, but not unlimited time, Phileas. Rest and heal; but come back to us. We will not… I cannot do without you. Men of your loyalty and fidelity of service are too precious to us to spare."
"You do me great honor, Your Majesty. Thank you." Phileas rose and bowed over the royal hand deeply. He had won his boon.
"Rise Sir Phileas Fogg, and resume your momentary favor to us," Victoria said with a smile. "We will not require more of you for now. But in time… when you are ready…"
With that, Queen Victoria rose and left the Aurora.
Phileas drained, but grateful. In the quiet of the now empty parlor, he sat heavily and raised his arm to look at the token of a very young queen's gratitude. On the top of the engraving plate was the date he had saved her life. On the back were two lines, nearly faded away.
By Royal Declaration
Sir Phileas Plato Fogg
