(please be advised, this chapter has not been edited yet.)
Verushka found her way back to the grand ballroom, numb to the sound of the stringed instruments or the tinkling of champagne flutes toasting the night's success. The irksome shutting of a pantry door scraped closed in the corner of her mind, but it could be silenced. It was not good to dwell on sadness at the best of times and least of all when she had work to do.
She spotted the Duke of Wyvernstone talking to quite possibly the oldest man she had ever seen in her life and hovered silently at her brothers elbow.
"Verushka," Jay turned to her startled. "I wondered where you had gotten to. I hope you were able to mend your dress."
"What?" Verushka snorted and immediately remembered she had just spent a good deal of time in a cupboard with her affianced husband and then even longer in a kitchen with pantry maids. It would not do to give the ton something to gossip about when her position in society was so vital to her mission. "Oh, yes. The Duchess of Bexley was kind enough to lend me her ladies maid. But, I find that the events of the evening have quite worn me out. I have a slight headache and was hoping you would permit me to retire early tonight?"
"Of course," Jay agreed without even a glimmer of hesitation. "Let me escort you home. If you will excuse me, Baron Hindmarsh?"
The archaic baron nodded deeply, which to Verushka looked suspiciously like the first signs of sleep punctuated with slow blinks. It was just after midnight, early by ton standards to end a party but the baron certainly didn't look like he minded. She curtsied her thanks and took her brothers arm as they headed for the door. Custom dictated that they thank their hosts before departing but it seemed Jacob had been able to infer her need for an imminent departure.
The second the carriage door was closed and the cobblestones were crunching loudly beneath their wheels Jacob dispensed with his concern about her professed headache. "What on earth happened?"
That frustrating door in her mind blustered against its frames and Verushka forcibly snapped it shut and strengthened its locks. It should remain shut, just like the pantry and everything inside it.
"What did Cain do? I swear to God if he-."
"He didn't do anything, well nothing I didn't want him to," Verushka hastened to explain.
"Ugh." Jay looked as if he had swallowed a whole lemon. "Then why are we rushing away from your engagement party?"
"Because I think we have somewhere far more pressing to be."
"And where is that?" Jay narrowed his eyes.
"Houses of Parliament," she stated plainly.
To his credit, Jay who always received news of any kind with equanimity, raised a single brow. "Have you suddenly acquired a keen interest in politics?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Verushka snuffed. "I think I have figured out where this belongs." She pulled the set of keys from her pocket and turning back the ornate silver rod, presented him with the flat brass key.
Jay inspected it closely, sliding the metal between his fingers with careful consideration. "It's a key for a pin and tumbler lock. Quite well made if I'm not mistaken."
"Yes, Mina said as much." Verushka nodded.
"Mina?" Jay's head shot up.
"Oh, yeah." Verushka bit her lip. "She just likes locks and puzzles and things. Anyway, these keys were given to me by Bianca Rinehart. I had thought they led to the person who ordered the assassination attempt but I couldn't figure it out until now," she barrelled on keen to steer the topic away from her friend's involvement. "Cain said something to me tonight about servants' cupboards being the one place the ton won't go and I started wondering, what is the one place the Queen is not permitted in all of England?"
"The servant's cupboard?" Jay appeared somewhat dubious.
Verushka scrunched up her nose and lips unimpressed at his cavalier disregard for her brilliant plan. "No. During my tutelage under the Duchess of Bexley I came upon some interesting bit of history. In January 1642 King Charles the first and his armed men went to the House of Commons to arrest five of its Members for treason but the Speaker set a precedent that the monarch would have no power there. Since then no monarch has entered the House of Commons Chamber. That is why the State Opening of Parliament takes place in the House of Lords."
"Yes, that is true, Ver but I don't see why that should make you think Her Majesty is being plotted against by someone in Parliament, seeing as that law has been in place since the 1600s."
"The key you are holding has wings on it. Wiiiiings!" Verushka drew out the vowels in the word as if it should explain her reasoning. "Honestly Jay, you are brilliant with floor plans, and plotting and weapons but when it comes to mythology you really are not well versed. I suppose neither am I but thanks to Mina's obsession with it I'm a little more knowledgeable than I ought to be."
"Mina?" Jay plucked the name out of her tangent.
"Stay focused, Jay." Verushka snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. "The wings on the keys are a sign of Hermes, the messenger of the Gods. And who bears the symbol of Hermes in Parliament?"
"The Doorkeepers," Jay exhaled astounded.
"Exactly, the Doorkeepers! They are the only people who carry the keys to the House of Commons and are charged with its security. Now I'm not saying that one of the Doorkeepers is the culprit, but certainly the answers we seek lie somewhere in the House of Common, who are sitting in session..." Verushka grabbed his pocket watch and flicked it open. "Right about now."
"Very clever, but there are six hundred and fifty-eight members of the House of Commons. How do you propose we narrow it down?" Jay questioned.
"Well, just because the Queen can't visit Parliament, doesn't mean we can't." Verushka smirked.
"True," Jay nodded. 'But, do you know who else is not permitted inside the House of Commons? Females, unless you plan to watch from the Ladies Gallery."
"As grateful as I am that women now actually have a gallery instead of a ventilation shaft, I think my appearance might seem a touch circumspect. It might be best that I stick to my trusted position as a maid." Verushka smiled, quite pleased at her deductive reasoning.
"Hmmm," Jay mused.
"Hmm? That's all you have to say?" Verushka queried.
"For now, yes," Jay nodded and then lapsed into silence the rest of the way home.
In the seconds before the door was opened Jay pocketed the brass key and pushed the other back into her hands with a whispered instruction. "Meet me in my private study."
Barely half an hour after her briefing they were back in his carriage with only his most trusted footmen rolling towards Westminster. As they rounded the south east corner Verushka hopped out watching her brother continue to the front entrance. She instead made her way to a crop of bushes and began digging around in the shrubbery until her fingers swept across a cloth bag containing a parliamentary maid's uniform. She had no idea how her brother had managed to procure one on such short notice but it seemed Her Majesty's Secret Service had a long reach. Verushka ducked in between the foliage and swiftly changed her clothes trying to not to think too much about the warm summers wind caressing her bare bottom.
The public were able to attend the parliamentary sittings that often extended late into the night, but where she was going was not likely to be open to the common citizens. Crawling through the brambles surrounding the lower court Verushka made her way to the northern wall until St Stephen's Tower loomed high above her ticking its ominous and incessant tock. To the right of the public entrance below the clock was a large metal grate that Verushka eyed carefully. She shifted it, hearing the aching creak of rust and time on its hinges. She ducked through and crawled along the long tunnel above the clerk and librarian's residences memorising her path from the Duke of Wyvernstone's map.
House of Commons Floor plan: Source: The Illustrated London News, September 30, 1843, p.224
With a sharp turn left she entered the old ventilation that formed the Ladies Viewing Gallery before the fire had destroyed it some six years prior. The skirting still bore the tell-tale singed stroke of flames and she dusted the charcoal that clung to her palms on her less than pristine uniform. There was an echo from the chamber beneath her and Verushka realised that she was squatting directly above the House of Commons. They were animatedly discussing some kind of Bill regarding the increase in industrialisation and refuse necessitating the forming of an Embankment to aid with the flow of sewage in the Thames. Verushka had to admit that any scheme to reduce the all-pervasive rubbish in their running water was indeed an excellent proposition to consider.
Focusing on the matter at hand once more, she checked Jacob's pocket watch in the dim shafts of light emitted from the chamber and hastened further west into the belly of the Palace of Westminster. Reaching a small door at its end she gave its unused lock a little shove and popped down the stairs into a large octagonal chamber.
"You there, maid." A brusque guard addressed her sternly a moment later.
"Yes, Sir." Verushka strode towards him for all the world as if she belonged there.
"Take this summons to Room one hundred and seven."
Verushka frowned slightly at the Green Card thrust in her direction and then at the man before her. He wore a black long-tailed coat, white bow tie, and a silver-gilt waist badge of office. Underneath each badge hung a small figure of Hermes, the messenger of the Gods and symbolic of his role in the establishment they stood in. The uniform marked him as one of the thirty–seven Doorkeepers of the House of Commons.
"Forgive me, Sir. But, are you not the only one capable of handling such correspondence?"
"I am busy girl. I have things to see to. Now be off with you and see that letter is delivered at once."
"Yes, Sir." Verushka curtsied quickly. She tucked the little green envelope into her pocket and hurried down the Commons corridor to the House Lobby casting her eyes to the rooms around her. A note such as the one she had been handed meant that a member of the public requested an audience with their elected official and Verushka was keen to see who this highly suspicious chain of events led to.
"109, 108, 107," she mumbled until she reached her quarry. She tilted her ear to the door, not hearing any voices within and twisted the handle cautiously.
Locked.
Verushka was really getting tired of locked doors around London. People should endeavour to be more forthcoming, she thought. Unsure of what other course of action was available to her, given that she could not find Jay, nor their meeting point, she rapped her knuckles against the solid door twice. There was a hasty shuffle inside before it swung open.
"You!" Verushka exclaimed.
"Yes, me," Jacob scowled.
"Did I not instruct you to use the vents, not the doors?"
"Yes, you did. But I think I went one grate too far. Anyway, where exactly are we?" She hastened into the small space and shut the door behind her.
"Frankly, I don't know. This room isn't even supposed to exist according to my maps. This room is adjacent to the Doorkeepers Room and should be where Private Bills are passed but it looks more like a study."
"If you didn't know it was here, how did you get in?" Verushka swiftly assessed the space around her, complete with burning fireplace and large mahogany desk strewn with unravelled parchments and a tea service freshly poured.
"As it turns out, I have a key?" Jay's lips tilted up in a satisfied smirk as he held up the flat brass key Verushka had obtained from Bianca Rinehart. "I have been trying a few rooms that I thought would be the most likely place of our mystery puppeteer and it led me here, unsurprisingly right next to the Doorkeepers. If someone has their hooks in this group we have good cause for concern."
"Why is that?" Verushka wondered. "Aren't they simply messengers for the House?"
"That is what they are best known for, yes. But their responsibilities extends to maintaining good order and security in and around the Chamber. In actual fact, their principal role is the security of both Houses. Consider this, Ver, they are the ones traditionally responsible for barring the reigning monarch from entering the House of Commons and they receive the same training as any member of the Metropolitan Police, perhaps more."
"That is certainly worrying, especially with all the access they have to parliamentary proceedings." Verusha ran her fingers over the volumes of law books stacked orderly in the floor to ceiling case, making her way to the desk. "Did you see anyone leave this room? Surely they will return soon. No body leaves tea unfinished if they can help it, in my experience."
Jay rolled his eyes. It was a gesture that was becoming far too frequent ever since his new ward took up residence at Wyvernstone House. "No, I didn't. And I am well aware that you have dedicated the last month to depleting my tea stocks significantly. I shall have to send to India before the month is out."
Verushka's eyes lit up at the prospect of fresh exotic blends from across the seas, when she caught a glimpse of curious glyphs etched on the curled edge of a parchment atop the table. She rolled the document open with furtive care. Something about it looked all too familiar. Jacob hastened to her side and angled the light of a dripping beeswax candle to inspect the encrypted lines.
"I can't make it out. What does it say?" Verushka turned to him.
"It is a coded list. You need a cipher to read it." Jay's breath hitched momentarily.
"Oh my," Verushka exhaled. "This is the list of secret agents, isn't it? That's why it looks so familiar. I've seen the Duchess's copy before."
"There are only two copies in existence and you are telling me that the Duchess still has hers?" Jay's eyes narrowed.
"Well, yes." Verushka hesitated. "So, whose is this?" She waved her hand over the dangerous leaf of paper as it quietly whispered its secrets to a near empty room.
"This is the Queen's."
Verushka gasped. It was one thing to steal the list from Her Majesty's Secret Service, but to steal it from the monarch herself, was quite another.
"Look here." Jay drew his fingertip across the inscriptions next to several sets of names. "Someone must be very clever. They have begun to decipher the code."
"John Templeman. Lord William Russell," Verushka read out solemnly. "These are all the men who have been murdered by Courvoisier and Gould," she murmured remembering Oxford's friends in Newgate prison.
"This is bad, isn't it?" Verushka turned to Jacob with soulful eyes.
"It could be worse," he answered without taking his eyes off the list. Verushka watched him scan it in the way the Cain often read, as if he was absorbing the words off the page.
"What should we do?"
"We wait."
"We wait?" She spluttered in surprise. "Surely we should take the list and leave."
"We will, but first we are setting a trap for someone who has conducted treason. Now climb back into the ceiling and lay in wait." Jay ordered ready to boost her through the ceiling.
"And what will you be doing?" Verushka placed her hands on her hips.
"I will be here, ready to meet whoever walks through that door."
"And reveal your true identity? I think not," Verushka argued. "And even more unlikely is the notion that you can shove me back into the vents like those poor ladies who tried to partake in politics. I have as much right to be here as you do."
"And reveal your identity?" Jacob countered. "Wait, sssh. Do you hear that?" He hushed Verushka before she could respond.
There was a click of a lock and a second's moment was the only preamble before Sir Robert Peel opened the door. "Well, what do we have here?" He arched a brow as he took in the familiar features of the Duke of Wyvernstone. "A bit far from the House of Lords, aren't you Wyvernstone?" The Opposition Leader of Parliament closed the door with unhurried care and flicked the lock. "Or did you cross the entirety of Parliament to have your way with this bit of stuff in one of my offices?"
Verushka was the first to respond with a quick curtsy. She kept her eyes low and presented Peel with the green summons from her pocket. "If you will forgive me, Sir Robert. One of the Doorkeepers bid me to deliver this here. His Grace says it ain't his, so I hope it's yours or I will 'ave to keep searching and I 'ave my own chores to be getting on with without helping out the Keepers."
"Give it to me," Peel seized the noted from between her slim fingers. "Run along and be quick about it."
Verushka bobbed and stepped out without as much as a backwards glance at the duke. Jay watched her leave with perplexing discernment. It wasn't the hurried gait of an escape or unconcerned disregard for his welfare. In that moment it was as if she relinquished control. Jay was never given to flights of fancy, but this he knew to be true and so he turned his attention back to his mission with renewed purpose.
"I didn't know you still answer directly to members of the public?" Jay drawled with cool affectation eyeing the card.
"Whether I do or do not is not really your concern, is it Jacob?" Peel wandered over to his desk mimicking the casual nonchalance in the Duke's voice with his movements. "Now, tell me truly Your Grace, what exactly brings you to the House of Commons? Surely you cannot have tired of the illustrious red thrones you have to sit on down the hall."
"I came in search of legal counsel," Jay stated calmly. "I was told I could procure a transcript of precedents here."
"And the twenty-four Doorkeepers of the House of Lords could not do the bidding of a duke?" Peel remarked dubiously.
It was clear Sir Robert Peel was not a man of small intellect and any attempt at subterfuge was puerile. "Unfortunately not," Jay sighed.
"And why is that?" Peel rolled the parchment of Agent's names closed and secured it with a leather strap.
"Because I wanted to be the one to find you." Jay took a seat in the armchair by the hearth spitting with fire and placed his boots on the footstool, crossing them loosely at the ankle.
Peel's eyes snapped up.
"Ooh, we are in a bind, aren't we Robert?" Jay abandoned all pretext of disguise and pulled a cheroot from his coat pocket and lit it, pausing until its smoky tendrils wound through the air. "Honourable man of the people, Sir Robert Peel in possession of a list so nefarious that it contains the names of several men killed while in the pursuit of treason."
"I don't know what you mean, Wyvernstone." For the first time the minister appeared somewhat taken aback.
"Come now, Peel. Templeman's death is innocuous enough but a titled gentleman? Lord Russell is the grandfather of our Secretary of State for the War and Colonies. Was it necessary to have Courvoisier kill him?"
Peel's face took on a hardened edge. "When I was Home Secretary ten years ago I worked tirelessly to pass a bill signalling the dissolution of the Runners and all secret agents, and what do I find right under my nose? They continue to exist. Whatever measures have been taken, I assure you, are not without cause. I don't know how you came to know of this and I can only assume that your name is alongside the rest of these traitors on this list. So, let me tell you this, I am not a man to be crossed."
"Neither am I." Jay puffed a perfect circle of smoke. "Firstly, let us dispense with any illusion that you do not know my name is on that list. Several months ago I was attacked by several armed men in Mayfair. Uncommon really, and not the first incident. In the beginning it was just one or two but then it became gangs of hired thugs and despite rather thorough questioning they rarely had any useful information to share. But they weren't just after me. I lost a few very good men to a bullet in the dark." Jay rose from his seat and flicked the ash from his cigar into the open flame.
"Don't mistake me, in our line of work a little death is to be expected from time to time but this was regimental annihilation. We were being eradicated like ants in the magnified light of the sun. And then just as suddenly as they started, the attacks in broad daylight stopped, only to be replaced by mysterious illnesses and murders inside the homes of the ton. Well planned, calculated eliminations of key members in society by assassins who now sit in Newgate Prison together. One of which was hired by Bianca Rinehart to threaten the life of the Queen. I know she didn't do it all alone though. Perhaps you are her mysterious benefactor?"
"Ridiculous, Wyvernstone. You have no proof," Peel scoffed with an awkward catch in his throat.
"Oh, Robert," Jay tsked. "I am a spy. I don't need proof, I can simply slit your throat and quietly leave this room and go about my day." Jay's ears pricked up as he heard a double layered gasp emanating from the man before him and the grate in the ceiling. No prizes for guessing where his ward went to.
"Perhaps I could go to the Opera. What is playing tonight? Bellini's I puritani?"
"You would not dare," Peel gaped, affronted.
"I would dare a great many things for my country," Jay answered with a ring of steel.
"And who do you imagine I am doing this for? Myself?!" Peel countered. "Everything I do is for England."
"Including the attempted murder of your Queen?" Jay bit back.
"I may not agree with her policies but I do not wish the lady harm. I know nothing of Bianca's dealing with Edward Oxford. But yes, she came to me with the list many months ago. She revealed it was a document citing the names of all the secret agents still employed by the Queen and bid me to decode it. She connected me with a group called 'Young England' who would rout out the agents and deal with them."
"- and by that you mean kill them?" Jay's lips curled into a snarl causing a whimper to echo from the vent above.
"I never gave those orders," Peel huffed.
"But you did nothing to stop it. Do not take the cowards' way out by relinquishing ownership now."
"If it is a cowards' way to stop a country free of spies in the pursuit of open and honest communication then so be it."
"So you wordlessly sanctioned the killing of innocent men?" Jay placed his palms face down and stared at the Opposition Leader across the table knowing nothing so flimsy as solid wood could stop him from splintering the traitor before him.
"'Innocent' is a relative concept." Peel stood his ground. "How many men have you killed, Your Grace?"
Jay felt a deep growl in this throat.
"I may be guilty of trying to rid my country of the Queen's Secret Service agents but I never tried to rid it of our Queen. Neither Oxford nor Bianca received their direction from me. On that score I was as much a pawn in their game as you."
"I am nothing like you. I serve my Queen."
"And I serve my country."
"When will you see that they are one and the same?" Jay gritted his teeth.
"When their agendas become more aligned. Trust me, Wyvernstone. Spies are not the way of the future. Disband your team. Let the politicians and the passing of bills protect England. There is no need for subterfuge."
Jay heard a suspiciously feminine cough and sighed deeply. Verushka didn't need to remind him. He knew what she was aiming to convey by brandishing the Green Card before she left.
"Are you familiar with the musketeers, Sir Robert?"
Peel frowned uncertainly at this particular divergence. "Low level soldiers in the French infantry used a Royal Guard of sorts."
"Yes." Jay tapped his fingers along the edge of the desk making his to Peel's side. "Incredibly loyal, dedicated soldiers to Louis XIII until one day they were disbanded by their King, due to funding issues, I believe. However, others closer to the Royal family will affirm that it grieved the King to see them go. It was in fact the Cardinal Richelieu, a man more obsessed with power than God who dispatched them. And do you know what happened?" Jay asked, not really expecting an answer. "It left the King weak, open like an exposed vein in the neck of a deer for any wolf to savage. And what perhaps is more interesting is that the Cardinal retained his own guards, to safeguard spirituality of course."
"If you plan to make a point, I suggest you do so quickly," Peel suggested with the barest quiver in his inflection.
"My point, Sir Robert, honourable member of parliament, is that as sure as I am that you have a hidden rifle range beneath my feet, I am just as sure that you have your own agents." Jay keenly observed surprise flicker in his opponent's eyes before Peel spluttered to life with protestations of innocence.
"Don't bother denying it." Jay took a seat on the desk next to him, crushing the list with his left buttock. "Green cards are an ingenious way to disseminate information through the Doorkeepers. Not to mention that you practically birthed the Metropolitan Police from the fallen dust of the Runners. For someone who professes to hate spies, you have quite a neat organisation that you are running here."
Peel reached for a knife from the sheath taped below his desk only to be met by a flash of steel against his neck.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jay cautioned holding the thin metal with precision. "I said that I could walk out of here without a moment's thought at your bloodshed. Give me a reason why I should not."
"Jacob," Peel gasped at the prick of first blood. "I long ago knew the Queen would keep her Agents. I always suspected her Uncle before her did too. The royals think that they own us. Those of us that aren't born to nobility, but are mere Misters elevated occasionally only by knighthood are constantly in service. Common people need protection too. So, I fashioned the Doorkeepers for the safety of Parliament, and the Metropolitan Police for the people. It was never meant to hurt anyone and then Bianca came to me with the list and I'll admit, I got greedy. When faced with proof of my suspicions I wanted to wipe out the Queen's agents like the lies that they were.
"And Oxford?" Jay pressed the blade closer until the skin beneath it gave way to a thin rivulet of blood.
"Edward Oxford?" Peel stammered incredulously.
"I know nothing of his involvement but what I read in the papers. I am not the man who has been pulling his strings or Bianca's. I may have my own agenda but it does not include the death of the Queen. Look at me, Jacob. You know this to be true."
Jay met Sir Robert Peel's eyes with a hard assessing glare. "You have single-handedly raised a parliamentary secret service and a police force in less than ten years." Jay ground out his words with grudging admiration and let his blade fall. "You should have been on our side."
"I am on your side," Peel said with quiet resilience.
"And that is why you sanctioned the murder of myself and my fellow agents?" Jay remarked sarcastically.
Peel winced. "I may have given your names to Young England but I did not sanction their fate. I was told Her Majesty's Secret Service would be dealt with and I confess, I did not look too closely at the means. After all, Young England are merely a group of mercenaries and ex-soldiers likely bored after the Battle of Waterloo."
"You have met them to be so assured by their insignificance?"
"Well, no. We communicate only through the Green Cards."
Jay's shoulders sagged slightly. "Did you learn nothing from Caesar to be handing your power to the military so freely?"
"I hardly think Young England are Brutus in disguise," Peel scoffed.
"With that attitude you will never know," Jay snapped as he kicked away the knife that had dropped limply from Peel's hand. He stood resolutely and grabbed the list from the table. "Now I think it is time for me to leave."
"You aren't going to leave with that, Wyvernstone."
"I hardly think you are going to stop me Sir Robert." The threat lay brittle as frost upon the ground and Peel looked fearful of where to tread.
"Calm yourself, Robert. I think we both know that I do not plan to kill you tonight. I will let our Director decide your fate. In the meantime you will arrange a meeting with Young England if you intend to prove your allegiance to our monarch."
Peel nodded curtly.
"Excellent." Jay smirked, if a smirk was intended to be truly terrifying. "You have made a wise choice, Sir Robert."
Jacob laid a heavy hand on the Opposition Leader's shoulder. When Peel realised that the gesture was more than a commiserating kindness he tried to shift away from the uncomfortable pressure above his collarbone. But, Jay held him in place until starts swam before his eyes and darkness consumed him.
Almost immediately the grate above the desk scraped open and Verushka shimmied through. "You killed him." She frowned with concern at the limp body slumped over the desk.
"I did not kill him. He is clearly still breathing," Jay sighed exasperated before flipping the dagger in his hand to deliver a short sharp blow to the base of Peel's skull.
"Did you kill him now?" Verushka toed the prone man with her boot and he fell off the table onto the floor.
"No, Verushka. I just rendered him unconscious for a little longer."
"Hmm...," Verushka mused dubiously. "Do you think you could teach me to do that?"
It was Jacob's turn to frown. "Perhaps, one day."
"Like, one day soon?" Verushka pushed, never one to lose an argument when she had momentum.
"Like, one day when we aren't in the middle of raiding a politician's office while he is in it."
"Ugh. Fine," Verushka huffed. "What are we looking for exactly?"
"Anything. Copies of the list, notes from Young England or Bianca. Anything incriminating." Jay sifted through the papers on the desk, picking the locks of the drawers to search their contents.
The two searched in silence for several minutes without success. "Seems like Peel was telling the truth." Verushka eyed his rumpled form suspiciously.
"It does seem that way."
"Are you sure that I shouldn't give him one more whack to the head just to be on the safe side and we can give this place another search." She grabbed the hilt of the dagger eagerly.
"No, Verushka." Jay barked.
"It's always 'No Verushka', 'Stop Verushka', 'Climb through the vent Verushka'. Honestly, the way you issue orders anyone would think I was a servant... oh wait." She chuckled to herself.
"How about 'not right now or you might kill the Opposition Leader of Parliament, Verushka?'" Jay shook his head in disbelief at the obscurity of their conversation.
"Oh, ok," she conceded and handed back his blade.
They swiftly replaced the grate, collected the papers and all the scribbled piles of decoding among the dossiers of every discovered agent, which were thankfully precious few. Jay twisted the door handle to leave when Verushka tapped his arm.
"Wait."
"What is it?" Jacob whispered urgently, eyeing Peel's still breathing form on the floor.
"I've been thinking, there is no way that we will make it out without the Doorkeepers seeing us with all this. And if Sir Robert wakes up I doubt he will be generous enough to share it when the status quo has tipped in his favour."
"I can handle the Doorkeepers." Jay affirmed easily as if dispatching thirty-seven trained men was an everyday occurrence for him.
"I'm sure you can," Verushka assured him. "But we are about to carry sensitive information through a nest of serpents. Anyone could be working for Young England and it is best we hold the element of surprise a while longer."
"What do you suggest?"
"I saw you reading all these before. You have a memory like Cain's don't you?"
Jay's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Nowhere near as proficient."
"Well, neither is mine, but I have been practicing. I think between the two of us we can manage it. Agreed?"
Jay sifted through the information in his mind for a moment and then nodded.
"Good." Verushka grabbed all the items in her small hands and threw them into the fire. They watched them spit and splinter in the flames until the list curled into soot and ash.
Thousands of secrets.
Hundreds of names.
The parchments darkened until it was as black as the ink written upon it and each life was safe once more.
Verushka and Jacob walked out of Parliament as silently as they had arrived and when they were seated in the Wyvernstone carriage with dawn breaking not far off on the horizon, the duke turned thoughtfully to his ward and filled the silence.
"In Peel's office, why did you stay in the vent?"
Verushka scrunched up her nose at his silliness. "To be there in case you needed me, dummy."
"But, I know you. You must have wanted to drop down and have your share of the discovery and Peel's judgment."
Verushka shrugged and dusted some of the soot from her apron. "You were right, it is important for me to remain hidden. And anyway, I realised if I can't trust my own guardian then – who can I trust? It's not as if I'm in this job for the glory. Yeah, sometimes I wish I could be the one in the field, fighting and saving lives but I've felt blood running over my palms once and it's not as glamorous as one would think." She sighed and stared out of the window at the softening night sky. "The thing is, Jay, you do a really difficult job and I can make it easier for you if I trust you. I wanted to tell Cain this first but I think you should know too." She turned to him and lowered her voice so it barely carried above the sound of the turning wheels.
"The Duchess is training me not just to be her secretary but to one day become the Director. They are big shoes to fill and I am not sure if I can do it, but I am going to try."
Jacob watched Verushka closely for long minutes until they reached their home.
Their home.
For the first time in a very long time he didn't feel alone anymore. As orchestrated as their relationship was, it still felt like family. Perhaps the Duchess was right in more ways than one. If she could take a maid out of a pantry and make her his ward, then maybe she could also make her into so much more. She certainly had altered his own destiny dramatically.
"Verushka." Jacob drew her attention away from the empty streets.
"Yes." She looked to him.
The morning light filtered through the carriage windows to illuminate her face. She had grey eyes, like his own. Hadn't he noticed that before? A memory tapped against a door in his mind but he denied it entry and continued on. "You aren't going to try, Ver. You are going to succeed."
"Do you really think so?" Verushka asked with an almost girlish excitement.
"I do." He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. "You were every inch my Director tonight, and whether you watch over the Agents from a ventilation shaft or an office, I will be proud to serve under your command."
"Aww, Jay!" Verushka exclaimed and flung her arms around him with a sniffle. "That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
She hung onto the lapels of his coat as he pulled her back awkwardly. "Surely not. Cain must have said many nice things to you."
"Well, yes," she snuffled. "But he loves me so that doesn't count. You don't have to say nice things."
Jacob didn't answer. He certainly didn't love her like Cain did, but maybe he had grown to care for her as a brother might care for a sister. How odd that a pantry maid would suddenly sit upon the throne of the Secret Service and even more surprising that he would ever call her his sister and truly mean it.
"Can I ask you for something, Jay?" Verushka wiped her dripping nose on her sleeve.
"Do you want my handkerchief?"
"No, well yes, but not just that." Ver swallowed a lump in her throat and accepted the clean linen. She knew that she should tell him the truth now. It was the right time, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to break their tenuous connection with the truth of her heritage and the years of lies that came with it. So she opted for the next best thing.
"I know you will probably have to do this anyway," she began tentatively. "But, I'm getting married to Cain soon and I don't have a father. Do you think, I mean, if you wouldn't mind, could you please give me away at my wedding?"
Jay smiled down at her as she inelegantly peeled away at the chipped edges of her nails.
"It would be my honour."
Verushka beamed up at him and then something faltered in her smile before she could catch it.
"What is it?" Jacob immediately scanned the streets around the rolling carriage as it reached a stop, his senses ever alert to danger.
"Nothing!" Ver's eyes, huge as saucers, darted from his coat to his face.
"What is it?" Jay demanded, wondering what could cause such apprehension when she had kicked a member of parliament earlier that night, without a moment's concern.
"You didn't like that jacket did you?" Verusha asked mid-wince.
"What? Why?" Jay glanced down at where she had smooshed her face to find a trail of silvery spittle and snot.
Verushka rubbed ineffectually at the stain with his handkerchief. "Now, let's not get mad at ones Director."
A suspicious growl began to rumble in her brother's chest and Verushka lept from the halted carriage the second the door was opened.
They had one key down and one to go. With her wedding on the horizon and Oxford's trial just two weeks away, life was looking very promising indeed.
~~~
V...O...T...E!
If you like it then voooooottttttteeeeeee!
A/N:
Dear Agents!
What did you think about Verushka's foray into Parliament? I had originally thought that it would be her and Cain working together, but no one was more surprised than me, when I found myself inside the cool, calm mind of The Duke of Wyvernstone. All I can say is that Mina is one lucky girl and I look forward to writing Book 2 one day.
I wanted you to have this chapter but I have just not had a chance to run it through my editor yet. I hope you don't mind. The research required for this part was quite intensive and for those that are interested in the rich political history of the British Parliament, I have included a Glossary below. It might seem like a lot to read, but it is actually very interesting.
I have also included the links and citations where I have sourced the information from. I know many of you wish that these chapters would flow faster but perhaps this can give you a little insight into the work that goes into every portion of my writing.
x Inara
-From the Desk of the Duchess
Glossary:
St Stephen's Tower: A. The name of the tower is no longer the Clock Tower and is now the Elizabeth Tower. It was called St Stephen's Tower by Victorian journalists. They referred to anything to do with the House of Commons as news from 'St Stephens', as originally MPs used to sit in St Stephen's Hall. St Stephen's Tower is positioned in the middle of the west front of the Palace, between Westminster Hall and Old Palace Yard, and houses the public entrance to the Houses of Parliament, known as St Stephen's Entrance
https://www.parliament.uk/about/living-heritage/building/palace/big-ben/enquiries/
Ladies gallery: The Ladies' Gallery was created in the new Palace of Westminster by Charles Barry after the fire of 1834. Before 1834, women wanting to watch proceedings in the House of Commons had to do so via a ventilation shaft in the ceiling. Although this did provide a means of viewing debates for a small number of well-connected women, it was restricted and uncomfortable.
The Ladies' Gallery had windows covered with heavy metal grilles, which made it difficult to see or hear. The grilles became both a physical and metaphorical symbol of women's exclusion from Parliament, and later a target of suffragette agitation.
https://www.parliament.uk/about/living-heritage/transformingsociety/electionsvoting/womenvote/overview/the-ladies-gallery/
Houses of Parliament: During the reign of , Parliament clearly separated into two distinct : the House of Commons (consisting of the shire and borough representatives) and the House of Lords (consisting of the bishops, abbots and ).
The Commons passed a Reform Act in 1832 despite disapproval from the House of Lords. This abolished the rotten boroughs, established uniform voting requirements for the boroughs, and granted representation to populous cities reducing the power of the patrons. Prior to 1902, the Prime Minister sometimes came from the House of Lords, provided that his government could form a majority in the Commons. However as the power of the aristocracy waned during the 19th century the convention developed that the Prime Minister should always sit in the lower house.
The Palace of Westminster serves as the meeting place of the two houses. It lies on the north bank of the River Thames in the City of Westminster, in central London, England.
House of Lords: This is the upper house of the Parliament of theUnited Kingdom. Membership is granted by appointment or else byheredity or official function. Members of the House of Lords maynot serve in the House of Commons,or even vote in parliamentary elections (just as the Queen does not vote);however, they are permitted tosit in the chamber during debate.
House of Commons: This is the lower house of the Parliament of the United Kingdom. After the Act of Union in 1800 the number of members in the House of Commons increased from 558 to 658. The reason the Queen is not allowed into the House of Commons Chamber dates back to the time of King Charles I during the power struggle between the King and Parliament, which ended with Civil War and the King's execution.
From the 17th to the 19th Century there was a continuous drift for the House to sit later. Originally meeting at 8am, by the end of the 18th century the beginning of public business was at 5pm and sittings after midnight became increasingly common. Illustrations of the Members of the House of Commons show them crowded on the benches, asleep or barely conscious.
Gentlemen were anxious to use their time in London for personal business of various kinds, including the intense period of shopping and socialising that would eventually become the London season. As a result the ton had become very late risers during their stays in London, with social events continuing well into the night.
https://thehistoryofparliament.wordpress.com/2014/10/23/time-and-the-commons/
https://spartacus-educational.com/
http://www.londonancestor.com/maps/house-commons.htm
British Electoral Facts 1832–2006, compiled and edited by Colin Rallings and Michael Thrasher (Parliamentary Research Services, 2007)
Doorkeepers: In the House of Commons there are 37 doorkeepers and 24 in the House of Lords
The role of Doorkeeper dates back to the 1300s, when the Palace of Westminster also served as a court and they served as prison guards. Over time their role changed to that of messengers from Parliament to the King. Their responsibilities include maintaining good order and security in and around the Chamber. The doorkeepers also deliver messages, Hansards, and the "green cards" – notes from members of the public who have come to see their MP. When house divides to vote members have eight minutes before the doorkeepers close and lock the doors to the chamber preventing anyone from entering.
They wear a uniform of a black long-tailed coat, white bow tie, and a silver-gilt waist badge of office. Underneath each badge hangs a figure of , the messenger of the gods, symbolic of this early role.
https://historyofparliamentblog.wordpress.com/2017/03/06/doorkeepers/
Cardinal Richelieu: Cardinal Armand Jean du Plessis, Duke of Richelieu was a French clergyman and statesman who rose in both the Catholic Church and the French government, becoming a cardinal in 1622, and King Louis XIII's chief minister in 1624. He is notable for the authoritarian measures he employed to maintain power. He censored the press, established a large network of internal spies, forbade the discussion of political matters in public assemblies, and had those who dared to conspire against him prosecuted and executed. The Canadian historian and philosopher has referred to Richelieu as the "father of the modern , modern centralised power [and] the modern ."
Richelieu's motives are the focus of much debate among historians: some see him as a patriotic supporter of the monarchy, while others view him as a power-hungry cynic. The latter image gained further currency due to Alexandre Dumas' The Three Musketeers, which depicts Richelieu as a self-serving and ruthless de facto ruler of France.
Cardinel Richelieu. Phillips, Henry. 1997. Church and Culture in Seventeenth Century France. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. p. 266