The Spiritglass Charade (Stoker & Holmes 2)

“Why, Irene Adler. What a pleasure it is to see you . . . and not even onstage,” said Lady Cosgrove-Pitt, inclining her head toward my companion. She didn’t rise from her seat.

“Lady Isabella.” Miss Adler adjusted her wrist-clock. Her tones were unusually cool and very polite. “You’re looking quite well.”

“As are you,” replied Lady Cosgrove-Pitt after a noticeable pause. “I understand you’re working at the British Museum now?” Her tone was pitying. Not surprising, coming from a woman who hadn’t worked a day in her life.

At that moment, the princess turned her attention back to Mina and me. “Very well then, ladies. I’ve told you all I can at this time. I suggest you visit Willa Ashton yourself and—er—get to know her. She’ll be expecting your visit.”

This was clearly a dismissal, so the four of us curtsied (and bowed).

“Your Majesty, we beg your leave,” Miss Adler said to the Queen.

“Of course.” The Queen smiled and was reaching for another truffle when she noticed her dog scrabbling at something beneath the settee. “Marco!” she scolded as she slipped the cherry-sized chocolate into her mouth. “You bad boy!”

He poked his head out from beneath the skirt of the settee with a scrap of lace hanging from his mouth like a long, pink mustache. The poor thing looked completely bewildered at being caught out that everyone erupted in raucous laughter, including his mistress.

But Queen Victoria’s laugh stopped abruptly. Her eyes widened. She began to clutch at her throat, her mouth open.

“She’s choking!” exclaimed one of the footmen.

“Do something!” cried Lady Cosgrove-Pitt.

But no one seemed to know what to do.

It was horrid: a noiseless, gaping Queen, her eyes goggling and terrified, her face turning pale. Not a sound came from her throat, for the round chocolate was fully lodged there.

We all stared—frozen and helpless. Time seemed to stop.

The chamber had gone sickly quiet. We watched in horror as the Queen continued her silent struggle. Her face was turning gray and her hands eased from her throat.

There was nothing that could be done.

We were watching the Queen of England die.

“Do something! Why is no one doing anything?” Dylan shouted as he looked around frantically.

“Try pounding her on the back,” cried Miss Adler, starting to move to do it herself.

One of the footmen reached the Queen first, and, after a brief hesitation, began pounding on the choking woman’s back. But the Queen continued to collapse, horribly silent and still. Grayer. Weaker.

“Move.” Dylan rushed over. “Let me.”

He pushed the footman aside so hard he bumped into Miss Adler. When Dylan put his arms around the Queen from behind, I heard a soft gasp from one of the ladies.

The Queen is a large woman, but Dylan was strong enough to . . . “My gad, what is he doing?” I whispered to Mina as our friend seemed to embrace Victoria, his hands wrapping around her center.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Dylan clasped his hands together in the middle of the Queen’s torso and slammed this joined fist sharply into her, once, twice, thrice.

Someone gasped and one of the footmen shouted, “What are you doing to her? Stop him!”

“I’m . . . saving . . . her . . . life,” Dylan said, struggling with the heavy woman. By now, the Queen, still eerily silent, was half sagging over his strong arms, and as we watched, he delivered four sharp blows to her back, then did that odd embracing-thrust again.

He cursed under his breath, his expression desperate and determined as he slammed a hand into her upper back for a third time, one, two, three. . . . Two of the footmen lunged for Dylan, but he wrapped his arms around the Queen and thrust his fists once more into her torso. All at once the chocolate flew out of her mouth.

“Oh!” gasped one of the ladies. Another screamed. Marco the dog lunged for the candy, but a footman snatched it away in the nick of time.

The Queen dragged in a loud, desperate drag of air and began to gasp and pant. But she was breathing! Dylan gently released her onto the settee as the chamber erupted in exclamations, applause, and solicitous activity around the Queen.

Dylan tottered over to Mina, pale and bewildered. “Did I just save the Queen of England’s life?”

“Yes,” she replied, gawking at him. “That was . . . I’ve never seen anything like it. Extraordinary.”

“How did you know what to do?” I looked at Dylan with new admiration. “And she’s not light of weight.” I could have lifted her, but then again, I was an unusually strong vampire hunter.

“It’s called the Heimlich Maneuver.” A smile played about his lips. “I guess you don’t know about it yet.”

Mina shook her head. “We do now.”

“Young man!” A querulous, scratchy voice caught our attention.

Dylan stiffened and turned to face the Queen, his smile fading. I could tell he was worried whether he was going to be reprimanded for touching her so roughly. I was worried that he was going to be reprimanded for touching her at all.

“You. Come here.”

He walked over to face the Queen, back straight, head held high. With a glance at each other, Mina and I edged in behind him.

“Your Majesty,” Dylan said, then gave a deep bow. “I hope I didn’t . . . um . . . hurt you.”

“You dared to put your hands on me,” Queen Victoria said. Her voice was rough and raspy, but normal color had returned to her face. Dylan stiffened at her words and began to speak but she interrupted. “And in so doing, you saved my life. And though I miss my Albert terribly, I am not quite ready to join him yet. So I will always be grateful, young man.”

She fiddled with something at her cuff, then handed a small shiny object to Dylan. “Keep this. It’s one of Albert’s onyx and diamond cuff links, one of my most prized possessions. You’ll see his seal is on it. If you ever are in need of anything, Mr. Dylan Eckhert, you need only show this as a sign of my favor and gratitude.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Your Majesty,” he corrected himself. “It was nothing.”

“I beg to disagree, young man. It was quite something to me. And,” the Queen said, turning sharp eyes onto Princess Alix, “you will tell your chef that he must henceforth make those truffles much smaller, or much larger. They are quite a hazard at their current size.”