“That is indeed a cogent observation. I had not considered that aspect of the vote, but now that I have thought it out, I can see that it will be of utmost importance.”
“But you do realize that a secret ballot with all men eligible to vote — might be the very force that changes this country forever?”
“In what way?”
“Now, as you well know, sovereignty in Britain does not rest with the people, but with the Crown-in-Parliament. This parliamentary sovereignty is the British concentration of power. This means that Parliament is supreme and nothing can stand before it. Not the will of the people — not even the law. If a statute blocks the will of the government, why, ministers can simply change it. Even if that obstacle is common law evolved over the centuries.”
“Unhappily, that is indeed true.”
“But if power flows upward from the people, this would not be possible. The people must elect their representatives to work the common will. If they do not — why, they will be ejected from power. That, and the checks and balances of the judiciary and a supreme court, will be the force to ensure that the will of the people will be sovereign. Not hereditary lords or a hereditary monarch. Not even God can alter that.”
“You believe then that disestablishmentarianism is to be intended?”
“I do. There shall be no ordained church ruled by the monarch. As in the American constitution, there should be no established church at all. In fact, there must be a strict separation between church and state.”
Gladstone put his teacup down, nodded, and sighed.
“This may prove a bitter pill to feed to the people of this island.”
“Strong medicine is sometimes needed. But with your good grace, Mr. Gladstone, and the others in our constitutional congress, the will of the people could become the law of the country.”
“A noble ambition — and hopefully a possible one. I am your man, Mr. Mill, behind you every step of the way.”
The crew on duty aboard the newly launched USS Stalwart, named for the dauntless warship sunk during the battle for Ireland, looked on with interest as the magnificent steam yacht came up the Solent and slowly passed them by. Their work was to guard the city of Portsmouth, and the great naval station there. But they could see no threat in this well-turned-out little ship that was flying the royal ensign of Belgium. They would have found no menace there — even if they had not received strict orders to let the vessel pass undisturbed. In the last of the evening sun, the yacht passed through Southampton Water and into Cowes Roads. After rounding the Isle of Wight, it drifted gently up to the fenders on the dockside in Cowes. Its arrival must have been expected, because a carriage was there, waiting.
Others besides the carriage driver had been expecting the trim vessel’s arrival. There was another yacht tied up farther down the docks. A yacht as well turned out and gleaming as the royal Belgian one.
On the bridge of the Aurora two men stood, watching the other vessel’s arrival. They were both dressed in well-cut broadcloth suits, but each had the bearing of a military man.
“So far, Count, your information seems to be more than accurate,” Gustavus Fox said.
“It should be,” Count Korzhenevski said, “since I paid a good deal in gold for it. Belgium is a small country, its politicians notoriously penurious. However, one or two of them know that my agent there pays well for sound information. They queue up to be bribed. You have alerted the navy?”
“As soon as I got your message and arrived here. That yacht is not to be approached, searched, or troubled in any way. Free to come — even freer to leave.”
“I am glad of that,” the Count said, looking through his glasses again. “But one does wish that they could be a little more discreet. That is the fifth large trunk that has been loaded aboard from that dray.”
“The German nobility has never been known for its intelligence.”
“Quite.” The Count squinted at the sun setting behind the rolling hills. “It will be dark soon.”
“Not soon enough. The quicker this escapade is over and done with, the happier I will be.”
“Do not despair, dear Gus.” The Count laughed and pulled at his arm. He snapped a quick command in Russian to the officer on watch. “Come below and share a bottle of champagne. We shall be called as soon as there is any activity on the pier.”
In Osbourne House there was a great stirring when the Belgian Foreign Minister, Baron Surlet de Chokier, was admitted. The Queen was waiting, wearing black traveling dress and fussing over her younger children. The Prince of Wales, known to all the family as Bertie, stood to one side; Alexandra, his bride of two years, also beside him. They were a contrasting pair: she was slight, and very attractive.
Young though he was, if the pudgy Bertie had ever had any charm, it was long since gone. Black-bearded and potbellied, he was already going bald. He looked on, apparently bored, when the Baron spoke to the Queen.
“It has all been arranged, Your Majesty. King Leopold was immensely concerned with the safety of you and your family, and indeed was most relieved when you accepted his offer of sanctuary. The yacht is tied up and awaiting only your presence.”
“It will be safe?” Victoria sounded lost, unsure of herself.
“I assure Your Majesty that Belgium will provide a safe haven for you, far from this devastated, war-torn country. Your bags are being loaded. We only await your royal presence.”
The Queen looked down at the children, wrapped warmly in jackets, and then at Bertie and the bare-armed Alexandra.
“You’ll get a chill,” she said firmly.