The Black Crow Conspiracy (18 page)

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As the last chorus of “Zadok the Priest” faded away, an expectant silence fell over the Abbey. The gothic pews were filled with politicians and peers, foreign dignitaries and diplomats, representatives from all corners of the British Empire: its dominions, colonies, dependencies and protectorates. Most of Europe’s royal families had been unable to return to London at such short notice to attend this hastily rearranged coronation, Kaiser Wilhelm the Second the most notable amongst these, but outside on the streets of Westminster the crowds waited, ready to acclaim their new King.

From her vantage point in a pew positioned halfway down the Abbey, Penelope saw the King take his seat on the Coronation Chair. Edward the Seventh was resplendent in robes of silver and gold, his balding head gleaming beneath the vaulted ceiling and stained-glass windows. Penny prodded Monty with her elbow, the actor lifting
his head with a start.

“That could have been you, Monty,” she whispered with a mischievous grin. Inclining his head towards hers, Monty met her suggestion with a sparkle in his eye.

“I am quite satisfied with the honour the King has already awarded me,” he replied in a hushed whisper. “And that’s Sir Montgomery Flinch to you, Miss Tredwell.”

From over Monty’s shoulder, Penny caught Alfie’s gaze with a smile. Despite his new morning coat, the printer’s assistant looked distinctly uncomfortable in these august surroundings. He returned Penny’s smile with a blush, his ink-stained fingers itching to return to
The Penny Dreadful
’s offices to check the galley proofs of the September edition.

That had been the second way the King had shown his appreciation: lifting the royal decree banning the magazine’s publication and in its place awarding them with a royal warrant of appointment.
The Penny Dreadful
was now the only magazine on the newsstands that could truthfully claim it was read by the King.

Seated on the Coronation Chair, Edward was presented with the Crown Jewels by the Archbishop of Canterbury. An orb, gleaming with precious stones and pearls, was placed with great ceremony in the King’s right hand, the sound of the Archbishop’s proclamation almost
lost amongst the Abbey’s pointed arches. Next came the royal ring, the sceptre and rod, before finally, with trembling hands, the Archbishop lifted the Imperial State Crown.

Edward leaned forward impatiently as the half-blind priest paused, peering blankly at a space just past the King’s shoulder. “Get on with it,” he hissed, impatient to begin his reign at last.

As if remembering where he was, the Archbishop slowly lowered the crown, little realising that it was the wrong way round as he placed it on Edward’s head. But to the watching congregation this didn’t matter one jot as a fanfare of trumpets sounded and a loud cry resounded from every corner of the Abbey.

“God save the King! God save the King!”

Penelope turned towards her guardian, Mr Wigram, who was wiping a tear from his eye as he joined in with these repeated shouts of acclamation. Next to him, the newest member of
The Penny Dreadful
’s staff was still bent over his sketchbook, the King’s portrait slowly emerging as his pen moved confidently across the page. Feeling Penny’s eyes upon him, Alexander Amsel glanced up, meeting her gaze with a shy smile.

Penny felt a familiar quickening of her heartbeat as she looked into Alexander’s eyes. After taking his oath of allegiance to the King, Sea Cadet Amsel was now plain Alexander –
The Penny Dreadful
’s resident illustrator. As the final chorus
of “God save the King” gradually faded away, the young artist gestured towards his sketchbook page.

“Perhaps we could include the King’s portrait in the next edition of the magazine?” he suggested in a low voice. “I am sure the readers would want something to commemorate the coronation. But don’t worry,” he added, as if suddenly remembering himself. “I will first finish the cover illustration.”

At this reminder, Penny’s thoughts turned to the new story that was waiting for her on her desk back at
The Penny Dreadful
. With Montgomery Flinch’s knighthood heralding his retirement from the world of fiction, it had been time for a new author to take the reins of the magazine. No more tales of the macabre; instead
The Penny Dreadful
was embracing the thrilling world of mystery with a new lead serial entitled
The Lady Investigates.

This story told of a daring female detective, an amateur sleuth who was drawn into investigating a puzzling series of crimes. As she followed the clues across London, she uncovered a conspiracy that stretched from Paris to Berlin: a devilish plot to launch the world into war. With her quick wits and feminine intuition, the aristocratic investigator was soon on the trail of the mastermind behind this diabolical scheme, but could she convince the Ministers of His Majesty’s
Government of the danger they faced before it was too late?

Under Alfie’s jealous gaze, Alexander had presented Penelope with a mocked-up sketch of the cover to proclaim this new tale. With her dark hair swept high atop her head and the gleam of her pretty green eyes, the heroine of
The Lady Investigates
bore a striking resemblance to Penny herself. But it hadn’t been this that had caused Penelope to feel a frisson of pride. Instead at the bottom of the page the cover line declared:

Introducing a dazzling new talent in the world of mystery fiction,
The Penny Dreadful
is proud to present
The Lady Investigates
, a thrilling tale from the pen of Miss Penelope Tredwell.

As the Abbey bells pealed out their glad tidings to the sound of cheers from the crowds outside, Penny lifted her face to the heavens with a smile. Montgomery Flinch had finally abdicated his literary throne. Long live Penelope Tredwell.

Many thanks to Mary Gillespie at the Tower of London, Jeremy Michell at the National Maritime Museum, Heather Johnson at the National Museum of the Royal Navy, Zoe English at the Marylebone Cricket Club and Lee Jackson for his wonderful website,
The Dictionary of Victorian London
, for their help with the research for this book. Thank you to my agent Lucy Juckes for her continued support, and a huge thanks to everyone at Nosy Crow, but especially Kirsty Stansfield, whose patience, encouragement and wise editorial counsel I found invaluable. With heartfelt thanks to my family for all their love and support, especially my children, Alex and Josie, and in loving memory of my nan, Olive.

Christopher Edge