"Actually... he is."
Mycroft forced himself to keep speaking.
"Your Majesty may not be familiar with him, but... he truly is that bored."
"What do you mean?" The Queen's brow furrowed.
"What I mean is..." Mycroft drew in a slow, deep breath, and then went on:
"He... spent an entire week gathering the scandals of any number of notable aristocrats. He even went so far as to deliver intelligence on Sir Phineas Black's treason directly into our hands.
All of it... was nothing more than a smokescreen for his infiltration of Buckingham Palace last night."
"In aid of what? My daughter's music box?"
"I do not know..." Mycroft answered, candidly.
"But we did discover something else this morning."
"What?"
"A notice letter."
Mycroft said this as he slipped a hand into his pocket.
At those words, Louise's heart skipped a beat in pure fright.
Could it be that the notice letter she had hidden away had already been discovered?!
She stared, transfixed, at Mycroft's hand, watching him slowly draw out a slip of paper of exactly the same make as the one she had received that night — her breath very nearly stopping altogether.
It's over. This time it's truly over.
"Read it." The Queen commanded.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Mycroft inclined his head, then opened his mouth and read out the contents of the letter word by deliberate word.
Louise closed her eyes.
"To Her Esteemed Highness — I am borrowing your music box for a brief while, to be returned in seven days. — Moriarty."
Hm?
Louise opened her eyes.
No — something about the letter was off.
She was absolutely certain that the notice letter she had received that night had been written: [I shall accept your most precious possession].
But what Mr. Mycroft had just read aloud was: [Borrowing your music box for a brief while].
So... this was a new notice letter?
Louise blinked, momentarily stunned, and then in the very next instant she understood what it meant.
Did that mean — that she might still have a chance to see Mr. Moriarty again?
"Borrowing?" The Queen's voice was thick with confusion and bewilderment, cutting through Louise's thoughts.
"He went to all this trouble — went so far as to turn the entirety of London's high society upside down — simply to... borrow a music box?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Mycroft folded the letter and tucked it back into his pocket, a hint of helpless resignation on his face.
"Based on our analysis of Moriarty's past conduct, he is, quite genuinely, that sort of... well, man who acts purely upon his whims.
Your Majesty cannot rely on ordinary reasoning to guess at his motives, because his very nature is synonymous with disorder and chaos."
"A madman." The Queen offered her cold verdict.
"Near enough." Mycroft neither confirmed nor denied it.
The Queen paused for a moment, then turned to look at Louise, her tone softening once more.
"My child — that music box of yours... is it important to you?"
"Mm..." Louise nodded — and then shook her head.
"It's only a birthday present Father gave me. It's very old. And it's broken."
"I see." The Queen patted her hand gently, as if to soothe her.
"Don't worry. Mr. Mycroft will take care of this matter.
Scotland Yard will assign additional men, and for the coming week, security at Buckingham Palace will be tightened.
I promise you — that thief will not be getting in."
"But... if he doesn't come in, then what about my music box?" Louise blinked and asked, the very picture of innocent curiosity.
"..." The Queen was rendered momentarily speechless.
After a brief pause, she reversed her position:
"Then let him come in. Once he has returned your music box, we will seize him."
As she spoke, she turned her head toward Mycroft.
"You will take personal charge of this matter, Mycroft. Do not disappoint me."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Mycroft pressed a hand to his chest, bowed low, and then withdrew from the room.
Once Mycroft had gone, the Queen drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow exhalation.
"For the time being, all of your lessons will be suspended."
She said this to Louise.
"But... but my French lessons aren't even finished yet."
"You say that as though you actually enjoyed attending them." The Queen scolded her playfully and tapped her daughter's nose. "Quietly count your blessings."
"Hehe..." Louise gave a small, embarrassed laugh, then thought of something and added:
"In that case... I'd already arranged to have Afternoon tea with Miss Mary today. Will she still be allowed to come in?"
"Afternoon tea?" There was a flicker of surprise in the Queen's voice, but seeing the hopeful look in her daughter's eyes, the taut lines of her face could not help but soften.
"That young lady from the Morstan family?"
"Mm." Louise nodded vigorously. "We had already promised each other..."
The Queen considered it for a quiet moment.
"Very well," she finally relented.
"But only this once. And you are not to leave Buckingham Palace — the visit will take place in your room."
"Of course!" A radiant smile burst across Louise's face in an instant, dispelling the heavy gloom of the study as if the sun itself had broken through.
"It will do you good to have someone with you." The Queen shook her head with helpless indulgence, her voice gentle. "At least it will keep you from sitting alone with your own thoughts."
With permission granted, the great weight pressing on Louise's chest finally lifted away.
She kept her mother company a while longer, mostly listening to the Queen rail against that damnable thief and fret over the dignity of the royal house.
Louise simply listened quietly, nodding in agreement now and again — even as her mind was already turning over something else entirely.
"Mother — if there's nothing further, I... I'd like to take a walk in the gardens. Get a little fresh air."
She offered the excuse cautiously, picking her words with care.
"Go on, then." The Queen waved her hand, a trace of weariness on her face.
"Don't catch a chill."
"Yes, Mother."
Louise dipped into a faultlessly perfect curtsy, then turned and withdrew from the study at her own composed, leisurely pace.
However — the very instant the heavy door swung shut behind her, every last shred of her composed, princess-like dignity vanished without a trace.
The young girl gathered up the elaborate folds of her skirt, and those small leather-shod feet broke into a swift, joyful sprint down the long, red-carpeted corridor — like a happy little bird that had finally broken free of some invisible cage.
She knew Mr. Mycroft could not have gone far.
Sure enough — at the far end of the corridor, she caught sight of that familiar, upright silhouette.
"Mr. Holmes — please wait!" The clear, slightly breathless cry echoed down the empty hall.
Mycroft halted in his tracks. He turned to see the princess hurrying toward him with her skirt gathered up in both hands — the same unflappable, gentle smile still resting on his face.
"Your Highness." He gave a small bow. "Is there something further Your Highness requires?"
"That... that letter..." Louise drew up in front of him, her breath uneven from the rush, a healthy flush rising on her pale cheeks.
"The new notice letter Mr. Moriarty left behind — do you still have it with you?"
Louise tilted her face up to look at Mycroft, still catching her breath — but her eyes were positively glittering, as though anticipating something wonderful.
"Of course, Your Highness." Mycroft seemed mildly surprised, but he drew the neatly folded sheet from his pocket all the same.
"What troubles you?"
"Actually... ah... well..."
Louise hesitated, her eyes darting rapidly, and then she stretched out her hand, doing her best to arrange her face into a properly serious expression.
"Mother said... that she would like to take another, closer look at it. So... so might I trouble you to hand the letter to me?"
It was a clumsy lie.
The sort of lie that anyone could see through with the barest moment's thought — or, indeed, without any thought at all.
Mycroft looked at the young girl standing before him — at those amber eyes that instinctively skittered away from his because she was lying, and yet could not quite mask their excitement and anticipation.
Without quite knowing why, he found his thoughts drifting toward his own equally exasperating little sister.
He did not call her out. He simply smiled and, with perfect courtesy, placed the letter into Louise's hands.
"Of course, Your Highness," he said. "Please be sure to deliver it to Her Majesty in person."
"I... I will."
Louise received the letter as though it were the most priceless treasure in the world, clutching it tightly in the cup of her palm, as if afraid it might dissolve into the air in the next instant — or vanish entirely from before her eyes.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes."
She gave Mycroft a hurried little curtsy, and then, no longer able to keep the joy bubbling inside her in check, she turned and ran off toward her bedchamber.
Mycroft remained where he stood, watching that light, almost skipping figure recede down the corridor, and shook his head in helpless amusement.
But at the corner of his mouth there had crept up the faintest, softest hint of a smile — one he himself had not even noticed.
"If only Charlotte were this easy."
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