frantically, he
set it down and drew a faint line along the length of the ruler. The line ran directly through London.
So did the next. Mr. Allardyce looked both relieved and concerned at this turn of events. “It means
she can’t be far, which is reassuring. But there are a great many places in London where she might
be,” he said, riffling through the rolled maps until he came to the one of London.
Persy felt Charles’s hand grip hers as Mr. Allardyce began to draw the ruler slowly across the
closely printed page, first one way and then the other. Charles’s palm was sweaty, but he looked
more excited than she had seen him since before his accident.
“There,” Mr. Allardyce said as he drew the second line. They all leaned forward to stare at the
structure on the map, set in its frame of green, at the point created by the two lines. Persy looked up at
her sister, knowing that Pen’s face must be reflecting her own surprise, but Mr. Allardyce only looked
more puzzled.
“Kensington Palace?” said Charles aloud. “Ally’s at Kensington Palace?”
Lorrie came down the stairs then, holding a tray of wine biscuits and a decanter of deep red liquid.
“Mother’s strawberry cordial, from last year. It came out rather well, I thought.” She paused and
leaned over the map. “Done already? But what could she be doing at Kensington Palace? Are you
sure, Father?”
“As sure as I ever am.” He stared down at it. “Kensington Palace is out of my ability to investigate,
I’m afraid. Is there any way you two might have reason to go there?”
“Us?” squeaked Pen. “Why, I don’t know. We can talk to our father about it, though. I don’t even
know who lives there, apart from Princess Victoria.”
“Don’t some of the king’s brothers and sisters live there too?” Persy added. “The children of old
King George the Third who never married?”
“So I hear.” Mr. Allardyce hunched his shoulders, looking baffled. “Kensington Palace,” he
murmured. “I don’t like it. Why is she there? You young ladies were quite right about that note—why
ever she’s there, it isn’t because she wants to be.”
Mrs. Allardyce’s voice could suddenly be heard from the next room, pleasant but loud. “So happy
we were able to find Mr. Mayo’s book for you, your lordship. Shall I have it sent, or would you care
to take it with you?”
“I believe that means we should complete our business here,” said Mr. Allardyce, motioning them
back toward the shop. “Please, if you learn anything, send us a message. I doubt we’ll either of us get
a night’s rest until we know what is happening. Kensington Palace,” he murmured again. The furrow
between his brows deepened. “What could the high folk want with us?”
Lochinvar looked happy as he stroked the spine of a book and listened to Mrs. Allardyce’s
monologue on the relative merits of calfskin and kid bindings. He glanced at them with an inquiring
expression as they emerged from the back room, but he did not interrupt.
Lorrie set down her tray by her mother and strategically sat across from Pen and Persy, the better to
study their clothes, Persy guessed. Mrs. Allardyce poured them tiny glasses of cordial and passed the
sweet biscuits, her stream of chat never slowing, but it was easy to see that she was only half
attending to her own words. Persy wished she could dispel the tension that whirled and eddied
around them, and just talk about Ally. It was with great relief that she glanced out the window and
saw the family carriage draw up and disgorge Mama.
Mr. Allardyce rose and opened the door. Mama looked thunderous as she swept in, though her
greeting was courteous enough. She clutched a pair of hatboxes by their cream-colored ribbon ties.
“Have you had a pleasant visit?” she asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, she said, “Mrs.
Allardyce, I would be most extremely grateful for a glass of your cordial. I have just had a
set it down and drew a faint line along the length of the ruler. The line ran directly through London.
So did the next. Mr. Allardyce looked both relieved and concerned at this turn of events. “It means
she can’t be far, which is reassuring. But there are a great many places in London where she might
be,” he said, riffling through the rolled maps until he came to the one of London.
Persy felt Charles’s hand grip hers as Mr. Allardyce began to draw the ruler slowly across the
closely printed page, first one way and then the other. Charles’s palm was sweaty, but he looked
more excited than she had seen him since before his accident.
“There,” Mr. Allardyce said as he drew the second line. They all leaned forward to stare at the
structure on the map, set in its frame of green, at the point created by the two lines. Persy looked up at
her sister, knowing that Pen’s face must be reflecting her own surprise, but Mr. Allardyce only looked
more puzzled.
“Kensington Palace?” said Charles aloud. “Ally’s at Kensington Palace?”
Lorrie came down the stairs then, holding a tray of wine biscuits and a decanter of deep red liquid.
“Mother’s strawberry cordial, from last year. It came out rather well, I thought.” She paused and
leaned over the map. “Done already? But what could she be doing at Kensington Palace? Are you
sure, Father?”
“As sure as I ever am.” He stared down at it. “Kensington Palace is out of my ability to investigate,
I’m afraid. Is there any way you two might have reason to go there?”
“Us?” squeaked Pen. “Why, I don’t know. We can talk to our father about it, though. I don’t even
know who lives there, apart from Princess Victoria.”
“Don’t some of the king’s brothers and sisters live there too?” Persy added. “The children of old
King George the Third who never married?”
“So I hear.” Mr. Allardyce hunched his shoulders, looking baffled. “Kensington Palace,” he
murmured. “I don’t like it. Why is she there? You young ladies were quite right about that note—why
ever she’s there, it isn’t because she wants to be.”
Mrs. Allardyce’s voice could suddenly be heard from the next room, pleasant but loud. “So happy
we were able to find Mr. Mayo’s book for you, your lordship. Shall I have it sent, or would you care
to take it with you?”
“I believe that means we should complete our business here,” said Mr. Allardyce, motioning them
back toward the shop. “Please, if you learn anything, send us a message. I doubt we’ll either of us get
a night’s rest until we know what is happening. Kensington Palace,” he murmured again. The furrow
between his brows deepened. “What could the high folk want with us?”
Lochinvar looked happy as he stroked the spine of a book and listened to Mrs. Allardyce’s
monologue on the relative merits of calfskin and kid bindings. He glanced at them with an inquiring
expression as they emerged from the back room, but he did not interrupt.
Lorrie set down her tray by her mother and strategically sat across from Pen and Persy, the better to
study their clothes, Persy guessed. Mrs. Allardyce poured them tiny glasses of cordial and passed the
sweet biscuits, her stream of chat never slowing, but it was easy to see that she was only half
attending to her own words. Persy wished she could dispel the tension that whirled and eddied
around them, and just talk about Ally. It was with great relief that she glanced out the window and
saw the family carriage draw up and disgorge Mama.
Mr. Allardyce rose and opened the door. Mama looked thunderous as she swept in, though her
greeting was courteous enough. She clutched a pair of hatboxes by their cream-colored ribbon ties.
“Have you had a pleasant visit?” she asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, she said, “Mrs.
Allardyce, I would be most extremely grateful for a glass of your cordial. I have just had a
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