When Lilibet didn’t return, Dookie went to the bathroom door and got up on his hind legs to growl and paw at it, agitated, his claws clicking on the wood for the door. “Dookie! Stop it!” Maggie whispered. But the dog continued to whine and paw. Maggie got up and knocked. “Your Highness?” she called. “Lilibet?” There was no answer. She and Dookie locked eyes and he gave a series of low whines that sounded like sobs. She pounded on the door. “Lilibet? Open the door!” She reached for the knob and the door opened easily. The bathroom led into Margaret’s rooms. The door to the hallway was still open.
“Bloody hell,” Maggie muttered, as she ran through Margaret’s open door and then down the long corridor, calling “Lilibet! Lilibet!” Dookie followed her, barking loudly. She ran down the corridor to the kitchen, where she spied the two. “Lilibet!” she screamed, seeing the unconscious Princess. She looked at Audrey in shock. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Audrey said, dropping Lilibet to the floor, then going to the door to the wine cellar. She knocked and Poulter opened the door. “There you are,” he said.
“We have company,” Audrey said, indicating Maggie, who ran to Lilibet and tried to rouse her. Dookie followed behind, ears pinned back and giving a low growl.
Audrey came at Maggie, who stood up, ready for the attack. When Audrey tried to grab her, she reached for her right arm and twisted, bringing the Frenchwoman down to the floor. But Poulter had come behind Maggie, and before she could react, he picked up the handkerchief with chloroform and pressed it over her mouth and nose with one hand, while his other arm held her in a choke hold. Dookie tried to bite his ankle, but Poulter kicked the little dog so hard he was thrown against the wall, too stunned to stand.
After a moment or two, Maggie slumped to the floor.
“Leave her and the chien,” Poulter ordered Audrey, shoving her to the side with her boot.
Audrey went back to the Princess. “Help me,” she grunted. “She’s not as light as you might think.”
Poulter picked up Lilibet’s limp body. “We must hurry,” he warned, as he descended the stairs to the wine cellar and the tunnels through the dungeons. “We only have a very short window of time to get to the U-boat.”
Maggie began to regain consciousness.
“Are you all right, Miss Hope?” she heard Mr. Churchill say. “Damn it, girl—wake up!” he said, patting at her cheeks.
Maggie tried to open her eyes, which were heavy and uncooperative.
“Where?” she managed, trying to sit up.
“The P.M.’s rooms. One of the guards carried you,” Hugh said, voice tight.
She suddenly remembered. “Lilibet!”
“What about her?” Frain asked.
Maggie sat up, shaking her head to get rid of the fog from the drugs. “They took her.”
“The Princess? Who took her?” Churchill barked.
“Moreau. The maid, Audrey Moreau. She somehow lured Lilibet from the nursery, then chloroformed her. I followed them, and Moreau did the same to me. She was working with George Poulter, a footman.” The winking footman, Maggie thought.
“I tried to stop them,” she said, the enormity of what had happened breaking over her. Why did I spend so much time being suspicious of Louisa? Why, when all the while it had been Audrey planning to abduct the Princess? And I had been suspicious when Cook told me about Audrey’s recent exodus from France. I just never pursued it.…
“Is there anything else that you remember?” Frain said. “Quick!”
“There was a trapdoor in the floor.” She rose, swaying, then steadying herself. “They must be using the tunnels to get out of the castle. Come on! I know the tunnels—the Princesses showed me. If we hurry, there’s still a chance we can catch them!”
Lilibet, unconscious, had been carried over Poulter’s back, like a sack of potatoes, through the dark and winding tunnels and then up the stairs before being unceremoniously dumped on the cold flagstones outside the Henry VIII Gate.
“Hurry!” Audrey hissed to Poulter. “We need to make it to Mossley while the U-boat’s still there.”
While he was gone, Lilibet’s eyelids fluttered. She came to, then lay quietly, appraising her situation. She realized she was being kidnapped. She was gathering her strength to make a run for it, back into the castle, when she felt Moreau’s foot in her back. “Don’t even think about it,” she said, springing a switchblade.
Normally, Lilibet could have outrun her, but not in her still-drugged condition. Then she saw a small stone and picked it up, considering. She began scratching on the stones.