Reine held Emery Wescott - and his cryptic admonition against her marrying Cooper - responsible for her decision to leave London just two years before the turn of the Twentieth Century. It was only fitting that he'd also be the reason she now got to stay.

He'd promised to protect her, and in spite of her allegiances to the Confraternity of the Resurrection, guaranteed her safety under the Order of Westminster's authority. She was clearly a pawn in whatever scheme Wescott was playing, but until she was certain Sylvana wouldn't try anything else against her, this assurance was more than Reine could expect anywhere else.

Ironically, her first visit to the United Kingdom also ended with Reine's reluctant reliance on an unlikely benefactor. It wasn't a period of her life she thought about often, but as she strolled through Hyde Park, Reine reminisced about how different life was back then.

Over six million people had visited London in 1851 to see the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations. Like many other Europeans, Reine also traveled to England intending to see this inaugural world's fair, using most of her money to buy the cheapest steamboat ticket. With just one bag to carry her meager belongings, she set sail in Calais for the unknown.

As the ship left the harbor, Reine stood at the rails and watched the town's ancient watchtower and then the cathedral's spire disappear from view, leaving France behind. The ruckus of wildly squawking seagulls circling the vessel gradually decreased until just the sounds of the engines and the lapping of the waves remained. Retreating below deck, she'd planned on spending the three-hour voyage sleeping, in preparation for the overland leg of the trip to London.

Before she reached the third-class cabins, a well-dressed Englishman propositioned her in a manner that was anything, but gentlemanly. Reine's quick reflexes saved her, but they also left the man with a broken arm. Labeled the instigator, she got her first glimpse of the white cliffs of Dover through a grubby porthole in the ship's brig.

Once they'd docked, slipping away from the unconcerned constables was easy enough, but she had to leave her things behind. With nothing else, but the clothes on her back, she could no longer afford the coach fare to London. Instead, Reine had to beg for cart rides from farmers heading into towns - like Canterbury and Rochester - along the way. What otherwise would have been a nine hour trip instead took three whole days to complete.

No matter how hard it was for Reine to get to London, in the end it was worth it. With its burgeoning railway network, formidable police force, and planned sewage system, the city was leagues ahead of any other she knew including Rome, Vienna, and Paris. The Romantics with their pastoral intuition were also giving way to the Victorians and their urban innovations. The stark contrasts she witnessed in both culture and industry between the capital of the British Empire and the politically turbulent nations of the continent quickly made her want to stay. The question ultimately became: how?

For the first few nights, Reine found refuge in a Whitechapel church that supported the local poor. But that arrangement could only be temporary. The opening of the expo was also just a week away, and she couldn't even afford the entrance fee.

Walking east along Knightsbridge, she unwittingly compared herself to the other pedestrians milling around the Crystal Palace. Like her, they were probably there out of curiosity, trying to get a peek at the preparations for what was billed as the greatest display of industry and manufacture in the modern world.

While their attire matched the contemporary elegance of their surroundings, Reine's appearance made her feel like a lowly street urchin. Her dress had stains she could no longer scrub out, and her hair was rough and frizzy from the coarse soap she managed to obtain. In spite of this, she was going to get a look at the massive glass and steel structure that brought her to the city, even if it was going to be from afar.

The Crystal Palace was an engineering marvel, towering to a height of twelve stories and measuring almost two thousand feet long. The amount of glass covering the building supposedly surpassed twenty-five acres and the iron structure weighed over nine thousand tons. Seeing it in person made Reine forget about all of the technicalities.

The scene took her breath away. The building sparkled in the light as the clear panes reflected the sun's rays in every direction. It was like a huge, shimmering diamond in the middle of London.

As she passed the Prince of Wales' Gate, a crowd outside one of the building's many side entrances drew her attention. While she couldn't see what exactly was going on inside the circle of onlookers, Reine could hear the distinct sounds of an argument. In most cases she would have walked away, but the fact the two men were yelling at each other in separate languages made her curious.

Discreetly weaving through the men and women who'd gathered around the disgruntled duo, she ended up with a front row view of the action.

On one side, a tall man with a thick, black beard and wearing a dark overcoat and top hat was wildly gesticulating while spouting off his grievances in Russian. Across from him, a clean-shaven man with side-swept hair and a crisp suit and cravat was just as excitedly returning his opinions in French. Behind them, several workers were standing around two horses harnessed to a cart carrying a piece of large machinery.

After intently listening for a moment, Reine began to understand the situation and couldn't help herself from laughing out loud. The Russian took a step forward and addressed her in his native language. "What do you think is so funny?"

The crowd murmured at his gruff behavior, but Reine remained calm and forced herself to appear serious.

"Forgive me, sir, but there has been a very big misunderstanding," she replied.

The people around her - including the bearded man - became deadly still upon hearing her speak in flawless Russian. Fearing being left out, the Frenchman took the opportunity to get clarification for himself.

"What is going on? What are you two talking about?" he asked in his own tongue.

"I was just telling this gentleman that there is no need for you to argue. Your problems are from a gap in your communication and can be easily resolved," she answered the wide-eyed man in equally fluent French.

It took everyone present a few seconds to comprehend what just happened, and once they did, the crowd erupted in a cacophony of voices. The two argumentative men also began to simultaneously address her. Reine tried to subdue them long enough to provide the necessary explanation, but neither wanted to wait. Both men were only interested getting her attention first, leaving Reine standing in the middle of the rabble dumbfounded.

Suddenly, the crowd parted and a stocky man carrying an armful of rolled up drafting papers stepped forward. "What's the meaning of this? Why did the work stop?" he yelled over the ruckus while looking at the idle movers who just shrugged their shoulders.

Both the Frenchman and the Russian rushed to the newcomer and continued to air their grievances in their own tongues.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop!" The man waived the contents of his hands, dropping several in the process. "One at a time."

After picking up the fallen diagrams, Reine took it on herself to translate. Quickly relaying the message in both languages, the two men finally backed away and waited their turn.

"You understand what they're saying?" The stocky man eyed her with surprise.

Reine nodded. "Yes, sir."

"All right. Good." He took a deep breath. "What's their problem?" He looked sideways at the men.

"Their display areas are next to each other, correct?" she asked. When the man nodded, she continued. "The Frenchman is worried that the Russian wants to take over some of his space. But if I understand him correctly, the Russian is worried about losing his own allotment. He's asking the other to temporarily place some of the French machinery in the Russian exhibit area."

"Why on earth would he want that? Where is his equipment going?"

Reine turned to the Russian to get an explanation. Satisfied with the answer, she translated. "The boat carrying the Russian exhibits is delayed by ice in the Baltic. The displays won't be ready by the opening of the expo. He doesn't want the space to sit empty, but when he tried to explain this to this other gentleman . . . well, this is all a misunderstanding."

The man scratched his temple. "Yes, quite right. But I'm afraid they'll need formal authorization to place one country's wares into another's space."

Hearing the complication, Reine furrowed her brows. "And who can grant that authorization, sir?"

He smiled. "Luckily, I can. Now, can you please explain to these gentlemen that Joseph Cole, chief organizer of the Great Exhibition - that is, myself - grant them permission to make the necessary arrangements until the Russian shipment's arrival."

Reine turned to the two men who - due to their lack of understanding - were still blankly staring at the events around them. First in French and then in Russian, she relayed Cole's message and was happy to see the relief wash over each man's face. Shaking hands, they quickly set toward moving the French machinery inside, leaving the onlookers without any more reason to stay.

Although the others began to walk away, Reine stayed behind. She still had the fallen blueprints in her hand, but Cole had engaged in a conversation with a woman holding a fancy parasol.

She patiently waited for Cole to finish, but when he finally turned to her, he already had a question waiting. "What's your name, young lady? And can you speak any other European languages?"

She pulled herself up to her full heights. "My name's Reine, sir. And yes, I can."

"Well, go on. Which one?"

"All of them."

Cole laughed. "All of them? Very well. I could use someone like you around here. That is, of course, if you'd like to make a few pennies." He looked her up and down.

Embarrassed at what he was probably thinking of her ragged appearance, Reine blushed. "I'm just a girl, sir."

"That you are. But if what you say is true about your language skills, then you're worth more to me in the next few months than any man I've yet to come across. What do you say?"

For the first time in her already long life, Reine got the opportunity to shape her own future. She took it without further hesitation.

With her thoughts back in the present, Reine stopped in front of the Albert Memorial. Among the many jewels of Hyde Park, it was definitely her favorite. Consisting of an elaborately decorated Gothic pavilion and eight sets of allegorical sculptures, the focal point was the golden statue of Prince Albert in the middle.

Not just the beloved husband of Queen Victoria, Albert was also the chief driving force behind the 1851 expo. It was no surprise this grand tribute to him would be located so close to its former site.

Turning her gaze eastward, Reine surveyed the large, empty expanse of grass where the Crystal Palace once stood. It was almost surreal for her to remember that just three generations earlier, she was among the crowd inside its grand hall as the Queen herself opened the fair with her royal consort by her side. Albert died barely ten years later, putting Victoria into a permanent state of mourning. When Reine had heard in 1936 that the Crystal Palace was completely destroyed by fire, her own heart broke.

Until then, she had equated the structure and the happiness she felt while working within its walls during those few months with her own potential for success. The feeling lasted for many years after the expo, and she remembered that period as the happiest she'd ever been.

Of course, for the latter part of the Nineteenth Century London was actually less her home than the base for her travels as the social companion to a rich, English widow. With the adventurous, but nearly blind Baroness, they undertook excursions often lasting up to half a year in order to visit various cultural sites on their own version of the Grand Tour. Throughout the two decades in this role, these trips took Reine all over Europe, the near East, and North Africa.

While the Great Expo was her introduction to the world, the Baroness and her trips established Reine's love of cultural history. When Lady Blackwell's unexpected illness forced them to prematurely end their last trip, Reine feared she'd have to return to her previous mundane life. Then she met Timothy Cooper.

He told her he didn't have any family, and it was this mutual connection, as well as his roguish charm, which drew her to him. She thought their increasingly serious courtship would turn to marriage. Not just any type of marriage, but a marriage of love, the first of its kind she could remember.

Before she could even accept his proposal, Emery Wescott intervened.

Reine thought she had truly loved Cooper, but the older man's words and her own bad track record with men made it easier to sever the ties. The Baroness died just a few weeks later and Reine inherited her considerable estate, including the flat she owned in Notting Hill. Living in England no longer meant happiness to her, but rather sorrow. She ultimately decided to heed the Wescott's advice and in 1898, she booked a one-way ticket on the next transcontinental ocean liner to New York.

Returning to London, a city that had given her both highs and lows, was more than daunting. From now on, Reine wanted to experience just the joys and forego the sorrows, but knew she still wasn't completely in control of her own destiny.