by K Childs
“I was hoping to confirm some details with you.”
“For the murder? I’m afraid I was asleep all night, I doubt I can shed much light.”
“Lord Howard’s murder was consequent of an attack on Duke Montagu.”
A hand flew to her open mouth, trying to hide her shock. “You don’t mean…? Darrien was the target?”
“I do.”
She recovered quickly to her own credit and her gaze fell to the pattern she was stitching. “Then shouldn’t he remain here, under police protection? Will we be safe?”
I nodded. “I shall try and keep you all out of harm’s way, but I do need to know a few things.”
“Such as?”
“How would you describe the relationship between Earl Alston and his Grace?”
“You don’t mean the little tiff they had…?”
“I’m just gathering information at the moment, Lady
Innsford,” I said.
“Mary, please, I much prefer Mary.”
“Mary, then. Please tell me about this business between them.”
“I ought not to; it is the Earl’s business.”
“Please. It might be vital.”
“Well I don’t know the whole story. I just know that Darrien went to London, spoke with Ian and then the King, and Ian wrote a letter of retirement. Only he did so because of that conversation.”
“Mary!” Lady Winchester snapped. She’d slipped in like a ghost.
Mary stabbed herself with the needle and jumped up. “Elizabeth, I didn’t see you there…”
Neither had I. Lady Winchester possessed a soft step. I had closed the door behind me.
“I expect better of you. Don’t gossip with the police.” Lady Winchester glanced at me. “No offence, Inspector.”
Some taken. “Lady Innsford was answering a question, Lady Winchester.”
“One that does not pertain to Lord Howard’s death.”
How long had Lady Winchester been eavesdropping on my interview? I had a few questions for her now.
“Didn’t you hear, Elizabeth, Da—” I cut Mary off with a sharp shake of my head. I didn’t want her sharing that tidbit of information. She closed her mouth and nodded. “No, I expect I have overstepped.”
Relief flooded me.
“Well, just keep your tongue in your face,” Elizabeth
muttered.
A look passed between them and Mary glanced down at her shoes, obviously cowed.
I stood and made myself scarce.
Outside my room, I leaned on the balcony; I had a superb view of Piccadilly and I watched the shops and streets. An old, run-down place was being re-opened in the distance. I caught a flash of colour and a woman in a bright red dress with hair to match handed out pamphlets to folk passing by. The sign over the shop said Mistress Friday’s Emporium of Wonder. I could smell something on the air that tasted faintly of sulphur and hoped it wasn’t anything untoward.
The redhead was drawing quite a crowd of men; she laughed and tittered and made herself trifling for their attention.
I supposed that was somewhere a man of taste like our Duke would find an interest. Opening in broad daylight in an otherwise respectable neighbourhood.
The Lady’s Handbill was a fine dirigible built during the War and repurposed as a leisure craft. The inside had been gutted and refitted to serve up to fifty guests travelling in style. British Airways bought hundreds of the dirigibles after they’d been used in the War and turned them into domestic conveyance. Fewer guns and more room than the aeroplanes.
Even by cab, it could take all day, and the journey would be most unpleasant. The flight-path would take most of the day and afternoon, stopping in Cardiff for passengers disembarking there, but we would arrive at Cardigan before supper.
Ben and I shared a group lounge in the economy section, sharing a small cart which we stowed our luggage in and then sat down to talk.
I had managed an extremely rushed trip to the Foreign Office’s archives before the flight. Luckily, I hadn’t ended up running to jump on a departing ship like a fool chasing a train. That was a good way to end up falling a long way from the Heathrow tower.
“You left Simmons with the Duke?” I asked after one of the constables, Simmons, whom we brought to ensure the two of us could, by manner of bodies, be in three places at once.
“Yes,” Ben said.
“What did you find out from the Duchess?” The busy morning and scramble to arrange passage did not leave me room to discuss the interviews.
He sighed. “Nothing that suggests enough motive. although I wouldn’t cross her off. She has two other sons who are more obedient and very willing to do as they are told if it means being placed at the front of the inheritance queue.”
“I don’t think having other sons is a motive.”
“Not alone, but Montagu marrying any woman other than Elizabeth Winchester is. And the Duchess needs it to happen soon. The Montagu Ducal estates aren’t as flush for money as they once were, and socially the Winchesters are putting a lot of pressure on the Montagus. Darrien is flat out refusing to commit; it stands to reason that a frugal woman would want to find a quick and easy solution.”
“I see.” I didn’t know she was the sort to kill her own son, but I wasn’t willing to totally eliminate her now. How far would a woman go to ensure her son was obedient?
“I managed to find some research on our prey.” I placed the book I had removed from the archives on the table. It was old, frayed paper and leather that threatened to flake in my hands.
“Habitat in Europae Commune Serpentis,” Ben read.
“Common European Dragons and their Habitats,” I
translated.
“I don’t think my Latin is good enough to make heads or tails of that,” he said.
“It will take me some time, as well. In the meantime, we should figure out how we are going to keep the Duke alive.”
“Sergeant, Inspector,” Simmons knocked on the door to our room and poked his head in, “His Grace would like to see you in his suite.”
I slid the book into my coat pocket and strode out the door.
The clunking gears and hiss of the steam engines made the economy part of the ship shake underfoot in the halls, dulled by layers of metal and carpet padding, but it never truly vanished until you stepped into the front of the ship where they’d paid for the Tenebrologists to ward each cabin with a modicum of silence and privacy.
The Duchess had the biggest of the cabins booked, but Darrien somehow squeezed himself comfortably into a space no bigger than my apartment.
We sat down on small couches and His Grace poured a measure of whiskey for Ben and me. Simmons didn’t drink whiskey during the day.
“Darrien, we need to ask you about a few things.”
The Duke said, “I thought you might.”
“First of all, there are a lot of rumours that you forced Earl Alston to retire.” A delicate matter, which I approached as an elephant in a china shop.
Darrien winced. “I see you’ve found out about that.”
“Your Grace, this is your life we’re talking about here. And the life of anyone caught in the crossfire.” An interesting tactic on Ben’s part to go that direction.
I watched Darrien for his reactions. None of which failed to emerge. He looked tired, then his brows furrowed. “I have been childhood friends with Ian since Eton. But lately Ian fell to greed a little; he needed a moral push back in the right direction. I have no doubt that he will pick himself back up. I don’t think he’d consider murdering me.”
“I’ll say it plainly: one of the four other people in the house means you dead.” I said, “What did Alston do?”
Darrien rubbed his chin. “He was skimming funds. It’s all been repaid, you understand; I did that myself, but there’s pride in the matter, you see. You’re sure it has to be one of my companions?”
Forget pride, didn’t ste
aling from the Crown mean treason? I tried not to let my shock and horror show on my face. I wanted to catch the dragon, not find out about another crime. I swallowed the reaction as best I might, focusing on the point at hand.
“Lady Howard has an alibi.”
“But are you sure this isn’t like the Lideric. You seemed so positive that monster was the responsible party.”
“I saw the dragon in the Dreamscape. It might be hiding in the flesh, but it cannot hide in the Ether. One of your friends is not what they seem.”
“What about Lady Innsford?” Ben asked me.
The Duke flinched.
“If she has a motive, I don’t know it, but I think you do, Your Grace,” I said.
“Mary… and I… we…” His face turned red, he refused to look me in the eye. All too telling.
“You two were intimate?” Ben finished.
The Duke was full of secrets and indiscretions today. I didn’t hide the aghast tone in my voice. “And Lady Winchester?”
“She found out a few days ago. Mary admitted it to her. We had a fight.” Darrien gave me a sad smile, like he was sorry and would never do it again.
I would have left him in a hot minute. How did anyone put up with such behaviour? Could I blame Lady Winchester if she was the dragon—engaged to a man like this would be torture. The nerve of the man!
I wanted to stay angry at him, but there was a lot of sorrow in his eyes. I turned my head. I could hardly judge a situation I knew nothing about, perhaps I was being harsh. My task wasn’t to judge Darrien’s mistakes, but see which of them had spawned a murderer.
“I take it she did not take the news well? What about your mother?” Ben asked.
“She was furious. They both were. I smoothed things over with mother, but Elizabeth…”
Ben guessed, “Elizabeth wouldn’t allow you to annul the engagement?”
“You think Elizabeth capable of murder?”
I frowned. Frankly, none of them seemed capable. “What did she say, exactly, Your Grace?”
He drained his glass and poured another. “I’m afraid I don’t remember. I finally gave in and told her I would set a date.”
Men like Darrien were why I hadn’t found a husband yet. He had no conviction. No backbone. My thought must have shown on my face because he levelled a finger at me. “Don’t judge me too harshly, Rose.”
“Your Grace, I wouldn’t presume.” I definitely needed to control my expression better.
“What date did you set with Elizabeth?” Ben gave me a look. We were here to stop a killer, not a cad.
“I don’t know, late October.” Darrien waved his hand. “I intended to call the whole thing off, but Lisa was crying, mother was crying, what could I do?”
Anger churned in my stomach and I clenched a fist. He cheated on his fiancée with her best friend. It was something worth crying over. “I take it this is not the first dalliance?”
Darrien shook his head. “I live the life of a bachelor. I never asked Elizabeth to marry me, and I never intended to agree to anything with her.”
“Ahh, I know, good intentions, man. Some women are just sensitive.” Ben finished his glass. “Another drink in that
cabinet?”
The men poured themselves another drink.
I ruminated on the paving stones to hell.
We tabled the discussion for lunch and joined the others in the dining hall.
The luncheon was a buffet for the table. Waiters served drinks, but otherwise, each guest had the same options before them.
I drank lime and soda and ate finger foods. It was all very fancy.
“I do so love flying,” Lady Innsford confessed to me. She ate hastily, as if afraid the meal might disappear. I expected she was living on Lady Winchester’s charity and that charity just might be running out these days. She didn’t look like a dark temptress, which made me believe that Darrien had been the pursuer in that relationship. “It is stylish and fun.”
“You aren’t afraid of the heights?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. My father built engines for flight, I’ve always loved it.”
There was an innocent joy in her words, and I gave her my attention. The Duchess and Lady Winchester were talking about flowers with the Earl—I had missed the why of the rather intense debate they were having—and that left me with a chance to probe Mary.
I smiled. “This is my first time in the air.”
“Oh, truly? You haven’t seen the observation deck yet, have you?” There was a lot of excitement now. She placed her napkin on the table. “Oh, come now, Rose. While we’re still over the best of the countryside.”
I wanted a chance to talk to her more, see if I could get some more information about Lady Winchester at least. It would be a good chance now, while Elizabeth was discussing flowers with the Duke. She took my wrist and tugged me with her.
Mary reminded me of Charlie; a little more feminine, but full of life and wonder.
We ended up at the very bottom of the ship: a gigantic glass bowl thick enough to stand on. Thin metal rafters secured it to the ship and Mary explained that a steel eye opened and contracted to ensure it was safe during take-off and set-down.
She pulled me, somewhat resisting, out into the middle of the bowl and I made small squeaking noises of terror as we stood on glass that vibrated under foot and stared down at a landscape below us in a field of clouds.
“See that?” Mary pointed to the large, faint glow above us, painting the inside of the glass with a faint blue glow. “That is the Aetheric reactor. All the best ships use one. We get them from Africa, you know.”
She went on. “From this side of the continent to the other, the ship doesn’t need to refuel, we only have to stop for supplies. We’re in a new age.”
Exhilarating.
I teetered on the glass.
“I’ve got you, it is okay. Trust me, Rose.”
The ground looked so tiny beneath my fingertips: trees, rivers, cars—little more than specks. I saw the world in a whole new light. The vision would have made Charlie ecstatic; she loved landscapes.
“Oh Charlie, would have loved this, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful!” I sank to my knees and touched the glass as though I might cup a cloud in my fingers.
Tears caught in my throat.
“I’m sorry, Mary. For a moment…”
I tore myself from her face and pulled my handkerchief out, dabbing away my shame.
“It’s okay. We’re all a bit weepy these days.”
“I don’t mean to cry. I’m such a mess. Charlie used to do my crying for me, and now I’ve no idea how I’m supposed to cry for myself.”
Mary offered me a hand and I stood. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I’ve done my fair share of crying the last few days.”
I gave her a small smile. “Thank you.”
We cleaned ourselves up in the bathroom and then spent some time watching the clouds and the landscape under our feet.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask her any questions.
“The last time I saw such a beautiful sight was with my Mother; she used to love flying,” Mary confided.
“That must have been a delight as a child.”
“It was. We visited most of England, summered in Spain.” Her voice caught on the last word and I realized her mother was probably dead.
“I’ve never been to Spain. What is it like?”
“Oh, hard to describe, really. The weather is nicer; can’t say I like the food much, but I loved the music and dances.”
She looked at me through her lashes. “I thought I might go there with Darrien on a honeymoon.”
“You wanted to marry him?”
“Still do. My family doesn’t have money like the Winchesters, you see. And I am afraid that is what matters most to Duchess Montagu; a rich family so she can keep the Cardigan titles and lands afloat.”
I nodded. “It is t
he practical approach, I suppose.”
“It’s repulsive. Auctioning her sons off to the highest bidder.”
“It must have hurt when you found out Darrien said yes to the engagement?”
She flinched. Her shoulders crumpled and she looked at me with such wide, hurt eyes that I realized I had told her something no one else had.
Hearing it from a stranger must have been devastating when she should have heard it from Darrien himself, or Lady Winchester. The people Mary thought were friends. Not a stranger.
I held up a hand, wanting to comfort the poor thing, but she stood. “Thank you, Rose. I think I should rest in my cabin a while before we land.”
There I went again, breaking another woman’s spirit. The way that the Duchess and the Duke had spoken about the issue, I assumed it to already have been done and dusted. I had foolishly thought that meant Lady Innsford and Winchester had resolved their feelings. How many sordid details would I uncover before this affair was put right?
A prime reason why Ben did the talking.
I retreated to my cabin and set about trying to decipher the heady Latin that would lead to, hopefully, a solution to the dragon problem.
Ben took afternoon tea with the Duke and I had an hour to waste with the book in my lap. An accounting from a Benedictine. I borrowed the book by means of smuggling it from the archives. The age and gold trim kept this tome in the restricted borrowing section. The card inserted on the last page told me no one had requested the thing in a long, long time. Dragons being hunted to extinction, I might well think the only interest came from the academics.
The Hagiography of Saint George, the Golden Legend
In a small town in Georgia there is a great poisoned pond in which a servant of Satan himself did dwell.
Zmei the Dragon of the Abyss was known to the people as a great and terrible tyrant.
Each day they did offer the dragon sheep and cow. Goat and chicken.
But the three-headed beast had a terrible appetite that could never be sated, and the people feared for their town.
