by Geonn Cannon
“Oh, he loves it.” Dorothy finished her drink and stood up, stretching her arms out and wincing as her bruises protested the movement. “Ahh. I believe I shall retire. Sleep well, Trafalgar.”
“You as well. Shall I make breakfast for the household when I wake?”
“That won’t be necessary. But thank you for the offer.”
She left the study, well aware that a year earlier she would have forced Trafalgar to leave first to ensure she didn’t snoop. Their partnership had been difficult at first. Trust came slowly over a series of small missions. They weren’t so much training exercises as they were experiments in trust. She and Trafalgar had spent so much time butting heads and competing that they wanted to be sure they could depend on one another in the field. They both needed to learn how the other thought in order to anticipate in the event of an emergency. Trafalgar was quick to adapt and seemed willing to adjust to Dorothy’s way of doing things, but Dorothy didn’t think that was fair. She was working hard to meet the other woman in the middle so their endeavor would be a true partnership of equals.
Something clattered in the kitchen. Dorothy turned and went to investigate, finding Trix standing at the sink with her back to the door. She’d removed her uniform jacket and the sleeves of her shirt were rolled up and pinned above her elbows. Her entire body was tense, causing her to drop each dish rather than easing it onto the drying rack. Dorothy crossed her arms over her chest.
“If you break one, I shall be forced to take it out of your pay.”
“You should withhold my salary entirely.”
Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”
“I should have been there. If I had been...”
“Stop that right now. There’s no use in speculating, and the harm done was minimal.”
Beatrice turned, eyes dark with anger. “Shall I help you into your pajamas so we can catalogue just how undamaged you are? You should have waited for me.”
“If I’d remained on the street, she may have thrown me in front of a tram. She might have been willing to use a gun. Or worse, she might have gotten away. As it is, I managed to describe her well enough that the constables are close to identifying her. I would change nothing about the way this evening transpired.” She reached up to touch her jaw. “Well. Perhaps I would alter a few small details. But you are not to blame.”
“I’m supposed to keep you safe.”
“As Desmond pointed out before he left, that’s a fool’s errand. The best anyone can hope to do is pick up the pieces after things calm down. You do that better than anyone ever has.”
Beatrice put her hand on the sink and looked at the dishes. “I’ll do better in the future.”
“An impossible goal, but one you’re more than welcome to attempt.” Dorothy crossed the room and cupped Beatrice’s face. “Will you come to bed with me tonight?”
“You need your rest. And it would probably be more painful than pleasurable.”
“True.” She pecked Beatrice’s lips. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Sleep well, Beatrice.”
“And you, Lady Boone.”
Dorothy let go of Beatrice and started to leave. “Oh, and Miss Trafalgar is staying here tonight. There’s no need to make up her room or fix her breakfast tomorrow, but just in case you heard something odd in the night. I wouldn’t want you thinking she was an intruder.”
Beatrice smiled weakly. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll try not to attack your guest.”
Dorothy winked, blew Beatrice a kiss, and headed upstairs.
#
Trafalgar found the guest room and shut herself away. It was already abominably late, but she trusted she could get a few hours of sleep before they departed for Wraysbury. Dorothy hadn’t mentioned anything about nightgowns, but Trafalgar had slept nude before. She undressed and left her clothes draped over the back of the armchair, unpinning her hair and letting it fall onto her shoulders. She could still hear Beatrice moving around downstairs. Through the window she heard the sounds of cars and buses on the street below. Bankside was nowhere near as active at this time of night. The spare bedroom’s window looked out onto the street, but it was high enough that she wasn’t worried about anyone looking in at her.
For all the headaches she credited Dorothy Boone for giving her, the woman had become a dear friend when Trafalgar was in desperate need for one. Her years of solitude had proven that she was not comfortable being by herself. Leola and Adeline had filled the void admirably. They served as her aides and her friends, and losing them both in one fell swoop could have been devastating. She wouldn’t have been able to continue working without their help. And if she couldn’t do her job, she couldn’t have remained in her home. She would have been forced to leave London. Her entire life would have been uprooted and she’d have ended up God knew where. In that way, Dorothy was not only her friend but her savior as well.
“But there’s no reason to let her know that,” Trafalgar said softly to her reflection. She smiled and went to the bed. The blankets were soft against her thighs, and she propped the pillow against the headboard before settling in and looking up at the ceiling. The house creaked and settled around her and, in the silence, she realized at some point Beatrice must have gone to bed as well.
Going from rivals to partners could have been disastrous. There was so much animosity built up between them over the past few years, trying to work together might have ended with both of them dead, in prison, or out of work. But Dorothy was willing to change and Trafalgar had repaid it with her own enthusiasm. She forgot all the times Dorothy caused her strife in the past, just as Dorothy had to forget the times Trafalgar had trumped her on an expedition. Bygones. Water under the bridge.
They had done enough dry runs and small commissions. The time had come to show themselves off as the partners they had become. In the morning they would board the train to Wraysbury and the world would get its first glimpse of Trafalgar and Boone as a singular force. Villains of the world would do well to take note.
Chapter Seven
The morning found Dorothy agitated, moving around the kitchen with a barely disguised anger that was directed at herself. She chided herself for being so focused on the big picture that she missed the obvious, even when it was staring her in the face. While Trafalgar calmly ate the oatmeal Beatrice provided, Dorothy explained that the intruder in Cora Hyde’s office might have nothing to do with her previous expedition and everything to do with the fact she was currently residing in an institution.
“Cora’s brother Lawrence is a gambler and a cad,” she explained. “They’ve been estranged ever since she cut him off. Rather than try to heal their relationship, he’s started attempting to undermine her independence. He wants access to her accounts. It’s just like him to hire someone to break into Cora’s office. We may not need to disturb Cora at all.”
She waited impatiently for Trafalgar and Beatrice to finish eating rather than insisting they leave at once. When they did head out, Beatrice followed them out.
“Trix, I’d like you to remain here.”
“Absolutely not.”
Dorothy said, “There’s a chance I could be wrong and Black Irish is searching for something to do with Cora’s last job. She may strike here next. I don’t want the house unprotected. As much as I wish you could be in two places at once, I would much rather have you protecting my home.”
Beatrice looked as if she wanted to argue. Dorothy put a hand on her shoulder and softened her voice.
“I need you, Trix. God knows I proved that last night. But I need you here, where you’ll do the most good.”
“Sitting on my bum.”
“Guarding my life’s work. Everything my grandmother left for me, everything I’ve spent the last few years working toward. Trix... you do realize that I would never trust this with anyone I didn’t trust with all my heart? The woman who came into my life to rob me of these treasures is now the only one I’d want protecting it. You must understand how important that is.”
Beatrice nodded stiffly. “Try not to get into any more fights, ma’am.”
Dorothy smiled. “I shall do my best.”
She kissed Beatrice on the cheek and then joined Trafalgar, who had been standing quietly to one side during their exchange. Lawrence Hyde worked in a tobacconist shop on Cheapside, a short stroll from Dorothy’s front door, so they elected to walk to their meeting. Trafalgar had borrowed a suit from the closet Desmond kept stocked for his infrequent nights spent at the house, since she was too tall to fit comfortably into any of Dorothy’s outfits. The suit, combined with her standard leather coat, was an altogether masculine look for her. She wore it very well.
“She is fiercely loyal. It’s a good quality.”
“It can be a bit frustrating at times,” Dorothy admitted, “but I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”
They walked west, passing under the formidable bronze doors of the Bank of England. Motorcars in the streets moved slowly around horse-drawn carriages and pedestrians strolling casually along the thoroughfare. Trafalgar could hear a paddle steamer moving east toward Tower Bridge and, high above, an airship following a similar course. She squinted to see the registration, curious if it was Araminta Crook’s ship, Skylarker, but it was too far away for her to read.
Other pedestrians walking in the opposite direction moved out of their way as they walked, something Trafalgar noted immediately but Dorothy seemed to take as commonplace. She didn’t find it odd that the swarm of male pedestrians would step to one side to allow her passage. When they reached Princes Street, she almost expected the cars to run off the road to avoid hitting her, but they stopped and waited just like everyone else.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” Dorothy asked.
Trafalgar gestured behind them. “You moved out of the way for no one.”
“Years ago, my grandmother demonstrated that if a woman does not give way to a man, nine times out of ten, he will walk directly into her. Men expect the path to clear itself for them. I decided I would take back that privilege for myself. I was knocked to the ground more than once, but I suppose over time the men wised up. Herd mentality. They might not even know why they’re stepping around me, but they do.”
“I shall have to walk with you more often.”
Dorothy smiled and led them across the street. They joined the crowd pouring onto Cheapside and scanned the storefronts until they found the right name. Fumeur Cigars and Smokes, a name she remembered from Cora mocking how pretentious it sounded. She led the way through the front door, triggering a small bell that hung from a ribbon on its back. The shop was a small room with counters in front of every wall like barricades against assault. The walls were decorated with cartoonish posters, Cubist and Modernist and some other style she couldn’t pinpoint. Whatever it was, she found the combination to be garish. As always when she entered a tobacconist shop, she was surprised to find it smelled sweet rather than harsh. There was a fruity element to tobacco that was lost in the finished product.
A door to the back room was covered by a curtain, and a man swept it aside as he came through. He looked enough like Cora that Dorothy didn’t have to question his identity. He had the same hair and severe eyebrows, but he was heavier in the face and torso. He glanced at them both as he moved to take what she assumed was his standard position behind the counter to the left of the door.
“How can I help you fine ladies this morning?”
Dorothy moved closer to the counter while Trafalgar wandered toward the back of the shop. “Yes, I was wondering if you carried any Craven A. I seem to have run out despite my best efforts to stock up.” She chuckled at her feigned foolishness. “I woke up this morning with a craving. I suppose that’s where they got the name!”
Lawrence Hyde smiled weakly and gestured for her to follow him. She moved along the outer edge of the counter in parallel to his movements behind it.
“Craven A are quite expensive. But I can see that most likely won’t be an issue for a woman such as yourself, Miss...?”
“Boone,” Dorothy said. “Lady Boone, actually.”
Lawrence stopped in his tracks. “Dorothy Boone?”
“Oh, crumbs. Your sister must have mentioned me.”
Lawrence bolted for the back room, but Trafalgar vaulted over the counter and cut him off. She twisted her wrist and released her emei piercers. She closed her fist around the stem of the weapon and held her hand up so the light glistened off the blades on either end. He skidded to a stop and turned to see Dorothy closing the blind over the front door. She had removed a Colt revolver from somewhere on her person and currently had it aimed in his general direction.
“We’re simply here to talk, Lawrence.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you. My sister put herself in that place, understand? I didn’t have anything to do with it. So if this is some kind of revenge deal--”
Dorothy said, “I know all about Cora’s decision to stay at Wraysbury. This is about the woman you hired to break into her office last night.”
Lawrence gave himself away with a slight widening of his eyes and the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “I don’t even know where her office is.”
“Then the woman you hired found that out on her own. Who is she, Mr. Hyde? What was she looking for in Cora’s office?”
“I don’t know anything. You can’t make me tell you anything.”
Trafalgar, who had been silent up to that point, said, “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Hyde. Did your sister ever mention Trafalgar of Abyssinia?”
He looked warily at her. “No...”
“Oh, good. Then everything that happens will be new for you.”
Beads of sweat glistened on Lawrence’s forehead. Dorothy managed to hold back her laughter, but only just.
“A name, Mr. Hyde. If it makes you feel better, tell yourself that you’re giving a reference. For all you know, we simply wish to hire this woman for ourselves. I saw how well she can fight. Perhaps there’s a job I have in mind and she would be the perfect contractor.”
Lawrence seemed conflicted for another moment before he decided it was wiser to cave to the threatening women who were present rather than keeping a promise to the threatening woman who wasn’t actually there.
“I only know the name she uses for business. Virago. And I didn’t hire her, so I can’t help you find her. She came to me.”
Dorothy said, “She came to you?”
“She wanted access to Cora’s offices. She wanted to know if there were any booby traps she would have to contend with. She said if I told her how to get in without being hurt, she would wipe my debts clean. I didn’t see what harm it would do.”
Trafalgar said, “You claimed not to know where her offices were, and yet you were aware of the precautions she took?”
“She always uses the same security measures.”
Dorothy said, “And I’m sure you’ve kept apprised of any purchases she’s made to protect herself as well, haven’t you?”
He looked away from her. His voice was quiet when he spoke again. “Cora is in the country, no one was going to be there, so it was an easy decision to make.”
“Perhaps for some people,” Dorothy said. “Did she give you any clues as to where she could be found?”
“No.”
Dorothy took a step closer and steadied her gun on his chest. “Mr. Hyde, surely by now you’ve realized I can tell when you’re lying. Perhaps you would like to save us all a bit of time and effort and simply come clean now.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “The money she gave me to clear my debts. She sent it via wire transfer. I have the receipt in that drawer.”
“I thought you said you only knew her business name,” Dorothy said.
Trafalgar had moved to the drawer and received the slip of paper. “He wasn’t lying. This purports to be from someone named A. Virago.”
Dorothy smirked. “Well, then. Point for you, Mr. Hyde. Is there an
address on the paper, Miss Trafalgar?”
“There is.”
She relaxed and lowered her gun. “Fantastic. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Hyde.”
He remained tense, eyeing Trafalgar’s piercers as she snapped them together and secured them up her sleeve again. “You won’t tell Cora about this, will you?”
“I have no reason to keep it from her. For your sake, you should hope we can recover whatever this Virago stole from her.” Dorothy raised the blind again. “Good day, Mr. Hyde.”
She held the door for Trafalgar and together they stepped back outside. Trafalgar held out the wire transfer receipt so Dorothy could read the receipt. “Kentish Town,” she read, then checked her watch. “Moorgate is the closest Underground station. I believe we can just make it, if we hurry.”
They began walking toward the station. Trafalgar said, “So was this Virago seeking something to do with Cora’s latest expedition after all?”
“It’s difficult to say,” Dorothy admitted. “I was quite thrown when Mr. Hyde revealed she sought him out rather than the reverse. Virago must have been looking for a weak link in Cora’s operation and found it in her brother. That receipt proves he wasn’t a cheap asset, so we know that whatever was taken from Cora’s office must have been rather valuable. At least to her.” She clucked her tongue. “Virago. Quite a moniker, I have to say.”
“Yes, I was going to comment on that. It’s not a name I’m familiar with.”
“It’s not necessarily a name at all,” Dorothy said. “It means a domineering woman. Harridan, shrew, termagant, vixen. They’re all words used to describe the same thing: a woman who frightens men. If you ask me, men need to be frightened more often.”
“You almost sound approving.”
“Of the name, yes. I have a modicum of respect for anyone who takes a slur and wears it with pride. Men most likely used it to dress her down, and she took it for herself as a warning. That said, I’m still aching from our run-in. I can compliment her choices at the same time I’m settling our score.”
