by Geonn Cannon
“What do you know about a treasure hunter called Emmeline Potter?”
Strode paused in his movements and threw his head back with a laugh. “Oh-ho. First Dorothy Boone and Ivy Sever, and now the Virago. You truly keep remarkable company, Miss Trafalgar.”
The way he said ‘remarkable’ made it sound like a curse. “So you are aware of her.”
“More than aware, unfortunately.” He offered her a drink and she declined with a shake of her head. He poured one for himself and took a seat across from her. “She predates even Lady Boone. The beginning of my career, I was aboard a steamer heading for Morocco. Supposed to be an eighteen-week expedition. First time on the African continent. I was thrilled, as you can expect. Virago stowed away aboard the ship and spent the first week of our sea voyage stealing information from anywhere she could find it. We never saw hide nor hair of her until the day she revealed herself. She had arranged for another ship to pick her up. Left us stranded and adrift with very little food or supplies.” He sighed and shook his head. “My first expedition ended with us slinking back to London with our collective tails between our legs. Virago went ahead to the site we were supposed to explore and gained much of her fortune from it.”
Trafalgar said, “Dorothy was concerned that Virago may be more focused on wealth than the historic value of these sites.”
Strode laughed again. “She’s a bloodhound, Miss Trafalgar. Singular purpose. If she thought there was a fiver behind that wall, she would tear it apart with a hatchet. It wouldn’t matter to her if it was plasterboard or a piece of stone carved in the thirteenth century as long as she could get the money out. She wants riches, and everything else is secondary.”
“That is alarming.”
He finished his drink and bared his teeth as he put the tumbler down on the table. “I will give you this advice, Miss Trafalgar. If you and Lady Boone do intend to go up against this woman, take heed. She will destroy artifacts in her quest for wealth, but she will also destroy people. I cannot prove that she’s killed in the past, but it’s hardly inconceivable given the tales I’ve heard from others in our profession.”
“Anyone in particular who might have dealt with her?”
He thought for a long moment. “A few, but I believe they passed away in last year’s unpleasantness. Perhaps that is why Virago has reappeared. She’s been inactive for a while now. But with all the deaths last year...” He sighed again. “The Weeks brothers. Damn them to hell for what they did to our profession. They’ve changed everything even in defeat.”
Trafalgar considered his words. Dorothy hadn’t mentioned bringing him into the group they were putting together, but he seemed like a plausible candidate. “Mr. Strode,” she began, but she wasn’t able to finish before he pushed up and walked quickly across the room. “Is something wrong?”
“A thought just occurred to me. No one knows exactly where Virago hangs her hat, but most assume she resides in the Irish Republic. That accent is difficult to disguise, of course.” He was standing at his desk rifling through his papers as he spoke. “There are those who believe she’s a member of the Irish Republican Army and the reason she hasn’t shown her face is because she’s been busy up north with those hooligans.”
Trafalgar stood and joined him at the desk. He continued looking through journals, flicking the pages of one book with his thumb before putting it down and lifting another. He took another from his drawer and untied the rawhide string around it.
“Nigel Mummery was up there in 1918 on an unrelated matter. He claimed to have seen her in a pub with a bunch of rabble-rousers. The election was still fresh in everybody’s mind and a British fop in their midst was too rich of a target. Aha!” He withdrew a folded sheet of paper and checked to make sure it was the right thing before he handed it over. “He sent that to me when he returned.”
Trafalgar unfolded the note and skimmed its contents. “Fortunate to be back in one piece... scuffle with some Volunteers, including one woman I believe is of your acquaintance.” What followed was a description that matched the woman she and Dorothy had met at the Kentish Town baths. “I believe it was the Virago you’ve mentioned because when they were ransacking my supplies, she seemed keenly interested in my journals. She tore out several pages and stuffed them in her back pocket...”
“She’s a scavenger,” Strode said. “She’s willing to do some work on her own, but if it’s faster and more efficient to just steal what others have done, then she’ll do that. She’s only interested in the wealth because she wants to funnel it back to the IRA and their blasted war.”
“They’re fighting for independence. It means they’re passionate about their cause and they’ll do anything to further it. It doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”
“You’re a supporter?”
“I’m nothing,” Trafalgar said. “I know too little about their cause and I’m too removed from the outcome to have a useful opinion on it. All I know is that this particular woman is willing to do anything to get what she wants. I take offense to that, not her politics.”
He smiled snidely. “A very politic answer, Miss Trafalgar.”
“It has the benefit of being honest as well. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Strode. I’m sure Lady Boone will find this information illuminating.” She held up the note. “May I take this?”
“Of course.”
She retrieved her jacket and pulled it on. “And we shall be in touch in the coming weeks. We have a project that we’re putting together, and I believe Dorothy would like you to be a part of it.”
“Perhaps you can give me a bit more warning before your next visit.”
“No promises. I can show myself out.”
He said her name just as she was about to enter the corridor. “I’ve heard rumors of Virago in the past few years. Nothing substantial enough to lead you to her, but enough for me to know that I never want to cross her path ever again. If you and Lady Boone intend to make an enemy of her, then I would suggest... hell, to be honest, I would only advise you to not do it to begin with. But this is the two of you we’re talking about.”
Trafalgar smiled. “We will take your advice to heart, Mr. Strode. And we appreciate your concern.”
“But you won’t listen, will you?”
She straightened her jacket. “Good day, Mr. Strode.
“Good luck, Miss Trafalgar.”
Ira was waiting by the door when she left, and she touched a finger to her brow in an unfinished salute as he held the door for her. She was sure it made him feel as though he was throwing her out and she saw no reason to disabuse the man of the illusion. She didn’t know much about Irish politics. She knew tensions had been rising since before the Great War ended, and things were coming to a head. They would need funds to continue the fight. The Weeks’ campaign had left many explorers dead and left the field open for Virago to make her grand return to the profession. She would take the opportunity and take whatever job was the most profitable. She would then rip apart invaluable relics just to make money. History left in the dust and civilizations one step closer to being forever forgotten. The very idea was abominable.
Whatever Cora Hyde was on the verge of discovering, Trafalgar agreed with Dorothy that it had the potential to be something that changed the world. They had the chance to uncover a culture that existed in pre-Biblical times. Humanity from the book of Genesis, maybe even before that. It could hold the key to so many mysteries she didn’t even know where to begin. The thought of it being lost was a sin she couldn’t abide.
She believed Abraham Strode’s warnings about the danger of going up against Virago. But at the moment she didn’t care. Virago had to be stopped at any cost.
Chapter Ten
Cora passed through a quick progression of emotions upon Dorothy’s arrival. Exhausted, but happy to see her old friend without a disguise. Then concern when she read Dorothy’s expression. As Dorothy explained the events of the past day, Cora was concerned for her safety and grateful for what she
’d done. And when Dorothy mentioned the name Virago, the color drained from Cora’s face. She stood up and looked at the tea service, then ran her hands through her hair as if she meant to put it in an up-do before she left it lying on her shoulders.
“You’re certain it was Emmeline Potter?” she asked, looking out the window rather than meeting Dorothy’s gaze.
“Trafalgar and I tracked her down. It was her. And I’m assuming you know how she was aware of your work?”
Cora nodded and cleared her throat. “She tried to seduce me.”
Dorothy smiled. “I doubt she made it far in that endeavor.” Cora kept her face turned away. “Cora? You’re not of that persuasion.”
“No, I’m not,” Cora said softly. “But I was lonely. Drunk. And the Virago is so beautiful. She touched my hands and my face and told me I didn’t have to do anything to her.” She swallowed hard. “It had been so long since I was touched that way, Dorothy. I thought there was no harm in letting her do what she wanted. It’s not as if I didn’t enjoy myself.”
“She blackmailed you,” Dorothy said.
Cora nodded. “I have investors. Patrons. Clients who would pull their business from me if they thought they were doing business with a...” She finally looked at Dorothy again. “I’m sorry, Dot.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault we deal with closed-minded imbeciles, and if someone fails to hire me because of rumors or gossip, then I’m glad they end up with you. But if Virago was blackmailing you, why did she need to break into your offices? Why did she need to pay off Lawrence for access?”
“Because I stopped giving her what she was asking for. Before leaving for Cyprus, I told her to do whatever she wanted with her ‘scandal.’ I had given her enough. I was more afraid with what she would do with the information I was giving her than I was of the evidence she had of our dalliances. I would rather have been unemployed and destitute.”
Dorothy said, “You would have been neither. I would have gladly welcomed you into my employ. In fact... Trafalgar and I are putting together a group. A confederation of those in our profession. I would like to extend an invitation to you.”
Cora returned to her seat and took Dorothy’s hand. “It sounds lovely. But I want to postpone any sort of long-term decisions until I’m out of this place.”
“Of course. I understand. The offer is open-ended.”
Cora nodded her thanks. “Whatever you need from me to stop her, I’m at your disposal. I’ll return to London at once.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Easy, Dorothy. The beauty of being self-admitted means I can excuse myself for sabbaticals. I will help you stop this Irish madwoman, and when everything is sorted, I will return to complete my convalescence.” She squeezed Dorothy’s fingers. “I am sorry that I was ashamed of being called... of...”
Dorothy shushed her. “Think nothing of it, Cora. I understand. I’m not offended by your reaction to it, I’m offended at someone who would use it as a weapon. The more I learn about Miss Potter, the more eager I am to cause her downfall.”
Cora said, “As am I. Firstly, we must pack the things I will need upon our return to London.”
“Splendid. I’ll help.” She stood up and put her hands on Cora’s shoulders. “And then we will show Miss Potter what a true virago is capable of.”
#
It was dusk by the time Dorothy returned to Threadneedle Street, her whole day given over to trains and seeking information. She was exhausted and starving by the time she finally walked through her own door. Cora was staying in her guest room because, as she explained on the train, she didn’t want to go home until she could stay there for good. Dorothy understood and hoped Trafalgar didn’t need to use the room for another night. Beatrice responded to their arrival by coming downstairs and immediately took custody of Cora’s bag to take it upstairs. Cora excused herself to the powder room and left them alone.
“Thank you, Trix.” Dorothy hung up her coat and ran a hand through her hair. “I trust today was uneventful.”
“Dull as dirt, ma’am.”
Beatrice started up the stairs and Dorothy followed. “I hope you understand why I asked you to remain behind today.”
“Understanding and accepting are two different things, Dorothy.”
Dorothy winced.
“But I was able to use the time well. I thought perhaps your grandmother may have had some experience with what you and Miss Trafalgar have been researching, so I thought I would see if she mentioned anything in her journals. She was meticulous with labeling, so it wasn’t difficult to find journals that corresponded to trips taken to the Mediterranean area. I left the pertinent journals on your desk in chronological order.”
“Beatrice.” She put her hand on Beatrice’s arm to stop her so they could face each other. “Thank you very much. I hadn’t yet thought of that but, when I did, it would have taken precious time to gather those journals. I appreciate you taking the initiative.”
“My pleasure.”
Dorothy stood in the doorway of the guest room while Beatrice put away Cora’s suitcase and began preparing the room for her arrival. Some of Trafalgar’s things were still present and Beatrice gathered them for later retrieval. As she tidied the room, Dorothy revealed what they had discovered over the course of the day.
When she finished, Beatrice sneered. “This Virago seems to be quite a formidable opponent. If we are going to draw her ire, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to defend me in the near future.”
“I look forward to it.”
Dorothy hesitated before asking her next question. “Perhaps before we embark on a new adventure, you would like to enlighten me as to your extracurricular activities.”
Beatrice said, “They’re not of any consequence.”
“Trix, you know fully well I don’t mind if you take another lover. Our physical relationship has never required exclusivity. But you act guilty. You act as if you’re terrified I will discover you’ve been unfaithful.” She entered the room and put her hands on Beatrice’s shoulders. “I find it very difficult to believe you’ve betrayed me. I can’t even think of a way you would. Please, Trix. Be open with me. What is going on with you?”
Beatrice was quiet for a long moment before she faced Dorothy. “Something happened last year. During the encounter with the Weeks brothers. I drew more magical energy than ever before. I was pushed to my limits.”
“I remember. You saved all of us.”
“What you don’t know is that my tattoo burned with enough energy to burn through my clothes. That’s never happened before. So I’ve been trying to learn where I’m from, hoping to find some answers to who I am. To what I am.”
“Have you found anything?”
Beatrice shrugged and shook her head. “I’m not sure yet. I don’t want to say anything until I have a solid lead.”
“Well, that’s understandable.” She moved her hands to take Beatrice’s. “The moment you know anything, I want you to tell me immediately. Anything I can do to help you.”
“Thank you.” She cupped Dorothy’s face and briefly kissed her lips. “I prepared dinner. I doubt you found time during the day to stop for food.”
Dorothy grunted and put a hand on her stomach. “You would be correct in that. So you see, remaining behind has proven useful in three different ways.”
“I would still rather have been at your side when you met this Virago woman. I would like her to know what’s in store should she come after you.”
Dorothy hooked her arm around Beatrice’s elbow and led her downstairs. “I’m not so sure I agree with that, Trix. I would like for you to be an unpleasant surprise for her when it’s too late for her to retreat. It should be quite a show.”
Beatrice chuckled as they reached the ground floor. Cora was waiting for them in the sitting room, and Beatrice ushered both women into the dining room.
“Has there been word from Trafalgar?” Dorothy asked.
“Not as yet. There’s en
ough should she decide to stop by. Should I set a place for her?”
Dorothy hesitated. Trafalgar had been her guest, her backup, her partner, and co-conspirator, but dinner guest seemed like a new intimacy. She wasn’t sure she was prepared for that. At the same time, she didn’t see any reason to object.
“Yes, Trix, I’d say it would be polite, just in case.”
Beatrice nodded and excused herself. Dorothy took a seat at the table with Cora to her right. “I’ve been thinking about what Virago told you,” Cora said, “about my research being on the right track but I worked out something else incorrectly.”
Dorothy nodded. “I wish there was a way to get back the journal she stole from your office.”
Cora shook her head and tapped her temple. “Unnecessary. I have everything I need in here. The journals are just a way to organize my thoughts and reinforce them if I should need to remember something in a few years. I have a good memory, but it’s far from perfect. Still, it should be fresh enough that we hopefully won’t need the book.”
“Fingers crossed,” Dorothy said.
The doorbell rang and Dorothy stood before Beatrice could come out of the kitchen in response. “I’ll see who it is, Trix.” She pardoned herself from the table and went to the foyer. Even through the narrow fogged glass of the door she recognized the silhouette Trafalgar made; tall and dressed in her standard coat. “Miss Trafalgar. I think you’ve been our guest enough times that you can bypass ringing the doorbell and simply come inside.”
“Ah. Perhaps one day I shall feel comfortable doing that every time I stop by. But until then...”
Dorothy nodded and gestured for Trafalgar to enter. She had changed into her own clothing and had Desmond’s borrowed suit draped over one arm.
“I would have had it cleaned, but a bachelorette taking a man’s suit to the cleaners...”
“Of course.” Dorothy took the clothes and hung them on the back of the closet door. “Was Mr. Strode as helpful as I hoped he might be?”
