by George Mann
Veronica followed behind him. "Where do we start?"
"I have no idea." He slumped into the chair and grabbed hold of two levers that he hoped controlled the steering paddles on the underside of the vessel. He looked out through the viewing port.
The city was coming up fast to meet them. They were set into a dangerous spiral, blown from side to side by the sharp winds, and he wondered if he was already too late to make a difference. The best option he could see at this stage was to try to steer the vessel towards the dark smear of the Thames. At least that way they'd be able to ditch it in the water without turning the whole ship into a blazing inferno. At least he hoped that would be the case. He'd never even been on an airship before, let alone tried to land one in a river.
Driven on by the image of the burnt cadavers he had seen in the wreck of The Lady Armitage, Newbury tugged hard on the levers, throwing his weight behind them as he attempted to right the vessel from its dangerous collision course. The engines coughed with the strain and the dials on the dashboard were all flickering in the red. If the engines were to get too hot they would run the risk of explosion, which in turn would ignite the balloon of hydrogen above them. He glanced out of the viewing port to see the city screaming towards them. He knew the engines would be no good to them now anyway. He reached over and flicked the switch on his right, cutting the engines. Immediately, the whine from below them ceased.
Veronica rushed forward. "What are you doing?"
"Trust me." He stood, leaning as hard as he could on the steering levers. Through the viewing port he could see the nose of the vessel edging up against the harsh wind, but his ministrations were having little effect on the terrifying rate of their descent. He hoped beyond hope that the water would help to cushion the blow.
The airship dove into the Thames, spinning onto its side as it came down, first glancing off the surface like a skipping stone and then dipping down into the water, sending a vast wave ahead of itself as it slowed to a halt. The balloon bobbed on the surface of the river, whilst the gondola, not designed with any buoyancy in mind, quickly began to take on water, pulling slowly towards the bottom of the river.
Newbury, powering on through adrenaline alone, scrambled up from the controls, frantically searching to ensure Veronica was unhurt. He found her draped over the back of the pilot's chair, where she'd braced herself during the landing. He put a hand to her cheek, tenderly. "Come on. I hope you can swim?"
She nodded. "Help me with Chapman."
Newbury looked down at the industrialist, still unconscious, even with the stirrings of river water beginning to lap at his upturned face. He nodded. "If we must."
Groaning, he reached down and hooked an arm under Chapman's shoulder. Veronica did the same, and together they hauled him towards the exit. The passageway was taking on water more quickly than either of them could have imagined, and by the time they reached the gondola's main exit they found it was easier to swim, dragging Chapman along behind them. Thankfully, the door had buckled and sprung open during the landing, so it was a simple matter to navigate their way out of it one at a time, passing Chapman through between them. The river water was ice cold, and with the loss of blood Newbury was beginning to feel faint, his muscles starting to seize up. He kicked furiously, resolved that he wasn't going to fail Veronica now, not when they were so close to safety.
The wind and rain were still pounding when he eventually got free of the airship. Linking arms with Veronica to form a platform for Chapman, they made for the riverbank as quickly as they could. It was only a matter of minutes before they were pulling themselves up onto the slick mud of the bank, hauling Chapman up behind them. They laid the industrialist out on his back, and Veronica leaned over him to check that he was still breathing. Newbury collapsed back into the mud, the rain pounding his face. Stars were dancing before: his eyes, and in the distance, out in the river, he could see the outline of the airship, drifting with the current and blown about by the wind. He heard the sound of hurried footsteps behind him. He didn't bother to look round.
"My God, Newbury!" Bainbridge had little else to say. "Here, Miss Hobbes, take my coat." Newbury heard her accept the garment gratefully. He looked up. Bainbridge was standing over him, his face partly obscured by the drizzly veil of precipitation.
Newbury grinned. "Come on, Charles! I think I could do with seeing a doctor."
Everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Veronica's feet crunched on the gravel as she made her way slowly up the path towards the asylum. The inclement weather had finally broken during the night, the wind and rain receding to leave behind a cold, dry morning that, Veronica considered, was far more typical of the season than the storm weather of the previous two days. She breathed in the fresh air, filling her lungs. It was crisp and filled with the promise of winter. Unconsciously, as if affected by the thought of the changing seasons, she pulled the collar of her thick overcoat up around her throat to stave off the chill. Her cheeks felt pinched with the cold.
Up ahead, Veronica could see that many of the asylum's patients were out taking their exercise on the airing courts, small groups of them clustered around the grounds, sheltering beneath the spindly autumnal trees or else strolling round in concentric circles like caged animals searching for a means of escape. The nurses watched with beady eyes and tired expressions from their usual perch beneath the sheltered stone archway.
Veronica searched the scene as she walked, looking for signs of Amelia. Her sister was nowhere to be seen. She jammed her hands into her coat pockets and approached the main building.
As she brushed past the two nurses on guard duty, Veronica noticed a young man sitting on a wooden bench beside the asylum wall. He looked uncomfortable in his rough woollen clothes, and his face was ruddy with the cold. He was unshaven and unkempt-haggard, even-but for some reason he looked familiar to Veronica. She racked her brain but found she was unable to immediately place him. Perhaps it was just a case of over-familiarity; she may have seen him during a previous visit to the asylum and the sight of him had lodged itself somewhere in the back of her mind.
The man turned to look at her as she strolled past the end of his bench, and despite herself Veronica felt struck by the haunted look in his eyes. He smiled unconvincingly when he saw her looking, and then turned away, contemplating the gravel path as if it held all the secrets of the universe. Feeling a slight sense of unease, Veronica continued on her way, stopping once to glance over her shoulder at the young man. She had the vague sense that, somehow, there was more to him than immediately met the eye. Unsure what else to do, she tried to shake off the notion. She made her way under the archway, through the small courtyard on the other side, and entered the asylum through the main door, which the nurse on the door unbolted for her with a wary glance.
Once inside, she made her way to the reception desk a few feet to one side of the entrance. The nurse behind the desk looked cold in her thin uniform, and she shivered noticeably when Veronica came through the door, bringing with her a cold draught. Veronica cleared her throat. "I'm here to see my sister, Amelia Hobbes."
The nurse smiled. "I'm afraid visiting hours have finished for the day. You may have noticed that the patients are currently engaged in their daily round of exercise outside."
Veronica nodded. "Indeed. Although I fear my sister was not to be found in the grounds. I wonder," she paused, trying on her best conspiratorial expression, "could you bend the rules just a little? I'm very anxious to ensure my sister is in good health."
The nurse was about to answer when Veronica heard footsteps behind her, and looked round to see Dr. Mason approaching along the hallway. He smiled warmly as he drew up beside Veronica. "It's alright, Nurse Willis, I think on this occasion we can make an exception." He indicated for Veronica to walk with him, and they set off together along the corridor, their heels clicking loudly on the hard, white tiles.
"Thank you, Dr. Mason. It's just that it's been a few days sinc
e my last visit and I'm anxious to ensure my sister is well."
The doctor offered Veronica a grave look. "I'm afraid you'll find your sister in ill health, Miss Hobbes. The frequency of her episodes has increased markedly over the course of the last few days, with the most recent occurring just over an hour ago. Try not to show your concern when you see her. She's looking very gaunt and tired." They marched along the corridor for a moment, passing a number of empty wards and rooms on either side.
Veronica nodded. "Very well. I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me, Dr. Mason."
The doctor smiled. "I only want what is best for your sister, Miss Hobbes, contrary to what you may have believed about my methods in the past." He came to a halt before a door, which led off into a side room. It was painted a drab grey and had a small window set into it at about head height. Veronica peered inside. Amelia was sitting in a wheelchair in the small room, sunlight streaming in through the window. Beside her, a nurse sat in a folding chair, reading a book. Amelia's face was turned away from the door, but Veronica could see immediately that her skin was a deathly white.
Dr. Mason pushed the door open and ushered Veronica through. Amelia looked up to see who had entered and the nurse trailed off her reading, smiling at the sight of the visitors. Amelia's face lit up when she saw Veronica.
"Veronica! How lovely." She looked up at Dr. Mason. Veronica tried to hide her dismay at the sight of her sister. "May we sit and talk, Dr. Mason?"
The doctor nodded. "Indeed. I believe some time with your sister will do you well, Amelia." He beckoned to the nurse. "I shall return in a little while, and then it will be time for your rest." He glanced at Veronica, and then turned away, holding the door open for the nurse to leave before him. The door swung shut behind them.
Veronica glanced around the room. The furnishings were sparse, but not unpleasant. It was obviously some sort of day room, a place for patients to come when they weren't well enough to join the others on the airing courts outside. The very fact that Amelia was here, instead of enjoying the fresh air, did not bode well for her overall health. Veronica looked at the spine of the book that the nurse had placed on the coffee table. "Jane Austen, eh? I'd have thought the library here would be full of far more turgid fare than that!"
Amelia smiled. "Oh come here and give me a hug, sister! It's so good to see you."
Veronica did as she was bade, taking her sister gently in her arms and kissing her lightly on the cheek. She cupped Amelia's face in her palms for a moment, looking her up and down, and then set about rearranging the blanket on her knees. Amelia slapped her away. "I'm not an invalid, Veronica!" She smiled. "At least, not yet."
Veronica lowered herself into the chair beside her sister. "Oh, Amelia, what am I to do with you?"
Amelia shrugged. "I had thought I might be getting out of this dreadful place, but now I'm not so sure. The episodes have been getting more and more frequent, and Dr. Mason is clearly concerned for my health." She laughed. "But then I suppose he's told you all of that already, hasn't he?"
Veronica nodded. She didn't know what else to say. She searched Amelia's face for a moment. "You were right, you know."
"What about?"
"About everything." Veronica sighed. "Everything you saw in your visions. It all came to pass. The airship crash. The automatons. 'It's all in their heads', you said to me, over and over again. 'It's all in their heads'." She shrugged. "It was, too."
Amelia looked puzzled. "What are you going on about?"
"Your visions, of course. Don't you remember?"
Amelia shook her head. She gazed at the floor. "We've talked about this before. I don't remember most of what I see during my seizures." She folded her hands on her knees, fidgeting awkwardly with her fingers. "I'm sorry."
Veronica shook her head. "Don't be." She paused, her brow furrowed. "I've got to help you somehow, Amelia. I'm going to talk to Sir Maurice, see if we can't find a better way to keep you well. There must be something we can do."
Amelia looked up. "How is Sir Maurice? After your last visit I was concerned…"
Veronica smiled. "He's fine. Well-he's recovering. He had quite an ordeal, if truth be told. We all did." Unconsciously Veronica turned her arm over on her lap and rubbed at her sore wrist. Amelia looked appalled.
"Veronica! Look at those bruises. Are you quite well? What the devil have you been up to?"
Veronica quickly covered her arm in the folds of her dress. "It's nothing. I'm well enough, thanks to Sir Maurice, anyway. He saved my life."
Amelia grinned. "Quite the hero, isn't he? Do tell."
Veronica blushed. "That's quite enough of that. Now, tell me, are you getting enough to eat? You're still so painfully thin."
"Stop avoiding the subject, you terrible sister! You can't tease me like this! You know it's bad for my constitution." Amelia beamed.
"Then what will I have to tell you about on my next visit? At least this way I can offer you something to look forward to."
Amelia laughed. "I suppose that's true, at least." She put her hand on Veronica's arm. "You must reassure me that you're looking after yourself out there, though. It wouldn't do for our parents to end up with two sick daughters, now would it?"
Veronica sighed. "All is well, Amelia. If you must knowI've had rather a thrilling adventure. And yes, you're right. Sir Maurice is rather a hero, after all." She laughed and looked out of the window, watching the trees blowing back and forth languorously in the breeze. "I'm not sure yet how I'll be able to go back to my desk at the museum after the excitement of the last few days. It all feels a little mundane at the moment."
Amelia smiled knowingly. "Oh, I suspect there's more adventure to come, Veronica. You always were the headstrong one. I can't imagine you'll be behind that desk for long."
Veronica sighed. The moment stretched into silence. She was just about to speak again when there was a gentle rap at the door, and both of them looked up to see Dr. Mason appear in the opening. "Ladies, I'm afraid it's time Amelia took a rest. It pains me to hurry you but I think it best we get her settled before the other patients return from their exercise."
Veronica smiled at Amelia sadly and then leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. She rose to her feet. "Take care, sister. I'll return in a few days to see how you're getting along."
Amelia nodded. "Until then."
Dr. Mason held the door open for Veronica as she left the day room without looking back, the stirrings of tears in the corners of her eyes.
The young man was still lounging idly on the wooden bench as Veronica made her way out of the asylum. She tried again to place him, but somehow his identity eluded her. She was convinced that she'd seen him before, in a different context. She took a few steps along the gravel path, and then, deciding that she'd be unable to let it rest, she turned back and accosted one of the nurses, who seemed both bemused by Veronica's sudden appearance beside her and annoyed at having her train of thought interrupted whilst gossiping with one of her colleagues.
"Excuse me, nurse. Can you tell me: who is that man?" She spoke in hushed tones so as not to let him overhear her words, indicating him with a wave of her hand.
The nurse looked over her shoulder and shrugged. "I have no idea ma'am. None of us do. He was brought in last night after lights-out and the night nurse was told to find him temporary accommodation. We think he must have been involved in an accident of some sort. His wounds had been dressed like he'd been in an infirmary, but they must have turned him out when he couldn't pay his bill. One of the locals found him by the side of the road and brought him in last night, figuring he wasn't a drunk and may have been a patient who had somehow found his way out of the asylum. Seems he can't remember his name or any of his family connections. Poor sod. He'll be collected and taken to the public sanatorium later this afternoon." She searched Veronica's face for an answer. "Why do you ask?"
Veronica frowned. "For some reason he just looks familiar…" She stared at the man over the nurse's
shoulder, watching him as he gazed up at the sky, lost in a world of his own devising. Suddenly something seemed to click in her head. "Oh God! Jack! Jack Coulthard!" She ran towards him, realisation dawning behind her eyes. "You're Jack Coulthard!"
The man turned to look at her, his eyes searching; confused and unsure how to take this outburst from a strange woman he had no idea whether he should know. "I am?"
"I believe so, yes." She grinned, almost disbelieving the coincidence. "Your sister showed me your photograph. She's waiting for you to come home."
The nurse rushed over to Veronica. "You're saying that you know this man?"
"I know his sister, yes. She's been searching for him for a week. She's beside herself with concern." Veronica turned to face the nurse, who was looking as bemused as the patient. "Quickly, call for a cab immediately. We have to send for her now."
The nurse nodded and disappeared under the archway to fetch assistance, her feet crunching noisily on the loose stones.
Veronica took a seat beside the young man on the bench, almost bursting with excitement. "Oh, Jack, your sister is going to be so delighted to discover you're alive."
The man returned her gaze, a bright smile lighting up his face. He looked lost, but hopeful.
Nearby, the other patients continued to circle the airing courts, indifferent to the fact that their newest arrival would, in just a matter of hours, finally be reunited with his loved ones.
Chapter Thirty
Newbury leaned heavily on the mantelpiece and took a long draw on his pipe, watching the smoke curl in lazy circles in the still air of his Chelsea living room. He was wearing a long blue dressing gown and slippers, and was warming himself by the raging fire that Mrs. Bradshaw had built up for him earlier that evening. Across the room, Bainbridge sat easily in one of the Chesterfields, his cane propped by the door, a brandy clutched firmly in one hand, a cigar in the other. He observed Newbury through a pungent wreath of smoke.
