by Tee Morris
Up the lift and through the door, and there was Alice with her Samson-Enfield Mark III trained on them both. She let out a sigh and replaced the powerful sidearm into her thigh, whispering a silent prayer to God as her leg hissed shut.
“Thank goodness you are all right, miss,” Alice began, relief pouring over her face. “When I received the missive—”
“Have the children arrived?” she asked quickly.
“Not as of yet, miss.”
“Put the kettle on,” Eliza said removing her coat and cap. “Hopefully, we will all be present and accounted for by the time the tea is ready.”
Barely had they sat down in her parlour and Alice put the kettle on, when the doorbell chimed. As a trained agent of the Ministry, Eliza did not jump, but Wellington noticed her hand slip under the pillow of the sofa. Goodness alone knew what she kept in there—but it undoubtedly went bang.
Alice hurried off to answer it, Eliza’s fingers still dreadfully close to the small silk pillow. When Serena thundered around the corner, Eliza stretched her arms out and wide, allowing the small, grubby blonde girl to run into her tight embrace. She stroked the child’s hair, rocking her back and forth while Serena returned the gesture.
“When I saw the red light go off,” the child said, motioning to a small button sewn on the inside of her scarf, “I got scared, mum.”
“It’s all right,” Eliza whispered, her eyes welling up with tears, stroking the child’s hair over and over again. “It’s all right.”
The remaining Ministry Seven appeared, and Wellington found himself taking in a sigh of relief at finding all eight of Eliza’s street informants present and accounted for.
“What the game, mum?” Christopher asked.
“All is well now, children.” Wellington caught Christopher flinching at that, and he failed to understand why. This was good news. “It is time, I believe, we let you all know exactly what we are investigating.”
While the children scoffed back biscuits and Eliza silently drank her over-sweetened tea, Wellington recounted the disappearances, the repeated sightings of Diamond Dottie, and what could happen to the suffrage movement if Kate Sheppard were to disappear.
“Blimey,” Colin whispered. “So no one knows what has happened to these birds what’s disappearing?”
Eliza shot the lad a look. “If you mean the ladies that have disappeared without a trace, yes. We have no idea what their fate has been. All we know of for certain is Melinda Carnes.”
“So this is Diamond Dottie’s caper—snatching big bugs?” Eric scratched his head. “Doesn’t sound like her kind of caper at all.”
“Eric’s right,” Callum said, spraying biscuit crumbs all over Alice’s tea setting. “She’s usually all about screwing, in and out all quiet like. Maybe sometimes she throws a blag.”
“And that would explain what happened here with her girls.” Eliza spoke over her shoulder to Wellington. “A blag is a smash-and-grab theft.”
“Ah,” and Wellington returned to his tea.
Jonathan—or was it Jeremy?—leaned over to his doppelgänger and whispered something in his ear. The brother then leaned over to Callum and whispered something to him. “Jeremy says it wouldn’t be the first time a kidsman’s tried something off the path.”
Wellington pointed to the twin closest to Callum. “What makes Jeremy say such a thing?”
Callum shook his head. “No, Mr. Books, that’s Jonathan.” He then motioned to the other child, identical to his brother in every way, to Wellington; but clearly, Callum could see the difference. “That’s Jeremy over there.”
How can he tell them apart?
Eliza’s hand gently patted his shoulder. “I’ll explain later, Welly.” She then motioned to Jeremy. “What makes you say that, Jeremy?”
Jeremy leaned over and whispered to Jonathan. Jonathan then whispered to Jeremy, and Callum nodded to them both. “There have been some capers around town we’ve been hearing about. They all have signatures of skilled cracksmen, but the marks are all wrong.”
“I think, if I am accurately deciphering your street gibberish, you’re saying the burglaries are out of character for the thieves in question.”
“Pretty bright for a toff,” Liam snorted.
“Mr. Books is right,” Serena piped in. “What about that caper at the museum with all them bones and rocks?”
Wellington’s brow furrowed. “The Museum of Natural History?”
“We all had a right laugh about that one at the pub,” Christopher said. He ignored Liam’s scowl as he continued. “Seems that Fast Nate pinched a fancy ol’ rock from the museum, and there we were having a pint with him, and he’s all, ‘It was such a clean mark I don’t remember doin’ it.’ Fast Nate’s more for the manor jobs, you see.”
The Archivist shared a glance to his partner. “Interesting. Perhaps, Miss Braun, we should charge the Ministry Seven to ask about, see if there have been capers going unclaimed by Britain’s underworld?”
“But what about Dottie?” Eliza asked.
“When one crime is out of character, I would believe it to be a delinquent reaching for something more. If what the children are saying is true, this is not coincidence, but an outside hand. Perhaps Diamond Dottie’s, perhaps not.” Wellington turned back to Christopher. “Do you believe you could find out if there are other crimes being attributed to confidence tricksters?”
“I think so, yeah,” he answered.
“Then while the Ministry Seven look into that,” Wellington said, turning back to Eliza, “you and I look at the kinetoscope reels on loan from the Protectors, perhaps dig into that theft from the museum as well. I’d like to know exactly what was stolen.”
“Then we have our duties for tonight, yes?” Eliza said, looking around the table.
Nods and soft utterances of “Yes, mum,” came from the assembled children.
“Excellent.” Eliza then rubbed her hands together as she started to pace behind Wellington. “In the meantime, we should be thinking of getting closer to Diamond Dottie.”
“Infiltration?” asked Wellington.
She shook her head. “No time. I was thinking of a visit to her dwellings. A social call, just without the social aspect of it.”
Before she could continue, the doorbell chimed. All of them, save for Wellington, immediately went quiet and looked toward the door. He sat in wonderment. Did they really believe Diamond Dottie would ring the doorbell before attacking?
Alice returned to the parlour with Douglas Sheppard in tow, a small bag and what looked like a slender box half the length of his forearm cradled against him. They all relaxed—all except for Wellington who now tensed. Douglas’ courageous rescue of his mother—or at least the motivations behind it—still gave him pause, even two days later.
“Good morning, Douglas,” Eliza said, rising and smiling.
“Not for poor Charlotte Lawrence,” he blurted out, setting the items before him. Then Douglas suddenly became aware of his hat, which he quickly removed. “I’m sorry, Eliza—a dreadful thing to say, but the movement is in quite an uproar, and I am even more certain the so-called Protectors can do nothing to protect my mother.”
“Yes,” Wellington muttered, “I would have thought that was obvious at the last meeting.”
He shot Wellington a look, and then cleared his throat. “When I heard you had been at the dojo earlier this morning, I immediately asked where you were. I was so worried, Eliza.”
Wellington watched her earlier demeanour of strategist and field agent melt away.
“Oh, before I forget—” He scooped up one of the trays of biscuits and dumped the remaining few onto an empty plate, then grabbed the small bag which he proceeded to turn upside down.
“Lollies!” squealed Serena.
As the younger children dove and reached for the assortment of confections, Douglas chortled and said, “I think we all need something to lift our spirits in such a gloomy time.” He then turned to Christopher. “But you, lad�
�”
Christopher, who had in fact started to reach for the small pile of sweets, paused and looked at Douglas with apprehension.
“When I was your age, boy, I had already taken down my first big game. A Siberian tiger. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was armed with a bow, a quiver of arrows,” he said presenting Christopher with the box, “and this.”
Christopher looked to Eliza for a moment and then back to Douglas. He was clearly at a bit of a loss. Wellington, on the other hand, was ready to burst.
“Well, go on!” Douglas motioned to the box. “It won’t open by itself. It will need a bit of help.”
The eldest of the Ministry Seven pried open the box and then froze. The other children followed suit as Christopher produced a long, menacing hunting knife. One side of the blade had been sharpened to the finest of edges, while the other side sported teeth that could make easy work of any tough material. He noticed in the hilt a small button which he pressed. With a sharp ring, two stilettos shot out from the hilt, making a deadly V extending from the base of the double-edged blade.
“I’m sure being a child of the street you need to defend yourself and your fellows assembled here,” he said cheerily, motioning to the stunned, silent children. “If that is good enough to help me take down a Siberian tiger, I’m sure it can handle an unwanted thug or two.”
Christopher’s eyes never left the blade. “Thank you, guv.”
“If you like, I can show you how to use it properly. That way, no one will liberate it from you, eh?” He motioned to the box. “The scabbard is in the box.”
“Just what every lad needs,” Wellington said, his voice piercing the unexpected silence amongst the gifts, “a weapon that could either get him arrested or killed.”
“As these children know, Mr. Books, these are dark times. We need to defend ourselves and the ones we love. Which brings me to the reason I am here.” The explorer’s eyes turned to Eliza, and the sight of her, even in her masculine wear, seemed to rattle him. He smoothed out the front of his suit, checked his watch, and then hooked his thumb in the vest pocket as he began. “In light of what has happened, what with the Protectors now without their captain, we need to regroup. We both know Mother will not surrender, but I believe today’s events leaves the responsibility of protecting her to us.” He gave a shy smile and asked her, “Would you care to chat with me about my mother and her well-being say, over dinner? Tonight?”
Eliza blinked.
Alice blinked.
As did Wellington and the Ministry Seven.
“Dinner?” Eliza finally stuttered.
“Let’s call it meal between old friends. The topic of conversation, of course, being the well-being of Mother. It would mean a great deal to me, knowing your mind on this matter.”
Eliza looked back at Wellington, and then back to Douglas. “Well, I—”
“—have reservations tonight at the Bird’s Eye View, at six.”
“The Bird’s Eye View?” Eliza gave a nervous laugh. She was the only one in the room finding anything remotely amusing. “But it’s close on nigh impossible to get a table there.”
“I have a few connections in London. To be frank, my books have opened more doors than Mother’s causes.”
The man was growing more arrogant by the moment. Wellington remained glued to his seat, even as this little tableau played out before him. He barely noticed when Alice topped off his tea.
Then, as his fingers searched for his teacup, as he waited for Eliza to explain that she already had previous plans for the evening, Wellington watched in horrified wonder as Eliza D. Braun blushed. She actually blushed!
“I would be delighted, Douglas,” Eliza murmured. “I can’t think of a better way to discuss pressing issues of Kate’s security.”
“I can,” Wellington’s mouth blurted out. The Ministry Seven remained stock-still, silent as a collection of grave robbers.
Eliza ignored his comments as she took his hand and nodded.
Douglas replaced his hat, giving his lapels a light tug. “I take it, as per usual, you won’t let me pick you up at your apartments?”
“I haven’t changed that much—I’ll meet you there.”
“I hope one thing has changed. I hope Ministry business won’t keep you away from our appointment?”
“Certainly not, Douglas.”
Wellington stared down at the teacup. It looked as if he would be reviewing those secret reels tonight. Alone.
“Children,” Eliza said, her voice lighter. “I think you all should have a good hot meal tonight. Seeing as I will be otherwise engaged this evening, I’ll have Alice serve up something nice for you all. We will talk about the matters concerning Diamond Dottie another time, yes?”
No one answered her.
“Capital. If you all will excuse me then, I need to change for the impending evening.” Muttering what sounded like a preparation list for a grand night out, Eliza disappeared into the corridor Wellington knew led to her bedroom.
The silence felt thick and oppressive—at least to the Archivist. Wellington polished off his tea, and then collected his walking stick still propped by the couch he had slept across on the fateful night. A night when he had defended her in secret. “Well then, I suppose I will be off to the Archives, seeing as I have some evidence to tend to.”
His hat suddenly appeared in front of him. He looked up to Alice. Not secret to everyone, he recalled.
She looked back to where Eliza had disappeared and then turned back to him. “Is there anything you’d like me to convey to the mistress?”
“To be frank, Alice,” Wellington said, taking up his bowler and slipping his winter coat across his back, “I doubt if she would hear anything clearly right now. When she is more focused, tell her I will be more than happy to review a strategy with the Ministry Seven and Diamond Dottie. Until then, I will be retiring for the night. Alice, children . . .” He placed his bowler on his head, lightly tapping its crown. “Good day.”
“I’ll see you to the door, old chap!” Douglas chimed cheerily.
Oh, Wellington thought to himself, Lovely. I do hope there are no Siberian tigers between the parlour and the door.
The Archivist slapped on a final smile for Alice and the Ministry Seven before heading to the door with man-of-the-world Douglas Sheppard at his side.
They remained quiet while waiting for the lift. Once Douglas shut the gate and pressed the button for the main floor, Wellington spoke up.
“The gifts were a very nice touch.”
Douglas looked confused for a moment, but then that same smile Wellington had seen the night he rescued his mother appeared. “They were. Weren’t they?”
How he wished he had his auralscope with him. It was apparent Wellington was now enjoying an audience with the real Douglas Sheppard. “So how did you know about the children?”
Douglas gave a soft laugh. “Well, I have spent many days and nights tracking big game, so it would stand to reason that I would do the same for someone I still treasure.”
A chill passed though him. “You have been watching us?”
“No,” he said, his smile bright and honest, “I’ve been watching over my Eliza. I need to, seeing as no one here can. Believe me, neither you nor those guttersnipes upstairs really know her. You just don’t.” The lift shuddered to a halt. “But cheer up, Mr. Books. Tonight you have nothing but time to take care of the investigation. No need for my little Eliza to trouble herself with all that bloody fact-checking.” Douglas opened the gate and saw himself out. “Be seeing you, old chap!”
Wellington Books remained in the lift, the silence threatening to smother him. It would be his word against Eliza’s past, and Douglas Sheppard knew it.
A pang of regret formed bitterly in his mouth. He had finally found a chess player worthy of his own skill, and that opponent was a right bastard rivaling that of his own father.
“Dash it all,” he swore, his words echoing in the hollow space around him.
Chapter Twelve
Wherein Old Lovers Hold Old Secrets
Douglas always wanted to pick her up at her apartments, but Eliza couldn’t quite trust herself. Like in the Ministry it was best to arrive early and choose your ground. What Douglas might mean by asking her to dinner in such a public way she could not judge.
As she got ready for the evening out she felt as if she were preparing for battle. But she was not buckling on her armour alone.
“The Bird’s Eye View,” Alice murmured to herself as she laid out a dress on the bed for Eliza. “Very grand, I am sure.” Her clockwork leg chattered to itself as she went to the dressing table to open the drawer of jewellery. “I wish I had a fancy gent to take me out on the town.”
Eliza was already in her underthings, soft silken garments that made her feel genteel and feminine. It almost matched her pensive mood.
“Ah, Alice,” Eliza said, smoothing out the midnight blue satin of the dress, “I know you have your own set of admirers who’d be willing to take you wherever you like.”
Her maid snorted. “Billy can’t afford it, and I swear I’d never let Frank get what he’d want if he took me to such a place. No, Miss Eliza, I shall stick to my eel-jelly or fish and chips and be happy about it. Still . . .” she began as she pulled out the velvet jewellery box, undid the clasp, and flicked it open, “I can enjoy you going there, eating your fill and telling me all about it.”
Their relationship was certainly not typical of a mistress and her maid, but then neither of them were exactly typical. Eliza with her clandestine work in the government and her love of explosions made her anything but an average woman. And Alice, with her poor upbringing and her clockwork prosthetics.
Yet, Eliza knew, they were a perfect pair—and she did enjoy sharing her goings-on with Alice. She had very few lady companions in London, and none that could be as discreet as Alice.
“I shall tell you of every morsel that passes my lips,” she said, undoing the buttons on her sleeves.
Alice nudged her, “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far!” and then broke into a gale of giggles. “Mr. Douglas Sheppard is quite the dashing gentleman—and he did make quite the impression on the children.”
