“Actually, Barnaby has some news that may interest you.” Victor glared at Hatch. “It seems we’ve some missing children here in Blackwell Village, too, only nobody bothered to mention it to me until now.”
Hatch swallowed a chunk of kidney pie. “I didn’t know until last night. One of the footmen was down at the tavern and heard about it. Seems a couple lads went missing last week. Parents thought they’d just gone off on a lark, which they’ve apparently done before. Only this time they haven’t come back.”
Victor turned back to Tom. “We’ve already sent men down to the village to help with the search. I don’t see any likelihood that it’s related to your missing boy, but it is a coincidence.”
“And those are always suspect.” Connor scratched his chin. “Seems like there’s a tie to the issue in London, as well. Children missing. If this is a pattern that runs across the whole of England, there’s something very, very big going on. Merrick may be right to suspect our Alchemist has resurfaced. Children seem to be his favorite guinea pigs. Victor, do you know if either of your missing boys had any supernatural talent?”
Victor looked over at Hatch. “Nothing I know about. Barnaby?”
Hatch scowled. “Maybe the one. He’s one of the transplanted African lads. Wicked good with animals. Would swear he talks to them and understands when they talk back. Planned to bring him on as a stable boy in a year or two if he was interested. Always see him watching horses with stars in his eyes. The other is the blacksmith’s son. Doesn’t say much, but he’s big. Wouldn’t’ve been taken without a fight, for all he’s just twelve or so.”
Three years earlier, a slave ship bound for America had been wrecked off Black Heath. The villagers had adopted the refugees, integrating them into the community with surprising ease. Some of that was the villagers following the lead of their lord and lady, who’d hired several to work at the Heath, but more of it may have had to do with a mutual hatred for the smugglers. Either way, Blackwell had grown unusually integrated for a rural English village.
“Well, we’d intended to leave immediately for London, but since Wink’s upstairs, perhaps she and Melody can work their analytical engine magick from here, and over the telephone with headquarters. Then maybe we can stay at least for today.” Tom worked over the possibilities. Running to London seemed foolish when so many of his resources were already at Black Heath. “That way, I can help you look for your missing youngsters.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.” Victor finished his coffee and stood. “Connor, you with us?”
“Hell, yes.” Connor’s bright blue eyes lit up as he leaped from his seat. “Work, instead of sitting around chit-chatting all day and supervising children’s games? Do you have to ask?” He clapped his brother-in-law on the shoulder. Their camaraderie left Tom feeling awkward. He and Connor had been best mates all through university and ever since. Now though, Tom, with only a sort-of wife, was the odd man out. It was mean and petty, but he couldn’t help feeling a stab of envy toward the others and their deliriously happy marriages and children.
“Should we invite Braithwaite?” Victor asked Tom as they made their way upstairs for coats and riding boots.
“A mathematics teacher? I don’t think so.” Yes, Nell had mentioned that the other man was a former soldier, but Tom would rather not spend the entire day with him. “Let’s go, before any of the women demand to come along as well.”
“Come along where?” Wink turned a corner and arched a brow at Tom when he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You just got here and you’re leaving? Are we missing out on an adventure?” She wore her dressing gown and she bounced her infant son, Theodore Merrick McCullough, in her arms. Tom resisted the urge to reach out to stroke his godson’s bald little head.
“Helping the villagers look for a couple of lost boys,” Connor said with a shrug.
“Besides, you’re the one with a real job today,” Tom added. “Nell can give you the specifics, but we need you to use the Babbage machine to find out anything you can about her quest. Particularly travel records, if you can come up with any, since right now we have no notion of where they might be headed.”
“As soon as Teddy here has his breakfast, I can do that while Melody plays hostess. But try to be back before dinner. If you miss her party, she’s liable to gut all of you with a serving spoon.” All of the men nodded as Wink continued, “Besides, Mum will be here and will want to see you.”
Tom rolled his eyes as they went their separate ways. He looked forward to seeing Caroline, and his younger foster-siblings, but it was so easy to be overwhelmed when the whole family was around. He couldn’t wait to get on with this mission and away from the party and its abundance of family. When they were around, especially Merrick or Caro, it was so difficult to forget the damage he’d caused by his youthful stupidity. Nell was their porcelain angel, and he’d been the one to shatter her. He didn’t know how they could look at him with the same affection they’d once had, although somehow they always seemed to manage it. It was a kindness he didn’t deserve.
* * *
Nell always loved watching Wink work. The way her long fingers flew over the brass keys of a Babbage Analytical Engine was almost a caress, much like Nell felt when she played the piano. They’d set up operations in Melody’s workshop outside the main house, avoiding the crush of the gathering partygoers. As Wink typed in their search criteria, an electronic slate above the keyboard relayed the information. Meanwhile, Nell telephoned the Order’s headquarters in London, asking them to run different searches on the main engine there. After that, she began to ring up shipping companies and railway stations. Somewhere, there had to be some link to Charlie’s so-called aunt and their whereabouts. She refused to accept the possibility that their search was hopeless.
“Did you know Doctor’s Commons issued five special licenses for Cambridge the month Tom was married?” Wink said as Nell rang off from another fruitless inquiry.
“Really?” Nell had no interest at all in statistics. “Is that a lot or a few?”
“Quite a bit for one town,” Wink answered. “Only London and Manchester had as many, and they’re much larger cities.”
“But without a concentrated population of randy young gentlemen.” Nell kept her finger on the next number she needed to call, a French steamship firm with offices in Southampton. “I imagine there are often hasty marriages surrounding universities. I knew of at least one when I was at the Academy.” While Geneva, Melody and Wink had gone to Lovelace College at Oxford, among the first women in the country to study sciences at an advanced level, Nell had stayed in London with Merrick’s Aunt Dorothy and attended the Royal Academy of Music. More proof that she was the least adventurous of them all.
“True,” Wink said. “But even Oxford only had two that month. And that’s not the strange part.”
“Oh?” Surely the Order had already been over all the possible information surrounding Tom’s marriage. “I thought you were supposed to be searching for a birth record for Charlie.”
“I am. This is just a secondary line of inquiry.” Wink waved her hand at the machine, then patted the top of the brass input board with its gleaming black keys. “I upgraded this beauty just yesterday. She’s got way more power than any ordinary engine.”
“And?” Nell gazed into her sister’s hazel eyes. They glinted with excitement. Wink had found something.
“Aaand,” Wink said, “four of those five involve women whose given names begin with the letter P. One is Polly, one Pauline, a Paulette and a Penelope. All four men, including Tom, have their occupation listed as Student.”
Nell set down the handset of the telephone and swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “That’s an awful coincidence. Surnames?”
Wink sighed. “Barclay, which we knew. Burlington, Bourne and Barker.”
All the same initials. Nell’s head spun. “Do we know if the same vicar performed the ceremonies?”
Wink snorted. “Not from here. The thing is, the sp
ecial licenses have only just been added to our engine databases. England has a long history and a lot of records. It will be years before they’re all available to search by machine, even though we do have typewriting clerks working on it all over the country.”
Nell’s fingers shook, so she clenched them in her lap. “And the birth records?”
“Not yet. The machine is searching. There are dozens of parishes close enough to Cambridge that he needn’t have been christened in the same one where the marriage was held—assuming he was christened, or his birth at least recorded by a doctor or midwife. I’m looking for a Charles, any last name, born within a year to either side of Charlie’s estimated birthday. There are a lot, so we’ll have to sort through those results by hand. I’m thinking we can narrow it down to mothers with the initials P. and B.”
“Can I help?”
The two women swirled to see Roger standing in the doorway. How had he snuck up on them without Nell hearing? And how much had he heard?
“I feel rather superfluous, since the men all left without me this morning. Even Sir Fergus appears to have gone along on the search.”
Neither woman wanted to mention that Melody’s father was still an active Knight, despite being in his fifties. Instead, Wink beamed. “As soon as the machine prints out the list, you certainly can. A good analytical mind shouldn’t be wasted. I was wishing our brother Piers was here to pitch in.” She turned to Nell. “I’ll start looking for the marriage records for those four licenses. I’d like to see if the same vicar was involved.”
Nell smiled weakly as Roger took a seat at Melody’s workbench and tucked a pencil behind his ear. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that while we’re out looking for a lost boy, two others should turn up missing? Although I don’t see how they could possibly be connected.” His brow furrowed.
“Coincidences do happen,” Wink said, her fingers moving on the keys. “After all, you turned up here on the very day the house is full of useful people.”
Nell snorted. “Yes, but I did know about the party, plus Tom and I both knew that Melody and Victor could at least contact headquarters and the rest of you. I don’t think I trust this other coincidence. Papa is working on something in London that also involves missing children. He wondered if Charlie’s disappearance could be related.” That much, Roger already knew. She wasn’t giving away Order secrets.
“And isn’t it a coincidence that so many members of your family and the MacKays apparently work for the same branch of the Home Office?” Roger lifted a brow behind his spectacles.
“Not exactly,” Nell said. “They tend to recruit from within. Later, I’ll have Papa give you the full explanation. For now, just trust us, if you can.”
He smiled softly. “For you, darling, anything.” He accepted the printout Wink handed over and took his pencil from behind his ear. “Now, what am I looking for?”
So far, Roger had seemed perfectly at ease with her family and friends. She drew in a deep breath. Would he be so interested once he knew all the dirty secrets? She hoped so. That ordinary life depended upon it.
Chapter Four
Tom and the others started their search at the local boys’ favorite fishing hole. At Wink’s insistence, they’d brought along her clockwork mastiff, George, who had an unmatched ability to follow a scent. They’d also collected Melody and Victor’s pair of MacKay-bred Scottish deerhounds, just in case George somehow managed to miss something, and because the dogs enjoyed a walk. The boys’ mothers had each provided a piece of clothing so all three dogs could take the scent.
“There was definitely a struggle,” Victor noted, getting off his horse to inspect the torn-up terrain. Chunks of turf had been scuffed up and one nearby shrub was broken, as if someone had recently fallen into it. Other searchers had left dozens of tracks, making it difficult to determine much more. “Barnaby was right. The boys didn’t go without a fight. Unless they beat the hell out of each other and both drowned, I’m pretty sure someone took them.”
Tom squatted beside the stream, finding isolated footprints. “Small feet, bare, one set wider than the other.” He laid a hand over the prints and murmured a spell. To his immense relief, the spell didn’t slam into him like an avalanche, as it had in the headmistress’s office. Instead, he was simply able to sense the surface emotions of the boys who’d left the tracks. “So young. Happy and carefree.”
Then he moved to the scuffed terrain and tried the spell again. The emotion was more intense here, but didn’t soak into his being. “Anger, fear, determination and someone just doing a job. Look for man-sized prints leading away from the village, outside the scuffed area. Probably at least two, to subdue and haul off both boys.”
Obediently, the others got off their horses and looked. Connor held the boys’ clothing down so the deerhounds could get the scent, then gave the command to search before doing the same with George.
It didn’t take the dogs long. Within a moment, George started off along an overgrown trail leading inland, away from the small fishing village of Blackwell. The big gray dogs loped alongside him. They’d have taken the lead if they hadn’t been leashed. The men followed along, leading their horses.
The trail had obviously been used in the recent past. Years of undergrowth had been trampled to lay flat on the ground, while the encroaching shrubbery bore bent and broken twigs all along the route. After perhaps half a mile, the path opened up onto a rutted country lane.
“Damn,” Fergus muttered. “The dogs might be able to track an open wagon, but not a closed coach.”
The men studied the ground while the dogs sniffed it. “Something definitely sat here a while,” Connor said, pointing to deep ruts, the right width apart for a wagon.
Barnaby grunted. “Aye. It rained the night before the boys went missing, so the road would have been damp. That’s a boon to us.”
The dogs hesitated, except for George. He moved a few yards in the same direction the wagon tracks seemed to lead and barked, the sound rough and brassy.
“Search, George,” Tom commanded, and the bronze mastiff continued down the road at a steady pace, moving away from Blackwell, inland toward Dartmoor. Soon, the other dogs seemed to scent something in the air. The men mounted their horses and continued to follow.
“What’s down this way?” Fergus asked Victor. “Another town?”
“Not for some distance,” Victor said. “There’s an old tin mine, but that was played out and abandoned decades ago. They sold off all the equipment. I believe my father purchased one of the water pumps for Black Heath’s well.”
“Are any of the buildings still standing?” Tom asked. “A deserted mine might make a good headquarters for someone up to no good.”
“And some of those ancient mines had other chemicals along with the tin,” Connor added. “Perhaps something like arsenic, which our Alchemist might find useful.”
“I don’t know.” Victor looked around. “Haven’t been out this way since I was a boy. There was a building or two, I think.”
They crested a hill, the terrain sloping gradually up from the sea coast to the moor, but in a series of tors and valleys. The trees gave way to scrubbier vegetation. Ahead, a faint plume of smoke appeared from behind a rocky outcropping, perhaps a mile or so further up the gentle slope.
“Let’s leave the horses here,” Fergus said. “We’ll sneak up and see what’s about.”
“Five men?” Barnaby snorted. “Stand out like a parade on that ground. Cap’n, I’m requesting permission to do reconnaissance.” He saluted Victor.
“He’s right.” Victor stroked his moustache. “Tom, why don’t you and Barnaby take it from here?”
Connor shared a glance with his father. “All right. Don’t engage without us though. We don’t want to miss out on any fun.”
Tom handed his reins to Connor. Barnaby was older, probably closer in age to Fergus than to the others, but he was smaller and uncannily nimble. They’d worked together in the past when trouble had threate
ned Victor and Melody.
“I can do a little to make this easier.” Tom laid a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder and chanted. “I call this my ‘never mind’ spell. It isn’t much. We won’t be invisible or inaudible, but unless we do something to draw attention, folks will tend to overlook us.” It was a fairly complex casting, since it mucked with other people’s perceptions, but it was one Tom had particularly worked on. True invisibility was well out of the range of a Knight’s magick, with the possible exception of Lord Drood. Even the rest of the Order wasn’t sure what their high mage could or couldn’t manage.
Barnaby shot Tom a suspicious look, but didn’t argue. The retired sailor had been around the world long enough to know about magick, but like most sensible people, he preferred to stay clear of it. Then both men began to creep forward, one on either side of the road, using the occasional upthrust slab of granite and small shrubs as cover. At the top of the ridge, they paused to take in the landscape below.
The moor sloped slightly downward for several hundred yards, before leveling off for about the same distance, followed by another, taller hill. The mine, sitting at the near edge of the valley floor, had once been an open pit, leaving a roughly circular depression, surrounded by spoil heaps and rubble. Later, someone had drilled actual mine shafts into the hill directly beneath the pit. The buildings, made of local stone, one small and one large, were fairly recent, perhaps fifty or sixty years old. The small one might be an office, and the larger one had freight doors suggesting some kind of storage facility, but whether for ore or equipment, Tom had no idea. Mining wasn’t something he’d ever studied. About fifty feet behind the smaller building was a privy, which looked to be recently repaired.
Barnaby pointed at the stone arch directly below them. Clangs and thumps emerged. Someone was actively mining inside. There were no visible guards, but they had no way of knowing how many men were in the buildings or inside the shaft.
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