“She’s a clever old bird, but not much for such a missish display as weeping.” Nell accepted the flask he handed her and drank down several swallows of cool tea. “Thank you. Now as soon as I straighten my hair, we can go interrogate the vicar.”
Tom chuckled. “Don’t have to sound so pleased about it, you little heathen.”
Nell grinned, her gloom parting like a fog, replaced by her natural optimism. “If I’m a heathen, all you boys are hopelessly bound for damnation.” She adjusted her hairpins and hat as best she could without a mirror. “Come on. Let’s get this over with. I think, perhaps, I am a trifle peckish.”
* * *
They left the vicar’s study full of tea and raisin buns, and in possession of both the marriage lines of Mary “Polly” Landers to one Algernon Charlemagne Berrycloth in the fall of 1853, well before Tom’s matriculation at Cambridge, and the birth record for the couple’s son, also Charlemagne, just like Mrs. Landers had said, on April 1, 1855. A death record for the boy had also been filed for August, 1859, from scarlet fever. Tom couldn’t help but wonder if another hapless child had been buried in Charlie’s stead, or if his coffin was merely filled with sand.
“It’s getting late,” Nell said as he handed her into the car. “Let’s forget supper and head back to London.”
“If you don’t mind.” Since they’d gotten photographs of the records, there wasn’t a rush to have Wink search them out in the database. “I’ll make arrangements for the morning flight, if that’s all right with you.”
“It’s fine.” She took off her hat and rested her head against the seat of the car. “Oddly coincidental that it’s India we’re going to, but now that I have a reason to go there, I must admit, I’m wildly curious. Whenever I’m not thinking about Charlie, I’ll be spending the trip looking around, wondering if any of the men I meet might just be my natural father.”
Tom was getting into murky territory here, but he’d promised Merrick to say nothing until they knew more. In this case, though, his loyalty was to Nell. She deserved better than to be blindsided. “Nelly, there’s something we haven’t told you…”
Her only response was a soft, almost musical snore. Even in sleep, she was melodic. She let out a small whimper and curled deeper into the leather seats.
He didn’t have the heart to wake her. It had been a long and difficult day. Besides, he’d have plenty of time on the two-night airship flight to ease her into the knowledge that he and Merrick had gleaned on her behalf.
His heart swelled as he glanced sideways in the murky twilight of southern Britain. He’d never deserved her love or her loyalty, and he certainly didn’t deserve the friendship and compassion she demonstrated on a daily basis whenever they were together. Now, though, now things were different. He was finally free to act on the love he’d been holding inside since they were both nothing more than children. He was free to court Nell, but should he? He certainly didn’t deserve her. After all he’d put her through, did he have the right to ask for her forgiveness?
He’d use the next two days to think about that, as well.
Chapter Nine
Their dirigible sailed bright and early the following morning. None of the Order’s airships were designed for intercontinental travel, so they’d been booked first-class staterooms on a royal mail liner. Since they were visiting India on behalf of Her Majesty, they’d had to pack a bit less lightly than Tom would have preferred, meaning they had trunks—one of his and several Nell’s—to deal with as well as his usual well-worn Gladstone bag. As they lifted off, Tom stood beside Nell at the rail, looking back at London, which was shrouded in smoke and fog and receding by the minute. Soon they removed their air masks, but neither moved to make their way inside the luxurious gondola.
“It’s rather frustrating to have to spend two days traveling when we can’t do anything but wait.” Nell wrinkled her nose. “I imagine you’re far more used to that than I am. Some dead time must be a factor in every mission.”
“Well, we will check for cables at each fueling stop along the way, but no, travel time is basically just about waiting. And I’m not as used to it as you might think. By airship, we can reach just about anywhere in Britain within hours. And France is the farthest I’ve been sent before. As I was only a courier, the entire mission was entirely uneventful.” He chuckled. “But you’re right. I hate it. Which is why I brought something for you to study on the way to Calcutta. If you’re interested, that is.”
“What?” She tipped her head quizzically, her large, dark eyes shining with soft amber highlights in the bright sunshine. She was so beautiful, inside and out, that it was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, the way he’d wanted to since that one magickal night. Instead, she socked him lightly on the shoulder. “Tom, what did you bring?”
“Let’s go inside.” He took her arm. “This is a little too personal to discuss on deck.” Especially given that they were practically shouting to be heard over the sound of the turbines above their heads.
Nell took his arm and walked beside him down to their staterooms. To any observer, they probably seemed perfectly at ease, brother and sister traveling together, but he felt the strain between them down to his very bones. They went to Nell’s room, since a servant waited there to act as chaperone. As first-class passengers, they’d been expected to bring their own attendants, so one of the Hadrian housemaids had come along to serve as abigail to Nell. Tom preferred to dress himself, and turned down the ship’s offer of a temporary valet. He stopped in his own room to pick up a folder full of documents before following Nell into her cabin.
Eileen Morrissey was a motherly woman in her mid-forties, a long-time servant of the Hadrian household, well familiar with the activities of the Order and trusted implicitly. As they entered, she was hanging a freshly pressed gown on a hook. “I thought this one for dinner tonight, Miss Nell. Since you’ll be at the captain’s table, you’ll want to look your best.”
“That’s fine, Eileen.” Nell barely glanced at the bright green evening gown. She perched on one of the chairs near the tiny table and motioned Tom into the other. “Now, what is this mysterious puzzle all about? Something to do with the case?”
Tom set the packet on the table as he sat. He’d been leery about broaching a subject so intimate. Originally, Piers and Merrick had intended to talk to Nell about this, after a little more research had been done. “No, this isn’t about the case, Nell. It’s much more personal than that. Something you’ve never talked about over the years, never asked about, is your natural father. You must be curious about him. Have you any interest in discovering who he might be?”
“I suppose I’ve wondered from time to time, like any child would. I remember the things my mother said. Once, when I was little, I even made a sketch of him, adjusting it according to my mother’s memories. She said he was handsome, despite the hue of his skin. I made one for Piers, too. When he was born, she had one patron most of the time. There were others of course, but she always thought it was the butcher down the street. He was married, but he used to bring her presents in secret and I’m sure he was Piers’s father. He even brought little things for me and for the baby. The poor man doted on Piers, but he was killed in a carriage accident not long after Piers was born.” In typical Nell fashion, she’d managed to turn the conversation away from her own concerns and onto someone else’s. This time, Tom wasn’t having it.
“It might surprise you to know that Piers has done some research into the butcher’s family.” Tom wanted to get that part of the discussion out of the way. “He’s quite certain the man was his biological father and has even met a half brother, who looks like him. I think he was hoping to speak with you about that the next time he saw you, but unfortunately we didn’t cross paths in London this trip.”
Nell’s brow furrowed. “I can’t believe he went to all that trouble without even mentioning it to me. But what does this have to do with my biological father? He certainly didn’t live do
wn the block.”
“I’m off to unpack your things, Sir Tom.” Eileen bustled toward the connecting door. Her small berth was tucked in between, along with a space for their trunks. “I’ll leave the doors open.” Propriety would be satisfied, but they’d have some privacy. As usual, Tom had nothing but admiration for the Hadrian servants.
“That’s fine.” He could have easily unpacked his own clothing, but there was no point in trying to argue with Eileen. Not when she’d been helping look out for the two of them since the day they’d moved in to the Hadrian townhouse wearing nothing but rags.
Nell eyed the documents as if they were a particularly venomous snake. “What else have you and Piers been up to behind my back?”
“Actually, Papa started the investigation shortly after your adoption, mostly at Piers’s request.” Tom opened the folder and pulled out the first piece of paper. “This is a list of the ships that were docked near Wapping the month you would have been conceived.”
Nell snorted. “There was never a shortage of seafarers in Wapping. You know that as well as anyone. You used to fleece them all at cards. Thousands of sailors from all over the world dock in London every year. There are probably a hundred with dark skin in any given month.”
“True enough.” He sorted out some of the other papers. “But the East India Company ships have their own docks, and those are further upriver. Most of the ships docked near Wapping were in the West Indies trade, which tend to have English or American sailors, or even African slaves.”
. “Barbaric practice.” Nell shuddered. “I can’t believe the Americans haven’t outlawed it yet. Are you trying to say that one of them was my birth father? Not that it would make any difference. It just doesn’t match up with my mother’s recollections.”
“No.” Tom kept his eyes on the documents. From what you’ve said, and what Piers remembers of that sketch, we believe your father was East Indian.”
“Still, that doesn’t narrow things down much. India is huge. And there’s also Afghanistan, Burma, Siam, Ceylon… Tom, this is beyond searching for a needle in a haystack. It’s impossible. Besides, as I’ve said before, many times before, it doesn’t matter. I had my first mother, and she stayed with me the best she could until I was safe. Then we all had Mum and Papa.”
“Of course we do. But wouldn’t you prefer to know your genetic heritage? The search may have started as a needle in a haystack, but think how much easier that task would be with a powerful magnet. I may not be magnetic, but I do have—”
“Magick.” She grimaced. “That’s your magnet. Not to mention Wink and her engines. You’re not going to let this go, are you? Very well, what have you found?”
He tipped his head. “As I was trying to say, we believe your natural father may well have been working on a particular vessel. The Star of Calcutta was docked near Wapping for two weeks, exactly nine months before you were born. The crew was half English and half from the West Bengal region. Here’s the ship’s crew list. Your mother said the man was an officer, right?”
Nell stared at the document as if she were afraid to touch it. “Yes. She said his uniform was remarkably fine and he paid her with a real ruby. I was never sure she was telling the truth. It might have just been to make me feel better about being so dark and foreign-looking.”
Tom snorted. Nell was beautiful, and her dark skin didn’t detract from that a bit. “Assuming she told the truth, that limits it to these three men, all from towns right near Calcutta. With a little judicial use of magick, I’ve noticed a similar vibration between one signature in particular and your own writing. Since we’re going to be in the region, I thought we might do a little more research, perhaps even find him.” There was more, but he thought she had enough to digest for one evening.
She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know. I want to meet him, of course, and yet, what if he doesn’t want to see me, the daughter of a dockside whore, for heaven’s sake? Men who pay people for sex aren’t looking for a doting family many years later.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “You do see that this is nonsense, don’t you? We’re going to India on a mission to rescue a wonderful boy and stop a dangerous criminal. Charlie’s future and putting a stop to the Alchemist are both so much more important than digging into ancient history that can’t possibly matter to anyone. Papa—Merrick Hadrian—is my father, now and forever. He’s the only father I’ll ever need.”
“Fine.” Tom stood. “Look through the papers if you wish, but it’s entirely your choice, of course. I will say, that for the short time I knew him, I was delighted to find my natural grandfather and learn more about my father and mother, even though they were both gone. That doesn’t take away a whit of what I feel for Mum and Papa.” He didn’t always call them that, of course. When they were working, Sir Merrick was Sir Merrick, but even though he hadn’t been adopted, he’d been encouraged to be one of the family in every way that counted, which included calling the others brother and sister, except, of course, for Nell.
“You were a child.” She carefully tucked the documents back into their folder. “And we hadn’t been with Mum and Papa long enough to really become family yet.”
Tom moved to the connecting door. “That’s true. But as we know more than most, family is a somewhat flexible notion. Our family began when Wink and I decided to team up to survive life on the street. When you, then Piers, then Jamie joined us, it didn’t dilute that affection, and neither did being taken in by Papa and Mum. Family can expand without diminishing the love. Finding the man who sired you won’t take anything away from your life as a Hadrian. I can promise you that, if anyone can. But just as it’s possible to have had more than one mother you love, it may be possible to have two fathers in your life.” Leaving her to think about that, he returned to his own cabin and sent Eileen back to Nell.
He slumped into a chair and poured himself a brandy from his hip flask. This trip was going to be the most difficult of his life. Just traveling with Nell was liable to test every moral fiber he possessed. He’d rather hoped to sidetrack her into looking for her father while he found the Alchemist, but it looked as though his plan was doomed to fail. She was determined to hunt alongside him. Watching her walk into the possible danger of a mission was liable to kill him, even without a single shot being fired.
* * *
Nell stared at the packet of papers for what felt like hours, trying to sort out how she felt about investigating her own history. She understood Piers having needed to. He was the insatiably curious one of their family, particularly when it came to academic questions, and heredity would seem like an academic matter to him. Each of their family had different, if no less powerful desires, without which they wouldn’t be whole. Tom needed to protect those weaker than himself; Wink needed to build things and make them work; Nell needed music and to care for others; Jamie needed to fight for the greater good. Even little Sylvie had already shown a gift for making things grow. Piers needed to know things. Preferably to know everything. Although he and Wink were the two with no supernatural abilities, they both made up for it with the sheer brilliance of their minds. Wink understood everything there was to know about anything mechanical. Piers was a walking textbook of just about everything else. Of course he’d needed to learn more about the people who shared his blood. It was a little unsettling, though, for Nell to think about the idea of Piers having other half siblings. She and Piers had always had a special bond, even among their adoptive family. That tiny bit of shared blood and shared history meant something, although, as Tom had said, it didn’t take away from her love for any of the rest of them.
What a muddle. Why on earth had Tom thought to bring it up in the middle of a rescue mission? Furthermore, why hadn’t Papa said anything? Why leave it to Tom, when they all knew how rocky things were between them? Most importantly, what wasn’t the blighter telling her? She’d known him too long not to recognize the signs of evasion. There could well be dangers beyond bandits, tigers, disease
and cobras awaiting her in Calcutta.
She paced her room, wishing for a magickal telephone that could be used from an airship and not require wires. Maybe she should talk to Wink about that when she got home. It would be nearly as great a breakthrough as the smoke scrubbers Wink was perfecting to make the air of London and other cities breathable again. Surely wireless communication couldn’t be much more difficult? It would mean so much right now to be able to talk to her mother.
Nell leaned her head back and closed her eyes, feeling horribly alone. The airship was a new structure, so there were no ghosts to look to for counsel, and Eileen had never been a close confidante. She was a darling and as loyal as they came, and no secrets of the Order or the family would ever pass her lips outside the house, but she had four sisters working among the Hadrian staff. Nell might as well post her feelings on a signboard in the family dining room.
“You look tuckered out, Miss Nell. Let me fix you a cup of tea.” Eileen had slipped back into Nell’s room and shut the door silently behind her.
“Thank you.” Nell gazed down at the envelope on her lap, putting off the inevitable. “How are you finding the ship, Eileen? I’ve never seen such a vast airship before. I heard there are even tennis and badminton courts.”
“It’s true, miss. It’s like Buckingham Palace in the sky. There are two libraries, can you imagine?” Smiles wreathed her round face and her blue eyes sparkled. “Two. And first-class servants have the use of the one for the second-class passengers, along with a sundeck, a smoking room for the gents, a ladies’ parlor and a lovely dining hall. There’s even a salon where I can get my hair done, and shops for everything from postcards to shoes to china. Whatever will they imagine next?” She coughed. “Err, not that I’ll have time for any of that, but it’s a treat just to read the brochures.”
Ether & Elephants Page 15
