“Impossible,” Uncle Stuart said, his gaze never leaving us. “We never sent for them.”
“You did not, Fitzroy, but I did,” my father declared proudly. “I spoke to them out at the Hall, before I came here. Now we’ll find out what’s really afoot.” He held out his hand. “Give me those papers, Stuart. There will be no signing today.”
I cannot say what exactly happened, then.
My father reached for the papers, as if to snatch them away from Uncle Stuart. At the same time, Jo seized my father’s sword and Uncle Stuart took aim. She tackled him and a pistol fired. My father fell with a cry, but I was already running at Diana.
I threw myself against her and we tumbled to the ground. The pistol sailed from her grasp to shatter a windowpane as she struck me with a surprising amount of strength. The world went white and I rolled to my side. Her stricken face appeared before me as she slapped and punched me. Somewhere, a second pistol fired and plaster rained down on us. I seized one of Diana’s arms and twisted it backwards, only to have her bring her other forearm down upon my throat, crushing the very air from me. Her face was contorted in a horrifying desperation. Everything began to swim—God I was dying—
And then Jo came up behind her and wrapped an arm around Diana’s neck, dragging her off me. Diana kicked and tried to claw at Jo, and I wiggled backwards only to find the point of Uncle Stuart’s sword at my throat. Jo screamed something—
And then constables rushed into the room, seizing us. The sword was taken from Uncle Stuart; my pale, shuddering father was borne away on a stretcher. Only later would I understand what one of the constables had said, shaking his head: that the second shot had been from Uncle Stuart’s pistol. The shot which had so grievously wounded my father had been fired by Diana.
CHAPTER XVI
Changing Seasons
FOR SEVERAL LONG nights, my father hovered between life and death. He had been shot in the hip, losing a quantity of blood and rending his leg all but useless. Far more debilitating was his subsequent fall, whereby he struck his head on the raised hearth of the fireplace. My world was reduced to his bedroom and the hallway outside, where I would listen to the surgeon’s somber prognoses and Mr. Simmons’ reports from the village. Of Jo, he could find no word. She had been spirited away by government agents, who had spoken darkly of outstanding warrants. Diana and her father had been similarly taken into custody and charged with several financial crimes as well as my father’s assault. They were subsequently taken to London for trial, and apparently my statement was sufficient for the prosecution.
I could not think on how to press the matter further, and then I could not think at all, save to track each shallow breath from the shrouded bed, answer every minute pressure from the dear hand in mine. Mrs. Simmons, without prompting, set up a little cot in the room, and from time to time would stand over me while I obediently ate a few bites of food. I lost track of days, for the curtains were always drawn. I lost track of everything. Was it my father or my mother before me? Was I a grown woman, or a child once more? In my mind, the two scenes blurred until they were indistinguishable, forming one endless stretch of shadow and silence and, I, numb with grief.
Once, only once, I glimpsed from my father’s window what appeared to be a suited figure standing in our gardens, gazing up at me. But by the time I reached the door, the phantasm was gone.
At last, my father’s eyes opened. He seemed to know me, but when he tried to speak what came out was incoherent noise. I cried out for the surgeon and Mr. Simmons raced to fetch him. My father grew increasingly wild at his own tumbled reason, despite the efforts of Mrs. Simmons and I to comfort him. The surgeon arrived and gave him a sedative, then counseled me on a long and difficult recovery, in which my father might never regain his full faculties. I heard the surgeon’s words; I answered them; I believed myself fully cognizant of their import. Only later that night, however, did I understand that my father’s prognosis meant the end of that bolder, braver Caroline. There would be no more talk of marriage, but there would also be no further adventures, no more of that wild excitement, no more of that feeling of alive that I had experienced.
To ease my melancholy, I took to walking—just circling the house, in case I was needed, but each time walking farther, farther, five, ten, twenty circuits at a time, clockwise and counterclockwise. Building my endurance, or so I told myself, though I had nothing in the future to endure. It was with a bittersweet pang that I saw, one late summer morning, a lapwing careen overhead, and heard its peculiar cry. Each day after there were more birds, and more, until the air was as full of song as it had always been. It seemed an end to something, a diminished return to the life I had known.
I thought all this and I kept walking, step after step, circuit after circuit.
Thus, summer passed into autumn. My father’s recovery was as slow and difficult as the surgeon predicted, with long stretches of anguish and frustration punctuated by tiny achievements: the hard first syllable of Caroline, the steady movement of spoon to lip. I tried to take as much joy as I could from these milestones, yet my heart sank every time I looked out the window and saw the falling leaves that blew across our grounds.
Without the pressing fear of my father’s illness, the brief events of the summer began to haunt my sleep. Again and again I felt that strange, wonderful kiss in the darkness, the slide of Jo’s thumb across my hand and what I knew now to be the sweet sensation of being understood, in some deeply important way. Again and again I saw the monster rising over us, and Sir Edward’s body so dwarfed by those vast limbs, his jittering body becoming the remains of Emily, which became Diana’s twisting blows as she tried to kill me... too, with hindsight, I began to wonder at aspects I had ignored in the peril of the moment. What of Thomas, the brother? How did he figure in Sir Edward’s schemes? How many more were involved in the cult of the so-called Leviathan? What reasoned explanation could account for the creature’s existence, and what reaction did a woman’s blood and body provoke that Sir Edward had found so desirable?
Sometimes I found myself gazing at where the water lay, just past the trees ringing our house, and wondered where the beast had gone. To the coast of Europe, to lay waste on command? Or had it retreated to some deep, dark recess in the cold seas? There was no one I could speak to about it, save for Jo.
In a renewed effort to reach her, I sent Mr. Simmons to the post office to review their directories and he returned with an address for Chase, Atkinson, and Wood, Attorneys. Using that address, I wrote to Mrs. Matthew Chase, asking if Joanna was safe and well. When at last Simmons handed me the envelope with its unfamiliar handwriting, my heart leapt, but to read the letter felt as if I were losing yet another beloved figure in my life.
Miss Daniels,
With regards to your letter inquiring after Joanna Chase, I must ask that you never invoke her name again. I have no such child.
Mrs. Matthew Chase
It was done, then. Whatever hope I had of somehow ascertaining Jo’s fate, or even seeing her again, was gone. And even if I had contacted her, what would have been the point? To invite her to stay with me and help nurse my father? It was no life for a creature such as her; I knew this in my heart.
When the carriage arrived that afternoon, I was feeling particularly resigned. At first, I ignored the knocking, until I remembered that Mrs. Simmons had gone after her husband as he had forgotten the shopping list. With a quick glance at my sleeping father, I hurried down the stairs, not even thinking about my dishevelment. The surgeon was used to seeing me in such disarray—
Only to stop, bewildered, at the sight of the plainly dressed, fidgeting woman on my doorstep, my mind unable to comprehend the shy, hopeful expression that met mine.
“Am I that wretched in skirts?” Jo asked.
In response, I threw my arms around her neck and burst into tears. She hugged me back tightly, nearly pulling me off my feet. “Caroline,” she breathed into my hair.
“You’re all right.” I w
as crying so hard I could barely form the words. All that I had refused to consider during these long weeks, it all came pouring out. “I thought you were dead, I thought you had been shipped to a colony, I thought—”
She hushed me. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice as choked as mine. “They wanted to wait until the trial was over before letting me contact you—”
“I even wrote to your mother!” I burst out.
At that she laughed, drawing back and wiping at both our faces. “And received a most unhelpful reply, I’m sure.”
I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t let go of her. I couldn’t stop looking at her.
“I thought the dress might prove easier for your father,” she said, glancing down at herself. “Though I’m afraid to ask how he fares? They said he was recovering, but I didn’t dare hope...”
I was smiling through my tears and yet my heart sank at her words. Never had I felt so many emotions at once, and unable to name a one. “He can speak if he is careful, and the surgeon thinks he might walk a little with practice. I—” I broke off, bowing my head. “Perhaps you should not have come,” I mumbled.
“What do you mean?” She ducked down, trying to catch my gaze. “Caroline. If you do not want—I mean, I hadn’t planned that we... that you and I...”
“I cannot leave him,” I said. My throat was closing painfully. “I cannot leave him, Jo. Not anymore.”
“Ah.” The sound came out almost guttural. For a moment, she was silent. I dared not look at her. At least I knew she was all right. At least I knew, now.
“Is this Miss Daniels, then?”
I jerked up to see a man standing by the plain black carriage. I had not realized she had a companion. He was small and slight, dark-skinned, with eyes made unreadable by a pince-nez and his tricorn pulled low. His suit was as luxurious as any I had ever seen, and his walking stick was topped with what looked like gold.
“If you could give us a moment,” Jo said over her shoulder.
“I do need to get back—”
“A moment,” she interrupted, her voice cold.
With a shrug he turned and strolled a little ways down the drive where he stopped once more, tapping one gloved finger against the shiny gold.
“You are being sent away,” I whispered.
“Quite the contrary.” She took my hand in hers, holding it as if it were something fragile. “I do not want to say too much. I want you to hear him without prejudice.” She squeezed my hand as I started to speak; I realized with a start that she was trembling. “The choice is yours, Caroline Daniels. It is entirely yours. Just know that, no matter what? I would—I would like to stay nearby, if I could. I would like to know you better, I would like—but I’ve said too much,” she finished in a rush. “You must decide.”
I felt utterly bewildered. “You would stay? Even with...” Suddenly I heard in my mind the rest of her words. “Wait, what do you mean, decide? Decide what?”
But she only squeezed my hand again, then gestured to the man. “He needs to return to London tonight, thus he would speak with you now,” she said more formally. “Know, too, that you do not have to decide anything today. You do not have to do anything save what you think best for you.”
She released my hand and started to step back, but I caught at her arm. “Promise me,” I said. “Promise me you’ll stay right here.”
At my words her whole face lit up. She smiled warmly at me. “I promise.”
I knew then I was to move, to turn and speak to this stranger, yet I could not stop looking at her. She met my gaze unflinchingly, but I could feel her trembling beneath my hand, and it seemed that somehow we said much to each other, though neither of us uttered a word aloud.
“Bloody hell, Caroline,” she finally whispered.
I burst into giggles, a nervous relief washing over me. Jo started snickering in turn. “We really must do something about your swearing,” I said.
At that her smile became something else, something far more sly, and I felt an answering tremor deep in my belly. “You are more than welcome to try, Miss Daniels,” she purred.
“Miss Chase?” The man’s voice brought us up short. We both turned to see him holding up a large watch, his foot tapping.
Jo laughed again and angled her head. “Go on, then. Before he becomes properly cross.”
“Should I fetch a pistol?” I inquired.
She gave him a considering look. “I think you should be safe,” she said. “But do feel free to slap him if he offends.”
At her encouraging smile, I turned at last to this strange visitor. As I crossed the drive I noticed how utterly blue the sky was, crossed by a hawk lazily surveying the grasses. The last week had been nothing but cold rain. It seemed somehow important that the day was so perfectly glorious.
As I drew close, I glanced up at the windows, and for a moment I thought my father was gazing down upon me; but it was just a shadow crossing the glass.
Upon inspection, the strange man was older, closer to my father in age than myself, but with a lithe bearing and bottomless eyes that seemed to look right through me. He made no motion to remove his hat, and instead of kissing my hand, he gave it a hearty shake.
“Miss Daniels,” he said warmly. “I am delighted to meet you at last. Perhaps we can walk a ways together? I have a proposal for you.”
With a last look at Jo, I slipped my hand through his crooked arm and we began strolling across the field, dried leaves crackling under our feet. “You have the advantage of me,” I said, “for while you know my name, I do not know yours, nor anything about you.”
“My last name is Smith,” the man replied. “You can call me that. I have no title as such. I report only to His Majesty, and only on very select subjects.”
“Such as Sir Edward Masterson?”
“Indeed.” He tapped his cane rhythmically on the soft grass as we walked, an odd, muffled staccato to our measured steps. “Though, please do not call him ‘Sir.’ The man was never honored for anything in his life. You did us a service this summer, both in witnessing the creature and in discovering at least one of his intimate circle, Mister Fitzroy.” He shook his head. “Ancient beasts in our waters, young women being treated like slop, fanatics exercising their perversities to the fullest... we live in strange times, Miss Daniels, with dark currents that press against us unceasingly.”
“But surely there is no more cause for concern,” I said. “Sir—Mister Masterson is dead, his stockpile of munitions is destroyed, and the beast has vanished.”
“We have thought Edward Masterson dead before,” Smith said. “I will not trust in such a pronouncement until I have seen proof.” He gestured with his cane, as if sketching the outline of a corpse. “Meanwhile we still have the brother to contend with. Thomas Masterson recently moved his trading company farther down the coast—perhaps to put distance between himself and events at the Hall. He owns ships, deals with other nations, has amassed his fortune and influence with unusual rapidity... and recently, he lost a ship in a well-trafficked portion of the North Sea, an area that should have been easily navigable.”
“He lost the entire ship?”
“With a full cargo, possibly including slaves. All hands were lost.” He stopped, looking at me with a somber expression. “Considering what you and Jo witnessed, I am wondering if the younger Masterson is perhaps feeding the creature in a more brutish manner. He has used his brother’s tactics as well—he, too, seems to provoke all manner of young women to simply vanish.” His tone was bitter. “There are a great number of people still suffering at their hands, Miss Daniels. I want to end this.”
I was shivering, though the sun was unusually warm. “Mister Masterson said the beast protected England, and he had a minister at his command,” I said. “Perhaps you are looking in the wrong place, if you wish to end this?”
“Would that it were so simple.” He gently tugged on my arm and we began walking again. “I am assembling a case against the Mastersons’ minister frien
d. But I dare not make any official inquiries into Thomas Masterson before I make my move, and in the meantime, how many more will be lost to this scheme?”
“You want Jo to stop him,” I said in a small voice.
“I want Miss Chase to find proof of any crime, even fraud, even that he’s boarded up a bloody window,” Smith said forcefully. “Anything that can get him in irons and put a stop to his activity. We have one small blessing in this: she has not yet met the younger Masterson. With a new name and her understanding of at least part of their scheme, she will be uniquely positioned for this task—and once he’s out of the way, I can end this cult for good and hunt that beast to the bottom of the sea if necessary.” He took a breath. “But, of course, all of this depends on you.”
I looked at him, startled. “I don’t understand.”
“Miss Chase has made you part of her contract, Miss Daniels.” He tucked his cane under his arm and pulled a folded paper from inside his coat. “That is, she has made you and your father part of her contract. She wants to bring you both with her to the town where Thomas Masterson has relocated. Your story will be that you are a married couple in genteel poverty, struggling to care for your ailing father. The local populace will be more likely to confide in you, and she will be better able to convince Masterson of her desperation.” He smiled at me. “Love and poverty, Miss Daniels. The ingredients of many a man’s downfall.”
I took the paper from him and held it up to the sunlight. That copperplate hand. I had trouble reading the words, so blurred did my vision become.
she has an intuition which I lack, and matches me for courage save when she surpasses it. I think she would not only be an asset to this inquiry, she may well be that which tips it in our favor
I swallowed back my tears. My hand was trembling. I felt something small and warm and glowing burst forth, a kind of happiness I had never felt before.
“You would, of course, pretend to be married,” Smith said. “It would mean cohabitating as such. Indeed, she has even stipulated that your joint surname must be Read, though I have no idea why. If these terms pose any obstacle...”
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