Fiendish Schemes
Page 12
“Come along, Dower.” A familiar voice succeeded in piercing the deep fog by which my thoughts had been engulfed. “Let’s leave Carnomere to bend some other poor bastard’s ear.”
I blinked my vision clear and found myself being dragged by the arm toward some other part of the townhouse, away from the drawing-room and the guests assembled there.
“He’s a harmless enough old duffer,” continued Lord Fusible, “but of course, completely mad, with all that carnivorous chatter of his.” Gesturing with a redolent cigar, Fusible drew me on through a dimly lit hallway, more functional than decorative in appearance. “I trust you found him amusing.”
“Not in the slightest—” Keeping up with the other’s vigorous pace rendered me somewhat breathless. “I wasn’t certain whether to judge him pathetic or terrifying.”
“Eh? Is that a fact?” Fusible exhaled a great plume of grey smoke from his cigar. “No matter, then. I am sure that you will find that which I am about to display to you to be far more diverting. But of course, anything to do with making great piles of money is always so.”
He pushed open a door festooned with iron rivets and shoved me through before him. For a moment, I gazed about in utter darkness, then Fusible ignited a glass-chimneyed lantern and carried it farther into the space.
“There!” The lantern’s glow was sufficient to reveal an object somewhat taller than the man himself. “What do you think of that! Bloody marvelous, isn’t it?”
A moment longer was required for me to discern the exact lineaments of the thing, whatever it might be. At last I realized that it had all the appearances of a lighthouse—the tapering cylindrical form, the windows circling about the top level—though in greatly miniaturized stature. Specifically, it represented one of the so-called walking light variety, complete to the articulated crab-like legs extending from its base.
“That one we just launched out there in Cornwall—rubbish!” Fusible’s disdain was evident in the manner in which he flicked the cigar’s ashes away from himself. “This is the ruddy great bastard with which we’ll absolutely make our fortunes.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow you.” The object, though of an impressive size and detail for a model, did not seem much different from all the other lighthouses I had glimpsed in my lifetime. “It’s very . . . nice and all, but—”
“By God, you’re slow in the uptake.” Fusible pityingly shook his head. “This will completely revolutionize our business’ operations.”
I was still somewhat baffled by his assertions. The possibility arose in my mind that I had misunderstood his presen tation of the object before us, and what I had taken to be a model was in reality the thing itself. Conceivably, a human being of adult stature might have fitted himself inside it, though the structure would have fitted tight about a man’s shoulders. Perhaps this was some essential alteration in Phototrope Limited’s future inventory of devices, and henceforth all its lighthouses would be of such relatively abbreviated dimensions. A vision came to me of swarms of such little towers clambering over the sea-coast’s wave-dashed rocks, very like the crustaceans they resembled, each holding its cramped operative and setting up en masse to blink their tiny lights toward the mercantile ships sailing past.
“But is there not some resulting loss of elevation?” I pointed toward the object. “That is, from making the lighthouses so much smaller?”
“Smaller?” Fusible frowned at me. “What are you going on about, you twit? We’re not making them smaller—we’re making them bloody bigger. Look there—” He pointed at the object’s base, near its jointed legs. “That’s the size of the one we just launched out in Cornwall.”
I saw then a second object, of similar appearance but much subordinate in dimension. This scarcely reached a foot in height, coming up but a fraction of the vertical expanse of the larger one beside it. All of which meant that my initial perception of gazing upon some detailed model had been correct—but also that the actual thing which it represented would be of an intimidatingly enormous construction.
“Now you see, don’t you?” Lord Fusible smiled gloatingly at me. “Magnificent, isn’t it? We call it the Colossus of Blackpool.”
“But certainly . . .” I felt dizzied, as though the apprehension of such a monstrous device, dwarfing all its predecessors, had sent swirling the thoughts within my head. “Certainly such a thing could never actually exist—”
“The bloody hell it can’t.” Ash drifted from the ember of Fusible’s grandly outflung cigar. “It’s under construction at this very moment, in our land docks up in North London. Damn near finished, too. We’ve managed to keep it a secret from the world—but soon everybody and his brother will gaze upon it and marvel. That’ll be a fine day, won’t it?”
I could make no reply to him. Something about this impending monstrosity appalled my soul. An unbidden image came within me, of this Colossus towering above the landscape, the searing light of its beam sweeping across both city and ocean. Great billows of steam wreathed the vision, as though some cyclopean giant were peering down through the clouds, inventorying his possessions.
“A fine day, indeed.” Another voice spoke up, neither Fusible’s nor mine. “I look forward to it. . . .”
Turning, I saw that Captain Crowcroft had followed us into this chamber, far from the other guests and his betrothed. As I watched, he stepped forward into the circled glow cast by the lantern. A dismayingly fervent gleam sparked in his eyes as he laid his hands atop the Colossus model, as might a practitioner of some primitive religion approach a sacred idol.
“So you should.” Fusible nodded in evident appreciation of the other man’s enthusiasm. “When you’re at the helm of this bloody great blighter, there’ll not be much that won’t look up to you!”
The air in the chamber felt suddenly oppressive, my lungs futilely labouring as though I were trapped within the windowless cells of some charitable lodging for the insane. The others’ voices faded from my perception as the space grew infinitely larger, the better to accommodate the Colossus swelling and towering above me. . . .
“FOR God’s sake, man, pull yourself together.” A single voice now barked close to my ear. “You’re embarrassing me.”
I opened my eyes, discovering thereby that I was no longer standing up, but rather partly reclining upon the sort of chaise longue favoured by ladies of taste, when gripped by an event of the vapours. The noises of the gathering, the mingled voices and discreetly purring laughter, still came to my ear, but from a distance. My unconscious person, as well as Stonebrake—for it was he who was energetically jostling my shoulder—had evidently been removed to an otherwise empty chamber, away from that chamber slowly and mistily resolving itself in my recent memory.
“What happened?” I lifted my head, which was a mistake, that small motion evoking a dizzied constellation to sparkle across my tenuous vision.
“Went down like a bloody tentpole, you did.” A distinct lack of sympathy was evident in Stonebrake’s voice. He frowned as he leaned over me, dabbing at the corner of my brow with a folded handkerchief; when he pulled it away, the cloth was only slightly reddened. “Right in front of Lord Fusible—and all because he showed you that model of Phototrope Limited’s Colossus of Blackpool construction.” He shook his head. “If such is your notion of conveying a favourable impression on our backers, it’s rather a failure, in my estimation.”
“I was not aware I was required to make an impression of any kind, upon anyone.” My boots found the room’s floor as I managed to sit upright. “You might have warned me.”
“The matter seemed so obvious to me, that no comment was considered necessary.” Stonebrake tucked the stained handkerchief inside his jacket. “The enterprise upon which we have launched ourselves is of a nature that relies upon both extensive financial support as well as discretion.” He gestured toward the distant drawingroom. “These are the people upon whom we depend; important people, figures of the highest social standing—and wealth.”
“They might very well be—for the present moment. But they are more than capable of altering their minds. As they would have every right to do, upon seeing a crucial element such as yourself, swooning to the ground like a maiden just out of finishing school. Be assured, you are not yet cutting an impressive figure.”
“I suppose not.” A bitter, metallic taste crept over my tongue, as though I had been administered some medicinal tincture. “Feel free to give my apologies to our hosts. Generally, I am composed of at least slightly stronger stuff than I have exhibited so far. I must be more wearied from traveling than I had realized.”
“Excuses have been taken care of, already.” Stonebrake turned toward the doorway. “Allow me to see if Royston has brought around our carriage. Do not move from this spot—understood?”
I assured him that I had no intent otherwise. The room about me still seemed a bit vague at its edges; I lay back down on the chaise, with no expectation of further adventures, at least not for this night.
The event proved me wrong. Scarcely had I closed my eyes again than a woman’s urgent whisper sounded at my ear.
“You must come with me, Mr. Dower.” A note of fearful desperation tautened the words, as a twist upon a violin’s tuning peg would draw the note of its string higher. “Immediately—for the sake of your life and mine—”
Such an alarming message snapped my eyes wide open. I saw above me a fair and anxious face. The same as that, which the last time it had gazed upon me, not too many days past, had been marked with the utmost contempt and hatred.
CHAPTER
9
Of the Capacities
of Women’s Hearts
I HAD not previously been aware that poisoning random individuals was a practice much engaged in by young Englishwomen of quality.” Disdain was evident in my voice, as was my intent. “I appear to have been misinformed on the subject.”
“Pray accept my apologies, Mr. Dower. I meant you no harm.” Lord Fusible’s daughter, Evangeline, whom I had last glimpsed at the lighthouse launch party on the Cornish coast, wrung a silk kerchief in her hands. The depth of her distress was apparent in her well-favoured features. “I wouldn’t have done it if there had been any alternative available to me.”
As I prepared my retort, I preoccupied myself with straightening the cuffs of my jacket. My thoughts were somewhat disordered by the communication I had received from the young lady, immediately upon my fellow conspirator Stonebrake’s exit from the room, that she had been responsible for my loss of consciousness, in the midst of the drawing-room’s gathering.
“It was but a medicinal tincture,” Evangeline had informed me. “That my mother’s uncle had brought back from his merchant days with the firm of Jardine Matheson in Shanghai. Reputedly popular for feminine complaints, but my experience has been that, combined with spirits, it invokes slumber rather than mere analgesia.”
Some filthy opiate, I decided; the sort of thing one would imagine being concocted by devious Chinese chemists. Upon her instructions, it had been conveyed to my lips in the wineglass forced upon me by one of the house hold’s servants.
“You might,” I noted, “have killed me. I took a hard fall.”
“It was a chance worth taking.”
My eyebrow raised in mute response to her comment. Though she was not gazing upon me with the same annihilating hatred that she had displayed upon our first encounter, it was still possible that she might hold some murderous ambitions toward me.
“You see,” continued Fusible’s daughter, “I had to speak to you.
In private. And I could see no other way of bringing that about.”
“Has the British post ceased operations?” The aftertaste of the drug crept across my tongue, as though it were some small fur-bearing animal. “You could just as well have sent me an invitation to tea, care of my hosts at Featherwhite House. I would have been happy to oblige you.”
“There is no time for that!” Her agitation became even more apparent. “Events are hurtling past us at a breakneck speed!” A wearied sigh escaped from my own breast. I had heard nearly this exact sentiment on so many occasions, that it might as well have been emblazoned on the fluttering banner which I was condemned to carry through life. Perhaps it was a curse that had been laid against me, for having once embarked, however unsuccessfully, upon commerce in those ticking devices that chivvy submissive Mankind through its dwindling hours, as though the hands of every watch and clock held little whips to lash against our backs. Perhaps the meat-eating viscount, with whom I had so recently made acquaintance, was correct in his assessment of our fallen state, and the unhurried glories of those primitive days when men reckoned Time only by the position of the sun above their unshod passage across the Earth.
“My assumption is that you speak of those enterprises upon which your father and his business associates have newly launched themselves.” I sat back against the corner of the chaise. “They seek to multiply their fortunes by wagering with the Sea and Light Book—
though wager is perhaps not an apt term in these circumstances, as they propose to remove all doubt as to the outcome of the underlying events. Very well; I admit having allowed myself to be recruited into their schemes. If you have become party to them as well, perhaps by entrusting your father with whatever finances are under your control, so that he might place them at the betting counter on your behalf—then we are moral equals, if not social ones.” Evangeline hurriedly sat next to me, leaning close so as to place her trembling hand against the front of my shirt. Somewhere beneath her touch, my heart trembled in response, and rather more so; my experience with the fairer sex had not been so great that a young woman bringing her face close to mine ranked as an everyday happenstance.
“This is not about money.” Her whisper drew me into her confidence. “May I rely upon you, Mr. Dower?”
“As much . . . as anyone can.” The request evoked my own inward fears. “I possess no reputation for being a pillar of strength.”
“But you will have my gratitude,” she said, “for whatever aid you might supply to me. There is no-one else to whom I can turn.” If such were the case, the young lady’s situation was indeed desperate. “Ask of me what you will. But there is little I can promise you.”
“To begin, your discretion will suffice; do I have that? For those I fear most are close at hand.”
I hazarded a guess. “You speak of Stonebrake?”
“Yes—” She gave a rapid nod. “Him, amongst others. Including my father.”
“Indeed?” The latter accusation took me by surprise. “He doesn’t seem like such a bad sort. A bit on the overbearing side, but not altogether—”
“You mistake my meaning. I have all the appropriate affections for him, but the conspiracies with which he has allowed himself to become entangled—they weigh heavily and darkly upon all chances of my future happiness, and that of those whom I love.”
“The reference is, I take it, to the esteemed Captain Crowcroft?”
Bit by bit, a picture was assembling in my mind, though I had some concern as to whether all its details would be painted in by the time Stonebrake returned to fetch me. “He evidenced himself as a capable enough man when I was introduced to him. And his position with Phototrope Limited seems honourable and straightforward; to steer a lighthouse from crag to crag, and cast its helpful beam across the ocean—surely that renders him of such value as to be past the reach of all these conniving schemes?” I attempted to cast my voice in as comforting a manner as possible, as the girl seemed but a quivering eyelash’s length away from shedding tears. “If I were to place a wager, it would be that a gentleman such as your betrothed is more than capable of guarding your prospects in this world.”
“Oh, Mr. Dower—would that it were so!” Her bosom rose and fell with one of those overly dramatic si
ghs to which creatures of her youth and gender were given. “And not long ago, I would have believed you had the truth of the matter. The good captain has more than won my trust, in addition to my desire.” Her expression turned reflective. “Which serves to illustrate how mysterious are the ways of the heart, seeing how great was my initial loathing of him.” I took some comfort in the perception that the lethal regard she had bestowed, in our previous encounter, was not a personal and specific matter relating to me, but evidently something that she directed in general toward the male species. Or at least until she got to know one of them to a better degree.
“Many successful marriages,” I advised her now, “have commenced in exactly such a fashion.”
“Of that, I have no doubt; my mother has told me as much. But you must understand, Mr. Dower, that the circumstances of my engagement to Captain Crowcroft might have been expressly designed to raise the emotions of contempt and loathing within me.”
“Oh?” My sympathies lay more with her fiancé; she seemed capable of anything, if provoked. Having seemingly escaped her wrath, I endeavoured to remain on her congenial side. “I’m sure you wish to keep all that private—”
“No, no; I must tell you!”
My own heart sank within me. There seemed no end to these revelations.
“You see,” Evangeline continued with even greater earnestness, “my engagement to Captain Crowcroft was none of my doing, or in fact, anything I wished for. It was all my father’s idea, in pursuance of those schemes of which you yourself are now a part. He believed—and I imagine still does—that having the most celebrated lighthouse commander as his son-in-law would in some way further the plans that he had laid.”