Ladies, both young and those of advanced years, had taken all the available seating, leaving a multitude of standing men and a lone woman in a distinctive straw hat at the far end of the hall.
Miss Anning.
Mary, standing on tiptoes, could make out the long tables of artifacts, each with a polished wooden document stand upon which was a sealed letter of authenticity for that item. Most artifacts were revealed, but there was a long rectangular case that was draped so as to conceal its contents. However, it was the only thing on the table large enough to be a dinosaur—even a fake one. Mary nodded to Peebs.
A gentleman looking very much like a judge was on the stage and banged a gavel with each new acquisition, its authenticity publicly verified and price agreed upon. They were nearly up to Lot 221B.
Peebs made his move, excuse me-ing through the throng. He had to get to the very visible document stand in front of the fake bones and switch the envelope there with the one in his breast pocket, without being seen. And he had only moments in which to do it. There were more pardons asked for than excuses made as he inadvertently trod on toes and hemlines alike in an effort to snake his way through.
He came face to face with a youngish woman in a large straw hat, who was clearly distraught. Peebs was moved by the sadness of her face when he realized this must be the famous paleontologist Mary Anning. He did not know what to say, and thought it best to remain silent while squeezing past and not stepping on her shoes.
His prize now in sight, Peebs slipped between a rather rotund gentleman and his exceedingly stringy wife, a mere three paces from the document stand. Suddenly stepping between Peebs and the red-draped table were three identically clad bearded men, in grocer’s aprons, their sleeves rolled up.
The Sons of Bavaria!
Peebs pretended he was lost, looking left and right, trying to step through nonchalantly. But to no avail. The men gave him a shove, and Peebs fell backward awkwardly to the carpeted floor. There was a cracking sound, and he thought for a moment that he had broken himself, but then he realized that it was the bang of the gavel. the museum had read the documents on and formally purchased a ceramic comb from the Ming dynasty.
“Sir, allow me to assist you,” said Mary, pretending to be a helpful stranger. He thanked her for her kindness, however unusual it appeared for a girl to help a gentleman to his feet. Peebs passed the envelope to Mary discreetly. The Sons of Bavaria were onto him: perhaps Mary would stand a better chance. Mary curtsied properly and briefly, and turned toward the target.
In doing so, she caught sight of Miss Anning, whose eyes practically bulged out a warning. Mary ignored it.
The Sons of Bavaria were still focused on Peebs, and Mary was able to slip around them with nary a word.
And there it was, in a glass-fronted box, like a very large painting, only this painting was as deep as her forearm. Set into what, to Mary, was clearly plaster painted to look like dirt were odd, disconnected animal bones, assembled into some sort of fantastical shape of teeth and flippers. A cheaply made sea monster of ha’penny-a-peek exhibitions with no hope of convincing anybody of anything without the sworn word of a prominent scientist.
And of course the document in an envelope, in front of the ridiculously fake dinosaur bones, saying they were real, even though they were not. Mary took a step closer, envelope at the ready.
“ ’Ere for the spoon, then, miss?” asked the museum guard she’d met before. He had stepped directly in front of Mary, grinning broadly.
“Exciting, innit? Richard the Lion-Heart’s very own spoon.”
“Um, w-well, y-yes,” stammered Mary. “Exciting.”
“Cor, look at all these people. Lots to see, eh? Mind you, some real ’istory ’ere, what with your famous spoon and all.”
Mary had no idea how to get around the enthusiastic guard. For the second time, she felt bad for the man; first for being subjected to what Ada does to authority figures, and now for his impending disappointment. She was momentarily jostled from behind, and half turned to see who it was who brushed past her. A young man, tugging his cap in feigned apology.
“Pardon my clumsiness, miss.” And that was Charles, who had relieved her of the envelope with the stealth of a pickpocket.
Mary watched Charles try to navigate the crush of onlookers, searching for a path to the document stand, only to run again and again into a wall of aproned, bearded, tattoo-less yet aspiring criminals.
As Charles’s eyes swept the room, looking for other avenues, a young lady adjacent dropped her glove on the hall’s floor. Smiling, he bent down to retrieve it for her, handing it back with a slight bow. Jane graciously received it, noticing that folded in the returned glove was the envelope.
Each step was a mile, a hundred miles in the crowd, despite the actual number of steps between Jane’s envelope and the real one. Closer.
Closer. And yet not close enough.
Not by miles.
Mary heard several words from the podium: One was “dinosaur.” Another was “authenticate.” And yet another was “now.”
She saw a second guard lean in behind his chatty fellow and pluck the envelope—the original and entirely wrong envelope—from its stand and deliver it to the podium.
They had failed. Mary could scarcely believe it.
The judge-looking person cracked the seal and said something with regard to Lot 221B, the Cretaceous ichthyosaurus.
Among the new set of words was “fake.” And “counterfeit.” And “spurious.”
Jane reached Mary and handed over the other envelope out of desperation and confusion. Mary then double-checked the envelope in her hand, the one bearing the note forged by Ada, declaring the bones to be precisely what the judge-looking person had just told the assembled they were.
Impossibly, both notes said the same thing. The bones were forgeries, the sellers frauds.
The shock of scandal swept the room. Mary turned to Miss Anning, resolute and sorrowful. Despite her own desire to see her beloved dog restored to her, she had told the truth, no matter the cost to her own feelings, and the fate of poor Tray the terrier.
“I say!” said the formerly enthusiastic guard. “The cheek!” He joined the other guards to contain the crowd, which pushed to see the now-revealed-to-be-fake bones.
Mary also had to admit that Ada was right. The Sons of Bavaria were making their move—a fast move for the exit. Mary felt Peebs take her elbow, and they rushed, as best they could in the crush of the crowd, after them, with Charles and Jane just behind them. A whistle blew. Mary looked back to see Miss Anning speaking to two guards and pointing at the bearded, aproned, rolled-sleeved, and tattoo-less men.
The doors flew open. With little regard for courtesy, Mary and Peebs managed to get out to the open cobblestone courtyard that led to the green. Seven of the Sons of Bavaria, including one with a picnic basket, ran north toward the wood of Russell Square.
Getting away.
Suddenly one of the villains dropped to the cobbles, pinned like a butterfly to a card. There was a burlap sack the size of a pillowcase next to him, and sand seeped from a split in the cloth. The man was out cold.
Mary looked up. A familiar-looking and positively Brobdingnagian wicker basket, the largest she had ever seen, was descending from the sky, beneath an enormous striped balloon. Steam and smoke and soot spat from the gleaming brass steam engine that chuffed from the basket’s center. And peeking over the top were two small girls.
With her penknife, Allegra snicked the rope of another sandbag, sending it plunging into the courtyard. Down went another of the bearded grocers with a wince-inducing bap!
“Ha-ha!” Allegra cried. “Keep it steady, Ada! We’ve got them lined up!” she roared over the sound of wind. Snick went another rope, and thud went another of the apron-clad scoundrels.
Mary waved up to a beaming Ada, who seemed to have sprouted another hand, she was so busy working the controls of the engine and the ropes of the balloon all at once. This left Allegra to bomb the So
ns of Bavaria with sandbags, and she was getting quite good at it.
At last, there was only one crook left standing, the one with the picnic basket. The wind seemed not to be cooperating, and as the balloon had risen somewhat with each dropped sandbag, Ada struggled to send the whole works in the right direction in pursuit.
Mary had an idea, though she admitted to herself it was not an honest one.
She found the previously chatty guard and shouted, “He’s got the spoon! He’s getting away!”
“Richard the Lion-Heart’s spoon!” said the enthusiastic guard, as a battle cry. With tremendous vigor and a bravery fueled by patriotism and the defense of history, the guard raced toward, and finally tackled, the last of the Sons of Bavaria.
The crowd applauded. The picnic basket the man had been carrying tumbled, and from within could be heard a muffled yapping, and then a proper bark. The basket’s lid gave way, and out popped a small, rectangular, and bushy-browed terrier.
“Tray!” exclaimed Miss Anning, emerging from the gaggle of onlookers. Barking happily all the way, the little dog ran to the brilliant, honest, and heroic paleontologist, leaping into her arms. The sight warmed Mary’s heart. Peebs went over, to be sure Miss Anning was all right.
The balloon landed, and a rope ladder was thrown out. As Allegra descended, she was met by the impressed crowd with applause and was hoisted onto the shoulders of several men who waved their hats in triumph.
She was followed by a rather sooty and disheveled Ada, who, when others came to put her on their shoulders, shooed them away. She ran instead to Mary.
“We did it!” she cried.
“We didn’t,” Mary admitted. “We didn’t make the switch in time.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Ada. “I knew Miss Anning would tell the truth, and the Sons of Bavaria would go running. We just had to be there to intercept them when they did.”
“But,” started Mary. “She rejected your plan!”
“No, Miss Anning never read my plan. It never even got to her. The letter I received was a forgery. A joke, really. Took me a while to get it, though.”
“A joke?” Mary asked in astonishment.
“Yes, look.” Ada presented the crumpled note from the pocket of her dress. “Heraldry. You know, crests and shields of medieval knights. It’s a golden alder.”
“Miss Anning was staying at the Golden Alder Inn.”
“Yes, but in heraldry the colors are spelled out in French. So this crest would be ‘an alder or,’ meaning ‘gold.’ ”
“So?” asked Jane.
“An alder or! Learn Road! Adorn Earl!” Ada answered excitedly.
“Nora Radel,” said Mary, realizing. “You were right! she was behind it all along. The cleverest girl in England.”
“Second cleverest, if you ask me,” said Ada. “And no, not exactly behind it. I think there was a real dognapping and perhaps she suggested the fakery. Mostly I think she saw a way of putting herself in the middle, and confusing the whole works.”
“But…why?” asked Jane. “Why would she do that?”
“It’s a challenge,” said Ada. “A challenge I accepted.”
“However do you know that?” Peebs asked, joining them.
“I’ll explain later. Right now we have to get back before Gran knows I’m gone.”
“How did you manage to effect an escape, Lady Ada?” Peebs asked. “Your grandmother was watching every door.”
“She wasn’t watching the roof,” Ada answered, grinning. “The steam engine works brilliantly, Peebs, thank you.”
“But how…?” Mary wanted to know.
“Seamstresses. I’ve had Anna on them for weeks. Along with riggers, and pipe fitters. And when I saw that marvelous basket the other day, full of cotton, I knew I’d found my new gondola. Mr. Franklin has proved most helpful with the logistics.”
Allegra was still enjoying being carried by the cheering assembly. Ada rolled her eyes.
“But who were the tick-tock people?” Mary asked. “And how did they get into the house, when your grandmother was watching all the doors?”
“I don’t know yet why they look that way, but I know they work for her,” said Ada, meaning Nora Radel and not her grandmother. “And they must have someone on the inside,” she added ominously. “But we shall deal with that when we get home. All in! And someone fetch my sister.”
Ada stepped away to approach a very appreciative Miss Anning, clutching her little dog to her chest, the terrier’s tongue happily lapping the tears from the scientist’s cheek. Ada nodded, and received a nod in return.
The rain had ceased, briefly, though for a London in December it was never more than a moment’s reprieve. Ada breathed in the scent of the earth and discovered that Miss Anning was doing the same.
“Petrichor,” said Miss Anning. “The smell of earth after rain.”
Ada smiled.
Oh, how Ada had missed the familiar sensation of swinging from rope to roof to attic windowsill. The rest of her party were less rehearsed, and the roof was slick with rain. But one by one, and with many utterings of “steady, steady,” they all made it through to stand in the long, sparse room, dripping on the floorboards.
“Ah, I’ve just remembered,” said Peebs. “I have something for you, a token. From Miss Anning.” From his pocket he brought forth a handkerchief wrapped around a small object and handed it to Ada. Inside was a ridged brown stone, pointy at one end.
“A rock?” asked Jane.
“A coprolite!” exclaimed Ada, holding it up in the thin attic light. “It’s magnificent!”
“What’s that?” Allegra asked, not even trying to pronounce it.
“It’s poo! Real dinosaur poo!” Ada explained delightedly. “Only, turned to stone! Isn’t it amazing?”
Allegra, Mary, and Jane all made the same face. Charles tried not to laugh.
“Happy birthday, Lady Ada,” said Peebs.
“Is it?” Ada asked. “What’s the date?”
“The tenth of December, Lady Ada,” Peebs answered.
“Gosh, I’d forgotten. It really is my birthday,” she said.
The girls, surprised, all wished her a happy birthday as a chorus, and Ada shushed them, so as not to make so much noise that they would be discovered.
“I’m twelve,” said Ada.
“That’s ancient,” said nine-year-old Allegra. “Old as dinosaur poo.”
They all had a good laugh at this, and Jane tried, unsuccessfully, to seem offended.
“Master Dickens,” interrupted Peebs, seizing the moment. “I understand that you are in need of employment.”
“I am, sir,” he answered.
“And that you’ve recently proved yourself extremely resourceful in the matter of research, and church records?”
“And in the archives of the Times,” added Mary. “For our first case. We’d be nowhere without Charles, honestly.”
Peebs strode toward a small writing desk in the corner of the room, took a sheet of paper and a quill, and began scribbling. The attic’s inkpot, though more dry than ideal, proved serviceable enough.
“If you would take…this…note…,” he said, “to my attorneys at the firm of Ellis and Blackmore, Holborn Court, Grey’s Inn—do you know it?”
“I do, Mr. Shelley, sir.”
“Very good. Take them this letter of introduction, and make yourself useful. I imagine you’ll find it rather less…um…than the boot-polish factory.”
“I have little cause to doubt your imagination, Mr. Shelley.”
“Excellent. And, in this house, you must call me Peebs.”
Charles smiled. “Peebs.”
Ada gave Peebs an approving nod.
“Ada, may I have a word?” Jane asked.
They took a few discreet steps away from the others.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said.
“For what?” Ada was confused.
“For being horrid, I suppose,” Jane began. “It’s like this. When
it was just my mother and I, we were very poor. And it wasn’t until she met Mr. Godwin that we had any real home to speak of, and a family. I always dreamt of being in a grand house, and of entering Society.” Ada nodded, though she wasn’t sure why she was doing that.
“When the chance came to meet you, and to study at your home, I felt, after wishing so long, that it was something I was supposed to have. Something I deserved. And I was a ghastly snob, I must admit it.”
“A little bit,” agreed Ada, factually.
“And then after our last case, when I saw how awful Society could be, and how unfair, it rather broke my heart.”
“I told Mary we broke you,” Ada said.
“Not you, and that’s the point.”
“Oh?” said Ada, not really understanding at all.
“What I mean to say is, I care not a whit for Society anymore,” said Jane. “But I do want to help, and I want very much to be your friend.”
And with that Jane threw her arms around Ada, which made her go quite stiff, although she didn’t mind as much as she thought she might.
Ada nodded and pointed at the others. The two girls rejoined the group.
“Are you all right, Ada?” asked Mary quietly.
“Bit hugged is all,” said Ada. “Now we all have to sneak out of here.”
“Not all,” said Peebs. “You must return to your room, Lady Ada. As for Master Dickens and myself, well, I am a familiar face and may go as I please, even if my arrival is sometimes suspect. Master Dickens shall carry my valise, and none shall be the wiser. We will depart from the front. Mary, if you take the girls down the servants’ stairs, I imagine that is your best bet.”
“I’ll come down too,” said Ada. “I won’t get in too much trouble if I’m just coming down for bread and butter.”
“You’re covered in soot,” said Jane.
“And you’re wet,” said Allegra. Ada just shrugged.
The gentlemen went first, as an advance guard, with an agreed-upon signal of coughing awkwardly should the halls be full of Gran’s footmen. Hearing nothing, the girls descended the attic stairs and then went down the hall to the servants’ staircase.
The Case of the Counterfeit Criminals Page 8
