The Case of the Counterfeit Criminals
Page 10
MARY ANNING (1799–1847) was an early paleontologist credited with discovering the first ichthyosaur skeleton. Dinosaur hunting being something of a family business, she found her first skull at the age of eleven, and also contributed to the identification of coprolites, the fossilized dinosaur poo she gifts Ada as a birthday present. Her work was supported by sales of prints of the illustration made by her friend Henry De la Beche depicting the ancient Dorset revealed by the fossil discoveries Mary made. She really did have a dog, Tray, lost in a landslide that occurred while she was fossil hunting. Despite her obvious accomplishments and significant contributions to her field of research, she was not allowed to join the Geological Society of London because she was a woman.
JOHN WILLIAM POLIDORI (1795–1821) was a physician, poet, and horror writer who is credited with writing the first vampire story in English. He was a good friend of both Lord Byron and Percy Shelley. As he was dead before our story takes place, his timeline has been adjusted to mesh with that of Peebs, Jane, and Mary. Because of the era’s use of leeches in medicine, I have made him a bit of a vampire himself. He was an Englishman, despite his Italian name, and had no “unplaceable” accent. His eyebrows, however, were entirely terrifying.
THE BRITISH MUSEUM Established in 1753 and under constant expansion for its first hundred years, the British Museum became the model of scientific and historical museums around the world. Particularly during the events of this book, it was the largest construction site in Europe, and Ada most certainly would have heard the hammering and clamor from her rooftop perch in Marylebone.
Ada, at the upward-shushing hand of her grandmother, got up from the couch as the Baroness Lehzen rose to go.
Gran remained in the doorway, still not sure if she should be pleased, or proud, or horrified.
“Well?” Gran asked once Mr. Franklin had seen out their auspicious guest.
“ ‘Well’ what?” Ada replied.
“You failed to indicate to the baroness that you would of course offer your assistance in her confidential matter, though I must say she does play her cards close, that one.”
“She wasn’t playing cards,” said Ada, distantly. She was reviewing her last conversation, unsure if she had all the important bits. Unsure if she had any bits, really. The baroness had turned out to be so well-mannered and polite that she barely seemed to say anything at all. And with Gran haunting the doorframe like that, constantly gesturing for Ada to smooth her gown or improve her posture, Ada was unable to concentrate on what had in fact been said, if anything.
“Surely,” Gran tried again, “you could have made your offer of assistance plain.”
“No.”
“Good heavens, child. What on earth do you mean by ‘no’ in this instance? It is inconceivable.”
“Isn’t. I can conceive of it. No. Not helping,” came Ada’s terse reply.
“Of course you are helping. Why ever would you not?”
“You,” said Ada. “Because of you.”
“Young Ada, now is not the time to be petulant.” Gran looked at the sulking girl across the room and explained, “ ‘Petulant’ means—”
“Insolent. Irritable. Uncooperative. From the Latin petulans, meaning impudent.” Ada’s eyebrows were a threat.
“Very well, then,” said Gran. “Have you any idea to whom you were just speaking? Why, even your cousin Medora Leigh—”
“Medora?” Ada asked.
“Libby,” Gran said with disdain.
“Ah,” said Ada.
“Medora has attended the princess, many times I’ve heard.” Gran sniffed. “From that side of the family. But you, Ada. Did you think how beneficial such a relationship might be to your family, to our standing?”
Ada didn’t think her grandmother needed to be standing. In fact, she rather wished the old woman would sit down.
“That,” Gran persevered, “was the Baroness Johanna Clara Louise Lehzen, governess to Her Royal Highness the Princess Alexandrina Victoria.”
“I have no idea who that is. They is. Are. And even less of an idea of what they want. But I do know you want me to help, and that means I won’t.”
“You have no choice in the matter, girl. On that I must insist.”
“You insist?” Ada began. “You forbid it just this morning.”
“Pish,” said Gran, flapping a handkerchief that seemed to have magically appeared for the purposes of flapping.
“ ‘Unsuitable,’ you said.”
“But this is different,” Gran protested. “This is royalty.”
“You have driven all my friends away—”
Gran flapped her handkerchief some more.
“—and you murdered my balloon, twenty-eight minutes ago.”
“That contraption?” Gran’s voice rose. “It heralded your demise, child, or worse—scandal. It is my duty to protect you and this family from the latter, at least, if it is within my power to do so. I shall not regret the execution of my duties.”
“You shall regret the execution of my balloon,” said Ada through gritted teeth. “And don’t pish me,” she added, because she was sure Gran was about to.
“All right,” said Gran, crossing the room and finally taking a seat. “What do you want?”
A terrible shadow crossed Ada’s face, full of purpose and quiet rage. “I want my balloon back.”
“Impossible,” answered Gran. And it was impossible. Even if Ada had an accurate weight of the steam engine and the coal and the balloon itself and the temperature of the air inside it, she still wouldn’t know the wind direction or altitude of possible air currents. She had no way of knowing which way her balloon might possibly have blown, except vaguely north. Ish. Yes, Ada, acknowledged. Actually impossible.
“Then I want Mary back. And Peebs and Anna and everybody.”
“Ada, you are to be in the presence of the princess. Your Mary is hardly of suitable breeding—”
“She is not a horse. She is my friend. And without her I can’t help your baroness,” said Ada, her frustration growing. “I can’t help anybody.”
Gran found Ada’s frustration contagious. “Oh, honestly—”
“Bell rope,” Ada said, and pointed.
Gran was taken aback. “What on earth—”
“Bell rope,” Ada repeated. “Inside the walls of this house is a…” Ada laced her fingers together. “A lattice, a network of cables and pulleys. You pull the rope, the cable moves, and it rings a bell on a board below the stairs, in the servants’ hall.”
Gran blinked, attempting to understand.
“You’ve cut the bell ropes. I can do the bits in the walls, the tricky bits, that get results. But there’s no velvet rope to pull. That’s Mary. Nobody else wants to stick their arm in a spooky hole in the wall. I don’t mind, but everyone else seems to. No, they want a rope. A nice, soft velvet rope, and Mary is the softest rope in the world.”
Gran gave Ada a moment to compose herself.
“Very well,” Gran answered. “I shall call for the return of your…compatriots. But are you certain about the maid? I can’t abide—”
“Anna, too,” Ada insisted.
“Very well,” repeated Gran.
“And you go,” said Ada, with an edge of cruelty she herself didn’t like.
“Go?”
“You murdered my balloon. I want you to go away. Then I’ll speak to your princess.”
“She is very much your princess as well, Ada,” Gran said softly. “And I shall reluctantly concede. Upon the completion of your assistance to Her Highness, and to Baroness Lehzen, I shall withdraw to Kirkby Mallory.” Gran paused. “And your mother may do with you as she will.”
Gran rose to leave, and offered a final word.
“Savor this victory, child, for no doubt its flavor shall turn to bitterness soon enough.”
Over Gran’s shoulder, a small pug could be seen, cheerfully scooching its bottom along the carpet.
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