by M. L. Welsh
Verity’s eyes widened. ‘Really? But how do you—?’
Suddenly she heard footsteps ringing outside in the hallway. Her face paled with concern at being caught trespassing.
The large brass doorknob twisted and the oversized wooden door swung open to reveal an old man. His face was weatherbeaten and rugged, with green eyes that sparkled beneath thick brows. He looked familiar.
Isaac Tempest came towards Verity, smiling in greeting. ‘Miss Gallant,’ he said warmly, extending a hand. She shook it. His grip was strong and firm, his palm leathery from age and hard sailing. ‘I trust Jeb has been looking after you satisfactory?’
‘He’s been very kind,’ agreed Verity, smiling back. There was something about this old man that was instantly charming.
‘Tempests and the Gallants go a long way back,’ he told her.
Verity nodded. ‘I’ve heard … I’ve seen,’ she added, pointing to the photo.
Isaac looked intently at her face and smiled fondly.
‘I was just asking how you find this channel,’ she said, pointing to the map.
He smiled. ‘A small withy,’ he said. ‘A piece of willow.’
Verity was astonished. ‘That stick near the marker?’ she asked.
Jeb nodded. ‘The sandbank shifts and changes with the movement of the sea,’ he explained, ‘and so does the channel. We move the withy as a sign for those who know. You’ve to keep it to your right … Look up to the cliffs on your left and aim for the pepperpot.’
‘That peculiar brick lump on the downs?’ asked Verity.
‘Can’t go wrong,’ he told her.
Verity smiled wryly. He made it sound easy, but she knew it would be far less simple in practice.
As Verity and Jeb left the room to walk back out through the Manor grounds, Isaac Tempest lovingly tidied away the charts.
‘Looks just like Ruby,’ he mused to himself. ‘Very pretty too, especially when she smiles.’ He grinned, thinking of the look on his grandson’s face. He could hear steps in the room above him. A familiar tread. The sound of someone else going to the leaded window in the room above.
‘Could you drop me off at the library?’ Verity asked as they drove down through Wellow. ‘I should go back to apologize.’
Now she’d had time to calm down, she could see that her friends were right. She couldn’t do anything hasty to help Father. They mustn’t let on that Verity knew who Grandmother really was. She had to be careful not to arouse her suspicion.
‘They’ll understand,’ said Jeb. ‘They’re your friends.’
At the corner Verity smiled brilliantly at him as she prepared to get out. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
He grinned back, leaning over to open the door for her. ‘Weren’t a hardship.’
His green eyes caught hers for a second. Verity felt particularly clumsy as she slid out of the passenger seat. She walked awkwardly across the street, unsure whether to look back or not. Jeb watched her for a moment and then pulled himself together. He was being ridiculous.
Verity pushed back through the familiar red doors that led into the main hall. But Henry and Martha were no longer there. As she rounded a corner, she realized that the only other person in the library appeared to be a strange man in a neatly ironed jacket with highly polished buttons. He was sitting quietly in the folklore section, surrounded by piles of books on the Gentry and Rafe Gallant.
Verity stopped short. The man glanced from the book he was reading to his notepad and scribbled something down. Then he stood up abruptly and strode towards the reading room. Why was he reading up on the Gentry and her grandfather? Verity wondered. Did he know something? Seized by a terrible curiosity, she darted over to his table. If he came back, she reasoned, she could say she was interested in them. Which was true.
On the desk was a custom-made canvas bag. It was open. Inside was a maritime gimble holding a glass sphere. It looked as if two liquids were floating separately inside. They seemed to be moving. Verity picked it up, holding it at eye level. A slight breeze ruffled her hair. She gawped in astonishment.
‘It took a man of rare talent to make that device,’ said Jasper Cutgrass calmly.
Verity swivelled round to stare fearfully at the customs man, who had silently appeared by her side. She wondered how much trouble she would be in for tampering with a Preventative Officer’s equipment.
‘I shouldn’t move too swiftly. It could kill us both,’ Jasper continued.
Verity put the gimble down carefully; she wasn’t sure what to say. This strange man didn’t seem at all concerned, either by this or by the fact that he’d just found her disturbing his property.
‘Jasper Cutgrass,’ he said, extending a hand. Verity shook it. ‘It’s a Storm Bringer,’ he went on. ‘Commissioned by your grandfather’s rival, Barbarous Usage. Spinning it gently creates a breeze that radiates out in a wide circle. But the closer the ball is to you, and the faster you move it, the more the local atmosphere is disturbed, causing a violent wind. Holding it at arm’s length lessens the effect … That’s the general principle at least – I’m afraid in practice it’s quite volatile.’
Verity glanced enquiringly at him, and he nodded in answer to the unspoken request. Not many adults would have blithely encouraged a young girl to experiment with something that could blast them both to pieces, but not many adults were Jasper Cutgrass.
Verity held the sphere at arm’s length and gently turned it in a circle. As she did so, a light breeze whispered around her. The open pages on the table rustled and flapped. She moved the sphere slightly faster: the wind picked up. The canvas-clad box blew down onto the floor. Verity felt a powerful urge to move the ball faster still – and Jasper was knocked backwards against the bookshelf.
Verity gave a shriek. With great presence of mind, she carefully picked up the box and placed the Storm Bringer back in its gimble before dashing over to see whether Jasper was all right.
‘It’s difficult to resist the urge to push the boundaries of the device,’ he said.
‘You know who made it?’ she asked.
Jasper nodded. ‘Henry Twogood’s grandfather was very gifted.’
Verity blinked. Of course. If it was man-made and linked to the Gentry, then it would be their craftsmanship. ‘Was it confiscated?’ she asked.
Jasper permitted himself a small look of pride. ‘Recovered,’ he said.
Verity looked puzzled.
‘After the death of his daughter, Ruby, your grandfather left instructions for it to be hidden,’ Jasper explained. ‘Out of reach of mankind. But I found it. It wasn’t easy – it took many years of research to discover its likely location in the Indies. But I was convinced it must exist. I have always had something of a … fascination with the former Gentry empire.’
Verity looked at the strange man thoughtfully for a second. He must be extremely clever to have pieced together the scant information that had been left behind and used it to locate the last resting place of this Gentry artefact. What resourcefulness it must have required.
‘You said it could kill us … Is it dangerous?’
Jasper nodded. ‘In the wrong hands, yes.’
‘Don’t you think that if my grandfather was keen for it to be safely hidden away, he must have had good reason?’
Jasper stared blankly at her. ‘Such an ingenious device couldn’t possibly be left to sit at the bottom of the ocean,’ he said eventually.
‘Why not, if that’s the safest place for it?’ Verity asked.
‘But there are so many uses for it,’ said Jasper excitedly. ‘It could change our world in any number of positive ways: as a source of energy, for example. Who knows? And if it’s possible for something so small to create storms, then surely there might also be a device that stills the weather.’
‘You don’t think it would just end up being used to … kill people then?’
‘No,’ said Jasper. ‘I would never allow that.’
‘And you don’t suppose that when you go
back to your headquarters and show your commanding officers the Storm Bringer, they might just take it off you?’ Verity continued.
‘No.’ Jasper frowned. ‘It’s my discovery. I should be the one to control it.’
‘There must be a lot of people who’d want to use it but who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near it,’ said Verity. ‘Even in Wellow.’
Jasper was outraged. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said firmly. ‘No one is going to take it from me without my authority.’ Picking up the bag, he closed the box, then buckled it tightly shut. He was obviously very annoyed.
Verity swallowed nervously. She hadn’t meant to be so abrupt. It just seemed so obvious …
Chapter Eighteen
Time had passed in a flurry of activity for Villainous Usage. He’d been overjoyed when he realized the Lady Olivia could definitely be drawn onto the rocks – until he realized that was just the start of his troubles. The tasks seemed endless: recruiting a suitable crew to retrieve the goods, finding an amenable fence to get rid of them. The negotiations and bartering had taken weeks. It was almost like working for a living.
The Lady Olivia was smaller than either of the previous two packet ships Mother had wished to plunder, but still … Villainous’ sources had promised a cargo of bullion mixed with lucrative and easily sold goods.
Of late, both mother and son had spent many a happy hour planning how they would live on the proceeds.
‘No more poky cottage,’ Mother had crowed one particularly jovial evening, taking another swig of rum.
‘I’ll be a man of standing,’ Villainous gloated.
She patted his knee heavily. ‘That you will, son. Your pa would be proud.’
‘Do yer think so?’
‘Of course,’ she slurred. ‘An thish is jusht the start,’ she added expansively.
Villainous’ eyes widened. He hadn’t realized there was more to be done.
‘Before we’re finished, son,’ breathed Mother, leaning in closer to focus, ‘the Gentry will live again. But this time’ – she flung out an arm to emphasize her point – ‘the Usages will be their leaders.’ Villainous swallowed nervously. ‘And such as the Gallants will know their place,’ she spat venomously.
‘Just the start,’ he repeated anxiously.
At last the fated night was here and all preparations were in place. Villainous stood in front of their one tiny mirror, ducking and bobbing to get an idea of his appearance through the brown spots that betrayed its age. He ignored his churning stomach. This was his fate; his chance to secure Ma’s respect and restore the family name. He smoothed down the front of the blue shirt he’d pressed specially. Now he put on his father’s old coat. He wanted to look the part.
There was a knock at the door. Villainous clambered down the narrow stairs – each one creaking a different note – and opened it eagerly. A hard-faced woman in clean but well-worn clothes rushed in.
‘I can’t say when he’ll notice,’ she snapped as she lifted her cape to reveal a custom-made canvas bag. ‘He never seems to let the blessed thing out of his sight. I had the devil’s own job, I can tell you.’
Villainous dropped a bag of coins into her outstretched palm. ‘I’m not paying you any more,’ he said.
The woman scowled. ‘You’d best be quick with it, is what I’m saying,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to lose him as a tenant. He pays regular as clockwork.’
Villainous took the box out of the bag and eagerly extracted its contents. He held the mysterious glass sphere up to eye level. The fire and ice swirled within. Just having it in his hand made him feel more powerful – little wonder, given how many lives it could take. A flicker of doubt darted through his mind. He pushed it aside.
‘It’ll be back by midnight, as we agreed,’ he said.
The woman glowered at him and turned to leave. ‘Midnight at the latest,’ she said irritably.
The Usages walked slowly up towards Soul Bay’s grassy cliff-top, Mother wheezing and coughing with the effort. She was still laughing at the thought of Jasper’s naivety.
‘Did he really think he could bring it back to Wellow safely?’ she cackled.
‘I allus remembered you sayin’ – wherever the Twogoods took it must have been fierce hot on account of how brown they was when they got back.’ Villainous nodded proudly. ‘Soon as I heard Simnel talking of it, I remembered. He seemed proper scared of what was in ’is canvas bag.’
‘You did good, son,’ Mother told him.
They were near the top now. The leader of Villainous’ recruits approached, ready to begin. Villainous drew himself up to his full height and repeated his instructions. The man nodded curtly at each point, then left abruptly for the path that led down to the shore. Villainous felt better. It wasn’t so difficult. The man accepted his authority. He could do this.
Thirty minutes later he stood at the top of Soul Bay cliff, staring dumbstruck at the scene of carnage. On the sea below, the Lady Olivia pitched and rolled like a tormented beast. A shrieking, howling wind was blowing directly in to land, building up a giant surge that crashed violently onto the rocks. Even through the storm he could hear the hopeless cries of a crew who knew they were about to die.
The Lady Olivia had not carried many passengers, but those unlucky few with a berth were now on deck, having thrown on whatever clothes were to hand. Now, praying for salvation, they clung to anything they could find that might prevent them from being tossed like rag dolls into the raging sea.
The Lady Olivia was cruelly close to the shore, but it seemed that nothing could save her. The other wreckers waited with stony faces, their hearts hardened.
The waves poured mercilessly over the deck. Draining back with a fearsome pull, they clawed at a passenger, whose scream seared Villainous’ ears. Mother stood next to him, gripping the Storm Bringer in her doughy hand. She had immediately become an expert. Its exhilarating power coursed through her veins.
‘Her cargo is ours. Oh, son,’ she exulted, holding the glass sphere jubilantly aloft, ‘you have done us proud with this.’
Villainous looked out to sea. His mind raced as he watched a woman gripping the rail and trying to hold onto her young son. She was blue with cold. Villainous could hear the boy’s sobs – the abject fear in them – and the woman’s last desperate declaration of love for her child. Villainous had done many terrible things, but he’d never actually killed before. He’d hadn’t realized it would be like this. Their cries filled his head.
‘Mother, stop,’ he begged. ‘Please stop it. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want the cargo. We don’t need it.’
Mother stared at him scornfully. The Storm Bringer’s force throbbed within her. ‘Are you soft in the head?’ she snapped. ‘This sorry hulk is just the start for us—’
‘I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,’ a voice shouted across the dark, windswept downs.
Mother looked up in surprise and irritation. Out of the driving rain stepped Jasper Cutgrass. In his neatly ironed uniform and carefully polished buttons, he looked very out of place against the wild landscape.
‘What the hell are you doing here, customs man?’ she snarled contemptuously. She raised the Storm Bringer in her grubby mitt, preparing to unleash its full fury.
Jasper raised a hand. ‘By the power invested in me as a Preventative Man, I order you to cease your activity and return the stolen item immediately.’
Mother laughed at him. ‘Your power? Your power? I think I know whose power I’d lay money on. Couldn’t even find anyone to help you, could you? No one willing. That tells you everything you need to know about the lie of the land in Wellow, customs man. I’m Gentry, born and bred. And what we say goes in this pl—’
But Jasper was to learn no more about Mother’s perceived position in Wellow society. Instead, her eyes rolled up in her head and her tongue lolled from her mouth as she slid to the ground, cushioned against any significant damage by the heavy layer of fat that protected every bone.
Behind her stood
Daniel Twogood. He was holding a large and heavy spade above his head. In his other hand was the Storm Bringer. That would put paid to any hope of an easy life in Wellow, he thought to himself grimly.
As he held the Storm Bringer still, the writhing ocean calmed. The Lady Olivia gradually rolled and pitched herself back to an even keel. The skies cleared of clouds. Stars could once more be seen twinkling down on the fortunate passengers, who were picking themselves up in wonder.
‘You idiot,’ Mr Twogood shouted. ‘Are you happy now?’
Jasper stood on the cliff-top in silence: he didn’t know what to say. ‘They shouldn’t have stolen it,’ he protested.
‘That’s your answer, is it?’ Daniel Twogood turned and started to stride back across the downs, Jasper hurrying after him. ‘Leave the likes of the Usages to decide what happens in the world? You should not have brought that thing back here – let alone think of making more.’
Villainous knelt on the muddy grass, holding his mother’s head in his lap and patting her cheek as she came to. He stared at her anxiously, all traces of cunning and guile wiped from his face; all that remained was the worried look of a child who yearned for approval.
‘It’ll be all right, Muvver,’ he said, heaving her up. ‘We don’t need the cargo. Not at that price.’
Mother dusted down her skirts and looked at him as if only just noticing he was there. Villainous cowered instinctively.
She slapped him across the face with every ounce of force she could muster. ‘You’re no son of mine,’ she bellowed. ‘How could you let them just walk away with our destiny?’
The force of her blow knocked him to the ground. He’d been used to worse in his time. In his head the pleas of those in peril of the sea still rang faintly. He knew now that he could take no part of a fortune snatched from the hands of dying men.
Mother turned away angrily to call off the crew.
In the early hours of the morning Jasper read the same line from his book for the fifteenth time and took another sip of water. He shifted uncomfortably on the bentwood chair and blinked repeatedly. Rubbing his eyes would only make them worse. He dared not sit on the bed.
