by Geonn Cannon
Trafalgar & Boone and the Children of the Burnt Empire
Book Four of Trafalgar and Boone
Geonn Cannon
Smashwords Edition
Supposed Crimes LLC
Matthews, North Carolina
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2018 Geonn Cannon
Published in the United States
ISBN: 978-1-944591-73-1
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
When last we visited our intrepid heroes...
LADY DOROTHY BOONE is in mourning.
In 1921, Dorothy’s encounter with an ancient statue led to her body being stolen by a High Priest. DESMOND TINDALL, Dorothy’s alleged fiancé, offered himself as a vessel for his mind so she could assist with her own rescue. During the course of their adventure, Dorothy regained her body at the cost of losing Desmond’s. The situation was resolved in tragedy when their foe met his demise in an accident that left Desmond without a body to return to. MISS TRAFALGAR OF ABYSSINIA, the newest permanent resident of Dorothy’s Threadneedle address, has taken the lead in their partnership in the months since, investigating rumors and commissions with the hope Dorothy may one day agree to pursue one of them.
Meanwhile, as the bond between members of the MNEMOSYNE SOCIETY grows stronger, BEATRICE SEK has found her personal quest at an end. Her attempts to find other Elementals forced her into an uneasy alliance with the terrorist VIRAGO, who led her to the third of their four “sisters.” The three Elementals were almost immediately hijacked by a mysterious Stranger who killed them just to prove he could restore them to life, then showed Virago a vision of the future that awaited the world if all four Elementals were to unite.
Virago, shaken to her core by the visions, decided to take it upon herself to kill the other Elementals to prevent it from happening. Beatrice was forced to kill Virago in self-defense, but guilt weighs heavily on her to the point where she hardly seems like the same person she was before. When we rejoin their narrative, Trafalgar is beginning to question whether Dorothy Boone’s storied career has come to a premature end.
Prologue
1922
After much internal debate and pointless brooding, Dorothy Boone went home.
She spent weeks after Desmond’s memorial haunting the hallways of her townhouse. Trafalgar and other members of the Mnemosyne Society attempted to draw her out, enticing her with stories of commissions and mysteries in need of solving, but she could not find the strength to be intrigued. Her curiosity was gone. No, more to the point, her curiosity was not strong enough to compete against her guilt, shame, and horror at what happened to her friend. Desmond was a kind man. He was innocent and had no place in her dangerous world. It was only due to his acquaintance with her that he was killed. She was the cause of so much pain in his life. How could she possibly engage in such reckless behavior knowing the consequences to those she loved?
She packed in the middle of the night, when neither Trafalgar nor Beatrice could talk her out of what needed to be done. She took a bag down from the very top shelf of the closet and carried it downstairs. She left the house just before dawn and walked to the far end of Threadneedle Street, down to Bishopsgate, where she summoned a cab. It was the driver’s first fare of the day so she apologized for the long journey, but he said he would be happy to get away from the morning rush. She stared out the window at London waking up, but she saw none of it. She could only see her own reflection. Wan, ashen, with dark frames under her eyes.
The Boone estate was barely unchanged from the last time she saw it. Every blade of grass was perfectly trimmed. Every window shone with the light of the dawn. Dorothy felt a surge of nostalgia in her chest as the cab rumbled up the front drive. She grinned at the sight of the tumbling old fence where she and her cat marched off to war (“Fierce creatures, mum,” she’d told her mother upon arriving home caked in mud. “I’ve dispatched ‘um.”). The low branches of the tree she fell out of, her first broken bone of many.
“Is this the place?” the driver asked, pulling to a stop in front of the porch.
“This is it,” Dorothy confirmed. She paid him his fare, along with a healthy tip, and thanked him for the ride. She retrieved her bag and climbed the steps, waiting until the cab was gone before knocking.
The door opened to reveal a young man Dorothy didn’t recognize, but his suit marked him unmistakably as household staff. His face was expressionless, his professionalism cracking only to show his disdain for the sort of person who would ring at such an impolite hour.
“May I help you, ma’am?”
“Ma’am?” Dorothy said. “I beg your pardon.”
He stared at her without correcting himself. Dorothy squared her shoulders.
“Very well. My name is Dorothy Boone.”
“That’s impossible.” The woman’s voice echoed off the front hall. “Dorothy is my daughter’s name, and she has made it quite clear that she will never again grace our abominable halls with her presence. So this couldn’t possibly be Dorothy Boone.”
Dorothy smiled to hide the fact the voice made her cringe. She leaned to the side and spoke around the butler. “Hello, mother. Up early, as always.”
Clara Boone stepped into sight. It was barely past dawn, but she was already perfectly coiffed and dressed for the day. The years had aged her terribly, sinking her cheeks and digging pits around her eyes. The color was also faded from her hair, which was now pulled back into a severe bun. Grandmother Eula had never looked this severe or ancient even in her final days. The corners of Clara’s mouth curled into a triumphant smile.
“Well.” Her eyes drifted over Dorothy’s outfit, taking in the dark jacket and skirt, pausing at the grey blouse as if trying to determine whether it was cut for a male or female. “I suppose it’s a bit remarkable you remained stubborn for as long as you did. I’ve been expecting this day for years.” She put a hand on the butler’s shoulder. “Thank you, you may excuse us.”
He dipped his head and scampered off to another area of the house. Clara took his position in the doorway, making it clear Dorothy had not yet been invited inside.
“Does this one have a name, Mother?” she asked.
“Stephen. Elmer’s son. He took over after his father became ill.”
Dorothy let her emotions show through. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is he all right?”
“I doubt it,” Clara said, “it was years ago and he was very old. I’m certain he’s passed away by now.”
Dorothy started to say something but thought better of it. She pressed her lips together and put her hands behind her back.
“I see. Well...”
“I feel as if I’m making you uncomfortable. That’s not my intention. I’m glad you’re here. It’s a relief. For so long I’ve felt as if I failed you, and that’s been just unbearable. The thought of you in London, gallivanting off all over the globe just like your grandmother. I knew it was only a matter of time before it became too much for you, but
I was beginning to fear you wouldn’t survive long enough to come to your senses.”
Dorothy closed her eyes. “My senses...”
“Yes. And I suppose you’re surprised to learn I’ve been keeping tabs on you. Despite your shortcomings, you were always my daughter. Everyone else was keeping up with the news, and I had to be forewarned about what antics would be brought up at the next dinner party. Honestly, Dorothy, some of the things I have had to explain away...”
Dorothy opened her eyes. “That must have been very trying for you, Mother.”
“To say the least. But the fact is that you’re home now. You are not old enough to be condemned to spinsterhood, not yet. We shall reeducate you in the proper poise, dress, etiquette... we will make you the Boone daughter you were always meant to be.”
“The daughter you always wanted.”
Clara’s smile was sincere this time. “Yes.”
Dorothy stepped over the threshold and kissed Clara on the cheek. “Thank you, Mother. For the past few weeks, everyone I love has tried to talk reason with me. They’ve tried to remedy a pain that I couldn’t even quantify. But you did exactly what I hoped you would do.” She gripped her mother’s shoulders. “You reminded me of who I am. More importantly, of the person I’m supposed to be.”
“That’s... I don’t think...”
Dorothy grinned. “Goodbye, Mother. Give my love to Father when he wakes. I most likely won’t be back here again for a very long time.”
She turned and walked off the porch. There was no chance she could catch up with the cab, so she had a very long walk back to London ahead of her. It was fine. She could do with the exercise after being cooped up in her rooms for so long. And god, that sun! Warm and invigorating! She resisted the urge to run over to the fence and walk the post like she had so many years ago.
“Dorothy!” Her mother’s voice was twisted in anger and confusion. “Get back here this instant!”
It was a good thing, to walk away from her family home. It was symbolic. The last time she left, she had someone taking her away. This time she was leaving alone. She was taking the steps of her own volition. She smiled and held her chin high.
“You didn’t even take your bag!”
“Keep it!” Dorothy shouted without looking back.
It was no great loss. The silly thing was empty anyway.
#
Dorothy walked until she reached civilization, where she enlisted another cab to take her the rest of the way home. She still grieved for Desmond, she would probably mourn him for a very long time, but the trip home had lifted an enormous cloud from the center of her vision. She could not only see clearly again, she could see the time she had wasted in her sorrow.
She was exhausted by the time she returned to Threadneedle Street, even though the day had truly only just begun. She let herself in and, by the time she made it to the stairs, Beatrice and Trafalgar had already appeared from the kitchen. Trafalgar was dressed down in a casual tan shirt and slacks, but Beatrice was wearing her full uniform: ironed white shirt under a black vest, tan pinstriped pants, and a wide black tie. They stood shoulder to shoulder in the hallway and Dorothy fought a smile at how eager they both looked.
“Where the blazes have you been?” Beatrice demanded.
“Good morning to you as well, Trix,” Dorothy said.
Trafalgar looked concerned. “We knocked on your door to see if you wanted breakfast, but you were gone.”
“Certainly I haven’t been acting so maudlin that you thought I’d done something rash.”
Beatrice said, “We didn’t know what to think. You do have enemies, you know. One of them may have discovered you were incapacitated and taken advantage.”
Dorothy raised an eyebrow. “With the two of you in the house to protect me? Not very likely. But I am sorry I worried you. There was something which needed to be done, and the earlier I did it, the less chance my cowardice would overwhelm me. If I’d told either of you, you might have insisted on coming with me.”
“Where did you have to go?” Trafalgar asked.
“I’ll explain all in due time. For now, I’d like to freshen up. I ended up walking much more than I expected.” She put a hand on Beatrice’s shoulder. “Give me about ten minutes and then come meet me in my office. There’s something I think we should talk about.”
Beatrice nodded uncertainly.
“I apologize again for alarming you both. But this morning was a rousing success, and I think things will be getting back to normal around here very soon.”
Trafalgar allowed herself a hopeful smile. “That is very welcome news. We’ll save you some breakfast.”
“Thank you.”
Dorothy felt their eyes on her as she continued upstairs.
She undressed in her room, washed away the sweat from her walk and the grimy feeling that came from speaking to her family, and put on a fresh outfit. She put on more cosmetics than she was usually comfortable with, but until healthy eating and a solid sleep schedule could return her natural shine, she felt it was necessary. Once she felt presentable, she went into her office to find Beatrice was already waiting for her. She was perched on the couch, one leg crossed over the other with her hands folded on top of them. The sun shone through the window behind her, illuminating the subtle tint of brown in her hair.
“You could have finished your breakfast.”
“I ate something earlier,” Beatrice said. “Even if I hadn’t, I believe I’d be far more interested in what you need to tell me.”
Dorothy sighed. “Right.” She crossed the room to take a position behind her desk. “I believe the time has come to terminate your employment.”
Beatrice went very still. “Beg pardon?”
“It’s quite past time, to be frank.”
“Have I done something to... i-is this about what I did to Virago?”
“No,” Dorothy said softly. “That was self-defense. This has nothing to do with your performance in the job. It’s the nature of the job itself. My majordomo, my butler, my housekeeper.” She grimaced and rested her hands on top of the desk. “I went home this morning to the Boone estates. The footman answered the door. He’s the son of the man who worked for us when I grew up. I didn’t even know he had a son. I don’t even know their bloody surname! I was disgusted at the idea my family could treat a man so poorly, like he was property. And I realized I had put you in the same position.”
Beatrice said, “Bushwa.”
“I know our relationship goes far beyond the typical mistress-servant roles, but that is why it has to end. It’s unseemly. It’s wrong. To keep you in a subservient role--”
“I’m your equal,” Beatrice interrupted, “and you have never treated me as anything less. Even when you discovered me robbing your home, you showed compassion. You gave me a home. You gave me purpose. Please don’t take that from me now, Dorothy.”
Dorothy said, “You answer my door, drive my car, and tend to my household.”
“I live under your roof, eat your food, and share your bed. If anything, I am overcompensated.”
Dorothy screwed up her lips and looked down at the table. “When I walked in and saw you wearing that uniform...”
Beatrice gripped the tie with one hand, tugging the knot loose. “Shall I take it off?”
“No! I... not that I’m opposed to the idea in principle.” She smiled, and Beatrice returned it. “I don’t want anyone to look at us and think you haven’t earned your place at my side.”
Beatrice let go of her tie and stepped closer. “I don’t care how they see me. The only thing that matters is how you see me.” She stepped around the desk and put her hand on top of Dorothy’s. “Do you see me as just an employee? A servant?”
“Never.”
“If you did fire me,” she asked, trailing her fingers up Dorothy’s sleeve, “would you see me banished from your life?”
“Of course not,” Dorothy said. “That was never the plan, Trix. I was merely...”
&nb
sp; Beatrice shushed her, pressed two fingers against her lips. “So if I’m going to be in your life regardless, then I might as well keep up with my chores. I quite enjoy most of them, if I’m being honest. They’re relaxing. And as for everything else... protecting your home, protecting you... I would be doing that no matter what.”
Dorothy pressed her lips to Beatrice’s fingers. “And the... other things?”
“Were you paying me for those activities?”
Dorothy laughed huskily. “Oh, Trix, I have deep pockets, but even I couldn’t have afforded what even a single night with you is worth.”
Beatrice stepped closer, grinning. “I should be paying you.”
“Shall I raise your hourly rate?”
“We should probably just call it even, I think.”
Beatrice finally closed the distance and kissed her. Dorothy hadn’t bothered to put her hair back up after washing up so it was free and available for Beatrice to grip it, twisting her wrist until it was wrapped around her hand. Dorothy opened her mouth and accepted Beatrice’s flickering tongue, turning so her hips were pressing Beatrice against the edge of the desk. They had made love a few times since Desmond’s death, since Beatrice used her power to kill Virago, but this morning felt different. It felt like before.
“There--” The next word was swallowed by another kiss, and Dorothy smiled. “There is a certain subservient position that you’ve never objected to. But in light of our conversation, perhaps you would allow me to do the honors.” Her hand moved to the fasteners of Beatrice’s trousers.
Beatrice smiled and braced her hands on the desk. “As you wish, ma’am.”
Dorothy grinned and got onto her knees as she pulled the uniform pants down.
#
Trafalgar hesitated on the landing. She was concerned, even though Dorothy had seemed relaxed and calm when she arrived. She actually looked immensely better than she had in the past few weeks. A winter had set in Dorothy’s eyes and colored her mood. There were no jokes, no laughter or music lifting from the den during the long nights she’d been spending hidden away there with her books.
