The Fatal Engine

by Harriet Smart

  “It would be canny if they did,” said O’Brien, “given how many folk will remember it well from last time.”

  “What is interesting is that Coxe found them by Williamson’s. That’s probably the most up-to-date manufactory in the city,” Major Vernon said.

  “It certainly is. And the size of the machines in there are something phenomenal,” said O’Brien. “Have you been round?”

  “No, but I shall have to pay them a visit. Can you remember who was attacked last time, by the way?”

  “It was a stocking loom place. I can’t recall the name. We’d think it shabby now, especially when a place like Williamson’s is throwing out yards and yards of worsted in minutes, but at the time it was a miracle of progress.”

  “Williamson’s must be provoking to Crimson Mary, then,” said Felix. “Or tempting, depending on how you look at it.”

  “The reference to the Welsh cousin is interesting and worrying,” Major Vernon said. “There is certainly a lot of unrest fomenting down there, and the same sort of protests – female disguises, criminal damage and so forth. And we have had a complaint about windows being broken in Brown’s Lane for no discernible reason, and there is a witness who is convinced that he saw a woman throwing stones: a tall, well-built woman, wearing a red cloak. Yes, you are right to talk of temptation, Mr Carswell; this is the sort of thing that certain individuals get a taste for. Causing chaos for the sake of it. Hidden behind a high cause.”

  “And a poke bonnet,” said Felix. “Do you think that this can be a likeness in any sense? That nose –”

  “The Duke’s nose,” said O’Brien. “Yes. That was much talked about back then.”

  “So is this perhaps simply a motif designed to make one associate Crimson Mary with the great hero? Very sly,” said Major Vernon.

  “Or perhaps the man himself does have such a nose and uses it to his advantage?” Felix said. “To make a leader of himself.”

  “Given we have so little to go on, it would not hurt to imagine the latter,” Major Vernon said. “Coxe has already identified a few loose associations of radical men in the city and we shall look a little more closely at them. This is a statement of intent, and unless we can find Crimson Mary, we may have a grave situation on our hands. May I borrow this?” he added, tapping the ballad with his finger.

  Chapter Two

  Giles had formed the habit of stealing back to Rooke Court to drink tea with Emma, before returning to the Northern Office. As he came in, he was confronted by a large pile of battered luggage in the hall and the sound of a child shrieking somewhere in the house.

  Holt was coming from the kitchen with the customary tea tray and, in answer to Giles’ enquiring glance, said, “Mrs Gordon and her children, sir. Arrived here about an hour ago. Straight from the station.”

  Giles nodded. There was another unearthly shriek from upstairs, and he tried to remember how many children it was that Emma’s half-sister, Julia, had to her name.

  “And she’s with Mrs Vernon?”

  “In the little sitting room, yes, sir.”

  “I had better go up,” Giles said, wondering how Emma was dealing with this unexpected invasion. She had not said much about Julia except that it was probably for the best that she was married to an officer whose regiment was posted to India.

  “After you, sir,” Holt said, and followed with the tea tray.

  They went up and into the large, still sparsely-furnished drawing room. Here a small child of indeterminate sex and age was wandering about the room unsteadily, as if on board the deck of a ship, occasionally colliding with furniture. Seeing Giles in the doorway it opened its mouth and screamed, as Giles were the Devil himself.

  “Master Alexander,” said Holt, passing behind with the tea tray.

  “Oh, will you never, never be quiet!” exclaimed a woman’s voice.

  A stylishly-dressed woman in her early thirties came marching over to the child and glared down at him, her face grim. It looked for a moment as if she were going to kick him, like a dog, and then seeing Giles, her expression switched to the most winning of smiles.

  “Major Vernon? At last!” She glanced back at Emma who had followed her from the sitting room. “My goodness, how tall you are, sir!” She put out her hand and dropped a curtsey. “Julia Gordon – your sister, sir,” she added.

  Giles made his bow and introduced himself.

  In the meantime, Emma had picked up the still-screaming Alexander and was attempting to soothe him.

  “Where is his nurse?” Giles said.

  “There isn’t one, sir,” said Holt.

  “Well, well, Brother Giles!” Laughing, Mrs Gordon laid a hand on Giles’ forearm. “How amusing! To have a new brother! Shall I pour the tea, Emma? You seem to have your hands full. I think you have made a conquest there, but we must not neglect the Major’s tea, must we?”

  She sat down in Emma’s chair and began to arrange the teacups.

  “Let me,” said Giles, taking Alexander from her arms. The boy, calm now, bristled a little, but when Giles offered him a piece of bread and butter he devoured it.

  “Now, how do you take your tea, Brother Giles?” said Julia. “Tell me so I may always make it properly. It is the least I can do, when you are being so kind as to take us in.”

  Emma was perched on the edge of the sofa, her hands twisted together in her lap.

  “Black, no sugar, if you please,” said Giles, conscious of her agony and wondering how he might relieve her. Alexander was now on to his second slice of bread and butter.

  “How austere,” said Julia. “I never can resist the cream and the sugar. And this cream – oh, how lovely! One has to go to the country for proper cream. There was nothing like this in London, I can tell you.”

  “I thought you were to stay with Cousin Stephen?” Emma said. “And keep house for him?”

  “Do not speak to me of that man,” said Julia. “He is an insolent mushroom. Sitting on his money-bags, making his judgements. Do you know what he said to me? He said that the only reason I had come back was because I wished to be separated from my husband! And then, would you credit it, he cast aspersions about little Alexander – said that he was clearly not Captain Gordon’s child, and I was only running away from scandal!”

  “Oh dear,” Emma said.

  “I suppose he had all that from Matilda who has nothing better to do than invent gossip. What has she said to you?”

  “Nothing, except that you were to go to Cousin Stephen and he was going to pay for the children’s education.”

  “He may have said that, but I assure you he had no intention of doing so. He is a miser. That house of his – a great, vast place, and yet he lives in his parlour to save on coal. We were not welcome, not welcome at all, despite all that was agreed! How dare he! He gave Captain Gordon his word as well! If you had seen how he treated us – it was shocking. I could not bear it, and I knew you, Emma, of all people, would understand. So we came here.”

  “Now, who is Matilda again?” Giles asked.

  “She is another distant cousin,” said Emma. “She lives in Tunbridge Wells.”

  “She might be Stephen’s twin, though,” said Mrs Gordon, “for she is marvellously rich and marvellously miserly at the same time! All that money and she never does a thing with it.”

  “Is that not the cousin who sent the dinner service?” Giles said. “Miss Prentice?”

  “The same,” said Emma.

  “She sent you a dinner service?” said Julia.

  “As a wedding present, yes,” said Emma.

  “It must be ugly and cracked,” said Julia.

  “It is not new, and there are a few chips here and there, but it is Wedgwood,” Emma said.

  Julia frowned and glanced about her, as if she were appraising every stick of furniture.

  “Did Cousin Stephen send anything?” she said.

  “Nothing of any consequence,” Emma said.

  This was not quite true. The gentleman in questi
on had sent a handsome cheque.

  “Ha, true to form,” said Julia. “And who will he leave it all to when he is gone? He will leave it to the poorhouse! The old – oh, I’m glad the Captain is not here to witness such perfidy. He does not take such insults lightly!”

  “Where does Captain Gordon’s family hail from? Are his parents still alive?” Giles asked.

  Julia shook her head.

  “A good family, of course,” she said. “And he has two brothers, one in the Navy and the other in India as well. He has not done quite so well as my Jack. He is acting as ADC to General Preston – I don’t think I mentioned that.”

  “No,” Giles said.

  “Preston is lucky to have him,” Julia said. “Oh goodness, you have done an excellent job with Alexander there. He likes your silver lace. A family trait. A uniform is the making of a man. He sees it already! Even if it is a police uniform!” Alexander was pulling at the fringe attached to Giles’ epaulettes. “Do you not miss the Army?” she added.

  “Not at all.”

  “And that lace, what does it signify? Forgive my ignorance.”

  “Chief Superintendent,” said Emma, getting up and taking Alexander from him. “I think this young gentleman needs some warm milk in the kitchen.”

  She carried him towards the door.

  “Ah, we girls would follow the drum,” Julia said, turning to Giles. “Oh, I remember it as if it were yesterday when Emma ran away with Captain Maitland.”

  “Julia, if you please!” Emma said, stopping at the door and turning back. “I did not run away with him!”

  “But you wanted to. And you would have done had Papa given you his blessing.”

  “I don’t know where you have got that idea from,” Emma said. “But you are quite mistaken.”

  “I heard you say so. You shall not deny it,” Julia said, wagging her finger at Emma. “You said so to Anne, that you would run away with him whatever Papa said.”

  “Let us go to the kitchen, Alexander,” Emma said, in such a cheerful tone that suggested to Giles she was repressing great irritation. “And see what we can find!”

  Julia, apparently unperturbed, helped herself to more tea and cream.

  “If you will excuse me,” Giles said, and went in pursuit of Emma.

  He found her in the hall with two other small children, a boy and a girl.

  “Sophy, Hamish, this is my husband, Major Vernon,” Emma said.

  They were shy but managed their manners nicely enough. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, they struck him as handsome, but at the same time too thin and pale. Patton came out from the kitchen and took charge of them all, and when they were alone again, Emma said, “Oh, Giles, I am so sorry, I had no idea, truly no idea. I knew she was in London, but I never thought –”

  He pulled her gently into his arms and kissed her.

  “Hush, it does not matter.”

  “But she is – well, do I need to elaborate? She is –”

  “I dare say we can manage for a day or two.”

  “I’m not so sure. I’m already beside myself and she has been here, what, two hours? What are we to do?”

  “We must let them stay, at least for a few days. Perhaps then it will be a little clearer what her intentions are.”

  “Oh, that is clear enough already,” Emma said, gesturing at the luggage. “She means to root herself here. And as for why she has left India, I think Cousin Stephen may have the truth of it. Alexander looks nothing like his brother and sister.”

  “No, he does not, but that often happens.”

  “Yes, I know, I know, but I cannot help thinking wicked things. She is such a flirt. I would not like to leave you alone with her for five minutes.”

  “I think I can deal with her.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you can. Forgive me. It is just that she has me rattled.”

  He pulled her a little closer.

  “Let us see how we go for a day or two. We certainly cannot send those poor children out into the snow. As you can see, it is snowing in earnest now.”

  “Oh, that is all we need!” said Emma, breaking from him and going to the window. “It has been hanging in the sky all day, that curious light. But what are we to do with them? They cannot stay in the kitchen, getting under everyone’s feet.”

  “Let them have the room next to the dining room.”

  “But that was to be your room, Giles.”

  “That was only a vague plan, and I’m not sure about it. I should rather be upstairs, to be frank. That room will make a good schoolroom, at least for a few days. There is nothing in there to weep over if it gets broken.”

  “No, quite. And we must find a nurse.”

  “Sally will be able to help us find one, I’m sure.”

  “Of course,” she said, “and it looks as if it is not settling, so that is something.” She glanced towards the stairs. “And now I must go up again. Do not feel obliged. You have already had your recess ruined.”

  “Oh no, not at all. It was not dull, certainly. But then, it never is dull coming back to you in this house. I never know what will happen.”

  “You are too gallant,” she said, kissing him. “And I forgive you in advance for any ill-tempered cursing of my family. Indeed, I insist on it! It would make me feel a great deal better if you were not your usual saintly self on this.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, smiling. “And I’ll be back for dinner as usual, but then I’m going out. Coxe and I have something in hand.”

  “That sounds both intriguing and dangerous. Take care.”

  “I shall, of course.”

  “I don’t want a broken-headed husband,” she said.

  “And you, take care,” he said, pointing to the ceiling.

  She smiled and went upstairs, leaving him to put on his hat and venture out into the sleet.

  Chapter Three

  If Felix had thought to surprise Eleanor with his news of the arrival of her favourite author, he was soon disappointed. As he was pulling off his boots in the hall, Eleanor came out from the library with two gentlemen.

  “Ah, here is my husband!” she said. “Mr Truro, Mr Hepworth, this is Mr Carswell. Felix, this is Mr Oliver Truro and his friend Mr Hepworth. Mr Truro has taken White Lodge.” She almost squeaked while saying this last part.

  “So I hear,” Felix said, going to shake hands in his stockinged feet, “from Mr O’Brien at The Bugle.”

  Truro was in early-middle age with pale, receding hair and large, soulful eyes. His handshake was fiercely enthusiastic and his whole wiry body seemed to quiver with energy. Most startling, in Felix’s opinion, was that under his velvet-collared, caramel-brown frock coat, he was wearing mustard and violet checked trousers and a waistcoat in another, equally gaudy check. There was something about him that made Felix think of a giant, exotic horsefly, and he wondered if he might get stung.

  “The master of the house!” Truro said. “And a medical man, I understand? A great honour, sir. I hadn’t realised that this village would be so interesting. Perhaps too interesting?” he added with a glance and a smile at Eleanor. “After all, I came for peace and quiet and to write! Hepworth, you have deceived me. You said this would be dull!”

  “But it is,” Eleanor said. “A dull little place, all in all.”

  “Yet so close to Northminster,” said Mr Truro, “which is anything but dull. All those delicious ancient stories about the Minster.”

  “The subject for your next book, I understand?” said Felix.

  “You are well-informed. Yes, I mean to set my tale against the construction of the great Minster – it is to be a panorama of medieval life!”

  “That will be wonderful!” said Eleanor. “I can hardly wait to read it.”

  “Mr O’Brien showed me your letter,” Felix said.

  “Yes, yes, the great Mr O’Brien and The Bugle! Putting Fleet Street to shame, I think. He is a true innovator. I shall be honoured to meet him,” he said. “And do not think I do not recognise
your name, sir – I have read of your exploits, along with those of Major Vernon! No,” he said, turning to his companion, “Hepworth, this will not do, not at all. We will have to move at once. You must find us another house. How can I be quiet here? There will be too much going on. I’m sure you have some extraordinary case in hand at the moment, Mr Carswell, yes?”

  “No, not at present,” Felix said. He was sure that Major Vernon would not want Crimson Mary talked about.

  “But you will let me know the moment there is something?” he said. “As a neighbour.”

  “So, there you have it, we are staying,” said Hepworth with a smile and a shake of his head. “And we should go home, Truro, unless you want to make Mr and Mrs Carswell sick of the sight of us.”

  “No, no, Mr Hepworth, not at all!” said Eleanor. “And you will come and dine on Friday?”

  “It will be a great pleasure, ma’am,” said Truro, taking Eleanor’s hand and kissing it. “And Mrs T. and her sister will also be delighted. And now, as my dear friend and manager Hepworth suggests, I will take my leave.”

  Felix saw them to the door. When they had gone, he turned to see Eleanor dancing about the hall.

  “Whoever would have thought it!” she exclaimed. “Oliver Truro here! When I heard White Lodge had been let to a family, I never thought... I must find out what he likes to eat. I don’t know what Mama has ordered for dinner on Friday but it will be all wrong. It certainly will not be enough. We are ten already and now it will be fourteen. Oliver Truro, coming to dinner here! I cannot even believe he was just here!”

  She went into the library and Felix followed her, still in his stockinged feet. He wished for a moment for the sort of wife who warmed her husband’s slippers by the fire.

  “He sat here,” she said, going to the empty armchair by the fire, and laying her hand on the back. “And he takes his tea with two sugars.”

  “Ten people? I thought it was only going to be the Major and Mrs Vernon, and perhaps the Ffordes,” said Felix, bending over the fire to warm himself. “Oh, I suppose you asked the Rector and his daughters. Your mother said something about that.”

  “Oh no,” said Eleanor. “They are quite useless at a dinner. He is a bore, you have said so yourself, and they are – well, one hardly knows what to say without being unkind. No, it is much better than that – Lord Rothborough, Maria and Sir Mark Hurrell. And they will be pleased to meet Mr Truro, I’m sure of that.”