The Fatal Engine

by Harriet Smart

  Afterwards, Emma, laughing, said, “I think I should get a white tulle dress with spangles. Or perhaps the effect is only devastating because Mrs Carswell is so beautiful.”

  “That dress would have looked as handsome on you.”

  “It would look indecent on me,” said Emma. “I have a trifle too much here,” she said, laying her hand on her chest, “for such a daring cut. But she is so delicate and tiny. She looks like a star fallen from the heavens.”

  “Poetic,” said Giles.

  “If one cannot compete, one must yield. Don’t you find her lovely?”

  “Yes, but she is far too young. I prefer –”

  “Her Ladyship?” said Emma.

  “You, of course.”

  “Tactful and correct, Major, but disregard me for a moment. Surely Lady Blanchfort is just as delightful to gaze upon? If I were a man, in fact, I think should prefer her. There is an air of mystery about her.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Come now, Giles, you will not offend me. Tell me, if you were not spoken for, would you not feel inclined to be in love with her?”

  “I’m not sure that is how love works,” he said.

  “No, but a widow like that would surely whet any sensible man’s appetite?”

  “Lord, you are sometimes so direct, ma’am!”

  “You know I like to speculate. I can imagine you married to her.”

  “If you die, I will consider it,” he said. “But then I should be Carswell’s father-in-law, and that’s a daunting prospect.”

  “It would be an excellent thing for both of you.”

  “I like things just as they are disposed at present,” said Giles, pulling her into his arms. “And we should sleep while we can, since Sandro seems to be quiet at the moment.”

  “That is probably because he was howling most of the afternoon. I tried everything I could, but there are some days at that age when misery takes hold and nothing can be done. Poor lamb.”

  “And where was his mother in all this crisis?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. She is never about when she is wanted, that is for certain,” she said. “About this business with the money – are you sure?”

  “It seems too clever a lie for a boy like Hamish. Of course, I don’t know him well, but it seemed to have the ring of truth about it. Did you ask your sister if she had seen the money?”

  “Yes, but it was by no means an interrogation. I played the trusting simpleton and simply said I had lost it. I even took your name in vain, and said you would be cross with me for losing it.”

  “And were you aware that Hamish was nearby when you had this conversation?”

  She thought for a moment.

  “Yes, for Julia and I were at the door to the schoolroom and he was inside playing with Tom’s old soldiers on the table. He has set up a great battle in there and wants you to approve it.”

  “And what did Julia say to you?”

  “She said she had not seen any money lying about but that of course, if she did, she would bring it to me at once. And then she went out.”

  “Where was she going?”

  “Just for some air, she said. And something about walking every day being the best way to keep one’s figure and I ought to consider it in case I was worried about becoming thick-waisted for my new husband.”

  “Charming,” said Giles.

  “Wasn’t it?” said Emma. “Oh, my sweet, what shall we do if this thing about the money turns out to be true?”

  “I don’t know,” said Giles. “Perhaps it will all be clearer in the morning.”

  “One can only pray so,” said Emma.

  ~

  They were awoken by the sound of Sandro’s cries early the next morning. Giles got out of bed, went down the passage to the nursery and found that Greene, the new nursemaid, had the situation quite in hand. Yet he still could not resist taking the child from her when he had been changed, and this seemed to satisfy Sandro equally. In fact, he clung to Giles in a sort of ecstasy. Greene went off to fetch warm milk, and Giles sat down on the end of the bed, in which Sophy and Hamish were still asleep. At least Sophy was, for Hamish sat up, rubbed his eyes and looked at him questioningly.

  “I hear you have a battle set up with those old soldiers,” Giles said.

  “Yes,” said Hamish. “I have. But aren’t you going to punish me, sir?”

  “Why do you ask me that?” said Giles. “Have you done something you think deserves it?”

  “N...n... no, it’s just that Mama said if I lied to you she was sure you’d flog me.”

  “So she spoke to you after we’d gone out last night?”

  “Yes, sir. She said if I told you lies, you would know it.”

  “I suppose she asked you what passed between us in the dining room?”

  “Yes, sir, and I...” He broke off. “I could not tell her. I could not, even though...”

  “Did she get angry with you?”

  “Yes. Very.” He gave a sniff, trying to choke down his tears. “And then she said that when you knew I had lied, that you would flog me as well.”

  “So she punished you?”

  The boy nodded.

  “She said I should never say anything bad to anyone about a lady, and that I had to learn my lesson. But, surely a lady doesn’t steal?”

  Giles sighed, settling the now sleeping Sandro a little more comfortably in his arms.

  “And?”

  “When we were in India, Papa’s colonel got so angry with him. It was something about his wife and Mama, and a necklace. And then Papa and Mama –” He began to cry, although he valiantly tried to prevent it.

  With his free arm, Giles stretched out towards the boy. Sensing a safe berth, the boy crawled out of bed and pressed himself against Giles, and let his tears flow. A moment or two later, Emma came in and saw them.

  “Oh dear, what is all this?” she said. She gently prised Sandro from Giles’ embrace and laid him in his cot, where he quite happily curled up and went to sleep, while Hamish continued to cry in Giles’ arms.

  “Sophy is quite the sound sleeper,” she said, ruffling Hamish’s hair. He looked up at her with a woebegone expression. “Oh my poor lad, what is it?”

  “I think we should all get dressed and have some breakfast,” said Giles. “With any luck Mrs Holt will have made bacon and eggs, and perhaps we might order a pot of chocolate, and after that, I think everything will seem better.”

  At this Hamish straightened and attempted to dry his tears on his nightshirt sleeve.

  “Chocolate, Major Vernon?” Emma said, smiling. “What extravagance!”

  “It is Saturday,” said Giles.

  Greene came in, and Giles returned to their bedroom with Emma.

  “What happened to upset Hamish so?” she said.

  He did not have a chance to explain as Patton came in with some hot water, and a moment or two later, Holt brought his clean linen and his freshly brushed clothes.

  “I will wear my pleated chemisette this morning, Patton,” Emma was saying, “and my brown wool.”

  “Yes, madam,” said Patton going to the chest to find these items. “Shall I put your pearls away now, ma’am?” Her necklace was lying on the dressing table, just where Giles had taken it off the night before, kissing her neck in the process.

  “If you would,” Emma said. “Oh, Holt, please tell Mrs Holt to make chocolate for the children this morning,” she said as he was about to leave the room.

  “Certainly, ma’am,” said Holt.

  “Ma’am,” said Patton, “where is your box?”

  “Which box?” Emma said.

  “Your jewellery box. It’s not here, where it usually is.”

  Giles was pulling his shirt over his head as this conversation continued.

  “I have not moved it,” Emma said. “We put it back in there last night, surely?”

  “Yes, indeed, ma’am. Just before you went to say goodnight to the children,” said Patton. “But it has gone
.” She began to look through the other drawers.

  “Holt!” Giles went to the door and called him back.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “When you saw Master Hamish in here last night, did you see Mrs Vernon’s jewellery box on the dressing table?”

  “No, sir, I don’t think so.”

  Giles went back into the room.

  “It must be somewhere,” said Emma.

  “It doesn’t seem to be anywhere, ma’am,” said Patton.

  “Holt and I will look for it in a moment. It will not be far away,” said Giles. “Help your mistress finish dressing, now, Patton.”

  Patton did so, and having made himself respectable although still unshaven, Giles left the room and went down the passageway to the far end of the house and the room where Mrs Gordon was sleeping. He knocked on her door, and hearing no answer, gently opened the door.

  “Ma’am, if you will excuse me –?”

  But there was no answer. He could see, as he opened the door wider, that the bed was not occupied, nor had it been slept in. He went in and opened the curtains and the shutters. Now the cool grey winter light flooded the room, and it was clear that Mrs Gordon had entirely vacated her quarters. There were no trinkets or clothes lying about. More ominously still, Emma’s black leather jewel case lay on the dressing table. He opened it. It was empty.

  ~

  “But when did she go?” Emma said, when Giles returned to the house. She was waiting in the hall for him.

  “As far as I can gather, it was after the children were asleep and the servants were all in the kitchen. Probably about nine o’clock. No later than that. She left on foot, with two portmanteaus, it seems, for that is all that is missing from their luggage. Now, I have spoken to the gateman at the Petersgate and he did not see her leave, neither did old Walt at the East Gate, but he is not a reliable witness. But there is the chance she went by way of Jacob’s Ladder.”

  “And then?” said Emma. “If the thought of her actually carrying two large portmanteaus is not strange enough...”

  “She won’t have gone far. I wonder if she was meeting with someone? Or had arranged for a carriage to take her somewhere. I think I will go and ask at some of the hotels. If she was intending to leave by train, it would have been too late last night,” he said, glancing at his watch, “so there may be a chance to catch her before she leaves Northminster, if that is her plan. The London train is at ten.”

  “London? Do you really think that?” Emma said.

  “Can you think where else she might go?”

  “I don’t know why she would go anywhere without her children,” Emma said, “or without leaving a word of what she is about. Are you quite sure she has left of her own will?”

  “It’s the most likely explanation. If she had been coerced, I think someone would have heard or seen something. Someone would have had to come into the house and force her out of it. I can’t quite imagine that happening.”

  “No, I suppose it is absurd. And fear of discovery would drive her away.” She gave a sigh. “Giles, I must admit something. That jewellery box. As well as my trinkets, there was a purse in there with twenty sovereigns in it.”

  “So she has plenty of cash on her now,” said Giles.

  “I should never have kept it there. It was foolish of me. I was thinking that when we had the box out last night to get my pearls, you see, and I made sure Patton put it back, right at the back of the drawer, with my linen over it. After that business with the cash, I should have known better. I should have given it to you to take to the bank.” She pressed her hands to her face. “And she must have gone looking in there for my diamond crescent and found that as well!”

  “Which no doubt prompted her to leave when the coast was clear,” said Giles.

  “How could I have been so foolish?”

  “Because you did not expect her to be light-fingered.”

  “I would have given her money if she asked me,” said Emma. “In fact, I was thinking I might give her some of it anyway so that she could get settled elsewhere.”

  At this moment Holt came out of the dining room.

  “Some of the silver has gone too, sir,” he said. “About half a dozen spoons. And a sauce boat.”

  “Oh dear Lord!” exclaimed Emma. “The sauce boat! My own sister stealing the silver!”

  The shame of this was too much for her and she ran upstairs.

  “Sorry, madam,” said Holt calling up after her. “And you, sir. This is a nasty business.”

  “Tell Mrs Vernon I have gone out to make some enquiries,” said Giles, taking up his hat. “And that I will send word as soon as I know anything.”

  “Yes, sir. And I shall see she is looked after, sir,” Holt said.

  “Thank you, Holt,” Giles said, and left.

  It was a freezing morning, although dry, and by the time he had visited three hotels of the more salubrious sort and discovered nothing, he began to long for coffee. He wondered if she was being economical and if he should seek her in less attractive establishments, but decided he would at least exhaust the first class houses. He was now close to perhaps the flashiest of them all, The Three Crowns, but it was hardly the sort of place a lady would enter alone, carrying her own luggage. It was also a fair distance from the Precincts, especially if one had been burdened with two heavy portmanteaus, clanking with silver and sovereigns.

  He entered, if only to eliminate the possibility.

  “How may I help you, sir?” the desk clerk asked.

  “Have you a lady, a Mrs Gordon, staying with you?”

  “No, sir, I don’t think so.”

  “She will have arrived last night,” said Giles. “Some time after nine.”

  “The only lady who arrived so late last night was Lady Mayhew, with her lord, naturally, sir,” said the clerk glancing at the book. “He took one of our carriages and went to fetch her, having arrived here this morning.”

  “Ah, that’s interesting. May I speak to your coachman, then?”

  “Well, yes, sir, except he’s out on a job. Taking Lord and Lady Mayhew to the railway station, as a matter of fact.”

  “To catch the ten o’clock to London, I dare say?” said Giles. It was ten to ten and the station was more than ten minutes’ walk away.

  “Yes, his Lordship’s valet did say that was their intention,” said the clerk.

  Giles ran to the station, making up the time as best he could, but it was no easy matter because the streets were thronged with people. He reached the station just as the clock was chiming ten, and dashing down to the platform, had the frustrating experience of seeing the London train pull out.

  But he was rewarded with a clear if momentary glimpse of a woman sitting at the window of a first class compartment, a woman who was undoubtedly Julia Gordon.

  ~

  It had not been the easiest thing to get out of bed and see off their guests. Eleanor, who ought to have joined him in this civility, could not be roused at all. Fortunately no one seemed to see this as a slight. Lady Blanchfort was there, and, because of the extreme cold of the morning, the leave-taking was brief and efficient. Lord Rothborough and Lady Maria were despatched by carriage while Sir Mark Hurrell had elected to walk back to Hurrell Place. Felix went with him a little way down the drive, in the wake of the carriage.

  “I need some serious exercise,” he said to Felix. “It is the prospect of marriage, or rather frustrated marriage, that is making me so restless. I feel like a devil possessed – excuse me, I should not talk like this, but when I am faced with the reality of the woman who is my fate, it awakens something I have never felt before. I am almost beside myself with energy.”

  “Lord Rothborough said that Lady Rothborough is being intractable,” Felix said.

  “Utterly. She has threatened terrible sanctions if we disobey. It is not just a matter of the material things. All that we could well do without – they are a burden as much as a gift – after all, I have more than we need, but to be told th
at she will be entirely cast off – it is so unkind of her! She has a wicked sense of self-regard. She abuses her position and her power so thoughtlessly. And my poor Maria, although she is clear-sighted enough about her mother’s faults, is a dutiful child and will not abandon her. She always believes that there will be a reformation of character: ‘If I love her and submit to her then she will see I am not being unreasonable.’ That is how I was with my father, of course,” he said with a sigh. “And look where that led! But enough of that,” he ended. “I should let you go back to bed!”

  “Tempting, but I have a pile of work to see to.”

  Sir Mark set off briskly with a cheerful wave, and Felix went back inside and shaved. When he had done so he went back into their bedroom, and found Eleanor sitting up taking her breakfast in bed. She looked rosy-cheeked and cheerful.

  “I have to go into Northminster, I’m afraid,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and attempting to steal a piece of her toast. She slapped his hand away. “Can’t you spare one piece of toast for your husband?”

  “Not this toast,” she said. “It is too delicious.”

  “Half a piece,” he said. “For last night?”

  She smiled and held a piece up for him to take a bite.

  “I feel like Nigel,” he said.

  “Will you look in on him before you go out?” she said.

  “Yes, if you like.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I have to be at Mr Truro’s for half past ten. I do not want him to think I cannot manage to be at a rehearsal on time.”

  “A rehearsal – already?”

  “It is only twenty days to Twelfth Night,” she said. “We cannot begin too soon. I expect I shall be there most of the day. You can come and fetch me from there, if you like.”

  “I will, with pleasure,” he said.

  He kissed her goodbye. Coming downstairs, he found Lady Blanchfort in the hall. She had been there to see the guests off, but she had not come outside. Now he was alone with her, the details of his shocking dream returned to him with uncomfortable precision.