Nessy's Locket

by A. W. Exley

  Cara considered digging her heels in and refusing, but knowing her grandmother, that would be futile. The older woman was even more stubborn than her granddaughter. Perhaps the women in her family became more irascible as they got older.

  She slumped back against the sofa and capitulated. “Very well, but make it a small and private wedding.”

  Nan beamed. “The chapel on the grounds here will be perfect. I wouldn’t suggest one that sees regular use. We can’t have Nate struck by lightning as he steps over the threshold or smouldering at the nave like wet wool before a fire.”

  After a lengthy discussion with her new tutor, Rachel announced over dinner that she had decided on the name Pavlin, the Russian for peacock, for the little female with scales like a peacock feather. Cara settled on Calypso, after the sea goddess, for the other.

  “Do we need a ceremony to tell them their names?” Rachel asked.

  “I’m fairly certain no reverend will undertake a christening for a dragon, but perhaps we could ride out tomorrow and see what they think of their new names?” Cara suggested.

  The next morning Cara and Rachel rode out to find the dragons. Once clear of the barn and Nate’s line of sight, Cara unhooked the lead rein and let Rachel take charge of her placid pony.

  She held her reins in one natural hand and one metal one. Nate’s engineer had finally finished a prosthetic with a skeletal hand that could open, close, and grip depending on how Rachel wiggled her stump. The mechanical forearm also had a compass, a timepiece, and a compartment for a small notebook and pencil. As she became accustomed to the device, and as she grew, they planned more complex designs. Including her longed-for one with hidden weapons.

  They found the dragons on the edge of the cliff, Kirill draped over the edge as he watched the ocean crash below. The two females sunned themselves beside him.

  Cara and Rachel dismounted at an equine-safe distance and left the horses to graze. As they walked towards their newest residents, Cara shielded her eyes and stared out to sea. A ship sat out in the water and didn’t appear to be moving. It could be fishermen hauling in a net, a cargo vessel taking its bearings, or a bounty hunter watching her dragons.

  Kirill swung his head around as Cara approached, and snorted and gestured to the boat.

  “You see them too, boy? Do keep an eye on them.” She scratched his favourite spot over his left eye.

  Having greeted the larger male, Cara joined Rachel with the two smaller females. The dragon with the blue-edged scales curled her body around Rachel. A bond had sprung up between the two that delighted Cara to watch.

  The young girl laid her hand on the dragon’s head and said in a solemn tone, “I would name you Pavlin, if that is agreeable with you. It means peacock in Russian, and I know that might not seem very fancy, but peacocks are such beautiful and magical creatures, just like you.”

  The little female made a noise in her throat and closed her eyes. After considering for a moment, she opened her eyes and gently rubbed her cheek against Rachel’s face.

  “She likes it! Pavlin likes her name.” Rachel dissolved into giggles as the little dragon vibrated against her.

  The deep green and grey female nudged Cara’s middle as she waited to hear her name.

  Cara took the creature’s head in both hands and met her ocean-like gaze. “You, my beauty, I thought to call Calypso. She is a goddess of the sea, or a powerful witch, depending on which legend you read. How does that sound?”

  She trilled and rolled her eyes, then nudged Cara again.

  “I’m assuming that means you approve of Calypso.”

  Cara and Rachel sat on the grass, each with a dragon head resting in their lap as they scratched itchy spots. Both Cara and Kirill kept an eye on the vessel until it sailed across the horizon and disappeared out of sight.

  She would tell Nate that hunters might be watching the dragons from the sea. They would need to increase the number of men patrolling the grounds. Nate’s solicitor, McToon, was working on a treaty to have the creatures declared protected so anyone caught harming them committed an offence against the crown. Once the treaty was finished, it would be presented to Victoria, and Cara hoped the queen would seek to have it agreed to by her fellow rulers. At a minimum, they planned to have Nate present it as a private bill before Parliament; he would simply have to overcome his distaste for appearing in the House of Lords.

  “Watch over them, Kirill, and come find me if you see anyone we don’t know,” Cara said as they prepared to leave.

  Kirill trumpeted and flapped his wings. Then all three dragons rose up into the sky and headed out across the water to begin fishing for their lunch.

  “Come on, you, time to get you back to your lessons.” Cara helped Rachel up onto the pony.

  As they rode back to the house, Rachel turned in the saddle to watch the dragons swoop and dive until they disappeared from view.

  At the barn, they found Nate standing in the courtyard, arms crossed over his chest. While he wore his poker face and nothing leaked through their bond, his stance registered as distinctly unimpressed about something.

  “Uh-oh,” Cara muttered.

  He swung Rachel from the saddle as soon as the pony halted. “What happened to the lead rein?”

  Ah. The man had curious blind spots in his protective urges. He would devote hours to teaching Rachel to use a blade or to shoot, but broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of her off the lead rein. “She doesn’t need it, Nate. Rachel is doing just fine on her own.”

  He grunted and shifted his attention to Cara. “Do you think it’s time you stopped riding and took the Armadillo instead?”

  That made her snort. While she didn’t mind the mechanical sled, she much preferred a horse. “Are you seriously going to suggest I shouldn’t ride because I’m pregnant, or is it a way to get Rachel off her pony?”

  “Two birds, one stone,” he said with a straight face.

  “I’m going to ignore that comment because I know you mean well. I will strike a deal with you, though. I promise to switch to the Armadillo when I can no longer mount or dismount on my own.” That would never happen. Would it?

  Nate draped an arm over her shoulders and steered her towards the house. “We need to return to London. I have managed to secure an appointment for you with the most renowned obstetrician in all of England.”

  Darn. Visits to doctors made this pregnancy thing real. “All right. I’ll go change. By the way, I saw a vessel off the coast. Kirill was watching it, but I wonder if it was watching the dragons.”

  He growled low in the back of his throat. “I’ll decrease the time between the sweeps around the estate.”

  Nate needed to worry less about her and Rachel and more about the far larger problem—the dragons.

  Cara kissed Rachel’s forehead as Professor Isayev emerged and reclaimed his student. “We’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised as the girl climbed the stairs to her schoolroom.

  Later that afternoon, Cara sat in a well-appointed office in Harley Street. The physician was in his fifties and enjoyed port, according to his bright red nose. He stared at Cara and then pulled on the skin below her eyes to assess the colour of her whites.

  Next he picked up her wrist and pressed his fingers to her pulse. “You will need to remove yourself from society until after the child is born and limit physical activity so you do not overexert yourself. I will recommend a tonic for you to drink twice a day to balance your humours.”

  Cara glared at Nate who, uncharacteristically, looked on the verge of chortling. “Limit physical activity? That is quite impossible. I have no intentions of sitting on my backside for the next five months.”

  The man looked up, his eyes wide with alarm. He dropped Cara’s wrist. “You cannot disturb the child while it is growing. And of course any…physical relations must cease immediately and not resume until at least six months after the child is born.”

  That wiped the smile off Nate’s face. Cara poked her tongue out. Serves
him right for picking that doctor. She half expected him to take down a bottle of leeches from the shelf and pop one on her stomach.

  As soon as they emerged on the footpath, Cara rounded on her husband. “That man is a quack.”

  Nate took her elbow to manoeuvre her to their waiting carriage. “He comes highly recommended from several matrons.”

  Cara snorted. “Would these be the same matrons who would dance on my grave and then throw their unwed daughters in your path?”

  “Possibly. Look, I’m outside my realm of expertise here. I don’t normally deal with this type of situation.” He gestured to her middle.

  “You mean pregnancy and childbirth?” They were both fumbling in the dark, trying to find the best way forward.

  “Yes.” He slammed the carriage door a little too firmly, and the rattle shook through its frame.

  Cara resisted the urge to grin as relief ran through her. That meant he hadn’t got any of his former mistresses pregnant. Or none that he knew about.

  She settled on her seat. “I still say he’s a quack, and he’s not going to be rummaging around in my nether region.”

  Nate narrowed his eyes and raised his hands. “All right then. Who would be acceptable?”

  Cara had learned something from listening to Nan and Nessy. “Ask Liam who is the best midwife in the Rookery. I want a woman who has experience running in her veins. And Nessy said they have to have small hands too.”

  “Small hands?” A frown drew his brows together. “I don’t even want to know why that’s a consideration.”

  Nate deposited Cara back in Mayfair and then set off for St Giles to discuss Cara’s need for a knowledgeable midwife with small hands. As much as she loved him, Cara was relieved to send him off on a mission and have a few hours without him hovering over her.

  She found Amy studying in the front parlour and flung herself on a sofa with a loud sigh.

  “Why are you so glum? Aren’t expectant mothers supposed to be radiant?” Amy glanced up from the open anatomy textbook.

  “What if I don’t want to be a mother?”

  “Little late for that now.” Amy closed the book and set down her pen. “Is it the prospect of being a mother that is worrying you, or what you have to go through to become a mother?”

  Cara picked up a pillow and wound a long tassel around her finger. “I don’t want to die, nor do I want Nate to have to decide between me and the babe.”

  “That’s a prospect that none of us want,” her friend whispered.

  “Today he took me to visit an expensive city doctor who I swear has never even seen a naked woman. Lord only knows what use he will be when my time comes. He’ll probably just write out an invoice for his time and pass around smelling salts and cigars.”

  “Men taking over childbirth seems to have a detrimental effect for many women. Surely there must be a midwife in Lowestoft who has more experience?”

  “Nan and Nessy are hunting one out, and Nate has gone to see Liam in the Rookery so I can have a London one on hand. Nessy says I should find one with small hands, in case the baby needs help.” The idea of someone sticking both hands into her birth canal made Cara want to cross her legs. How was that even possible? She stared at her hands and placed them together in a praying position. Nope, her brain said. Not happening.

  Amy piled one textbook atop another. “I have been doing my own research, and there are lectures being offered at college on obstetrics. Ever since Queen Victoria took chloroform during childbirth, it has become quite the rage to alleviate the pain.”

  Cara dropped her hands to the cushion in her lap. “No chloroform. If I’m going to die, I want to face it head on and not slip out in a drug-fuddled stupor.”

  “Stop talking about dying. It’s an entirely natural process.” Amy screwed the lid back on the inkpot.

  “Dying or childbirth? I know my history, and the two seem to go hand in hand.” Cara kept tugging on the tassel in her hand, hoping if she pulled hard enough the pillow would burst open to reveal the answer to all her problems. “Do your lectures cover medical intervention, or only the natural process?”

  Amy stilled. “What do you mean medical intervention?”

  “Caesarean section.” Cara whispered the words in case Nate’s spies had their ears pressed to the closed door.

  Amy’s eyes widened. “No, Cara. Don’t even suggest it. It is an incredibly dangerous procedure, and surgeons only undertake it when the mother is dead or beyond saving. Even with our modern hospitals, it has an eighty-five per cent fatality rate.”

  “Which means fifteen per cent of mothers survive.” That seemed better odds than what she faced on her own.

  Amy moved from her chair to sit next to Cara, gathered up her hands, and shook them. “I will not let you think of this child as a death sentence. Your grandmother and her baby both survived the process, and I choose to believe that you and this babe will also.”

  Cara met her friend’s worried gaze and tried to smile. “Isn’t there a saying about hope for the best but prepare for the worst? I want you to be prepared, Amy, if the worst should happen.”

  Amy swallowed. “I promise I will learn all that I can in the next few months, and I pray I never need to use such knowledge.”

  Cara tossed the pillow and reached out to embrace Amy. “Thank you,” she whispered to her friend.

  “Now that’s enough of maudlin thoughts. Don’t you have some happier news to share?”

  Cara groaned as she considered the other event looming in her life. “No, more grievous events to suffer through. Nan is insisting on an August wedding.”

  Amy snorted. “How terrible for you. Friends and family all gathered to celebrate the fact you’ve been married for nearly four years.”

  “No fair. I only learned about it last year.” Nate had married her by proxy. A deal struck with her father while Cara was running across America trying to escape her demons. Cara only learned what he had done when he was incarcerated in the Tower. She had nearly left him there for that betrayal.

  “There comes a time when we need to set aside the girls we were and accept that we are growing up, Cara.” Amy returned to the desk and picked up a book.

  Her childhood friend was growing up. Who would have thought pretty Amy would one day study to become a doctor?

  “Will you be joining me as I walk down the aisle?” If Cara had to go through a wedding, she was dragging her best friend along with her.

  Amy looked up and hugged the book to her chest, a thoughtful light in her eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You know, I think it is time for me to do just that. If I want to be taken seriously as a doctor, I need to marry and not revel in my scandalously sinful state. But let’s not tell Jack. Let it be a surprise for him.”

  The henchman had made no secret of his determination to make Amy his wife. Cara’s friend had resisted and wanted to scandalise society after the way she was shunned when she broke off her engagement to an abusive fiancé.

  “A surprise? A deal. Let us spring it on Jackson at the altar.” Cara hoped she wouldn’t laugh so hard at his reaction that the baby came early.

  6

  Early June

  A week later, Cara answered a summons to visit the bookstore.

  “Please tell me you have good news, Malachi.” Cara sat on her stool and rubbed her stomach. By their best estimates, she was somewhere around five months into this particular adventure. Each day the bump grew bigger, and soon she would have to leave the buttons on her trousers undone.

  The old man tapped the side of his head. “The information you needed was in here, it just took a little time to let it simmer to the surface.”

  “And?” She hoped whatever he found would be easy to retrieve.

  He rattled in a box on the floor by the desk and pulled out a scroll. “I knew the Great Wall of China had something to do with ways to construct an invisible wall. Before we begin, what do you know about the Great Wall?”

  “It’s
very long.” She hoped Malachi wasn’t going to suggest they build a tall wall around the entire estate. It wouldn’t stop a bounty hunter from climbing over or simply dropping from above in an airship. Or from sailing up the coast and tackling the lair from below.

  Malachi patted her hand. “Humour me for a moment. Long before the birth of Christ, there were border walls being built in China to protect against raids and invasions from nomadic tribes. The most famous portion of wall was built some two hundred years before the birth of Christ, by the first Emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang. Legend says he had a powerful wizard in his court who ensorcelled the first few stones to ensure the success of the wall in keeping their enemies at bay. They also killed a large number of slaves and buried them in the foundations, so that their spirits would keep the wall intact.”

  Cara’s interest pricked up at the mention of a wizard, and she skimmed over the slaves who were sacrificed for the greater good. Their fate was too close to that of the woman who lost her life in the foundation of the Soho house and whose spirit dwelled within the walls. “Please tell me the stones are magical and will protect my dragons?”

  Malachi winked. “The stones are magical and will protect your dragons.”

  She nearly whooped in joy. The Great Wall was enormous; no one would notice if Nate loaded up an airship and brought the stones back to England.

  Malachi unrolled the parchment and moved objects on the desk to hold the ends. Cara didn’t need to be able to read the tightly packed script at the top—the picture told the story. A wall ran from one edge of the paper to the other side. On the left were three solitary stones. A mage held a staff high over the stones, and the artist had drawn lightning bolts radiating from around him and hitting the blocks.

  Then, as the image travelled to the right, workmen appeared hauling more stones and adding them to the growing wall. Some limbs stuck out from underneath, where those who died during construction became part of the wall for all eternity. By the time the wall reached the ocean on the far side of the paper, it was complete with ramparts, guard towers, and a fluttering flag.