A Study in Ashes (42 page)

Watson shook his head. “That’s not an explanation. That’s not even a hint.”

Holmes laughed, his mood suddenly light. “Work with it, Doctor; you have all the pieces you need.”

He’d said that to Watson on far too many cases, leaving him stumbling behind in the dark. “Holmes, I
loathe
it when you say that!”

“And I enjoy watching you puzzle it out. It is most entertaining.” Holmes turned and walked toward the house.

After a moment of stewing frustration, Watson followed. A steam-assisted carriage, looking rather like a smoking horse-drawn tea caddy, had pulled up in front of Baskerville Hall, and both Holmes and Watson hurried to greet the newcomers. The doctor blinked in the gloom as they entered the front hall, but quickly spotted Evelina Cooper and Tobias Roth, accompanied by a lady’s maid no doubt meant in part as chaperone. Evelina launched herself at a slightly flustered Holmes with a squeal of delight. She looked pale, but as pretty as ever, with the waves of her dark hair pulled up under a black straw hat adorned with a spray of pheasant feathers.
Mary would like that hat
, Watson thought, then remembered his wife was gone.

Evelina turned from greeting her uncle, her lovely blue eyes wide with happiness. “Dr. Watson, I’m so glad you’re here! It’s been ages.”

“Delightful as always to see you, my dear girl.” Watson squeezed her hand, feeling suddenly old. One glance said that she wasn’t actually a girl anymore. He’d heard a little of her misadventures from Holmes, and that experience showed in her confident manner—and in the shadows behind her eyes.
Perhaps maturity is the knowledge of how much we can survive
.

More greetings were made—congratulations on the birth of Roth’s son, condolences on Mary’s death. Watson paid little attention, instead studying Tobias Roth. Holmes had said it was his job to keep the young man distracted and, if
necessary, drugged. It would have been easier to simply kill him, but no one was prepared for cold-blooded murder when a bit of medical mischief could get the job done.

But unless he was mistaken, something was already amiss with the young man. It was hard to tell when they were still wrapped up against the moor winds, but Roth’s color wasn’t good. He looked almost green, and the circles under his eyes were the purple of fading bruises. It was obvious, from the way Evelina hovered near him, that she was worried, too. As Baskerville Hall’s two servants—a surly caretaker named Barrymore and his surlier wife—moved in to deal with luggage, coats, and fresh linens, Watson took the opportunity to pull Roth aside.

“I have been consulting on your sister’s case,” he said, and then wondered about the nurse Holmes had asked him to recommend as a substitute at Hilliard House. Watson had never learned the details, but Holmes had hinted that she might uncover a clue as to what was ailing Miss Imogen Roth.

“Ah, yes, I know.” The young man gave him a tired smile. “My sister still clings to life, for which we all have to thank your excellent care.”

Watson wasn’t so sure about that, but he moved on. “Perhaps, if you have time later, you would permit me to discuss a few ideas for treatment. I am wondering if an unwholesome substance might have brought on this latest fit.”

They were moving toward the stairs, lagging a little behind the others. Tobias was puffing harder than someone of his age and obvious fitness should have. “What do you mean? That my sister was poisoned somehow?”

Actually, Watson was making it up as he went along, but he nodded. Anything to engage Roth in a long conversation that might involve a drug in his brandy, the theft of a key, and so on—although now Watson felt cautious about administering a sedative to someone whose breathing was already compromised. “Since I have worked with Mr. Holmes, I have acquired quite an extensive knowledge of poisons and their antidotes, and what I do not know I have means of finding out.”

For the first time since he’d arrived, a spark came into Roth’s eyes. “Yes, indeed, Doctor, we shall have that conversation.”

Watson gave his most trustworthy smile, exuding the aura of a serious medical professional. “Come to the library once you are settled. The scenery here isn’t much, but Baskerville has a most satisfactory stock of brandy.”

MRS. BARRYMORE, THE HOUSEKEEPER, SHOWED EVELINA TO
a small bedchamber that was as spare and old-fashioned as the rest of Baskerville Hall. The only modern convenience she’d detected was the glimpse of a steam-driven lift running up the side of the barn for delivering feed. The steam barons hadn’t yet invaded with their gaslights and engines—but she’d seen plenty of their soldiers patrolling the moor.

The sight of her room did little to comfort her. Like everything else in the house, it felt oppressive. Dark beams crisscrossed a low ceiling and heavy leading made a diamond pattern of an old casement window. The only furniture was a sagging bed, a washstand, and a wardrobe large enough to hide a body. Even the student quarters at the college had been luxurious by comparison.

“Thank you,” said Evelina, wanting to bring a smile to the dour woman’s face. “This is most pleasant.”

Her good manners had little effect. “Your maid can have a bed in the attic with the other servants. We will ring the bell when meals are served. Will that be all, miss?”

Evelina hesitated, slightly taken aback by the woman’s tone. But she had to remember that the Barrymores had suffered a loss, too. “Were you a long time in Sir Charles’s service?”

“Aye, miss.”

“I am very sorry for your loss.”

The woman’s face softened a degree. “Thank you, miss. But there have been so many comings and goings of late that it was no wonder Sir Charles up and died. It was too much for the old man.”

“You have that many visitors here?” Evelina could not help being surprised. They were a long way from anywhere.

“Aye, miss. One gentleman after another, it seems, in the last month. But I suppose with a new head of the household, we’ll be faced with entertaining more.”

“I imagine Mr. Edmond Baskerville will be a pleasant master.”

“He is not the heir, miss. Sir Charles took him in as a babe and raised him as one of the family and he turned out as good a young man as you please. But there is a nephew, Mr. Henry Baskerville—Sir Henry now—who will be coming home from Toronto to take up residence at the hall.” And she didn’t sound particularly pleased about the fact.

So Edmond took Sir Charles’s name, but was never formally adopted
. That kept things simple where an entailed estate was involved, but it was still an interesting fact, especially where there was suspicion of murder. If Sir Henry was overseas and Edmond was not the heir, that weakened any argument to include them as suspects.

She was leaning toward a killer from Her Majesty’s Laboratories, but there was still Edmond’s radical politics to consider. She had known the Schoolmaster was one of the rebel leaders, but had never suspected he was
actually
a Baskerville—although technically he wasn’t a Baskerville at all. Still, if anyone knew he was a radical, they might go after his family. Evelina chased that thought a moment, mesmerized by the sight of the moor through the wobbly glass of the ancient window.

“Miss?” asked the housekeeper.

“Thank you, Mrs. Barrymore. I can look after myself from here.”

“Very good, miss.” The housekeeper left, her solid tread receding down the corridor.

Evelina eyed her suitcase, sitting patiently beside the bed, along with a bag that carried, among other things, two of the books on rare elements she’d taken from the college library. She’d read through all of one and most of another on the train. Neither of them were terribly thick volumes.

She had been a long time without a maid to perform little
services such as unpacking, and decided to take advantage of her presence. Feeling delightfully lazy, she turned her attention instead to her toilette, using the comb from her reticule to tame what she could. There weren’t enough hairpins in the Empire to combat the frizzing effect of the damp moorland air.

It hadn’t been an easy trip down. Tobias had said little the entire way, explaining nothing of why suddenly, when he had been about to divulge a secret that would start a civil war, he was taking her south to investigate the death of a minor baronet. Questioning him had got her nowhere, and that was unusual. Tobias used her as a sounding board. Silence meant something serious had happened, and that had her worried.
But he can’t stay mute forever. We’ve always been too close for that
.

Her fingers stilled, a hairpin in one hand and her comb in the other. Here she was, focused on Tobias Roth one more time, even if she no longer wanted him for a husband or even as a lover. And yet she still cared for him as one of her oldest friends. As long as he was in trouble, she wasn’t walking away.

There was a light knock on the door, probably the maid. Evelina looked up from the mirror above the washstand, and nearly dropped her comb in surprise. “Nick!”

He flashed a smile, dark eyes widening with interest as his gaze traveled over her. He’d spent time outdoors and looked much more himself, tanned and confident as he moved. Not that there was much room to move in the tiny room. She was in his arms before she’d drawn another breath, and it felt wonderfully right.

“Hello,” he said, the vibration of his voice traveling from his chest to every nerve in her body. A warm, liquid ache made her lean closer, as if contact alone could relieve it.

“Hello,” she replied, glad they were in daylight. She could see the mahogany lights in his eyes this way, like sunlight trapped deep inside them. “What are you doing here?”

His grin widened. “I came with the Schoolmaster. We stopped along the way. That news report you showed me about the
Red Jack
was correct. I was able to find Athena!”

His excitement sparked through her, and her heart lifted. “That’s wonderful news! Is she here?”

“Under lock and key. I stayed as long as I could in hopes of seeing you, but now I’m off to Cornwall.”

“Cornwall?”

His smile faded. “There’s a town there where Striker and I were building a second ship. If anything happened, the crew agreed to leave word there for the others. That way we’ll know if there were survivors.”

Evelina’s joy faltered. She’d heard this story before, and felt the same chill in her blood. The chance of finding survivors was not good. She put her hands on his shoulders, the wool of his jacket rough to the touch. “Be careful. I don’t like the thought of you traveling alone.”

“I won’t be half dazed from falling out of the sky. I won’t be easy pickings this time.”

Evelina frowned. Nick was a creature of the air. Without a ship, he was trapped and vulnerable on the ground. “Does anyone else know that you’ve found Athena?”

“Three of the Schoolmaster’s friends: Edgerton, Penner, and Smythe. They’re staying in town.”

“I know them. Michael Edgerton and Bucky you can trust. Smythe is a hothead.”

“I’m not worried about what they’ll do to me. They want an airship, and with Athena I can give them the best.”

“I’ll be happier when you’re back in the air.”

He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever I find in Cornwall, I’ll be back with a ship. Any pirate worth his salt has booty stashed here and there, hopefully at a decent rate of interest.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “You always did keep a few coins at the bottom of your saddlebags.”

“Gran Cooper always said to hope for the best and plan for the worst.” He kissed her forehead lightly. “And there are people I want to look after. That means looking ahead and making plans. And you’re the heart of those plans, Evie.”

They were still holding each other, carrying on their conversation with noses almost touching. That was just fine with Evelina—she could have stood there holding Nick all
day. But she could feel his energy, forward-moving like a hawk in flight. He wouldn’t stay still for long—not when he was on the cusp of regaining what he had lost.

“And now that I’ve told you my tale, what about yours?” He tapped her bracelet. “How did you get out of the college?”

“Tobias brought me here on the Gold King’s orders. I’m here to help Uncle Sherlock with Sir Charles’s murder.”

A muscle in Nick’s jaw thumped with tension. “The Schoolmaster has taken it hard. He loved the old man. But was there really a supernatural connection?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s rather hard to sort out fact from Dr. Watson’s embellishments.” As she spoke, uneasiness crept through her. She wanted to tell Nick about Nellie Reynolds and the laboratories, but if she did he would stay to make sure she was safe. That would mean a delay in leaving for Cornwall—which meant more risk. Even if they could trust the Schoolmaster and his friends, there was a chance someone else might find out about Athena and a pirate captain with a rare strain of the Blood. Never mind the usual thieves and villains—they were far too close to Her Majesty’s Laboratories. If the attempt to destroy them failed, she didn’t want Nick caught in the struggle. Her own feelings aside—and they were legion—the rebellion needed Captain Niccolo and his ship.