Blaze of Glory (27 page)

'Whom can we trust, George? The Prime Minister?
Craddock?'

'What about your father?'

'I can't tell him, George. Not right now. Involving him
in this may compromise his position.'

'And having his son caught up with Holmland spies
won't?'

Aubrey grimaced. 'You're right.' He got to his feet.
'I'll go and tell him now.'

'Would you like some support?'

Aubrey smiled. 'George, you're a marvel.'

When they entered the library, they found Sir Darius
still seated at the table. He looked up as they entered.
'Well?'

'Sir?' Aubrey said.

'What did you think of the Prime Minister's performance?
Perhaps you noticed something I didn't.'

Aubrey's stomach sank. 'I was up in my room, Father.'

'I know,' Sir Darius said. 'I also recognise your work
when I see it.'

He pointed at the ceiling. There, directly above the
table, was a fly. 'You were watching the entire meeting,
weren't you?'

Aubrey searched for a plausible story, found none,
stood straighter. 'Yes, sir.'

Sir Darius sighed. 'Sit. Both of you. Where I can see
you.' He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his
nose while they drew up chairs.

'I could have you both imprisoned for spying.'

Aubrey nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

'But I don't suppose that would stop you at all, Aubrey.
In a few weeks you'd have organised the inmates into an
amateur dramatic society which would put on an
operetta climaxing in a mass escape.' He shook his head.
'And you, George, would be by his side, making sure no
prison thugs damaged him, while reading the newspaper
in between cornet solos.'

George opened his mouth and then closed it again.

'You let us watch the entire meeting,' Aubrey said.

Sir Darius lifted an eyebrow. 'I didn't see your blasted
contrivance until after the meeting had ended. And I
want it removed immediately.'

'Yes, sir,' Aubrey said, then added, 'I have something
that may be useful to you.'

Sir Darius drummed his fingers on the table. 'It can
wait. I need to consider an appropriate punishment for
you. Leave. And take that damned fly with you.'

Aubrey stood and pointed a finger at the fly. It immediately
detached itself from the ceiling and flew to his
outstretched hand.

With the door to the library closed behind them,
George dared look at Aubrey. 'Well? What now?'

'I'd say we're left with no choice. We have to find von
Stralick ourselves.'

T
HEY SPENT THE NEXT FEW HOURS EXAMINING NEWSPAPERS.

After some time Aubrey thought that George must be
mad. Reading the agony columns was, frankly, agony.

Having to read them all carefully and then test the
coded messages one by one was brain-numbingly
tedious. They found many codes, most so simple that a
child could decipher them. Backwards writing, simple
alphabet–numeral substitutions, shifted alphabet ciphers,
and many more.

In the end, it was fruitless. They uncovered five liaisons,
two assignations and something that sounded suspiciously
like an elopement, but nothing that looked even
remotely like a meeting of spies.

Aubrey sat back in the late afternoon light. The drapes
were moving slightly with the breeze. Outside, blackbirds
squabbled in the ash trees as a steam motorcar
chuffed past.

'You know . . .' he said. He was sitting in a wicker chair
with his feet on a small sailor's trunk. 'They might have
abandoned the agony columns method of communication.
They may feel as if it's been compromised.'

George flung the newspaper he was reading onto the
table. 'Well, that would leave us in a state.' He stood and
roamed around the room, hands in his pockets. The
sound of hooves on the driveway drew him to the
window. 'It's your mother, Aubrey. She's home.'

They found her in the drawing room. When she saw
Aubrey she turned, put her hands on her hips, and glared.
'Aubrey, what have you done to this poor girl?'

There, behind Lady Fitzwilliam, stood Caroline
Hepworth, looking partly embarrassed, partly cross and,
Aubrey thought, wholly, undeniably attractive.

T
HE EVENING MEAL WAS A TENSE AFFAIR.

Both Sir Darius and Lady Fitzwilliam were not
happy, and their attention was on Aubrey more often
than not. He did his best to concentrate on his food,
keeping what was for him an unusual silence. He
wondered exactly how much trouble he was in.

He knew why his father was angry with him, but his
mother's displeasure had come as a surprise.
No doubt the
Scholar Tan would have an appropriate warning about being
aware of the danger of an attack from the rear
, he thought
gloomily as he sipped his soup.

His parents had obviously spoken before the meal, with
the result that Aubrey was facing a united front. His time-honoured
tactic of getting them to work against each
other didn't look as if it would succeed.

He spent some time trying to imagine the length,
severity and nature of the punishment that was no doubt
coming his way.

Lady Fitzwilliam's mood hadn't affected her appetite.
She attacked her meal, wielding her cutlery like a fencer
with such precision that metal never once scraped china.

Sir Darius picked at his food and sipped from a glass of
red wine.

Aubrey's grandmother was there, of course. Duchess
Maria spent most of her time examining Caroline, directing
thinly veiled questions at her regarding her family.
She seemed aware of the tension in the room, turning her
head from one side to the other like a bird. She soon
realised that Aubrey was the centre of the unease. He
knew that it wouldn't be long before she'd be trying to
find out what he'd done wrong this time.

George ate with his usual appetite, but kept an eye on
Aubrey, looking for cues.

Caroline, alone of everyone at the table, was poised,
calm and equable. She sat between Lady Fitzwilliam and
Sir Darius, as far away from Aubrey and George as it was
possible to get. She seemed to enjoy the meal, but she ate
slowly, so that they had to wait for her to finish her
lobster bisque before the roast was brought out.

Talk was polite, but clipped, moving around Aubrey as
if he were an island in the middle of a river. His mother
and father directed most of their conversation to
Caroline. After being introduced, Sir Darius had turned
his most charming aspect to her, drawing her out of her
reserve and engaging her with stories of mild parliamentary
scandals.

Aubrey was impressed, all over again, at his father's
charisma and the way he was able to win over Caroline.
All his life, he'd seen his father do this sort of thing and
wondered how he managed it.

When the meal had finished, Lady Fitzwilliam
wouldn't let Aubrey and George leave. She turned to the
duchess. 'Maria, you may go. We have things to discuss.'

Duchess Maria picked up her glass of water and sipped,
but when she put the glass back down on the table
Aubrey couldn't see any difference in the level. She took
her napkin and touched her lips. 'I'm quite happy here.'

Lady Fitzwilliam looked at her husband, then back at
her mother-in-law. 'While you're always welcome, it may
be awkward.'

'Pish! I've been involved in discussions that changed
the course of history, ever since I was a little girl.'

Lady Fitzwilliam's eyes hardened. Her knuckles went
white as she gripped her napkin. 'Very well.'

Aubrey watched this exchange closely, much as an observer
on the heights would study the opening skirmishes of
a battle. He cleared his throat. 'Perhaps Miss Hepworth
should leave as well. I'm sure we can spare her this.'

'I don't think so, Aubrey,' said his mother. 'After all, we
are talking about matters concerning her.'

Aubrey looked at his father. 'Sir?' he squeaked.

'Listen to your mother, Aubrey. And stop trying to
think of ways to turn this to your best advantage.'

Aubrey nodded without saying anything. Sir Darius
speared George with a glance. 'And George, we want you
here so you can tell us what went on from your point of
view. I'm asking you to be honest, young man. I know
you're loyal to Aubrey, but at this time his best interests
lie in your being straightforward.'

Aubrey tried to marshal himself. 'By all means, George,
tell them what you know.'

George looked at the faces around the table. Aubrey
wondered if his friend was considering making a sudden
dash for the door. 'Err. About what?'

Lady Fitzwilliam rolled her eyes. 'About Aubrey's
imposing himself on this young lady, of course.'

Aubrey felt as if he'd been hit on the head with a
cricket bat. 'Imposing myself?'

'Lady Rose, what are you saying?' George blurted.

Aubrey looked at his father. 'Sir?'

Sir Darius held up a hand. 'We knew that Mrs
Hepworth had kindly tended to you after that scrap at
Greythorn, but it appears as if it wasn't the first time
you'd bothered the young lady here. You've been visiting
her while she was still in mourning, intruding on her
solitary nature retreat at Penhurst and goodness knows
what else.'

'Ah.'

Lady Fitzwilliam let out an exclamation of combined
frustration and irritation. She crossed her arms and
scowled.

Duchess Maria watched all this like a hawk. After a
moment or two of further denials, questions and fragmented
explanations, all accompanied by finger-pointing,
hand-waving and table-thumping, she tapped
her water glass with one of her rings.

The noise cut everyone short. 'Now,' she said. 'One at
a time. Young lady, you first.'

Caroline glanced at Lady Fitzwilliam. 'I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to imply that Aubrey imposed himself on
me at all.'

'I've known him for a long time. I simply filled in the
gaps in what you told me.'

Caroline flushed. 'He may have been a little forward . . .'

'And rude, and single-minded, and insensitive,' Sir
Darius added.

'Well, yes, all of that. Some of that.'

Aubrey winced, but he didn't argue.

'But he was an enormous help. Both of them were.'

Lady Fitzwilliam sighed. 'When you appeared at the
museum and began talking about my son, I thought you
were complaining about him.'

'Why? Have many young women complained about
Aubrey?'

Aubrey felt his face growing hot. He considered fainting,
as a distraction, but decided the nightmare would
continue regardless, over his prostrate body.

Sir Darius seemed to be deriving some dry satisfaction
from his son's plight. 'Go on, Miss Hepworth. Why, then,
did you go to the museum?'

Caroline seemed to find something extraordinarily
interesting in her lap. 'I wanted to see Lady Fitzwilliam,'
she said in a small voice.

'Me?' Lady Fitzwilliam said. 'Whatever for?'

Aubrey was dazed. He'd had a vague notion that, soon,
he would introduce Caroline to his mother, seeing how
much she wanted to meet her. Of course, Caroline would
be grateful for this and their future would look much
more promising than their bumpy beginning might have
suggested.

Future? What am I thinking?

'Your work.' Caroline's voice was firmer and she lifted
her head. 'You've done so much, you mean so much,
I wanted to tell you . . .' Her voice trailed off.

Sir Darius began to say something, but Duchess Maria
cut him off with a glance. 'Let the young lady speak,
Darius.'

He subsided, still wearing the grim half-smile.

Caroline looked around and saw that she still had the
floor. 'I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to know how you
did it. Become famous, that is, and discover things, and do
what you really want to do in life.'

Lady Fitzwilliam nodded. 'My dear, I think you and I
have much to talk about.' She glared around the table. 'By
ourselves would be best, I feel.'

'A moment,' Sir Darius said. 'What about Aubrey?'

Caroline smiled. 'George and he were rather kind,
really. They helped me recover my father's notebook.'

Sir Darius straightened in his chair. 'Good Lord, you
have Lionel's notebook?'

'Yes.'

Sir Darius stared at Caroline. 'Astonishing.' He turned
to Aubrey with the clear gaze of a long-distance sniper.
'Professor Hepworth would have guarded any notebook
of his. You overcame this protection?'

'Not easily.'

'I hope it's safe somewhere,' Sir Darius said to Caroline.
'Craddock was asking after that notebook, immediately
after your father's funeral. Somehow he knew that Lionel
and I were acquainted.'

Craddock!
Aubrey thought.
That's what he was doing
meeting Father at the Triumph Hotel!

This news of Craddock's interest in the notebook was
valuable information. The man who moved in the
highest circles and the lowest, the man who spoke to
princes, priests and pawnbrokers, the man who was privy
to a thousand secrets. What part was he playing in these
murky goings-on?

Aubrey felt chilled. Was it possible that Craddock had
put the shade in the professor's workshop? He'd certainly
have the skill for it.

'The notebook is safe enough,' Caroline said. 'I brought
it with me.'

'Where is it?'

'In my bag. I gave it to your butler when I came in.'

Sir Darius rang the serving bell. Harris appeared.
'Harris, you took the young lady's bag when she came in.
Go and fetch it.'

Harris's long face lost its impassivity for a moment. He
blinked. 'I beg your pardon, sir?'

'The young lady's bag. Bring it here.'

'I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not sure what you mean.'

Sir Darius controlled his exasperation and spoke slowly.
'Miss Hepworth said you took her bag when she came in
this evening.'

Lady Fitzwilliam said, 'You took my hat and wrap at
the same time, Harris.'

Harris looked distressed. 'Sir, ma'am, miss, I was out in
the back garden all afternoon, talking to the gardener
about the cabbages. I asked Tilly to attend to anyone who
came to the front door.'

'It wasn't Tilly,' Lady Fitzwilliam said flatly. 'You met
and greeted us both. Are you all right, Harris?'

He nodded, looking more like a basset hound than ever.

'George,' Sir Darius said, 'be so good as to go to the
cloakroom. Fetch Miss Hepworth's bag, please.'

George slipped out. Lady Fitzwilliam looked at Harris
with concern. 'Harris, surely you remember. You asked
if Miss Hepworth would be staying for dinner.'

Harris, a picture of misery, shook his head.

A shout went up from the front of the house. Sir
Darius was on his feet and out of the door in an instant,
with Aubrey close behind.

They charged to the cloakroom near the stairs to find
George crouching next to a young, red-haired maid. She
was lying insensible on the floor of the tiny room.

'Who is it?' asked Caroline, who'd joined them.

'It's Tilly,' Aubrey said.

Sir Darius and George picked her up and carried her to
the parlour. She mumbled a little and cried out, but did not
open her eyes. They placed her on the leather settee. 'Harris,
fetch some water and ring for a doctor,' Sir Darius ordered.

Lady Fitzwilliam placed her hand on Tilly's forehead
and then felt for a pulse at her neck. 'It's strong,' she said.

Duchess Maria sat quietly in a corner, her face fearful.
Tilly had always been her favourite.

Aubrey gestured to Caroline. She frowned, but joined
him outside the room. 'Let's see if your bag is still there,'
he suggested.

The cloakroom fairly stank of magic. Aubrey's neck
itched as if he had hives. He stopped Caroline from
entering until he'd declared it safe.

It didn't take long to check for the bag. 'No,' Caroline
said, her face bleak, 'it's gone.'

Aubrey was aware that they were standing very close
together in the small room. He could smell Caroline's
perfume. Lily of the Valley, he decided.

'You're sure?' he asked.

'Of course,' she hissed between her teeth. 'Now I have
to get it back.'

She strode out of the room and back to the parlour.

Remarkable
, Aubrey thought, and he followed her.

Sir Darius looked quizzically at them when they reentered.

'Caroline's bag is missing,' Aubrey announced, 'and
there's the taint of magic all over.'

T
ILLY RECOVERED TEN MINUTES OR SO LATER, JUST AS
D
R
Snow arrived. She reported a thumping headache but no
other after-effects; Dr Snow could find nothing wrong
with her. Tilly could shed no light on how she came to
be lying on the floor of the cloakroom. Harris
summoned Maud, one of the other maids, and she took
Tilly away to the servants' quarters, with Duchess Maria
in attendance, declaring she'd make sure Tilly was well
cared for.

Dr Snow was ushered out by Sir Darius and Aubrey.
After he'd gone, Sir Darius tested the bolt and lock on
the front door. 'I'll check all windows and doors tonight,'
he said. 'It's been a long time since I've had to think about
security like this.'