The Derring-Do Club and the Empire of the Dead (32 page)

“Georgina?”

“Yes?”

“I was w– wondering… life is short, we must seize our opportunities when they present themselves, so I was thinking, if it is all right with yourself, if you would agree to my asking you a question.”

“Yes.”

Captain Merryweather’s face lit up: “Why thank you, Georgina.”

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“You wanted to ask me a question.”

Captain Merryweather’s face fell: “Ah, thing is… I wondered, that is to say, w– w– would you consent to be my… if we could…”

“Yes?”

“Get married.”

She’d done it.

And she’d bagged a Captain. He hadn’t even asked about a dowry (although to be fair she’d not checked whether he could support her in her accustomed lifestyle). All that talk in the dormitory after lights out, all that giggling practice with paper folded to act as a fan: in front of face with right hand, come here; swinging lightly, take me home…

What’s more, she was going to enjoy it: “You aren’t on one knee,” she said.

“Sorry, excuse me, of course,” said Captain Merryweather. However, he did not go down on one knee. “I should, of course, ask your father.”

“Well, he’s exploring… up a river.”

“Oh, I see, then perhaps your m– m– mother?”

“She’s also exploring… up a river.”

The penny dropped for Merryweather: “Oh, you’re the Kent Deering–Dolittle family.”

“Yes.”

“I just assumed you were from the Surrey Deering–Dolittle family.”

“No, I’m afraid not. Is that a problem?”

“Well… er… no, of course not.”

“I don’t know anything about your family.”

“Ah, Merryweathers, right. We hail from Dartmoor, where the family seat is. Father, Major Philip Merryweather, was killed at Amoeful, and mother, Agnes… well, it w– w– was an awful shock.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was twenty five years ago, I was young. There was a governess, and Mrs Jago, of course, and good old Fitz.”

“You must have admired your father to follow in his footsteps.”

“Into the army? Yes. He was a great man. When I have a son I’m going to name him Philip Merryweather after my father.”

“That seems most estimable.”

“So, I do rather need to ask the acting head of your family.”

“That would be Earnestine…” Georgina swallowed: her life was being filled up by this Captain as it was being emptied by the realisation that her sister was gone. “I am the acting head of the family now.”

“Yes, of course.”

Earnestine had waited, Earnestine had put her sisters first and, upon reflection, that had been a mistake. It was Georgina’s turn now and she too would put the Deering–Dolittles first.

“In that case, I will have to ask myself for permission.”

Arthur face was filled with such elation.

“I haven’t decided to give myself permission: you may ask me?” Georgina nodded towards the ground: once, twice…

“Ah, of course.”

Finally Captain Merryweather went down on one knee: “Will you, Georgina, marry me?”

“Hmm, let me consider…”

Arthur looked so crushed and–

“Yes, yes, I will,” she said. She did not have the heart to tease him anymore.

“In London, there’s a chapel connected to the Club. Caruthers and Mac can be witnesses, so I thought–”

“Now!!?”

His suggestion was shocking, utterly notorious: engagements were supposed to be for six months to three years, and not a single afternoon. No–one got married instantly, not even if they were in the pudding club.

“We should seize our opportunities,” Merryweather said.

He was squinting up at her, his face shining in the late morning sun.

“Yes, yes,” she said. “Why not?”

In the mad whirl on the way back to the hotel, she bought a new umbrella, an expensive Fox’s Paragon ‘never inside out’, which was much more sensible than a parasol, and it did look like rain.

Miss Charlotte

Charlotte’s plan was simple: swap clothes with the maid and exit via the servant’s entrance. She’d got into this by changing clothes, so she could get out of it by changing clothes.

Unfortunately, the servants didn’t come and go; they lived in the Embassy and they were all Germanic: English, even at a loud and shrill tone, wasn’t understood. So, the maid, who had answered “Olga” to three different phrasings of “can I borrow your clothes?”, had left still in her black–and–white uniform.

So, in the end, Charlotte put on her Aerial Corps uniform and marched through all the military preparations as if she was supposed to be there. There were so many soldiers, air corps and officers that she seemed to fit in, and she’d have been in heaven had it not been for the nature of these manoeuvres.

She knew the guards at any exit wouldn’t let her just leave, but at the rear of the building, she found an empty room with a sliding window leading to a ledge that she could crawl along. So, risking it, and finding climbing so much easier in trousers, she shimmied down a drainpipe as if the entire Austro–Hungarian Embassy were a tree for scrumping, and then she’d run off down the road. Luckily Kensington wasn’t far.

Strangely, there was a carriage waiting outside number 12b, Zebediah Row, and climbing in was a gorgeous woman dressed in white.

“Gina!”

Georgina went pale when she saw Charlotte as if she had seen a ghost.

“Gina… it’s me, Charlotte.”

“Lottie?”

“Yes.”

“Oh thank the Lord, you’re alive.”

They embraced, holding on to each other for a long moment.

“I have such news… why are you dressed like a man?” Georgina asked.

“I’m an aerial officer. It’s got trousers and–”

“Are you wearing your corset?”

“No,” said Charlotte. “It didn’t go with the uniform.”

“A man’s uniform – honestly Charlotte, you’ll look frumpy. Go and change at once.”

Charlotte didn’t like that idea, so she changed the subject: “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Charlotte, prepare yourself for a shock.”

Charlotte stepped back dubiously.

“Our sister, Earnestine, is… has passed away.”

“No, no, she’s–”

“And I am getting married.”

“Married?”

“Yes.”

“Before Earnestine?”

“She’s… not with us anymore, so–”

“But she is, she’s–”

“So – Charlotte listen – so I’m now the eldest sister and acting head of the family.”

“Yes, but–”

“Here.”

Georgina passed Charlotte a small package. Charlotte opened it to reveal two sticks of seaside rock.

“Can I eat them now?”

“No, we’re going to my wedding.”

“But–”

“There’ll be cake afterwards,” Georgina chided. “Now, go and get changed… oh, the carriage is here already.”

“I suppose I’ll have to wear my uniform, after all.”

Georgina pulled her veil over her face: “Lottie, please don’t ruin my wedding.”

“I won’t, but–”

“There’s no buts, Charlotte. We have to seize our opportunities. Arthur says so and I agree with him. This is the calm before the storm and we want to be married while there’s still time. If Earnestine were alive, then things would be different, but she’s not, and so there it is.”

“If Earnestine was alive, then you wouldn’t marry?”

“Of course not.”

“In that case, congratulations.”

Chapter XVII

Miss Deering-Dolittle

Earnestine was very aware that she looked like a drowned rat. She felt like a drowned rat. She was sore and exhausted. She rang the doorbell twice before Cook answered and she had to say her name three times before she was recognised.

“Been on an adventure, dearie?”

“No, I have not!” Earnestine said emphatically. She was in no mood for frivolity. “A bath please.”

“We’re in the middle of laundry, Miss, and the maid–”

“A bath!”

“You’ve just missed Miss Geog–”

“NOW!”

Earnestine was already peeling off her clothes and dropping them like dead animals on the hallway tiles.

“Oh, Miss, I…” The maid ran to start boiling water and filling the tin bath.

“Do you want me to wash these?” said the maid, doubt tingeing every syllable as she touched the filthy garments gingerly with her toe.

“Burn them,” said Earnestine. “And don’t touch them, I know where they’ve been. Use the fire tongs.”

“Yes, Miss,” she curtseyed. “I’ll start a fire.”

“Not in the house, outside!”

“Yes, Miss.”

“But first bring me the brandy.”

“Miss, the brandy’s been put aside for a special occasion.”

“Bring the bal– brandy!”

The maid scurried off.

The hallway was just as she remembered it: the walls and tiled floor tinged with red and blue light as the sun streamed through the stained glass windows of the porch. The small table was awash with post, including two copies of
The Strand Magazine
(she’d have to hide those from Charlotte), and the hallstand with father’s hat still hanging there. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and didn’t recognise herself either.

While the bath was filled, Earnestine had, quite sensibly, washed standing up in an attempt to remove most of the stains. Three flannels lay in a heap, dirty and probably destined for the fire once they’d dried out. It was a hardship she endured in order to fully appreciate the hot bath.

Quite soon, Earnestine was soaking in the family tin bath, it was hot, wonderful, frothy from various concoctions she’d dumped in, and she knocked back the brandy from the bottle. When she reached for a second swig, her hand clinked loudly against the bottle. Something black filled her hand.

In sudden desperation, she cleaned, and the ruby shone in its silver setting once more. Not that she was bothered, of course; it was just a silly trinket forced on her by a foolish young man and actually quite ostentatious. Turned around on the third finger of her left hand, it looked more tasteful and like a wedding ring… No. Ridiculous.

She put it back on the middle finger of her left hand, where it felt most comfortable. Wait… just because he’d put it on that finger didn’t mean she had agreed. There was no understanding between them.

She took it off again and slid it over her index finger. There! No longer engaged, she was now looking for a husband. In fact, no she wasn’t. She wanted nothing to do with men, so she took the ring again and placed it around her little finger. Now she displayed to the world that she intended to die a maid. Unfortunately, the ring did not fit well upon that finger being too loose.

Having tried every finger, she took it off for a fourth time to study it. The ruby was warm and red, which she supposed signified… absolutely not! She felt nothing for him and she ought to just give it back.

She placed it carefully on the floor and then lay back to enjoy the warm water.

What to do?

That was the question…

Dead, bodies, drowning!

She spluttered to the surface and realised that, glorious though this was, she was in no fit state to stay in the bath. To have survived that perilous journey and then to drown in a bath would not do at all, so she got out. She started shivering: the cold, not anything to do with fear, of course, and the brandy on a very empty stomach made her light headed and woozy. She called for the maid to bring her something to eat and scoffed down a ham with pickle sandwich in her room. Her room! It was surreal to be back in Kensington as if… but things had happened, terrible things and there were worse things coming. There was an army hidden in London. There was not a moment to lose.

But she was so tired and she ached, and the sheets were clean: forty winks perhaps.

Earnestine did not fall asleep as soon as her head hit the proverbial pillow. Instead, she held onto the hard object she’d secreted under her pillow and she didn’t think of him at all – obviously – and quite soon she was fast asleep.

Miss Georgina

In the chapel’s antechamber the two sisters fussed over each other.

“Do I look beautiful?” Georgina asked. She was very aware of Charlotte’s sudden examination.

“Yes, you do and… I’m proud to be your Maid of Honour.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Terrified.”

Charlotte gripped her sister’s hand and squeezed: “You’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” she said, but it wasn’t enough. “Go and see.”

Charlotte snuck off to look into the chapel, which gave Georgina another chance to check herself in the small mirror on the wall. Yes, she thought, trying to be objective and view herself as a stranger would for the first time: she had a trim figure, and her bustle gave her a shapely womanly figure, her dark hair in ringlets framed her round open face.

“Gina!?”

Georgina turned back, panicked: “What is it?”

Charlotte’s face beamed and she was almost jumping up and down with excitement: “They’re all in uniform!”

“And they ready for us?”

Charlotte nodded.

Georgina knew it was all too quick, too rushed and she was seized by a feeling of dread. This was a mistake: surely she knew that, and she so wanted Earnestine’s wise and forthright counsel. Should she? Shouldn’t she? Earnestine would have known at once. But then, of course, her very presence would have made it impossible.

“Who are you marrying?” Charlotte asked.

Georgina beamed, happy, feeling suddenly and utterly ready: “Arthur.”

“Is he a good man?”

“Oh yes.”

“Then I approve.”

“Thank you.”

Charlotte turned her sister towards the door and gave her the tiniest of pushes.

Georgina took her first step towards the threshold of a new life. The hush was almost overpowering and then the organ started up. She walked slowly, trying not to tremble. All the officers to her right looked so strong and upright as they stood to attention, whereas the left hand side was empty: all her relatives, the Kent Deering–Dolittles were in their own procession to the source of a river or like Earnestine… best not to think about that now.

There was only Uncle Jeremiah, dear befuddled Uncle Jeremiah with his white sideburns and whiskers and his hair askew. He eased himself around, smiled up at her over his half–moon glasses and put his hands together in prayer and praise.