Echoes, p.5
Echoes, page 5
part #2 of Aether Chronicles Series
Monty was pacing about the library, his hair in disarray.
“Erm, excuse me, Monty.”
He stopped to focus on her, his handsome features marked with concern. “Amethyst.”
“I was thinking about Edwina’s situation.”
He frowned. “Her situation would be greatly improved if she’d just agree to move on.”
“She’s upset.” It was time to find out if feminine wiles were all others said they could be. Assuming she had some. Amethyst stepped closer to the tall lord, batted her eyes a little. “You know what we ladies are like. She just needs to be sure. I know someone who can help.”
“I don’t want some charlatan ‒”
“How about a Detective Inspector? From Scotland Yard. He’ll look into the accident and maybe even prove what actually happened. It may well help settle Edwina’s mind.” Apparently, the mix of little-girl-lost and logic was working. She offered a small coquettish smile. “Please, for me if not for her.”
The sense of self-disgust at her behavior grew worse at the way Monty grinned his agreement.
As much as she hated herself, she had to keep up the act. Her hand went lightly to his forearm. “Thank you, you’re so kind.”
Chapter Eight
A telegram had arrived the previous evening to say that Detective Inspector Jenson would be taking the overnight train from London to Edinburgh, and would reach Sharnwick, one of the towns to the south and the nearest station, around a quarter to eight the following morning.
This morning.
Amethyst had slept better knowing Jenson was on his way, and been awake early in anticipation. Monty had offered to just send another of his men to meet the officer, but Amethyst wanted to go herself. She felt slightly sorry for the coachman and horses having to work so early, but Ashby had pointed out that most staff start at five in the morning, so she wasn’t making any sort of unreasonable demand.
“I can’t believe how many people are up at this ungodly hour.” The grumble barely filled the carriage Lord Montgomery had loaned them to pick up the detective.
“Well, the world couldn’t cope if everyone lay abed till ten each morn.” Amethyst smiled at her Great-Aunt Flora, who was also wrapped up, a thick plaid blanket over her knees. “You didn’t have to come, you know.”
She got pinned with a hard glare.
“You’re meeting a strange man in the early hours, if I let you go alone, it would not be proper.”
Amethyst was rapidly discovering that ‘proper’ was terribly restrictive and boring. Thankfully, she knew better than to voice such an opinion to her Great-Aunt. “Please remember, Jenson’s not a strange man, he’s a friend. And I’d really rather you didn’t hit him so often with your stick.”
“I only do it with reason.”
“And unreasonable force,” she muttered, looking out at the train station.
“What was that?”
Forcing a smile onto her face, and into her voice, Amethyst spoke more clearly. “Nothing, Great-Aunt Flora. Oh look, the train’s approaching. I’ll just nip onto the platform. I’ll be in full sight all the while.” She was moving before she’d finished speaking, before Flora had the chance to stop her.
She turned to the station and realized her mistake. The carriage had warmed up on the journey, but outside the cold was biting, robbing her of her breath. Standing at the open end of the platform, the station master eyed her as if she were about to try jumping on a train without a ticket, even as he signaled the train to its halt. Though the locomotive stopped moving, the smoke from its funnel and brakes didn’t, and Amethyst found herself enveloped in oily smelling smoke much like the fogs of London when you didn’t dare set foot out of the house for fear of not being able to see what was right in front of you. The smoke hissed and clawed at her throat, smote her eyes. She blinked to clear her vision and only dared squint until the bellows dissipated. As they did, she saw the shadows of men appearing, and she realized that Jenson couldn’t be the only one alighting from the train; she could see at least three figures. She assumed two to be Jenson and Monty’s man, the other a local.
“Hey, you!” Clipped Etonian tones cut sharp across the morning. The porter headed towards the voice and staccato orders were shot out.
Not recognizing the voice, Amethyst concentrated on the two figures coming towards her. Out of the smoke, in his familiar bowler hat and wearing a long great coat, Jenson carried a small case in one hand. Behind him, a man Amethyst now recognized as one of Monty’s footmen, carried two, a larger one she assumed was Jenson’s and the small overnight bag he had left the house with yesterday. The smoke started to clear after the engine pulled away, and as eager as Amethyst was to see Jenson, she didn’t dare move towards him, for fear of Great-Aunt Flora’s wrath, and the result on Jenson’s shins. While she wasn’t prepared to be totally boxed in by convention, she couldn’t afford to break too many rules.
Jenson stopped in front of her. His magnificent moustache took a cheeky moment to offer a smile, before he caught himself and returned to his neutral gaze. “Good morning, Miss Forester.”
She made no attempt to hide her pleasure at seeing him again. It did feel like a good morning now he was here; his presence was reassuring. “Good morning Inspector Jenson, thank you for coming up at short notice.”
“May I take your bag, sir?”
A frown flickered across Jenson’s forehead before he offered up the item. The man took it and headed to the carriage. Alone, Jenson seemed to move a little closer.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re‒”
“Oh good, Monty sent a carriage.” The big voice and the big man that went with it almost knocked Amethyst off her feet as he marched through the gap in the fence off the platform.
He barreled up, peering at the footman who had already secured Jenson’s bag.
“Well, open the door, boy. This is here for me.”
“No, it’s not.”
The man turned at Amethyst’s snap and assessed her with a critical eye, his lip curling in disgust. “This has nothing to do with an urchin like you.”
“Urch‒”
Jenson’s hand on her arm stopped her in her tracks. “Sir, I don’t know who you think you are‒”
“I am Robert Lovesey, the fiancé of Lord Montgomery’s sister.” He turned, opened the door himself and tried to get into the carriage, only to be repelled by the sharp end of a well-directed cane.
Great-Aunt Flora’s head popped forward in the carriage. Strong, annoyed eyes appeared out from the gloom.
“I am Lady Sinclair MacGregor Gordon.” Nothing much about Great-Aunt Flora was weak, and certainly not her voice. “And you are a very rude man. Note that I say ‘man.’ You are not worthy of being considered a gentleman. And I know for a fact that you are also a liar.”
“I am not!”
“You claimed to be Edwina’s fiancé,” Amethyst said.
“We know Edwina is not engaged. This carriage is here for my niece and Mr. Jenson there. So, you can make whatever arrangements you need to, this carriage is not for you.” With one large shove, she had Mr. Robert Lovesey stumbling back.
The look Great-Aunt Flora gave Amethyst was clear - waste no time. Jenson’s hand pressed into her back and Amethyst stepped forward, taking Jenson’s help to step up into the carriage. After a moment, he bounded up beside her. As soon as the door closed, Amethyst sighed.
“Stop!” It was said with a sigh of regret, Amethyst’s slumping beneath her coat. “I’ll just feel guilty if we leave that man here. However obnoxious he is.”
Chapter Nine
The horses clopped and crunched to bring the coach to a gentle, jostling stop in front of the main entrance. There was nothing gentle about the way Amethyst was feeling about Lovesey. He was an arrogant bore. She had no idea what Monty thought he was doing matching this heavyset, tactless man with the delicate, sensitive Edwina. It wasn’t her place to interfere, but if she got the opportunity…
A man in livery stepped from the house and opened the coach door, folding out the step. Since they were on that side Jenson stepped out first, but before he could turn, Lovesey was straight out, shouting over his shoulder to the man he’d brought with him, who had joined the other footmen on the outside of the coach. In the wake of the vulgar individual, Jenson offered assistance to Great-Aunt Flora. Assistance that was gratefully accepted, though Amethyst heard a warning mutter, for all she couldn’t hear the words.
“Big place,” Jenson observed as they paused by the edge of the carriage, Amethyst shaking out her dress after its journey.
She looked at him, then at the grey granite building. With all its functional squareness, small, dark windows, and battlements, it frowned down on them like they were interlopers. “Foreboding too,” Amethyst agreed. Looking back at Jenson’s set features and greying hair, she smiled and took his arm. “Don’t worry, the people inside are much more welcoming than that ignorant brute.” She moved closer, and added softly, “Well, most of them.”
They walked together over the threshold and Amethyst felt Jenson flinch at the array of decapitated animals stuffed and hung as trophies on the wall.
“Lord Montgomery enjoys a spot of hunting, then?”
“Some of these are older than he is,” Great-Aunt Flora announced as another footman appeared and took their coats and muffs. Lovesey’s voice could be heard booming into the house. The day suddenly felt less hopeful than it had when Amethyst had first seen Jenson. Great-Aunt Flora turned to Jenson in a rustle of black, tipped up to fix him with a warning eye. Jenson didn’t flinch, just angled his chin down to return her gaze with a direct look of his own. She was small and formidable and with the two of them as nose to nose as their height difference would allow, Amethyst was unsure what was coming next.
“These people can be mean.”
Lovesey had proved that.
“No. Murderers, rapists, pickpockets, and prostitutes are mean. These people are just rich.”
“Exactly.”
Another rustling movement and Great-Aunt Flora pinned the footman with her beady eye. “Show Inspector Jenson to his room to freshen up. We’ll be in the breakfast room when you’re ready.”
This last was flung over Flora’s shoulder to Jenson as she started the inevitable thump-shuffle of walking with her cane.
Amethyst caught his attention with the pat of her hand. “Second on the left.” Then she let go of his arm and hurried after the thump-shuffle of Great-Aunt Flora, as he followed the footman away.
Relief warmed her to realize she had an ally in the house, though until that moment, she it hadn’t actually occurred to her she needed one. Such odd thoughts were pushed out by one simple smell.
Bacon…
Following her twitching nose, she stepped into the breakfast room to see Monty at the head of the table, a footman helping Great-Aunt Flora to a seat. Maker was on the opposite side, behind his paper, Amethyst wondered how long that would last. Thankfully, wherever Lovesey had announced his presence, it wasn’t here. She hoped it would stay that way.
Amethyst returned Monty’s welcoming greeting. The edge of Maker’s paper crackled as his hand tightened. Amethyst asked what Great-Aunt Flora would like and went to the breakfast buffet set out on the sideboard. All manner of lovely scents rose with steam as she tested each and filled two plates. Bacon, two types of sausage. Black pudding for Great-Aunt Flora, but not her. Mushrooms for her, but not Great-Aunt Flora. Toast for both.
The thwap of the cane shouldn’t have surprised her, nor the tearing, followed by the crinkle of newspaper as what remained was folded carefully. Thankfully, there had been no sound of breaking crockery. As she turned, she saw Maker lay the paper down and look to Great-Aunt Flora as he picked up his own cup and saucer. “Tea, Flora?”
Maker was the only man she knew that got away with using her first name only. Everyone else either called her Great-Aunt Flora or Lady Gordon. He stood as she thanked him, so sweetly one would never know that she had just destroyed the newspaper he had been reading.
As he stood and came over to the sideboard to fetch the drinks, Amethyst moved to the table and in passing she offered him an unreciprocated smile. There was a space beside her Great-Aunt, but instead she decided to move around the table to sit beside Maker, leaving a space between her and Monty. She’d need the buffer, because Monty was looking at her as though she were breakfast, which was most unnerving. On her way to the seat she knelt to pick up a large scrap of paper that had drifted to the ground.
She looked it over as she sat, placed it between her and Maker, and took up the cutlery on the table. The food tasted every bit as delicious as it smelt.
When Maker returned, he warmed her not only with his presence at her side, but by providing her with her own cup of tea.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Those soft words had rather a warming effect too. There really was a fire in those emerald eyes if one cared to see it. The moment they faced one another was just a heartbeat too long, so she bowed her head and concentrated on the food, not her burning cheeks. As she ate, Great-Aunt Flora and Lord Montgomery chatted, Maker sipped his tea. Her eyes tended to the torn page and the story there. It didn’t make a jot of sense.
“Why would anyone protest against the Queen here?”
The pause before anyone spoke made Amethyst certain that there was a lot more to be said than she was about to hear.
“Fly over,” Maker supplied before he sipped his drink.
She frowned at him. “Queen Victoria is going to fly over here?”
He nodded. Just.
“Why?”
“Balmoral.”
The urge to rattle him was a momentary spike. In the weeks she had been away, Amethyst had almost forgotten how difficult it could be to have a conversation with a man who rarely strung more than two words together.
“She’s travelling to Balmoral, by airship I presume?”
“Indeed,” he confirmed.
She sighed. “Well, I would read the article myself rather than bother you with the inconvenience of actually talking to me, but it seems to be rather in tatters.” She looked to Great-Aunt Flora, who returned the gaze. “When is this fly past happening?”
“Fortnight.”
“‘Two weeks’ too long a sentence for you?”
Hooded eyes slid sardonically towards her; that muscle twitched in his jaw.
Jenson picked that moment to enter the room. His greatcoat was gone, the dust cleaned off his shoes, his hair brushed, though that determined kink in his hair where his bowler usually sat was clearly visible. The tweed city suit clearly marked him apart from the other gentlemen in their somber day suits, but he was a man self-possessed enough not to be cowed by the unnecessary bite of societal disapproval, despite the butler’s censorious gaze. Amethyst greeted him and made the introductions, and Lord Montgomery offered breakfast and a place at the table.
Jenson was taking a seat next to Great-Aunt Flora when the door opened and Lovesey stomped in. He looked hot and flustered, which was at odds with the fact that he had actually changed clothes. He was all noise and fell on the buffet like a vulture over a fresh corpse.
Despite Lovesey’s noise, Montgomery talked to Jenson about his intended investigation, and the policeman gently started to gather information from the lord. Amethyst ate and glanced again at the newspaper article. She didn’t want to risk seeing Lovesey eating, it sounded bad enough without illustration.
“How can a protest be made against a woman who will be several hundreds, if not thousands of feet in the air? Nothing is going to touch her there.”
“Sight.”
She blinked and tried to translate. “Several hundred feet, and all she’d see is a group of people, assuming she’s looking at all.”
Maker clearly couldn’t respond to that with a single word. He glanced to Montgomery instead. Amethyst, following suit, also turned to their host.
Monty shrugged and spread marmalade on his toast.
“It’s rather silly actually,” he dismissed. “A large sign on a hillside, more easily read from the air than the land. But it needed organization, and someone said the wrong thing at the wrong time. The lead protestors have been arrested. It’s all just a little silliness that is already over and done with. Nothing that need spoil the lovely time I have planned for us here.”
It was unclear if he was shutting the conversation down because it was trivial, or if he was trivializing it on some purpose, but Amethyst couldn’t see why he would.
“Is this related to the rumors of a New Jacobite Uprising?” Jenson asked.
There was too much strain in Monty’s expression as he responded. “As I said, it won’t affect us.”
Amethyst drew breath to ask, but the nudge of her foot surprised her. She looked up, and Maker’s eyes slid to hers. The shake of his head was a tiny thing, but it was warning enough. What she was being warned against she wasn’t sure, but she cared less about that than she did that Maker hadn’t moved his foot away from hers.
They weren’t, strictly speaking, touching, their boots and the hem of her dress were between them, but the pressure of his presence close beside her was doing odd things to her body and heart. The rest of the meal was taken slowly, and when the butler offered to refresh their drinks, they both accepted the excuse to linger.
Chapter Ten
While Jenson and Amethyst finished their breakfast, Monty explained that Edwina was with Felix, that they habitually took their first meal together in the nursery. Jenson was keen to start the investigation, and wanted to speak to Edwina as soon as possible. Monty promised introductions and to be with his sister throughout, which Jenson assured him, wasn’t necessary. That sharpened Monty’s countenance and Amethyst feared a confrontation, so offered to take his place. Rebellion colored Monty’s look, until Maker uttered one word, sport. Lovesey added, around a mouthful of half-masticated pig parts, that sport was what he’d been promised. Monty relented.
