A Study in Ashes (3 page)

She remembered him as a boy, brown-skinned and fleet among the horse-wagons, teasing her as he took the last of Gran Cooper’s thick brown bread. He’d make her chase him for it, her shorter legs struggling to keep up, but he’d always surrendered it in the end. She remembered him performing in the ring of Ploughman’s Paramount Circus, daring impossible feats with his flashing knives. And she remembered him as he was when he left her, promises to return warm upon his lips. He was an outlaw and finally, after so long,
her lover: Captain Niccolo, pirate, last seen on the
Red Jack
as it careened in flames to earth.

That battle that had changed everything. She’d traded her freedom to save Nick’s airship from Keating’s guns, but her sacrifice had come to nothing. Nick was dead, she was a prisoner, and the last year had been the loneliest of her life. Though it would have ruined her in the eyes of Society, a child would have left her at least something of the man she loved—but even that comfort had been denied her.

And alone, she would go to face the consequences of the laboratory accident. Grief clawed its way up Evelina’s throat. She squeezed her eyes tight to hold back tears.
If I give in and cry, I might not stop
. She bit her lips together, refusing to let them tremble. It was a battle she quickly lost. Tears leaked from under her eyelashes, and she hurriedly wiped them away. The last thing she wanted was to stand before her judges red-eyed and sniffling.

This won’t do
. She had to go on; Nick himself would demand no less. Despondent, she began walking again, the soft soles of her boots scuffing on the cobbles. She blinked away the last wetness from her eyes and looked around, hoping no one had seen her moment of weakness.

To her right were the mellow stone arches of Fullman College, to her left Usher College with Witherton House and its regal gardens behind. Gowned faculty clustered around the buildings like crows, but this close to the heart of the university they were an almost exclusively male flock. The Ladies’ College of London was at the bottom of the hill, secure behind high walls. It was part of the university, and not.

Rather like her—and based on Professor Bickerton’s harangue after the explosion, soon she wouldn’t be part of Camelin at all. If this summons to the vice-chancellor’s office unfolded as she suspected it would, her academic career would set before the sun did.
And then what?
Would she go back to working as a spy, or something worse? She couldn’t bring that future into focus. Every time she tried, her breath grew short.

Evelina noticed several conversations breaking off as curious
faces turned her way. She looked over her shoulder, making sure there was nothing behind her that was attracting attention. That gave her a view of the lower campus, the blackened shell of the laboratory conspicuous against the pastoral green. Sick, cold dread settled in her gut, driving out the warmth of the sun. She tucked in her chin, letting the brim of her hat hide her face as she marched the remaining distance to the entrance of the New Hall. The watching faces followed her as if pulled by a magnetic force.
There goes the silly woman who blew up the laboratory
. As she neared the door, she shuddered, the touch of their gazes an almost palpable pressure along her spine.

Once inside, she mounted the stairs to the offices, her stomach a leaden ball of apprehension. Marie Antoinette could not have felt less doomed as she climbed the scaffold. But Evelina bravely knocked and entered the vice-chancellor’s chambers. When the young man who was his secretary rose to show her into the inner sanctum, she followed him with her gloved hands clasped nervously at her waist.

The decor did nothing to lighten the mood; the walls were covered in dark walnut paneling made darker still by age. As she crossed the faded carpet, the smell of old tobacco rose up, tickling her nose. Three men were ranged in a conversational semicircle of oxblood leather chairs. In her anxiety, she had half imagined a judge’s bench and uniformed guards, so the informality was a relief.

They rose as she entered. Bickerton was one, and another was old, white-whiskered Sir William Fillipott, the vice-chancellor. The older man bowed, his manners as always impeccable. “Miss Cooper, how gracious of you to join us.”

“Sir.” She curtsied, long training helping her to fall into the ritual of pleasantries. She’d always got along with Sir William, and hoped that counted for something now.

“You have met Professor Bickerton.” The vice-chancellor gave a rueful smile, and then indicated the third member of his party. “And this is young James, our new chair of mathematics. I have asked him to observe and record this meeting.”

Sir William patted the mathematician’s shoulder with a
fond, fatherly gesture. The man nodded politely to Evelina, adjusting a small clockwork device that inscribed a squiggling code onto a wax cylinder. She had seen the police use similar equipment for taking statements. The brass contraption with its whirling gears was not the latest technology, but it was advanced for Camelin, steeped as it was in tradition.

The young professor had nutmeg-brown hair and a tidy mustache. His lean build and fastidious air reminded Evelina of Uncle Sherlock. She was sure she’d seen his face before, though she could not remember where. On the campus? She didn’t think so. Memory itched at her like a healing cut.

Sir William gestured toward another chair, arranged to face the three men. “Please, Miss Cooper, have a seat.”

“I’m sure you know why you are here, Miss Cooper,” Bickerton began. “What do you think will be the outcome of this interview?” The man gave a hint of a smile, and she didn’t like it one little bit.

Evelina sat with all the grace she could muster. When she opened her mouth to speak, her throat was so tight she could barely breathe. She cleared it as delicately as she could and tried again. “I would not presume to anticipate your judgment.”

Sir William frowned, both at her and at Bickerton. “Even if no one was seriously injured and even if it was accidental, this was a grave occurrence. Can you please tell me, Miss Cooper, why were you in that laboratory?”

Bickerton snorted, but Evelina was grateful to Sir William for asking. “The Ladies’ College does not have as good a facility or equipment. Nor does it offer the same level of instruction in the sciences. What we get are shorter, less demanding classes that do not teach us nearly as well.”

The vice-chancellor’s bushy white brows shot up. “And so you took it upon yourself to break into our laboratory and help yourself to the men’s equipment?”

Bickerton leaned forward. “A criminal act, I might point out.”

“Let the girl speak,” said Sir William.

“If no one was willing to instruct me at the level I desired,
it seemed I must help myself to advance.” Even as she said it, Evelina felt her cheeks heat, alarm trickling through her insides. It sounded so high-handed, but solving the problem on her own had been a natural response. “At the time, it did not seem so rash an act.”

“Let me assure you, it was extremely rash.” Sir William’s tone was dry. “I know the destruction of the lab was not your intent, but bad action inevitably leads to bad results. For shame, Miss Cooper—for you clearly
did
intend to flout our rules, and see what came of it.”

And yet it really had seemed like a reasonable solution. In the last year and a half, she’d been in too many dire situations, with her life on the line, to bother with rules. Yet somehow that recklessness had trickled down to her everyday conduct. Her goal was to learn everything she could to understand her powers in a scientific light. The lock on the laboratory door had just been another obstacle to overcome and she had conquered it. Such a will to succeed might be heroic, but she had to admit that it hadn’t been smart.

“There is no apology that I can make that will be sufficient to the situation,” she said, meaning every word. “And yet I do apologize. I am wholeheartedly sorry.”

The transcription device whirred and bobbled, writing down her guilt and contrition. The professor operating it watched her with cool, appraising eyes.

“Prettily said, Miss Cooper,” Sir William replied, “but Professor Bickerton has requested your expulsion, and he is within his rights to do so.”

She drew breath, ready to launch into her defense, but Sir William held up a quelling hand. “However, there are a number of factors that come into play, including the wishes of your patron.”

“Does he know?” she asked meekly.

Now she felt her fingers tremble, and she clasped them in her lap. Jasper Keating could buy the University of Camelin a dozen times over, but he could also crush her like a gnat. She couldn’t assume anything, least of all his tolerance for failure. The last time she’d worked for him, she’d nearly
been killed. If he lost interest in her, he could order her death in an eye blink.

“Mr. Keating is aware of what has happened.” Sir William reached behind him and picked up a letter from the desk, unfolding it slowly with the thumb and fingers of one hand. He glanced down at it and let the paper curl shut again, his expression carefully neutral. “He responded in no uncertain terms.”

Nerves made her temper grow sharp. She fingered her bracelets, picturing her patron’s hard, patrician face. “And?”

“You are a fortunate young woman. He is desirous that you remain here.”

She might have been relieved, but the way Sir William said it left room for doubt. She inched forward on her seat. “You said there were a number of factors. What are the others?”

“We must consider the wishes of the governing body of this institution. The chancellor in particular.”

At least there had been no mention of magic, which meant Bickerton hadn’t figured out how he’d lived through the explosion—and that meant, in turn, she might survive. Still, the situation was bleak. Some would align with Bickerton, and yet others dared not offend the Gold King. He owned too many important men and could easily scuttle university endowments.
And here I am, the cause of discord
. “I assume, then, it will take time before my fate is decided?”

“It will be discussed at the end of the month, during the governing council’s usual meeting.”

As Sir William spoke, Bickerton looked like he’d swallowed one of his own chemical preparations. “An unnecessary waste of time in my opinion. I say make the decision now.”

Part of her agreed. Waiting for judgment would be excruciating. “Is there nothing I can do to redeem myself?”

Sir William frowned, his lined face stern and sad. “It is a question of principle. Mr. Keating has offered a sum in recompense for the damage to our facility, but there is more at stake than mere money. The sovereignty and dignity of our institution is at risk.”

Evelina lowered her eyes, staring at her gloves. She’d put on clean ones to come here, but somehow still managed to get a smudge of ink on one finger. She curled her hand closed to hide it.
How am I going to get out of this?

Sir William leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “My advice to you in this interval is to behave as a lady ought, to study what you are assigned, and not to rearrange the natural boundaries of custom to suit yourself.”

Feeling suddenly ill, Evelina slowly sat back in her chair. It was a simple command, and yet unpalatable. She was already confined to the campus. He was taking away the one liberty the university offered—the freedom to learn.

“And you will confine yourself to the precincts of the Ladies’ College. You are to remain within its walls.”

What?
She looked up, meeting Sir William’s stern gaze and Bickerton’s mocking smirk. “Not leave the college?” Her voice was high and incredulous. “Not even to walk the rest of the campus?”

“It will spare the feelings of the faculty if they know you are not loose upon the grounds,” Sir William replied. “Especially since locks are apparently no obstacle to you.”

Unless of course I’m trying to escape altogether
. But the bracelets took care of that.

“I see,” she said faintly. Bloody hell, she would be penned into a tiny area, just the quadrangle and the buildings around it. She lifted her chin, her face numb with dismay. “That is going to make my world a very small one.”

“But at least it is still a foothold at Camelin,” Sir William said gravely. “Do not slip again, Miss Cooper, lest you fall entirely. The University Council will make its decision in the fullness of time, and how you adapt to these rules will count for much.”

“Or perhaps not at all,” Bickerton added tightly.

“Professor,” Sir William chided, “let penitence do its work.”

Evelina bowed her head, her rueful anger an open wound. If it weren’t for the bracelets and the threat the Gold King posed to her loved ones, she would have simply walked
away. She’d disappeared once; she could do it again. “I will do my best, Sir William. You may rely on that.”

“Very well. And now it is time that you retired to meditate upon your actions.” Sir William rose, the others following his lead. “James here will escort you to your rooms.”

“Miss.” The man switched off his device and rose. Then he gave an almost mocking bow and held out his arm.

Evelina felt her eyes widen in shock. Now she remembered where she’d seen the man before.
It’s Mr. Juniper!
She had seen him almost a year ago, when she’d been sneaking through the compound where the Blue King kept his war machines hidden. Juniper was the Blue King’s man of business, and therefore one of Keating’s bitter enemies.

The memory brought a fresh flood of loss, remembering her hand in Nick’s as they crept unseen through enemy territory. Her body tensed as she clamped down hard on her emotions. Nick was gone, and she had to focus on the threat in front of her.
Does Juniper recognize me? Does he know it was me who stole the designs for the Blue King’s weapons?

She could feel the three men watching her, and quickly hid her confusion. “Then I will bid you good day, gentlemen,” she said with a neat curtsy.

The men bowed—Bickerton with a perfunctory jerk, Sir William with gravity. Steeling herself, she took Mr. Juniper’s arm and let him lead her from the room and down the stairs.