Ether & Elephants (3 page)

“Nine sounds right,” Nell said. “He pronounces it ‘Barrowclough,’ though. Not
berry-cloth
. His memories of childhood are muzzy, of course, but he’s very good with sounds, so that’s probably the way he learned it from his mother. He also remembers having a birthday near Easter, so the previous headmistress assigned March twenty-first as his birthday.”

Tom’s head swam. “Barrowclough? Are you certain?” He’d only heard that name once before in his life—just about nine and a half years earlier. All the blood from his brain seemed to pool and coagulate in his stomach.

“Berrycloth,” Mrs. Chisholm insisted. “That’s what it says right here. The boy couldn’t have possibly remembered anything. It must have been a ploy for attention. Look. The aunt even signed it that way yesterday.”

“Clara Berrycloth,” Merrick agreed, looking at the handwriting closely. “Tom, come tell us what you think.” He stood and held out the book. He must have seen the shock on Tom’s face, because he steadied Tom’s shoulder with his other hand. “Everything all right?” he whispered.

Tom took the book in both hands, laying his thumb over the woman’s signature. Keeping his back to the headmistress, he murmured a small incantation. “A scheme,” he muttered as emotions and surface thoughts filtered into his brain, leaving a bitter, acrid taste in his mouth. “Lies, but little ones, easier to keep straight. Disgust at the brat and his disability, but the possibility of great gain. Berry. Damn, he was supposed to have just used Berry. Too late. Have to change again. Time to go.”

It couldn’t be. Tom staggered and Merrick pushed him hard into the chair he’d just vacated.

“My foster brother occasionally has these spells,” Nell said to the headmistress, her voice just barely registering through the sickness churning in Tom’s gut. She laid one cool hand against his forehead. His breath quickened. “He’ll be fine in just a moment. I don’t suppose you have any brandy here?”

“Spirits? In a school? Heavens forfend. Shall I fetch some tea?” At Nell’s gesture, Mrs. Chisholm scuttled out of the room in a swish of starched petticoats. Tom didn’t even look up to see her go.

“What the hell, son?” Merrick gripped both of Tom’s shoulders. “You’ve never gotten that kind of detail before, or reacted like this. Are you all right?” While magick always had a price, this was extreme. Even Tom knew that, and he barely knew his own name at the moment. Usually, casting a spell caused a bit of fatigue, like dashing up a staircase or lifting a heavy box would. This magnitude of physical reaction was something strange, and he could only believe it was because the subject was as personal to him as he’d at first feared when he’d heard the name Barrowclough.

Tom swallowed. “I will be.”

Merrick pulled a flask from the pocket of his coat and handed it to Tom, who took a long, healthy swig of the MacKays’ finest single malt. He swallowed, gasped and swallowed again. Finally he wiped his mouth with his coat sleeve, a gesture that was pure Tommy Porter, not at all Sir Thomas Devere. “I just went a little deeper than usual, I guess. I’m fine,” he said after a minute. Once he’d taken several deep breaths, the other two backed off, just in time for Mrs. Chisholm to bustle back in, a servant at her heels with a tea tray.

Merrick bowed. “None for us. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Chisholm. I’ll leave the matter in your capable hands. Nell will be leaving at once. We’ll just nip upstairs and pack her things. You can forward the remainder of her salary to Hadrian House, St. James, London.” He strode out the door, Nell and Tom close on his heels. If Tom wasn’t exactly striding along, at least he was upright.

“Papa,” Nell cried, “what on earth?”

“Really, darling, do you think I could leave you under the auspices of that harridan?” Merrick shot her a glare. “Your mother would have my head. Independence is one thing, but working for someone who despises you is something no one, particularly my daughter, should ever have to face. You and Tom go find the lad, then come home. Hell, bring the boy along if you like. Don’t suppose your mother would even notice another.” Caroline Hadrian adored children. The former governess and Merrick had four of their own, ranging from four to eleven, as well as the five they’d rescued from the Wapping slums.

“I’m a grown woman, Papa. I can choose my own employment.” Nell scurried to keep up, both hands holding her serviceable gray skirts. “And what do you mean, Tom and I? Aren’t you going to help me find Charlie?” She’d assumed his talk of catching a train was merely for Miss Chisholm’s benefit.

Merrick squeezed her shoulder. “I can’t come, poppet. I’m sorry. There’s another rash of gifted children gone missing. I have to be there. We haven’t seen any signs of the black sweat, but even so, it could be the Alchemist again, and we have to be sure. If it is, we can’t let the bastard get away again, not when he’s finally resurfaced.”

Nell caught her breath. “The Alchemist? But Hacker is dead.” The vicar-turned-scientist had used children as guinea pigs to try to cure black lung disease from coal smoke. The bastard had nearly killed Ivy, the daughter of friends.

“It has to be another with a similar agenda,” Tom said.

Merrick frowned. “Remember, we always suspected Hacker wasn’t the mastermind of the project. I believe the real Alchemist used the unhinged vicar for his own purposes, and that he’s likely out there somewhere.”

“Then, of course you must stop him,” Nell said. “But that’s no reason for me to leave Glenbury for good.”

Tom paused and leaned on a wall to catch his breath. “Give it up, Nelly-belly. The old biddy would sack you as soon as you left to find the boy anyway.”

Ignoring the old nickname, she paused, twirling that loose curl around one finger. After a moment, she sighed. “Oh, rot. You’re probably right. Now I won’t have a job
or
a reference. Blast it.”

Merrick grunted. “I’ll buy you your own bloody school. Now let’s go.”

Nell made an exasperated sound and Tom sighed. That’s probably exactly what would happen. Damn it, she ought to just find a husband. Then maybe Tom would be able to sleep at night.

“I won’t leave without saying goodbye to my pupils.” She grimaced. “And…someone else. Just give me a few hours. We can leave right after supper. I’ll make the announcement that I’m needed at home.”

Merrick opened his mouth and she whirled on him, one foot on the back staircase of the old manor that had been converted to a school. God, she was magnificent. Barely two inches over five feet, she stood up to Merrick like a lioness, poking him in the chest with one finger.

“
No
, Papa. I want to find Charlie, but an hour or two is unlikely to make a difference. I won’t have twenty children, twenty
blind
children, most of them abandoned here, thinking that I’ve run off without a care. Someone at home is gravely ill and in need of nursing. They’ll understand that. Are we clear?”

Merrick kissed the top of her head. “Of course, dearest. Your poor old grandmother is likely to die if you don’t hurry. Better?”

She snorted and Tom grinned. She’d never had a grandparent in her life. Her standing up to her father like that was bold and new, though. He found he rather liked it.

“Thank you. Tom?”

Tom held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t ask me. I’m just here to carry your trunks. I don’t ask any questions about old Granny Hadrian. She’s liable to give me the stink eye.”

That left them all chuckling, but Merrick caught Nell’s chin. “This someone else. Is he anyone your mother or I ought to know about?”

Tom felt like the breath had been sucked from his lungs. Of course he wanted her to find someone, but here? Another teacher? How could the man possibly support her as she deserved?

Nell thought a moment. “Not really. I’d thought at one point about bringing him home for a visit, but…no. He’s just a friend, so far at least.”

“Sure?” Merrick’s tone was soft, but the cords of his neck were taut.

Nell laughed. “It’s all right, Papa. No need to worry about your little girl. He hasn’t so much as bruised my feelings. I’m simply not quite sure of my own yet.”

They climbed another two flights of stairs to the attic that housed the female teachers. Tom knew which room was hers before she even opened the door. Her scent—rich with cinnamon but jasmine sweet—wafted into the narrow hallway, just like it did in the corridors of both Hadrian Hall in Northumberland and Hadrian House in London. Wherever she went, Nell left her imprint.

“Not much of a room, is it?” Merrick looked around the small space, ducking to enter the doorway. “Our housemaids have bigger quarters. Now I know why you never let us visit you here.”

“Think of it as less to pack and less you have to carry back home with you.” Nell frowned. “Papa, you’ll take my trunk? There’s just the one. But where do
we
go? I mean, where should we start looking for Charlie? I suppose nearby if his neighbor knew about the school and did drop him off. I just don’t know.” With quiet efficiency, she began to pack the contents of her wardrobe into the small trunk she’d been using as a night table. One spare brown dress and some white silk Tom didn’t even want to think about went into a carpetbag she pulled from under the bed.

“I’ve got to rush. Just have the trunk sent ahead.” Merrick accepted objects as Nell handed them to him and laid them in the trunk. Tom understood and mentally thanked the older man for not trying to instruct another Knight’s investigation. It had to be hard for someone of Merrick’s authority to step back, especially when his own family was involved. That he did was a mark of trust Tom wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Tom, would you mind wrapping the photographs?” Nell said. “You’ll find a box of tissue at the bottom of the wardrobe.”

Obediently, he folded tissue paper around the dozen or so family portraits that littered her plain wooden dresser. The images included him, along with their brothers, sisters, parents, brother-in-law and four-month-old nephew. Family. It’s what they were and always would be. It was too bad Tom’s heart—and certain other parts of him—couldn’t quite seem to grasp that concept.

Once the trunk was mostly loaded, Merrick said his goodbyes and left them, but not before reminding Tom that Nell was his to protect. Tom wasn’t exaggerating when he said, “With my life, sir.”

Merrick cuffed Tom on the shoulder. “Try to keep that intact, as well. Remember I have to answer to your mother.” Then he was gone, removing the only buffer between Nell and Tom.

Tom picked up the tiny china jewel box he’d given Nell for her eighteenth birthday. He hadn’t known she’d even kept it, and something pricked at the back of his eyes as he wrapped it in tissue and placed it carefully on the top tray of the trunk. The dainty porcelain rose on the lid was as delicate as Nell and just as easily broken. He couldn’t be responsible for hurting her again, but something in him still lashed out. “You can go home, if you want. In fact, you should. I’ll find the blasted boy. It’s what I do, remember?” Tom folded a quilt and added it to the trunk. The idea of spending extended time with Nell was like rubbing lemon juice in a wound.

“This is
my
problem, Tom. If you’re going to be a prat about it, maybe you should go home.” Nell whirled on him. “You can stop your high and mighty airs anytime.”

“
I’m
high and mighty? Forgive me for not rolling around in sackcloth and ashes.” He gestured to her plain gown. “Perfect, self-sacrificing, noble Nell. Everyone’s darling. Everything I do is wrong in your eyes.” He knew, even as he said it, that he was being petty, but after so much time, his temper had finally snapped “Your so-called vocation for teaching is nothing but a hair shirt, worn for my benefit. You might as well have become a nun and announced to the world that it’s all because of me. I made a mistake when I was a green lad. Most of us do, except for the perfect Miss Nell. I’ve done everything I can to fix things, but I can’t change the past. You’ve been rubbing my nose in my one mistake for years. Aren’t you done with it yet?”

Nell gaped. “Is that what you think? That I came here to, as you call it, rub your nose in it? You self-centered beast. I came to Glenbury because I wanted to
do
something with my life. I may not be as strong as the rest of you, but I’m not entirely useless. As it turns out, I’m a damned good teacher. It
is
a calling, just like fighting is for you or building things is Wink’s. I love what I do. Did. And now, you and Papa have come in like a steam train and taken that away from me.” She slammed the lid on her trunk. “Bollocks.”

Tom grimaced at the ceiling and tried for a mollifying tone. Had he thought earlier that he appreciated her new boldness? Now that it was focused at him, he wasn’t so sure. She was wrong, of course. He’d never thought her useless, he just didn’t like seeing her work for that harridan, and they both knew that hunting monsters wasn’t in her nature. “I’m sure you were a wonderful teacher. You’ll find another job, if that’s what you want. But coming along on a mission? Not at all your thing, old girl.”

“Well I am. So there.” She tucked a small coin purse from her dresser into the pocket of her skirt. “And you have no say in the matter, so stop being cross.”

“I’m not cross, I’m concerned.” Well, truthfully, he was both. “Just promise to be careful. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

“I’m always careful.” She looked across at him as she closed the latch on her carpetbag. Her silver mechanical songbird was the last personal possession in the room, and she patted her shoulder, instructing Lark to flutter from his perch on the windowsill and settle on her shoulder. “So what do you think? Shall we split up and check the local villages?”

“I suppose.” Tom’s conscience struck so hard it almost felt as if he’d taken an actual blow to the skull. “But I have a suspicion about where we’ll end up.”

Nell raised one eyebrow. “Oh?”

Tom shoved his hands through his hair, not caring if it stood straight up like a lunatic’s. “Cambridge.” He dragged in a deep breath. “I think…that is…it’s possible…” He flopped down on the bed and rested his chin on his hands. “Don’t hate me, Nelly.”

Nell sat on the room’s only chair. “I couldn’t if I tried, Tommy. You know that. But this isn’t about us. It’s about Charlie.”