Steam & Sorcery (11 page)

“Well, we shall practice caution then. How about an airship?” Dorothy seemed more curious than repulsed, thank heavens.

“I’ve never tried. I shouldn’t like to put other people at risk.”

“Wise choice, my dear.” Dorothy patted Caroline’s knee. “You know, this could also account for your problems with previous employers. I suspect your father was a member of the leannan sidhe—a love faery. They’re notoriously attractive. Your poor mother probably never had a chance of resisting him. It’s a good thing members of the Order are immune to most magicks. Merrick should be entirely safe from any unnatural attraction—though I wouldn’t rule out natural ones. Faery blood or not, you’re still a lovely young woman.”

“Thank you.” Caroline was too busy assimilating the information to say anything more for a moment. Finally, one idea surfaced that made her smile. “Am I really helping Jamie and Piers heal?”

“Quite probably. And the poor philodendron. I also suspect the more you practice and learn about your abilities, the better you’ll be able to control them. They are gifts, you know—not burdens.”

“Thank you, Miss Dorothy. Your support means a great deal.”

“Good. You’ve already worked wonders with civilizing the children. I’d hate to lose you now—and so would they.”

Caroline gave her a wry grin in reply. “And I them. They worm their way right into your heart, don’t they, the little baggages?”

“They certainly do. I’d begun to despair of ever seeing children in this house again since Merrick seems so set against marriage. It’s good to have some life inside these walls.” A screech and crash echoed from the nursery and both women winced and laughed. Dorothy shook her head. “I’d best let you go deal with the mayhem. Good night, Caroline. Rest well, and know you’re very welcome at Hadrian House.”

Caroline returned the woman’s warm handclasp and hurried toward the nursery. Before she got there though, she heard Nell singing and the rest of the din ceased. Even the boys stopped whatever they were doing to listen to her lovely voice as she crooned a lullaby to her dolls.

Standing silently in the doorway to the girls’ bedroom, Caroline watched as the young girl sang a sweet tune, tucking in each doll and kissing their cheeks. The sight was so moving, Caroline had to blink back a tear. She heard someone next to her clear his throat and she turned. Tommy had come up and was watching as silently as she.

“She’s special, isn’t she, miss?” he whispered.

Caroline nodded. “She certainly is.”

“You’ll look after her—and the others, of course?”

“Naturally.”

With a smile and a nod, Tommy vanished into his own room.

The following afternoon, Merrick sat in front of his superior and explained that his governess was a part-blood sidhe, figuring it was better for him to strike first, before Edwin could spread any exaggerated rumors.

The Duke of Trowbridge listened carefully to Merrick’s words, then nodded his head, which was now snow white and thinning, instead of the shaggy silver mane Merrick remembered. His grace must be well into his seventies, but Merrick couldn’t imagine the Order under any other control, not even that of the duke’s son, the Marquess Lake, a perfectly competent man edging up on fifty, who was in charge of the Order’s office in York.

“Edwin’s a good man, and a well-qualified teacher, but I’m aware of his faults. While the Order has its reasons for distrusting the sidhe, I hardly think that applies to a part-blood governess. Particularly if you’re correct, and she had no knowledge of her bloodlines.”

“I’m quite certain she was stunned by Edwin’s revelations. I only wish I’d seen it myself, rather than having it pointed out in such a harsh manner.” Merrick had wanted to pop Edwin in the nose for making her so uncomfortable.

“Well, keep an eye on her, but I see no need to worry unduly. Now for more pressing matters. We’ve lost another Knight. Tregarth was found dead in an alley this morning, not far from his home as he was returning from meeting an informant. Something with claws had gotten to him, leaving very little blood, so we must assume vampyres.” Which meant his corpse had been beheaded as a precautionary measure.

Merrick closed his eyes for a moment. Alec Tregarth had been a friend, damn it, one of the Knights closest to Merrick’s own age.

“What concerns me most is that this is the third attack in the last month. We’ve lost Demaris, Tregarth, Safer, and if you count the attack on you in Wapping, that makes four. We haven’t had a loss on this scale since ’38.” When Merrick’s father had been killed, along with five other Knights and a good dozen allies, subduing a rogue clan of werewolves.

Tregarth, like Merrick, had been sworn into the Order early to replace his father, who’d also died in that blood-soaked Irish forest. Merrick made a mental note to send Dorothy over to see what help she could be to Alec’s widow. Hell, the man had young children, too. This was exactly the reason Merrick didn’t intend to marry until after he’d retired from field work.

“Each attack has occurred during an assignment—one that was recorded in this office. Merrick, we have to assume that someone within the Order is working with the enemy. From here on, anything I tell you remains just between the two of us. You don’t even tell Edwin or your fellow Knights.”

Merrick swallowed hard. “I understand, your grace.”

Trowbridge muttered the words of a spell, and Merrick sensed the invisible sphere that sprang into place, preventing their words from being heard more than five feet away. The duke drew in a deep breath and regarded Merrick steadily. “I believe I have uncovered the reason the undead are banding together and working with humans. A theft has occurred from a secret vault, thought to be unbreachable, deep in the bowels of the Tower of London. Magick must have been involved. The items stolen present a deadly threat, not only to the health and economy of the Empire, but to the human race as we know it.”

“You can trust me, sir.”

“I know. There are one or two others in whom I’ve the same implicit faith, but they’re out of London at the moment.”

Including his own son
.

Trowbridge’s expression was grave. “I’m counting on you, son, but I want you to be careful. We can’t afford to lose you as well.”

“Yes, sir.” It was the closest either man would come to admitting they were fond of one another. Trowbridge and his son had both been close to Aldus Hadrian, Merrick’s father, and the older man was like an uncle to Merrick. “What was stolen, and how can I get it back?”

“The items taken included several bundles of punch cards for a Babbage engine.”

Merrick raised one eyebrow. “Sir? Aren’t those a trifle obsolete, if you don’t mind my asking? How could a bunch of old programming cards pose a threat to the Empire?”

Lord Babbage’s original analytical engine, perfected some ten years earlier, had changed the world, allowing for an explosion of invention and innovation unlike any other in history. While Countess Lovelace had originally used punch cards like those from jacquard looms to feed instructions into the machine, those had gone out of favor after only a few years, replaced by much smaller and easier to work with ticker-tape reels. As analytic engines grew smaller and more sophisticated, even the ticker-tapes had been replaced with copper or brass cylinders with grooves etched into the metal. Now, even some household items like the mechanical sweeper had scaled down versions of a cylinder-driven Babbage engine in their workings. So what could be so important about a pile of outdated punch cards?

“These cards contain chemical formulae that have never been fully tested,” his grace said with a heavy sigh. “But if even some of the rumors about them are true, the impact could be devastating. One bundle supposedly contains the formula for alchemy—the ability to transmute one metal to another. You can only imagine what that could do in the wrong hands.”

“Entire economies could crumble.” Wars could erupt, famine and God knew what else could come in the wake of the global financial crisis that would ensue.

“Another is an even more frightening prospect. It’s believed to be a potion that can alter the nature of vampyres. While still sensitive to sunlight, they would cease being hideous, vile-smelling beasts. Instead, they would look as they did while human, undetectable unless their fangs and claws emerged to attack.”

Horror almost clogged Merrick’s throat, but he followed this revelation to its obvious conclusion. “And since so much of London’s social activity is at night, they could literally live among us, unseen, preying at will.” The thought was enough to turn his stomach. “Why were these cards not destroyed outright?” Now Merrick knew why vampyres were working with humans—this formula could change their species forever.

Trowbridge shrugged. “You know politicians. Someone in Parliament thought it might be possible to use vampyres as a weapon one day. In their defense, the formulae are heavily coded, and can only be utilized by an analytical engine connected directly to a chemical mixing apparatus. The card set containing the code must be fed in first, then the mixing can occur, and there is no guarantee that the formulae will actually work. Unfortunately, the culprits have also stolen the cards that break the code, which were kept separately, in a secure vault in Whitehall. Now, all the villains need to do is find an old punch-card analytical engine and attach it to an automated mixing crucible. There are only a few of the old machines in existence—most in museums.”

“Or they could build their own from scratch.” Merrick wondered why the duke hadn’t mentioned that possibility. “Even I’ve seen plans for the original, in books and museum displays.”

“Yes, but what isn’t mentioned is that each of those plans is deliberately missing a few parts—ones that were only made by direct order from Lord Babbage himself. Anyone wanting to duplicate his machine had to purchase them from his company. Until other scientists replicated the concept of the machine using ticker-tapes, Lord Babbage controlled every engine in existence. Which means we have a record of every single punch-card Babbage engine in Britain. A few have been destroyed, but there are believed to be ten still in existence—one of those here in the Club.”

The Order of the Round Table’s headquarters masqueraded as a private gentlemen’s club—one so exclusive that virtually every member was a descendant of one of the founders. There were even rooms here for those Knights who didn’t maintain a townhouse.

“So in order to use the cards, our thief must steal or replicate one of these existing machines.”

“Correct. Your first task will be to ascertain that each of them is still where it’s supposed to be. I can vouch for the one here. I’ve put a personal protection spell around it—not even another Knight can touch it without my knowing. I’ve also checked and warded the ones at Whitehall and at Buckingham Palace—both are intact. That leaves you with seven to check.” The duke handed Merrick a scrap of paper with seven locations listed.

“I’ll get right on that, sir. Actually, I’ll start with the ones at Cambridge and Oxford. I’ve reason to visit Sir Andrew Devere. Might as well kill two birds.”

“What do you want with Andrew?” Trowbridge lifted one bushy white eyebrow. “He can’t be involved in this. He isn’t well.”

Merrick sighed. “I believe my new ward may be his grandson. There’s a strong family likeness.” The Devere clan could trace its ancestry to Sir Bedivere of Arthur’s court—young Tom’s heritage might be a truly noble one, even if the family title was only baronet.

“Yes, Malcolm would have been in London at about the right time,” the duke agreed. “It would be a blessing to see the Devere line continue. Don’t take the lad with you, though. Perhaps a photograph. Andrew’s heart isn’t strong. We don’t want him too excited or disappointed.”

“Of course.” Actually, Merrick should have thought of having the children photographed immediately—just in case one of them was to disappear.

“Merrick, there’s one other thing.” Trowbridge’s expression grew, if anything, even more serious. “It’s time for you to think about stepping up to a leadership role within the Order. I can’t afford to pull Jasper in from York right now, and since Lord Blackthorne retired, I really don’t have a right hand here in the office.”

James Gavin, Earl Blackthorne, was second only to Trowbridge in the Order. Maimed in the same battle that had killed Merrick’s father, the older man had continued with the Order in an administrative capacity until recently, when he’d retired to his estate in Kent. Blackthorne’s only son lacked the innate power of a Knight, and though he worked here in the offices, Merrick knew the duke had no intention of promoting Francis Gavin to fill his father’s shoes.

“I’ll have to think about that, sir.” Merrick hadn’t planned to take on a more command-oriented role. Perhaps, though, it was something he should consider—at least for the future, now that he had wards depending upon him.

He stood, bid his superior farewell, and accepted his hat and greatcoat from the butler, who had been here for as long as Merrick could remember. With far too much on his mind, he climbed into his coach and made his way through the rainy streets, homeward.

Another day of icy rain postponed their trip to the zoo, much to everyone’s disappointment. Even Caroline chafed at another day spent indoors. Dorothy had taken Wink and Nell to be properly outfitted for their lessons in fencing. Jamie and Piers were playing a game up in the nursery. So Caroline left Sally to mind them while she slipped down to the library for something to read. She’d just picked one of Sir Walter Scott’s novels and stepped out into the corridor when the loud clatter of the brass knocker vibrated the front door. Caroline watched, book in hand, as Mountjoy opened the door to a dapper young man in a gray pinstriped suit, with neatly groomed dark auburn hair and pale blue eyes.

“No one is at home, Mr. MacKay. May I take your card?”

The visitor ignored the butler and stepped inside. Those eyes twinkled at Caroline, his smile warm and friendly. The slight crinkles around them showed he was a little older than she’d thought at first—perhaps a year or two older than her.

“Who is this? Surely Merrick isn’t hiding away some lovely young relative and depriving the rest of us of her company?”

Caroline curtseyed. “I’m afraid Sir Merrick and Miss Hadrian are both away. Perhaps I can convey a message?” Bearing in mind last night’s discussion of keeping things in confidence, Caroline wasn’t about to offer up any additional information to this stranger, no matter how pleasant he seemed.

“Oh, I’ll wait.” He handed his top hat and walking stick to an affronted Mountjoy, winking at Caroline as he did. He strolled forward and held out his hand, bowing over Caroline’s. “I’m sure this lovely young lady will bear me company. Gideon MacKay, an old, old friend of the family. We’ll take tea in the drawing room, Monty old chap.”

Monty?
Caroline wondered for a moment if the stuffy butler was going to behead Mr. MacKay with his own dragon-topped walking stick.

“I’m sorry, Mr. MacKay, but I’m not a guest. I’m employed here, and I really should get back to my duties.” She pulled her hand away and stepped slowly backward, toward the stairs.

“Ah, you must be the governess. Mother told me Merrick had inherited some orphans from some distant relation or family retainer. She’s quite anxious to meet them.”

So that’s the story her employer had put out among his acquaintances. It would serve well enough.

He took a few steps down the hall and held out his hand again. “Please? I hate to wait alone. Won’t you come along and tell me all about yourself, Miss…”

“Bristol,” she replied with automatic courtesy. It was tempting, though, to spend some time chatting with such a pleasant young man who showed no signs of leaping at her. “But I really should return to the nursery, Mr. MacKay. I’m sure Miss Hadrian or Sir Merrick will be along shortly.”

“Nonsense. They could be hours. Meanwhile, I’ll have the advantage of a lovely young lady to chat with. I promise to be on my best behavior. My mother is a good friend of Dorothy’s and together they’d have my head if I misbehaved.” His flattery sounded so sincere that she was charmed, despite knowing better. “So where do you come from, Miss Bristol? Up near Hadrian Hall?”

“No, I’m from Somerset.” Her county of origin was all she’d ever admit. Any more than that, and people would begin to ask questions. “A ridiculously small village—you’ll not have heard of it.”

Like most people, Mr. MacKay didn’t delve any deeper into her history. Once in the drawing room, he handed her into a chair near the fire and seated himself directly across from her, telling her all about the play he’d seen at Drury Lane the previous evening.

The tea cart arrived, pushed by Mountjoy himself, who hovered in the room while Caroline poured, all her early training in ladylike behavior coming back as she entertained Sir Merrick’s friend. Though her eye kept wandering to the grandfather clock in the corner as she wondered what the boys were doing, she chatted with Mr. MacKay about the weather, literature and other innocuous topics. He was charming and handsome, but Caroline didn’t feel anything like the jitters that danced in her stomach when she looked at Sir Merrick. It was a shame really—as a younger son and a newly minted solicitor, Mr. MacKay was much more accessible to a mere governess.

After little more than a half hour, Miss Dorothy returned with the two girls. After sending Nell and Wink up to the nursery with their bundles, Dorothy joined Caroline and Mr. MacKay in the drawing room.

“Gideon, welcome.” When he stood to greet her, she pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Dear, it’s been ages. Your mother didn’t mention you were coming to Town.”

“Well, I’ve taken employment in the legal branch of…the family business,” he said.

Caroline noticed the brief hesitation and wondered if his family business had anything to do with that of the Hadrians. Really, there was far more afoot with this Order than she’d realized at first.

“How wonderful. You’re staying at Glendale House, of course?” Dorothy accepted a cup of tea as she sank onto a settee near her guest.

“Actually no.” He beamed affectionately at Dorothy. “Since the post is intended to be permanent, I’ve decided to take the plunge and find a place of my own. After all, the family pile will belong to Fergus and his brood, so I’ve purchased a small house. The neighborhood isn’t quite so refined as this, but still perfectly respectable. I’m having the parents to dinner tomorrow night, in fact, if you’d care to join us.”

“Of course. Leave us the address and the time. I’ll make sure Merrick is available.” Dorothy sipped her tea and sighed. “Ah, I needed this after a shopping expedition with two young girls. Gideon, you’ll stay for supper tonight, won’t you? Merrick won’t want to miss your visit, and I don’t expect him home much before mealtime.”

“I’d love to,” he replied. His light blue eyes sparkled over at Caroline. “Will the lovely Miss Bristol be joining us?”

“I don’t think—”

“Certainly.” Dorothy’s firm tones overrode Caroline’s denial. “Along with Edwin Berry, unfortunately. And you’ll get to meet Merrick’s two oldest wards, who join us for the evening meal. While the children are a handful, they’re really a delight, right, Caroline?”

“That they are, Miss Dorothy.” Caroline set down her empty teacup and stood. “And I had better go see to them before mayhem erupts yet again. Mr. MacKay, it was truly a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you again shortly,” he said, rising as Caroline left. That little mark of courtesy warmed her heart toward him.

As she walked out the door of the room, she could have sworn she heard Dorothy give a wicked chuckle. Oh, heavens, what was the woman up to now? Caroline was very afraid it was matchmaking.

Getting herself ready for supper with a guest was accomplished easily enough, though Caroline took some extra pains with her hair and even put on her mother’s seed pearl earbobs. Such an invitation had almost never come during her career as a governess, but there had been one or two occasions, which was why she had two suitable dinner frocks. She was glad she’d worn the slate blue last night. Her best gown was a dark forest green, as plain as all her others, with no flounces to the skirt, long sleeves and a high neckline, but at least the color was flattering. Thinking of Mr. MacKay’s smiling charm, she even pinched her cheeks for a bit of color.

Getting Wink ready and downstairs on time proved a much more difficult task. While the girl had been delighted to wear a longer dress and put her hair up in a simple coiled plait, the younger children kept trying to interfere. They weren’t sure about this whole process, but they stood firm in their conviction that it was unfair for Wink and Tommy to see the guest while the rest of them remained confined to the nursery.

Sally’s sister Becky had joined the nursery staff the day before, making life much easier on everyone. Between them, the two maids were able to more or less corral the younger three and get them fed while Caroline assisted Wink.

“There you go.” Caroline gave one last pat to Wink’s auburn chignon and straightened the dark gold sash on her butter-yellow dress. “Wink, I know your parents moved among the gentry. Please do your best to remember those manners for Sir Merrick’s guest.” It was odd having to look up at one of her charges, but Wink was several inches taller than Caroline.

“I will, miss.” The girl gave Caroline a quick smile. “Truth be told, it’s getting easier by the day. Sometimes I wake up in my nice, soft bed, and just for a moment I think Wapping was nothing but a bad dream.”

“I wish it had been, dearest. But at least now it’s the past—and you know you’ll never be back there again.”

“Begging your pardon, Miss Caro, but how can we know that?” A world of suffering showed briefly in Wink’s wide brown eyes. “Something could happen to Sir Merrick and Miss Dorothy tomorrow, then where would we be? Right back where we started, that’s where.”

“I promise you, that won’t be the case,” Caroline said recklessly. “My own story isn’t so different, you know. My grandfather just assumed his heirs would continue to provide for my mother and me—but they didn’t, so out we went. Sir Merrick is smarter than that, and so is Miss Dorothy. They’ll make good and sure you’re taken care of if something should happen to them, and I’ll be certain to remind them of it.”

“Thank you, Miss Caro.” Wink gave her a brief hug, then reached out to smooth a lock of Caroline’s hair back over the pointy tip of her ear. “I think you were sent to be our faery godmother. That’s what those ears mean.”

“Maybe.” Caroline had never been teased about her ears before, but it felt good, like she’d finally bonded with Wink. “Just not so much for George and your other creations.”

They both chuckled as arm in arm they descended the staircase to join the others in the drawing room.

“Miss Bristol!” Mr. MacKay was the first to stand as Caroline and Wink entered, though Sir Merrick was already on his feet, leaning against the hearth. Tommy and Mr. Berry lumbered slowly out of their chairs. “And another beauty. Merrick, are you growing them on trees in the garden now?”

Sir Merrick didn’t
quite
growl. “Behave, Gideon. Remember they’re both under my protection.”

“Oh, never mind that surly old bear.” Dorothy shook her head at her nephew. “Gideon, this is Merrick’s ward, Miss Winifred Carter. Winifred, this is Mr. Gideon MacKay, an old friend of the family.”

To Caroline’s pride, Wink executed a perfect curtsey, her normally curious gaze demurely downcast. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise, Miss Carter.” With exaggerated gallantry he took her hand and kissed the air a fraction of an inch above it. “Miss Bristol.” When he took Caroline’s, however, he not only pressed his lips to her skin, he held them there for a moment longer than was absolutely polite.

It was fun to have someone flirting with her openly, as if she were a lady, rather than just trying for a quick grope behind the stairs like she was used to from her employers and their older sons. Still, even when his lips moved on her bare flesh, there was no trace of the tingle she’d felt when Sir Merrick had taken her hand while they both wore gloves.
Pity, that.

To even up numbers, Dorothy had invited her friend Miss Margaret Julian, whom Caroline had met several times at the library. Miss Julian was a short, plump woman of perhaps fifty, with lively blue eyes and just a few streaks of gray in her light brown hair. Her clothing was in the first stare of fashion, cleverly designed to elevate her ordinary features to a sedate beauty. Though her father was a wealthy shipping magnate, Caroline knew Miss Julian kept herself busy managing various charitable organizations, an occupation she shared with her dear friend Dorothy.

Caroline knew Dorothy was matchmaking when in a blatant disregard for protocol, Caroline was partnered with Mr. MacKay. Miss Julian was matched with Mr. Berry, much to that gentleman’s distaste. While Dorothy and Miss Julian certainly didn’t flaunt their unusual—and unfortunately illegal—affection for one another, Mr. Berry either knew or suspected, and his disapproval was evident in his curt, almost rude remarks and pinched expression.

Mr. MacKay, on the other hand, seemed to either not notice, or not care. He flirted easily with all the ladies regardless of age. Still, he seemed to spend just a little extra time talking to Caroline, making her feel as if she genuinely belonged in this gathering.

She was still smiling when she herded Wink up the stairs, Mr. Berry and Tommy right behind them.

After a sound night of sleep, mercifully undisturbed by one of Jamie’s nightmares, she was still in a good mood when she woke. Never mind that today the Cinderella moment was over and it was back to work for the lowly governess. She’d had a lovely evening and intended to enjoy the memory.

Even the weather seemed inclined to cooperate. Though no golden rays of sunshine streaked in through the windows, the clouds were light and fluffy instead of ominous and dark. Finally, she could take the children out for a walk.

As if they knew it, Jamie and Piers were particularly restless through their lessons, and even Nell seemed distracted, while Wink stared into space with a thoughtful expression on her face.

Oh dear.
Had the girl developed a
tendre
for the handsome young solicitor? Caroline supposed there was no great harm in it, so she didn’t press. Instead she doggedly worked at keeping all four young minds focused on grammar and mathematics. Luncheon and its subsequent outing couldn’t come soon enough.

It was barely time for morning tea, however, when Johnson appeared in the nursery, telling Caroline that Miss Dorothy requested her presence. Caroline removed her apron and hurried downstairs with no idea what she’d find. The last thing she’d expected was to see Dorothy sitting amid a variety of fresh bouquets, tapping an engraved envelope in her hand.

“You must have made quite an impression on young Gideon,” said the older woman. “He sent you the biggest posy of all—though mine is none too shabby and the nosegay for Wink was a thoughtful touch.”

Caroline reached out and touched a large bouquet of mixed white and pink roses, framed by an elegant spray of orchids and a small bunch of yellow roses accented with daisies. “This is for me?”