The Janus Affair: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel (17 page)

Eliza ignored his comments as she took his hand and nodded.

Douglas replaced his hat, giving his lapels a light tug. “I take it, as per usual, you won’t let me pick you up at your apartments?”

“I haven’t changed that much—I’ll meet you there.”

“I hope one thing has changed. I hope Ministry business won’t keep you away from our appointment?”

“Certainly not, Douglas.”

Wellington stared down at the teacup. It looked as if he would be reviewing those secret reels tonight. Alone.

“Children,” Eliza said, her voice lighter. “I think you all should have a good hot meal tonight. Seeing as I will be otherwise engaged this evening, I’ll have Alice serve up something nice for you all. We will talk about the matters concerning Diamond Dottie another time, yes?”

No one answered her.

“Capital. If you all will excuse me then, I need to change for the impending evening.” Muttering what sounded like a preparation list for a grand night out, Eliza disappeared into the corridor Wellington knew led to her bedroom.

The silence felt thick and oppressive—at least to the Archivist. Wellington polished off his tea, and then collected his walking stick still propped by the couch he had slept across on the fateful night. A night when he had defended her in secret. “Well then, I suppose I will be off to the Archives, seeing as I have some evidence to tend to.”

His hat suddenly appeared in front of him. He looked up to Alice. Not secret to everyone, he recalled.

She looked back to where Eliza had disappeared and then turned back to him. “Is there anything you’d like me to convey to the mistress?”

“To be frank, Alice,” Wellington said, taking up his bowler and slipping his winter coat across his back, “I doubt if she would hear anything clearly right now. When she is more focused, tell her I will be more than happy to review a strategy with the Ministry Seven and Diamond Dottie. Until then, I will be retiring for the night. Alice, children . . .” He placed his bowler on his head, lightly tapping its crown. “Good day.”

“I’ll see you to the door, old chap!” Douglas chimed cheerily.

Oh
, Wellington thought to himself,
Lovely.
I do hope there are no Siberian tigers between the parlour and the door
.

The Archivist slapped on a final smile for Alice and the Ministry Seven before heading to the door with man-of-the-world Douglas Sheppard at his side.

They remained quiet while waiting for the lift. Once Douglas shut the gate and pressed the button for the main floor, Wellington spoke up.

“The gifts were a very nice touch.”

Douglas looked confused for a moment, but then that same smile Wellington had seen the night he rescued his mother appeared. “They were. Weren’t they?”

How he wished he had his auralscope with him. It was apparent Wellington was now enjoying an audience with the real Douglas Sheppard. “So how did you know about the children?”

Douglas gave a soft laugh. “Well, I have spent many days and nights tracking big game, so it would stand to reason that I would do the same for someone I still treasure.”

A chill passed though him. “You have been watching us?”

“No,” he said, his smile bright and honest, “I’ve been watching over my Eliza. I need to, seeing as no one here can. Believe me, neither you nor those guttersnipes upstairs really know her. You just don’t.” The lift shuddered to a halt. “But cheer up, Mr. Books. Tonight you have nothing but time to take care of the investigation. No need for my little Eliza to trouble herself with all that bloody fact-checking.” Douglas opened the gate and saw himself out. “Be seeing you, old chap!”

Wellington Books remained in the lift, the silence threatening to smother him. It would be his word against Eliza’s past, and Douglas Sheppard knew it.

A pang of regret formed bitterly in his mouth. He had finally found a chess player worthy of his own skill, and that opponent was a right bastard rivaling that of his own father.

“Dash it all,” he swore, his words echoing in the hollow space around him.

Chapter Twelve

Wherein Old Lovers Hold Old Secrets

D
ouglas always wanted to pick her up at her apartments, but Eliza couldn’t quite trust herself. Like in the Ministry it was best to arrive early and choose your ground. What Douglas might mean by asking her to dinner in such a public way she could not judge.

As she got ready for the evening out she felt as if she were preparing for battle. But she was not buckling on her armour alone.

“The
Bird’s Eye View
,” Alice murmured to herself as she laid out a dress on the bed for Eliza. “Very grand, I am sure.” Her clockwork leg chattered to itself as she went to the dressing table to open the drawer of jewellery. “I wish I had a fancy gent to take me out on the town.”

Eliza was already in her underthings, soft silken garments that made her feel genteel and feminine. It almost matched her pensive mood.

“Ah, Alice,” Eliza said, smoothing out the midnight blue satin of the dress, “I know you have your own set of admirers who’d be willing to take you wherever you like.”

Her maid snorted. “Billy can’t afford it, and I swear I’d never let Frank get what he’d want if he took me to such a place. No, Miss Eliza, I shall stick to my eel-jelly or fish and chips and be happy about it. Still . . .” she began as she pulled out the velvet jewellery box, undid the clasp, and flicked it open, “I can enjoy you going there, eating your fill and telling me all about it.”

Their relationship was certainly not typical of a mistress and her maid, but then neither of them were exactly typical. Eliza with her clandestine work in the government and her love of explosions made her anything but an average woman. And Alice, with her poor upbringing and her clockwork prosthetics.

Yet, Eliza knew, they were a perfect pair—and she did enjoy sharing her goings-on with Alice. She had very few lady companions in London, and none that could be as discreet as Alice.

“I shall tell you of every morsel that passes my lips,” she said, undoing the buttons on her sleeves.

Alice nudged her, “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far!” and then broke into a gale of giggles. “Mr. Douglas Sheppard is quite the dashing gentleman—and he did make quite the impression on the children.”

Eliza knew she was blushing.

“Now tonight, don’t you fret about them.” Alice bent and briefly lifted her skirt to reveal one gleaming brass leg. Alice’s fingers brushed by the handle of the pistol sheathed in among the clockwork. “I am always prepared for whatever the world may throw against us.”

As Eliza slid a tiny pistol into her garter belt, she said, “As am I.”

“Expecting trouble from this gent then?”

“Not from him,” Eliza smiled, “but I have found in the life I live that it always pays to prepare for the worst—at the very least a street thug might appear.”

“I think you are going to the wrong end of town for that, miss.” Alice helped her step into her dress and began the task of doing up all its tiny pearl buttons.

“Such high society is not my usual environment,” Eliza reminded her. “My parents are still pulling pints at their hotel—and honestly I wish I was back there many times.”

Alice pressed her lips together—Eliza had told her this often enough. “You are lucky, miss—to know where your folks are.” Her hands fumbled on the buttons, and Eliza felt like a fool. She had rescued the younger woman from the poorhouse where she had been placed after her own parents had abandoned her. Alice’s accident had seemed to be a stroke from a cruel god. Eliza had taken it upon herself to remedy that.

So she turned about and squeezed Alice’s hands. “Once the Ministry Seven have finished their dinners and left, take the night off.” She slipped a coin into the maid’s hands. “And how about
you
take Billy somewhere grand. It’s a new age after all, Alice.”

The younger woman’s smile was broad and wicked. “That it is, miss.” With a hasty bow she took her leave.

Eliza looked into the mirror at what they had created. She was still young, but not as she had been when last Douglas had taken her to dinner. The midnight blue dress she had picked with care—he had always admired the colour on her. She still recalled how he had whispered that it made her eyes blue pools that could drown a man.

Back then, such compliments had made her blush and stammer. She wondered how she would react should he say the same tonight. In New Zealand there had been such sweetness to their courtship, but back then she had been quite a different person. Still a little reckless, but in the way of a young woman not yet as familiar with black powder and explosions.

Looking directly into her own eyes she spoke softly, “Bloody fool!” Then she smiled. Douglas might have surprised her with his invitation to dinner, but she had a surprise waiting for him in turn. It simply would not do to dare being alone with the paragon of New Zealand manliness. No, not indeed.

Then, snatching up her tiny jewelled purse, she made for the door.

The
Bird’s Eye View
was quite the newest way to see London—and though she didn’t say it, Eliza was impressed that Douglas had managed to get a booking at such short notice. Four small airships bobbed in their moorings, quiet and awaiting passengers. These were pleasure craft meant for local journeys, with room enough for only twenty or so people in the accommodations beneath.

Eliza jumped down out of the carriage and stared up at them. The trepidation growing in her chest was not their fault, but they did give her something to focus on.

“Quite a sight, aren’t they?”

She spun around and glared at Douglas. “Have your customs changed so much that you enjoy frightening women?”

He tipped his hat to her. “As if anything so minor as my voice would scare the redoubtable Miss Eliza D. Braun.”

She was just about to reply when she heard her name called from a little distance. At the sound of Ihita’s greeting Douglas’ eyes widened.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Eliza whispered. “Since you said it was a dinner between friends I thought to invite a couple of mine.” It was quite insulting, but then she felt in need of some backup.

Ihita, wearing a breathtaking tangerine sari accented with gold threads and what appeared to be tiny medallions, practically skipped up to them. The perfect gentleman, Douglas regained his balance quickly.

“Ah yes,” he smiled. “I recall you were with Eliza buying sandwiches. Any friend of hers is indeed a welcome addition to our party.”

“A party is it?” Agent Brandon Hill appeared on the other side, and Eliza couldn’t help the small smile of triumph sketching itself on her lips.

The second time Douglas did not look surprised, but Ihita’s cheeks flushed red and her gaze shot to Eliza. Brandon was dressed in an exquisitely tailored evening suit, his carriage making many of the ladies turn and take notice. The Inverness overcoat was a very nice touch, Eliza found, and made the eccentric agent look exceptionally dashing.

Eliza winked at her friend, and hoped she recalled that she’d promised not to interfere. As she made another round of introductions between the men, Eliza congratulated herself. In one step she had taken care of one of Ihita’s problems and one of her own. Her friend pined after the curious charms of Agent Hill, and Eliza was no longer alone with a man whose charms she knew very well.

“We shall make quite a jolly group,” Douglas’ recovery was almost superhuman. No one looking on him would ever guess that he had not planned the whole thing.

“Only four is it, Eliza?” Brandon whispered to her. “You said it would be a party when we spoke this afternoon.” His eyes were pretending to be stern, but twinkled with a barely withheld enjoyment. Agent Hill was much like her—he enjoyed the rush and the excitement of fieldwork. Yet he’d been stuck in London for the last month going as quietly mad as she was in the Archives. Inviting him along tonight had served multiple purposes, but it had also been a kindness.

“Maybe my mathematical skills aren’t all that,” she murmured back. “But I think the company will make up for it.” In response he glanced over at Ihita. She did look lovely tonight. Eliza began to reconsider her earlier judgement. Maybe Brandon wasn’t as blind as she’d said, because when he turned and looked at Ihita no one could mistake the slight lifting of his lips. He knew full well how beautiful and charming Miss Ihita Pujari was. It had not escaped his notice.

In the midst of all these strange disappearances and confusing feelings, Eliza was glad that someone was moving towards happiness.

“Indeed.” He tipped his hat, and walked over to join the conversation between Douglas and Ihita. They really did make a striking couple.

The four of them set off towards the gangway. Ihita took Brandon’s offered arm, and Eliza did the same with Douglas.

Her fellow New Zealander smiled wickedly. “I recall how you used to watch the airships from your father’s house. You used to say you would ride one when you were older.”

“I said a lot of things back then—I was an exceedingly foolish girl.”

“And the most beautiful in two hemispheres.” Luckily he did not mention that he had said the same thing when he’d proposed.

Brandon and Ihita were polite enough to drop back a little.

“Oh, Douglas,” Eliza whispered. “You are exaggerating. You thought my sister Anna was far prettier than I.”

“Nonsense!” He looked positively outraged. “She might be considered the most lovely girl in Auckland by many, but I never held with it myself.”

“I should very much like to meet your family,” Brandon chimed in. “The stories they could tell of the young Eliza Braun? It would be most . . . educational.”

“Are they all like you?” Ihita squeezed her arm.

Every one of them laughed, and she felt the sting of it. At the mention of the family she had so rashly lost, Eliza felt a pierce of grief. Letters were not nearly enough.

“Mr. Hill, I could tell you plenty of stories!” Douglas began, but before he could elaborate, Eliza tugged on his arm.

“Come along—I am ravenous!”

All four of them trouped up to the small craft with the name B
IRD’S
E
YE
V
IEW
written on the keel in flowing golden letters. The captain at the prow tipped his hat to them as they entered, and looked ready to leap to service immediately. Still they were civilised beings, and took their time entering this luxurious dining establishment.

Thick red velvet drapes framed the large windows while jewel-coloured Turkish rugs spread over the teak floor. Over each of the white-draped tables gleamed a crystal chandelier lit with the newest sealed electric tubes.

“Delightful!” Ihita breathed, and from the child of a raja—even one that had run away to join the Ministry—that had to mean something. Douglas went over to the imperious-looking maitre’d and had a whispered conversation.

When he strode back to the other three, there was the hint of a smile in the corners of his lips. “They’re able to accommodate our new party, but unfortunately only at two smaller tables.”

Check and mate, Eliza
, his gaze told her.

She crooked her eyebrow at him, but would not kick up a fuss. Instead she turned to Ihita and Brandon. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The look Hill shot her friend made Eliza suspicious that perhaps he was starting to get the point of the evening. “I am sure Miss Pujari and I can find many topics of conversation.” He held out his arm and gestured towards the table that a waiter was indicating.

Douglas and Eliza were taken to a nearby table, close enough so that they were within polite eyesight of the others, but not so close that they would easily overhear each other’s conversation.

As the waiter placed the pure white linen napkins on their laps and handed them the menus, the ropes were released and the
Bird’s Eye View
slid up into the sky. The agent felt the familiar dip of her stomach and the slight racing of her heart. She loved air travel—and found it the closest thing to taking wing herself.

They were seated near one of the tall windows and for a few minutes they were lost in the transformation. The distance stilled London’s noise, and smoothed away the chaos of the great city. Even the Thames was beautiful from up here; going from unforgiving purveyor of sewerage and trade to a glistening silver ribbon. She had seen it before many times, but each was like the first. The lights twinkled and the city became a fairytale place. Eliza and Douglas watched as London rolled out beneath them. If either of them had been a poet, perhaps they would have been able to create words to match the moment.

“Quite a grand sight,” Douglas finally murmured, his eyes still on Eliza.

“The grandest the Empire has to offer.” If Wellington had been there she definitely would not have said that. She preferred him believing she was totally miserable in both her new city and her new position in the Ministry. It was far more fun that way.

The waiter gave a demure cough, and they took the very subtle hint. It was time to order. Douglas examined the menu, before offering, “The menu by necessity, is limited—but quite marvellous. We had the fish here last week, and I would highly recommend it.”