The Janus Affair: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel (38 page)

Chandi’s voice interrupted her. “You now have five minutes to reach minimum safe distance.”

“I will take that as a yes,” Wellington said, throwing the final parachute on her. He then grabbed a smaller coil of rope and secured Eliza to his back. “When we go, angle us towards the
Blythe Spirit
. When I shoulder the grappling hook, pull the cord.”

Eliza nodded. She took in a deep breath while Wellington worked between them the accompanying belt where excess rope fed the rescue rifle. Both of them lowered their goggles even as the automatons announced that one minute remained. Underneath them was the
Blythe Spirit
. Exactly where Wellington wanted her. He looked over the rifle one more time, the feed line to confirm it would feed without fault, and finally the rope belt that bound Eliza to him.

“Twenty,” came Chandi’s voice again. “Ninteen . . . eighteen . . . seventeen . . . sixteen . . . fifteen . . .”

Wellington with his Braun-enhanced parachute leapt out in the open air, their bodies angling towards the
Blythe Spirit
. They were falling. Fast. He knew their collected weight was going to be too much for the parachute, but all he needed was a moment—a single, solitary moment—for the shot. The goggles pressed against his face, hard enough to make his eyes narrow; and in his vision he saw the
Spirit
draw closer. Closer. A few more feet . . .

Angle of descent . . .

Speed of descent . . .

Acceleration decay . . .

Now.

Wellington shouldered the weapon, and he felt Eliza tug between them. He waited a few more heartbeats, felt a sudden stop, and—compensating for the force of resistance—pulled the trigger.

The hook was away. Reaching. Reaching. The rope from the rifle continued to unwind and then the hook disappeared into the cabin. He was certain it had shattered a window.

Their parachute failed, and the world began to fall away once more. Something far above him thundered, and he caught a flash in the corner of his eye. Wellington’s arm snaked around the rifle and pulled up in anticipation for the coil to catch. Now, they were swinging forward, flying underneath the
Blythe Spirit
’s cabin, and then arching upward. Like a pendulum, the archivist and his skilled assistant swung to and fro for a time.

It must have hurt, but Eliza’s bloody arm reached around and pulled Wellington closer to her. All he heard was the wind in his ears, but Eliza was doing something against him. Crying with joy? Laughing? Hard to be certain.

Wellington Thornhill Books, Esquire was most certain of one thing though: once back in the Archives, he would have a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter Thirty

In Which Friends Return Home and Nearly All Is Forgiven

“I
am quite sure this will be impossible to explain to the committee.” Kate smiled as Eliza helped her down from the airship gangplank. She was trying to make light of it, but her friend could feel the tremble in her hand.

“All they need to know is that the disappearances will not happen again.” Eliza looked back to the deck, where Doctor Sound was talking to Shillingworth. The Director’s gaze flicked to her, and it was not exactly kindly. Consequences, she had a feeling, were about to fall on her once more. She’d expected as much.

Kate leaned in. “I wish our sisters could be told what you did.”

“Now that would get me into trouble!” Eliza squeezed her hand. “I am happy they know I work in the government, but that’s all we can really share. Besides”—she smiled wryly—“who would believe it?”

The suffragist looked up at the clouds. “I know, Miss Eliza D. Braun, that if I were told it rather than having seen it, I certainly would not.” Then she touched the brass-covered half of her face. “We have a lot to thank you for—myself most especially.”

“Mother!” Douglas was pushing dockworkers out of the way and causing quite a commotion as he raced towards them. Eliza’s heart sank as he began to get near.

“I am glad of one other thing,” Kate whispered to her. “I am ever so glad you didn’t start your relationship with my son up again.”

Such a pronouncement made Eliza straighten. Never in all their time together in New Zealand had Mrs. Sheppard ever mentioned any opinion on the matter. “Really?” she stammered, “I suppose I’m not your class, or not—”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” her friend replied, as she gave Douglas a reassuring wave. She let out a long sigh, one that spoke of maternal love and unending patience. “I adore my son as a mother should, but he can be a bit . . .” Her words disappeared as she considered the world-renowned adventurer. “Douglas is like one of his mountains—set, immovable in many ways, and just difficult to understand.” She smiled and nodded in his direction. “You, my dear, would most likely kill him eventually.”

Kate winked with her mechanical eye, and Eliza could not stop a snort of laughter escaping. “Very possibly,” she choked out. “Yes, indeed, most probably.”

“That does not mean,” Kate began turning to her, “I still do not look upon you with a great amount of pride. Eliza, while the history books will not know of your contributions to the movement, I will. Never forget that.”

Eliza swallowed back a growing lump in her throat. “That means a great deal to me.”

They walked the rest of the way to meet him. Douglas abandoned all protocol and snatched Kate up in an embrace. “I’m so sorry, Mother. I was in town when I heard and I—”

“Now, now, please don’t fuss. It was quite the adventure, but I am wholly safe and well.” She turned and grinned at Eliza. “Though I do think I am feeling far too old for such high-jinks, and quite ready for a cup of tea before we set off for home.”

In all the commotion Eliza had completely forgotten that the Sheppards were leaving by their own, much more sedate, airship this very evening. Before she could say anything Kate was hugging her, and planting a kiss on her cheek. “I shall send word to your family that you are safe and well—though I may leave out the bit about parachuting from a burning airship.” She laid a hand on the agent’s cheek. “It has been lovely to see you again, Eliza. I know now you have made yourself a good home here. When you return to Aotearoa, call on me. Until then, look after yourself and that delightful Mr. Books too.” Then before she could be questioned further, she moved off so that Douglas and Eliza could say their farewells.

It was more than awkward, but it had to be done. “Goodbye, then.” Douglas cleared his throat. “I hoped perhaps you might reconsider . . .”

“When have you ever known me to do that?” she replied as gently as she could, but when he stepped in to kiss her, she offered only her cheek. “Thank you for the past, Douglas. You really did help make some things clear to me.” When he stepped back, Eliza could see he was struggling to maintain a veneer of control over genuine annoyance. Still, he had been her first love, and she didn’t want this goodbye to end badly.

“Go find a girl more suited to you than I.” She laid a hand on his arm. “You’re a fine man—just not the man for me anymore.” She pressed her lips lightly on his cheek, and then turned away, setting her sights elsewhere.

Wellington was coming down the gangplank to meet her. His wheaten hair shifted in the wind, quite naked to the elements. It was rather endearing. His gaze flickered over her shoulder. “So the Sheppards are going already?”

“Their airship for New Zealand leaves this evening,” Eliza said, tucking her hand around his elbow, “so we got the timing perfectly right for a rescue.”

“Aren’t you sad you’re not going with them?”

His voice was calm, but there was a strange note to it that made her smile. “Oh Welly, I have been quite won over by the charms of London. I’m not missing New Zealand as much as I once did.”

A long exhalation followed from him, and it sounded as though he’d been holding it in. “That’s wonderful, though, unfortunately, one part of London is far less charmed with us at the moment.”

Both of their gazes drifted to the airship and the Director. Sound had finished his conversation with Shillingworth, and now had both hands locked on the railing, leaning out, and looking straight at them. His secretary inclined her head in a gesture that could almost have been a salute to her employer and strode down the gangplank. She completely ignored the Archivist and his apprentice as she made her way to the rank of hansoms. They could hardly guess what the Director had said to Shillingworth and certainly did not dare ask her as she passed them.

Eliza felt her mouth dry up, but still she managed to choke out, “So the jig is up then?”

“Quite.”

“And he knows all about the cases we’ve worked from the Archives?”

“Naturally—he’s not a stupid man. He wants us to meet him in his office.” For a man about to lose his employment Wellington sounded remarkably chirpy.

Taking a chance, Eliza slid her hand down his arm and clasped her fingers on his. He didn’t flinch, so she squeezed a little tighter. “I’m sorry,” she murmured to him. “This was all my fault. It was my idea to chase these cases.”

His hazel eyes met hers, and there was not one ounce of anger or accusation in them. “That is absolute rubbish, Eliza. I could at any stage have stopped you merely by going to the Director. I chose not to, and because of that, you and I have done a lot of good.”

“I suppose,” she replied in a small voice.

“Please keep sight of the fact that the Empire itself could have fallen under the weight of another religious crusade, Eliza. I would count that as most worthy.”

“I hope the Director takes that into account.” She said it as cheerfully as she could manage, but they both knew that Doctor Sound could not tolerate division in the ranks. Everyone—including the Archivist—had to be trusted to obey direct orders.

“So you see,” Wellington said straightening to his full height, “I will not apologise for our actions.”

They might be losing their jobs, and the scene that awaited them would be monumental in its scope, but they were at least united. “Then better to go out with a bang,” Eliza squeezed his fingertips again, and only just managed to stop raising them to her lips. “That is the way I have always preferred to leave a party.”

The Archivist looked down at her, while a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Despite my protests, I have come to realise I would not have it any other way.”

Together they walked down the street to find a hansom, and face whatever music the Director had ready for them.

Chapter Thirty-One

Wherein Wellington Books Handles a Situation with Aplomb

T
hey arrived back at the Ministry before the Director—though not before Shillingworth. By some miracle of transportation, the secretary was sitting at her desk shuffling paperwork when Eliza and Wellington stepped out of the lift.

The Archivist observed that there was not one white-blonde hair out of place on her head, and it was impossible to imagine her toting firearms and hanging from the rigging of an airship only hours before. It could have been another woman.

She showed them into the office, saw them settled on chairs, and then turned to them with a smile. “Can I get a cup of tea for you while you wait?”

In all his time at the Ministry, Wellington had never seen Miss Shillingworth offer refreshment or a smile. It was a banner day apparently, yet when he exchanged a glance with Eliza she also appeared to be taking it as a bad sign.

“Thank you,” his colleague replied, “I think that would be lovely.”

They sat in silence while Shillingworth bustled out, to reappear a short time later with a tray. On it was a fine porcelain teapot and cups in a lovely willow pattern, and also a tray of tiny biscuits. Then with another smile, the secretary returned to her desk, shutting the door noiselessly behind her.

Eliza poured, while Wellington nibbled on a biscuit. Somewhere just outside Ministry headquarters both of them had let go of each other’s hands. It seemed the proper thing to do when entering one’s place of employment, but the Archivist found that he missed her fingers wrapped around his.

Being in the oubliette had made a number of things clear to him—none of which he could discuss with Eliza at this very moment. If either or both of them were dismissed from the Ministry he could not foresee the consequences. Perhaps Eliza would end up working for another government organisation, and he could enquire at the British Library. The thought gave him great concern. It was not that the venerable library was not a wonderful place—it was just not the place for him. And Eliza . . .

Wellington glanced across at her. Though her hands were folded atop each other on her knees, he could detect real tension in her shoulders. The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences was unique in Queen Victoria’s government, and it was unlikely any other place would suit Miss Eliza D. Braun’s skills as well.

For both of them then, this was quite the moment. Wellington was about to reach across and pat Eliza’s hand again, when the door was flung open and the Director strode in. Like Shillingworth he appeared untouched by this afternoon’s events, but he looked considerably less happy about that.

He took a seat behind his desk, and fixed them with a stare that should have been reserved for insects beneath glass. “Once again,” he began, steepling his fingers before him, “I find you two in my office—a situation I was hoping never to have repeated.”

Wellington swallowed, glanced across at Eliza, and then when she showed no signs of speaking, addressed his superior. “Director, I just want to express my colleague’s and my own distress at being here as well. We never expected—”

“—To be caught?” Doctor Sound tilted his head. “That was a very foolish expectation then. I may be a shuffler of papers, as Agent Braun here once called me, but I am not without intelligence.”

Wellington began mentally running through his contacts at the British Library.

“I gave you leeway after the Phoenix Society affair—even though your excuses were as transparent as glass—because you did the Empire a service, and I expected one incident would be enough for you both.” He pulled a stack of brown folders over to sit in front of him. “Do you have anything mitigating to offer?”

Eliza brushed her skirt, and gave Wellington a warning stare before replying. “Yes, I do, Director. This was all my fault.”

The Archivist went to protest at her throwing herself in front of the carriage like this, but she held up a hand. Wellington’s good breeding forbade his interrupting a lady.

She turned back to the Director. “It was at my insistence that Wellington helped me investigate both the Phoenix Society and the missing suffragists. Both cases were dear to me. As Harrison Thorne and Mrs. Kate Sheppard were and are personal friends, I felt I needed to help them—especially since neither was being investigated properly by the Ministry.”

Eliza sat tall in her chair, meeting the Director’s eye, and Wellington had never been so proud of her. Ever since setting out on their first adventure she had expressed concerns that he would abandon her to the wrath of Doctor Sound. Yet now here she was, claiming all the responsibility.

It was not going to make a difference.

The Director’s forehead furrowed. “You are once again, Braun, taking me for a fool. Our Archivist was aware of what you were doing, and could have easily reported your activities at any time.”

“Yes indeed,” Wellington replied, “I could have, but decided that the greater good was being served.”

“You feel you are qualified to decide that?” The Director’s glare flicked between the two of them, and sensibly, both remained silent.

“Yes, sir,” they replied together.

Doctor Sound jerked back in his chair and peered at them in surprise. “And pray tell, what gives you this authority over me?”

“The number of cases that have gone unsolved by our agents. I have to look at them daily.” Wellington leaned forward in his chair. “When do you see them, sir?”

The Director’s mouth opened, then shut as he considered. Finally, he nodded. “
Touché
, Books. The truth of the matter is that both the Ministry and I are in a precarious position. We are under constant scrutiny by Her Majesty.” He adjusted himself in his seat. “On one hand I cannot have you undermining my authority while our venerable Queen is keeping such a close eye on us.”

“And we all know how she feels about the suffrage movement,” Eliza muttered. “She called it a ‘wicked folly’ after all.”

The Director cleared his throat and silenced her with one look. “However, I also cannot with a clear conscience dismiss the two of you for such heroic acts.” He flipped open the folder. “My own investigations have revealed that you have solved six of our forgotten cases.”

“Beg your pardon, sir,” Wellington couldn’t help interjecting, “it was actually seven.”

Doctor Sound glanced down and made a notation in the folder. “Thank you, Books.”

Eliza shot the Archivist an exasperated look.

“Fortunately, a solution to this little pickle has fallen into my lap. Tell me, have you ever been to the Americas?”

It was such an unexpected comment that Wellington barked out, “No, sir.”

“Well then, with Eliza by your side it will be quite the education, since our American counterparts have asked for assistance.”

“I didn’t know that the United States had an organisation like ours,” Eliza said, tilting her head.

“They did not consult with you, Agent Braun? How shocking!” Wellington was not so foolish as to think this touch of humour from their superior meant they were out of the woods just yet. “As a matter of fact,” Doctor Sound continued, “it is still somewhat in the formation stages, but they have a case that resembles one from your forgotten files section.” He tapped his finger on a case file in front of him. “So both our Ministry and their organisation may benefit from this exchange of minds.”

“We’ll do our best,” Wellington offered, trying to keep his voice level.

“I would expect no less. Airship passage has been booked. You leave at midnight. I will have the particulars of this peculiar occurrence waiting in your respective staterooms to study while you travel. Here is a brief summary,” Sound continued, handing Wellington a single sheet of paper. “As it is close to five o’clock, you should have some time to gather a few case notes from the Archives before returning to your respective homes to pack.” He looked between them both. Wellington knew he was smiling. Broadly. “I suggest you do not dilly-dally—lest I change my mind.”

The Archivist was so giddy with relief that he really didn’t care exactly which case it was, for it appeared that they were being temporarily exiled rather than dismissed. Eliza, too, looked as if she had been given a gallows reprieve. Both agents leapt to their feet immediately and made for the door.

“One last thing.” The Director stopped them before they could get there. Wellington held his breath but dared not turn around.

“I also suggest you pack what things you need from down in the Archives. Miss Shillingworth will be overseeing them while you are away. I presume, as our Archivist, that meets with your approval?”

Wellington turned and gave a thoughtful nod. “I cannot think of anyone better, sir.”

“You know, Welly,” Eliza whispered as they made their escape, “I think we have bloody well earned a holiday.”

Her bravado was thin, but still attached. Still for once, Wellington did not rise to the bait. Not today.