A Study in Darkness (12 page)

Hardly. Every time he sees me, I can see him thinking about unbolting my hide so he can see what makes my gears turn
.

“He looks at everyone like that.”

Bird hopped across the top of the trunk disconsolately while Mouse cleaned its whiskers. The devas had melded so closely with their mechanical bodies that one would never guess they were beings of pure energy. The elemental spirits—mostly
small and harmless, but sometimes quite the opposite—were at the heart of the magic her Gran Cooper had taught Evelina as a child. Of all the varieties of devas—water, air, fire, earth, and all the shades in between—the Coopers had an affinity for the devas of the woodland places. They were the ones she could see most clearly and speak to with her mind.

Evelina scanned the landscape around the train station, wondering what manner of spirits lived here. Then she heard the rumble of wheels. Bird flew back to the bag, perching on the clasp.

At first, Evelina saw nothing, but then she rose from the trunk and looked around, finally spotting a two-horse carriage coming up behind the train station. It was far nicer than the dog cart and driver she’d been expecting, but Jasper Keating did everything in style. “Hello!” she called. “Are you from Maggor’s Close?”

A female head in a smart green hat emerged from the carriage window. For a split second, Evelina’s heart seized, half expecting Alice Keating simply because she was the last person Evelina wanted to see. But her fears were unfounded, because it was Imogen who got out of the carriage. Tall, slender, and with hair the color of pale wheat, she had captured every available heart—and then some—in her first Season. She gave Evelina a huge smile. “There you are. I’ve missed you so much!”

“I missed you, too.” Evelina returned the smile, almost giddy with relief. “I didn’t expect anyone besides a driver.”

“What nonsense is that? I had to welcome you in person. Anything less would be barbaric.”

Evelina glanced down and saw Mouse and Bird had retreated into the carpetbag. Imogen knew all about them, but they had to stay out of sight of the driver. She snapped the bag shut seconds before Imogen enveloped her in a hug. Evelina closed her eyes, happier than she had been for months.

“You look well,” Imogen said a moment later, holding her at arm’s length. “The country air agrees with you. Far better than it agrees with me, I think.”

Capturing her arm, Imogen pulled her toward the carriage,
leaving the driver to wrestle with the luggage. Evelina tensed. Nothing could dim her friend’s pale, slender beauty, but she did look more fragile than she had last spring. “Have you been unwell?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Imogen waved her concern away. “I think it is just the damp. Or the absence of London smoke. Or perhaps the fact I’ve been forced to endure gunshots from dawn till dusk for days on end. That’s where all the men are now—out slaughtering the landscape. It sounds like a recurrence of the Crimea come to our front door.”

“Surely you exaggerate.”

“I do that when I’m bored enough to scream. I can’t even find a newspaper in this forsaken place. Thank God you’re here. I was about to take up a laudanum habit just to pass the time.”

Apprehensive, Evelina let her ramble, but she could hear the tension and fatigue in Imogen’s voice. Perhaps Uncle Sherlock had been correct about her health. All through their school years, Imogen had suffered nervous complaints and, more often than not, Evelina had been the one to nurse her through fevers and nightmares.

They settled themselves into the carriage, and it set off at a smart clip. “So tell me everything about your summer,” Imogen demanded. “How is your fearsome Grandmamma Holmes?”

“As terrifying as ever,” Evelina confessed. “It’s just as well she’d been a bit under the weather. I truly believe that is the only reason why I could keep up with her.”

“Oh?” Imogen leaned forward, the ribbed silk of her sleek green walking dress rustling as she moved. “What was she up to this time?”

Evelina studied her friend. From the dark circles under her eyes, she hadn’t been sleeping, and more often than not that meant she was overwrought. Evelina’s first impulse had been to tell Imogen everything—the bomb, the mysterious Schoolmaster, and even the detonator that looked so much like Tobias’s handiwork, but now she reconsidered. As much as Evelina would have welcomed a comrade in arms, that might not be what Imogen needed.

She decided to begin with a more cheerful topic. “Grandmamma took full advantage of the fact I’d been presented, and marched me into the drawing rooms of every respectable family in the county who could boast an eligible bachelor. I had to duck three proposals by midsummer’s day.”

“Good work, Mrs. Holmes!” Imogen nodded appreciatively. “So what was wrong with these three young bucks?”

“Two of them were at least three score and ten, and one was a greengrocer.”

“A greengrocer?”

“I exaggerate. He imports food. I didn’t mind that, but he smelled like rotting lettuce and had the conversational ability of a carrot.”

Imogen blinked. “Heavens, did he have any redeeming qualities?”

“Evidently he can lay his hands on fresh vegetables even in the depths of winter. He has friends who have friends.”

Imogen snapped open her fan, plying it vigorously. “Aubergines all twelve months of the year. Is that even legal?”

Evelina sat back against the seat cushions, cringing at her memories. “There was much about this gentleman that should be outlawed, but his produce I’m sure was quite aboveboard.”

“How dull.”

“Precisely.” Evelina smiled. “But once my tour of the drawing rooms was complete, I approached Grandmamma about the question of college again. That was quite the scene. I made the tactical error of bringing it up over an early lunch. I thought she was going to skewer me with her shrimp fork before the meal was done.”

“How awful!”

“I made a graceful retreat. Peace reigned once more by the time the trifle was served.”

“Thank goodness. Are you forgiven?”

“Conditionally. She hasn’t given up on finding me a suitable match.”

“And why should she?” Imogen snapped her fan closed.

“Well, I have decided to talk Uncle Sherlock into taking up my educational cause. I’m sure he can make her see reason.”

Imogen raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

“I don’t know, but perhaps I could grow rich wagering on the outcome. There must be a bookmaker willing to help me for a cut of the take.”

“But at least you didn’t find the summer too dull.”

“Not at all.” In truth she’d welcomed the change of pace. Her Season—what there had been of it—had been stuffed with more murders, stolen treasure, and magical monsters than a bad opera. There’d even been a sorcerer—and the memory of Dr. Magnus made her shudder even more than Grandmamma and her shrimp fork.

Imogen’s face grew solemn, the momentary levity gone. “I have a great deal of news to tell you, but I suppose there are questions you’d like to ask me before we reach the house.”

Evelina swallowed, a sudden apprehension drying her mouth to cotton. “What should I know about the engagement?” There. She’d said it. She’d ripped the scab off the wound, and now it could bleed until it was clean.

“Ah,” Imogen sighed. “That.”

“The wedding is next month.”

Imogen stared out the window. “And for all the reasons you suspect. Alice thinks she loves him. Tobias is … I don’t know. Trying to make the best of things, I suppose.”

“I was sure Keating wanted a match between Alice and the Duke of Westlake’s son.”

“The Earl of Barrington’s eldest daughter won that race,” Imogen replied.

“Lady Mary?”

“Yes, Lady Mary.” Imogen shrugged. “That announcement came two days before Keating made it known that Tobias was to be his son-in-law. I rather think my brother was the consolation prize, as least where the Gold King was concerned.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, her friend growing more and more grim. Evelina cursed herself. This wasn’t the kind of light conversation that she’d intended to have. Nothing about this was going to cheer up her friend. “Will the wedding be in London?” Evelina asked, keeping her voice neutral.

Imogen nodded. “At least, with it being at the start of the
Little Season, some families will be there.” The Little Season ran through the autumn and was a smaller, gentler version of the spring’s social whirl.

“Others will travel up to London for the honor of attending, I’m sure.”

Her friend gave her a pained expression. “After changing the date like that? It’s almost certain the sticklers for propriety will call foul. The first set of invitations had gone out only days before we found out about—well, Alice’s situation. I thought Mama was going to hang herself then and there. She’s never been good with that sort of thing.”

Tobias had wasted no time falling in love again—or at least lust.
He couldn’t have been that devoted to me
. Evelina swallowed again, forcing herself to be aware of Imogen’s distress rather than her own, but it took an act of will.
Hard times do not last. Difficult, obstinate, and impertinent people do
. “Comments will fade quickly enough. No one will dare to say anything against the Gold King’s girl.”

Her friend waved her fan in a weary gesture. “I never thought I would say this, but I’m glad of it. They’ll be married, and then off to Italy for a long honeymoon. By the time they get back, hopefully Society will be tearing apart the reputation of some other happy couple.”

Evelina swallowed hard. She couldn’t avoid Tobias and Alice forever, but she could keep their encounters to a bearable minimum. She just had to make it through the next few weeks of daily visits with Tobias’s future bride at Maggor’s Close.

“What makes it all so difficult is that I rather like Alice,” Imogen said, half to herself. “I can’t help feeling sorry for her.”

Evelina felt another irrational pang of jealousy. She looked out the carriage window, willing it to pass. What she saw sent a scuttle of alarm up her spine. “What happened here?”

It had been a village, that much she could tell. The roads were still there, and the stumps of some of the stone walls and houses. But all the roofs were gone, the insides of the buildings scooped out by fire. Bits of broken furniture littered
the yards—or so Evelina thought. It was hard to tell what had been the remains of a table or of one of the gates, or sheds, or coops, or the dozens of other structures that had been broken to pieces. A few lost chickens pecked here and there, but the only other creatures she saw were the bloated bodies of sheep.

“Ah,” said Imogen. “That was Crowleyton.”

Evelina could still smell the tang of ash. The destruction was recent. “Where are the townsfolk?”

“Gone.”

Something caught Evelina’s eye. She squirmed around in her seat, straining to get a better look. “Those are stocks!”

Imogen’s head whipped around to see. “Oh, thank heavens they’re empty now. There was a man in there for days and days. I kept the blinds drawn going by.”

Days and days?
Humiliation was a big part of the punishment, but so was exposure. “I didn’t think anyone used those anymore. What happened to the village?”

“They rioted. That was before we got here. I asked Father what it was all about,” Imogen replied, her voice strained. “He said Keating was connecting them up to the new boiler he’s building nearby. There would have been steam heating for every house, but they weren’t having any of it.”

They probably couldn’t afford it
. But once the utilities were installed, no matter which steam baron owned the company, no alternative heat or light would be allowed. Usually, the cost of keeping warm was more than a common man could pay. After that, it was debt or darkness. In any way that mattered, the village became the steam baron’s fiefdom. Crowleyton had objected, however, and the Gold King’s Yellowbacks had erased it from the map.
Complete with torture. I wonder if the man in the stocks was still alive once they took him away
.

Evelina turned away from the window. She’d heard about the rebellion—bits and scraps of news in the less reputable papers—but she’d never seen anything like this. The violence—even this shadow of it—was terrifying.
And I’m going to be sleeping under Keating’s roof
. The thought sent
tendrils of cold fear trickling through her limbs, as if a block of ice were melting in her stomach.

Something about the sight reminded her of the bomb in her uncle’s apartment, and kneeling in the broken crockery on the floor. The bomb had been Tobias’s handiwork, for all it had been used by someone else. He’d never used to make things that hurt or killed. Evelina’s throat grew tight with tears, too many shocks robbing her of resolve.

She looked up under her lashes to see Imogen watching her, a crease between her finely arched brows. “It makes you wonder what’s going to happen next, doesn’t it?” Imogen said quietly.

Unable to find words, Evelina simply nodded.

Imogen reached across the carriage, taking Evelina’s hand in her own. Her gray eyes were grave, but her words were sharp with irony. “Did I tell you that I’m glad you’re here? There’s going to be a party. All the Gold King’s friends in the North are going to be there. I hope you brought a pretty gown. I hear they like to flirt. And by the way, the Steam Council is coming apart at the seams. There’s going to be a bomb and they’re after that navigation device Keating’s pet archaeologist found buried in Rhodes. The one your friend Nick has.”

Evelina gaped. “I think we need to talk. There was a bomb at Baker Street before I left. Someone tried to blow up Uncle Sherlock.”

Imogen’s eyes went wide. “Your family visits are always so much more interesting than mine!”