The Doomsday Machine (Horatio Lyle) (14 page)

‘I think you’ve missed the essential point of Darwin’s work . . .’ he began feebly.

‘Where do you stand on the issue of the female franchise?’

‘The female franchise?’

‘Yes!’

‘Erm . . .’

‘You didn’t think about it, did you?’

‘Well, I . . .’

‘That is half the problem of the attitude of men these days! If only they bothered to notice their womenfolk, to consider the contribution that they make to society, then perhaps they would realize that . . .’

‘If I said I was in favour of the female vote, would you be satisfied? ’

‘I would suspect you of saying it to silence me,’ she muttered, ‘but I suppose from the likes of you, it is enough.’

‘The likes of me?’

‘Can you vote?’

‘Well, yes, but only just . . .’

‘Will you let my people die, Mister Lyle?’

‘What?’

‘Don’t think about it, just go straight for an answer!’

‘I . . . I suppose . . .’

‘Will you? Let Havelock just stamp us all out in the blink of an eye, because he can? I’ve never met this man, so why is he trying to kill me?’

‘I imagine that if I was put to the test . . .’

‘Would you stand by, turn a blind eye, Mister Lyle?’

‘No.’ Lyle was surprised to hear himself speak, and surprised too at how calm he sounded.

Lin smiled and sat back. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I didn’t think you would.’ She thought about it, then smiled brightly, a dazzle of white in the darkness of the carriage. ‘Good! Yes, that’s excellent! I think it will make this whole relationship a lot easier.’

‘Right.’ Lyle half-turned his head away to watch the long line of deeper darkness outside that was the edge of Hyde Park, but the part of him that was still awake drew his eyes back to meet the full force of Lin’s smile. ‘“Relationship”?’ he heard himself say in a voice like a coffin hitting the floor.

‘Yes. Me and you.’

‘What “relationship”?’

‘You’re not going to get to see my ankles, Mister Lyle, if that’s what concerns you.’

‘It isn’t. What “relationship”?’

‘I’m to make sure that . . . that no one can hurt you, Mister Lyle,’ said Lin, deliberately emphasizing every patronizing word.

‘
You?
’

‘I’m very good at plucking chickens,’ she added hastily.

‘
What?
’ Lyle wasn’t sure whether to shout or moan, and ended up making a sound somewhere in between.

‘I just thought I should make my qualifications clear. And I’m absurdly good at getting information - won’t that be useful?’

‘I don’t need protection!’

‘Well then, I’m going to protect your pets!’

‘My pets?’

‘The two children and the dog.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m making myself clear . . .’

‘No, you are; fear not,’ said Lin cheerfully. ‘What you fail to understand is that no matter what you say on this matter, I don’t care. This, I find, is the marvellous liberty of being a potentially lethal Tseiqin with the power to move the minds of men at will!’

‘You are a comfort.’

‘And you have lovely eyes. Now be grateful for what you’ve got.’

Lyle scowled, and shrank back into the darkness of the carriage.

 

Breakfast in the Elwick family was a prosaic affair. The food provided was not prosaic, however - the chef and his staff were up from six a.m. preparing the gammon cuts and freshly baked breads and honey sweets to be delivered still warm to the Elwick family’s table. But the actual business of eating, with its homemade blackberry and strawberry and raspberry jams, its marmalades and its morning papers and its fresh butters and clotted creams and coffees and sausages and bacons and hams and potted meats and mushrooms and eggs and breads - this ceremony was one usually conducted in the most rigorous, the most complete of silences.

This morning was different. As usual, Lord Elwick had his newspaper and, as usual, Lady Elwick ate as fast as glacial drift up a hillside, lifting slivers of gammon from her plate that were so thin, from a sideways aspect it appeared as if her fork had nothing on it. By eating at just the right pace, the moment her plate was cleared her husband finished reading the newspapers, and they could have the morning Conversation. On most days the Conversation went like this:

‘The weather should be fine today, dear.’

‘Yes, dear.’

‘I hear Withers broke a plate last night. Shall I dock his pay?’

‘Withers is an awful man. One last chance.’

‘Lady Brunswick is having another one of her dinners tonight.’

‘Those dinners are awful.’

‘I thought I’d wear the green.’

‘Very well, dear. Thomas?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘I want to hear the names of all the Roman Emperors from Augustus down to Vespasian before we go out tonight, and their genealogy and contribution to culture.’

‘Yes, sir.’

And that would be it. Always the meal ended with Thomas being given an instruction on how to spend the day, after which Lady Elwick would excuse herself. In her absence, Lord Elwick would secretly turn to the society pages of his newpaper, and smile a tight smile to read about who married whom last week.

Today, what marked things out as different was the arrival of Tess.

Thomas had observed Tess in many situations: he’d seen her climbing across rooftops, he’d seen her chasing/being chased by various monsters, he’d seen her trying to smooth-talk her way into posh clubs and trying to get out again by the nearest suitable window, he had seen her building explosives on the back of a falling aircraft. But he had never seen her looking like
this
. Someone, probably his former nurse, had tied her hair up with ribbons and scrubbed under her nails and washed every one of her clothes, and probably sat up all night drying them by the fire. For the first time in her life, Tess had submitted to a radical change in how she looked. And indeed, she took every chance to stare at herself in astonishment whenever she passed a large piece of reflective silverware or a mirror. The transformed Tess, the face that had emerged from somewhere inside all that hair, made her gape.

However, if she was open-mouthed with surprise before entering the breakfast room, she could have swallowed an orange whole, thereafter. ‘What’s that!’ she squeaked, bouncing into the room, her eyes goggling at the table piled with food.

‘Good morning, Miss Teresa,’ Thomas mumbled.

Lady Elwick managed a, ‘Miss’, from somewhere behind her napkin, and Lord Elwick forced a twitch that might have been a smile. Tess exploded across the table - in thirty seconds she had a plate piled so high, she had to rest her chin on the topmost bread roll to stop it falling off, and the edges overflowed with bacon and sausages. Sitting down next to Thomas, she dug into her booty with a combination of fork and fingers, spraying crumbs with each exclamation of ‘Ohohohoh, I want some of that too!’ and, as she reached for an apple, knocking fruit in every direction off the work of art that was the fruit bowl.

Even Lady Elwick, who from infancy had been taught not to stare, found her eyes straying from the work of finicking through her breakfast. Lord Elwick showed almost an opposite reaction, edging the newspaper closer to his face to obscure the sight of Tess’s table manners until it almost shook against his nose.

Thomas smiled at Tess and tried not to cry.

From the door came an embarrassed, ‘Am I late?’ as Lyle shuffled in.

And that would have been all right, except that with him was a woman, dressed in black clothes that didn’t quite fit, sporting a long cane and a top hat, and smiling at them from behind a pair of glowing green eyes.

Tess leapt to her feet, as if looking for a window to jump through. Thomas found his hand tightening around a fruit knife, before the realization that it was only solid silver and not nearly magnetic enough sent a shudder right through him.

In the silence that followed, it was, surprisingly, Lady Elwick who took control.

‘Not at all, Mister Lyle,’ she stammered. ‘Although we hadn’t known that we should expect another guest.’

‘It’s one of
them
!’ hissed Tess, who had backed so far away she was almost in the fireplace. ‘It’s gone an’ bewitched Mister Lyle!’

‘Teresa, I am not bewitched.’

‘He’s not,’ agreed the woman next to him. ‘Although I do suspect his heart palpitates that little bit faster in my presence.’

Lyle forced a smile. ‘My lord, my lady, Tess, Thomas - this is Miss Lin Zi.’

‘We need iron!’ squeaked Tess. ‘You go an’ unbewitch him right now, all right? Else I’ll . . . I’ll run away!’

‘Who is this young woman?’ Lord Elwick had to force the words out, so rigid was the expression of distaste on his face.

To Thomas’s horror, Lin Zi was across the room in an instant and holding out her hand to his father. ‘Miss Lin Zi. Don’t try the intonation, it won’t help.’

Lord Elwick regarded the proffered hand as if it was covered in warts. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met. Why are you here?’

‘Ah, yes. What happened is that I broke into your house last night - which was pitifully easy to do. Then I sneaked around until I found Lyle’s room, hid inside, kidnapped him - admittedly, Miss Thomas -’

‘. . . Teresa,’ said Lyle quickly.

‘Of course, whichever one you are,’ went on Lin, not missing a beat as she nodded at the cowering Tess, ‘. . . admittedly by bewitching him - and took Mister Lyle to see a friend. As an upshot of this, I am now resolved to assist Mister Lyle in his brave and noble attempt to break into Pentonville Prison.’

In the silence, you could have heard a mouse sneeze.

Lyle gave an apologetic smile and a half-shrug. ‘That’s about the truth of it.’

At length Thomas said, ‘Mister Lyle? Are you sure you are feeling quite well?’

‘Give me a magnet and I’ll prove it.’

‘Is this a joke?’ Lord Elwick’s lips didn’t seem to move, although his voice boomed off the high walls of the room and made even Lady Elwick wince.

‘No,’ began Lin, ‘although I can see the humorous aspects . . .’

‘
Is this a joke?
’

‘Mister Lyle, are you sure I can’t smooth things over?’ asked Lin, half-turning to him.

‘No!’ Lyle scuttled forward and spoke very hastily. ‘My lord, I apologize; there’s a lot that needs explaining.’

‘
Do you think to mock me?
You come here without warning, in the middle of the night; you tell me my son is in danger, my only son; you bring strangers into my house, you bring strangers to my table; you speak of kidnap and prison and breaking the law. You dare to impose your madness on my house, on my home, on -’

‘Father!’ Thomas was surprised to hear his own voice snap out across the table. To everyone’s astonishment including his own, Lord Elwick fell silent. Thomas stood up, fists clenched. ‘Father, we know nothing. You know
nothing
. Until we understand more, let us behave towards this lady with good manners and decorum.’

Lord Elwick’s mouth hung open like the jaws of a whale. Lin beamed, Lyle gaped, Tess cowered. ‘I am sorry,’ Thomas heard a voice say that might have been his own in ten years’ time, ‘but I now need to conduct important business with my friends.’

Lord Elwick sat, incapable of reply, his mouth slack. Lady Elwick murmured, ‘Is this really what you want, Thomas?’

‘Yes. Please, Mother, this is what I want.’

‘Very well. We shall leave you to discuss your business. My lord?’

‘Is this how it is to be, Thomas?’

Lord Elwick looked tired, Thomas realized. His shoulders drooped, his chin hung lower, his liver-spotted hands lay limp on the table. His grey eyes, always pale, seemed lighter than Thomas had perceived them whenever their look had reinforced some bellowed order.

‘Later, I shall be able to explain.’ Thomas felt his confidence suddenly draining.

‘I . . . would like that.’ Lord Elwick rose, took his wife’s arm and half-bowed to Lin Zi. ‘Madam, I apologize for speaking in haste. Please, feel free to help yourself to whatever you must.’

Lin bowed back. ‘My lord, you are a kind man and a good father.’

Thomas felt himself go cold with anticipation. He scrutinized his father for any trace of . . .
otherness
, daring the woman with green eyes to have touched Lord Elwick’s mind, to have interfered in his thoughts, to have even considered manipulating his father like
they
had: the Tseiqin;
them
; evil and cruel and . . .

Lord Elwick gave a smile, and there was nothing stiff or artificial in it. He bowed once more, and with his wife, left the room.

Thomas found himself letting out a breath that had been sitting in his lungs like lead. His eyes wandered across the table, seeking nothing in particular. From the fireplace, Tess hissed, ‘Bigwig?’

‘Yes, Miss Teresa?’

‘Do summat about the evil lady!’

Thomas glanced at Lin and Lyle. ‘Mister Lyle, are you bewitched?’

‘Nope,’ replied Lyle.

‘Why ain’t you bewitched, Mister Lyle?’ shrilled Tess from the corner.

‘I can answer that!’ said Lin. ‘It’s because we need Mister Lyle conscious and self-aware in order to break into a place full of iron where our power would never work, and which indeed has been designed for that effect. Thus, bewitching him would serve no purpose!’ She saw the children’s horrified expressions. In a darker tone she added, ‘Oh yes, and because bewitching him wouldn’t be
nice
.’

Lyle opened his arms, a smile straining his features. ‘See? What better answer could you hope for?’

 

Tess was unhappy. She was unhappy for a lot of reasons: because Thomas was sitting in a silence even thicker than his usual cloud of abstraction; because breakfast was getting cold and she found that eating and concentrating all at once was surprisingly difficult, what with all that bacon . . .
bacon
. . . and eggs and ham and sausage and bread and buns and jams and . . .