CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Two days later I lay in bed, having a stern word with myself. There was no need to panic. I was not going to fall to pieces. I was simply going to have to think my way out of this.
It was past midnight, and I was about to spend my second night in a row tossing and turning. I had not heard a peep out of the Aviary since returning to town. That’s probably for the best , I thought.
I had received a gratifyingly romantic letter from Ash, to which I was too scared to reply, certain that Laing would be having our post monitored. He had stayed in Cambridge to attend Perry’s funeral after all, and I wasn’t surprised that he had chosen to support his parents in this, however little they deserved it. I was sorry that I hadn’t been there to support him . It felt like one more crime to lay at Laing’s door. I wasn’t sure how long it would take for Ash to begin to worry at my silence. I thought there might already have been a faint note of hurt that I had rushed off without saying a proper goodbye.
Mother, of course, had been delighted by my reappearance.
“I know you were being a good friend, Felicity,” she had said, almost wilting into the sofa with relief, “but it would really have been too much to miss Queen Charlotte’s Ball, after all the preparation we have done. Madame Solange sent over the most beautiful gown, but there was some problem with the lace edging and it had to go back to be altered again , and I’ve had Monsieur Fantine in near hysterics; he’s spent hours on your headpiece.” Her tone had turned scolding, and she rubbed her fingers against her temples. “And with your brother gone, and then Isobel haring off on some business with the estate in his stead, I’ve been left rattling around here like a lonely ghost.”
“I’m sorry,” I said soothingly. “It was unfortunate timing that we were all called away at once. One of those horrible flukes, but I’m here now. I hope you haven’t been too lonely.”
“Oh.” Mother sniffed, clearly pleased to finally have someone to smooth her ruffled feathers. “Well, I have been busy, of course. If you couldn’t be here charming the sons, then at least I could be paving the way with the mothers.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously.
I tried to smile, though after all that had transpired in Cambridge, the thought of suitors and marriage and balls seemed even more ludicrous.
I hadn’t seen Laing since I’d arrived back in town, though the evidence of him was everywhere – not only in the flowers that continued to arrive at the house but in the figures I had seen lurking in the street below. I also got the occasional glimpse of Milton when Mother and I were out continuing the endless preparations for the ball. I was sure Laing too meant to attend, he’d told me so himself.
The thought was enough to make me shudder. I had a horrible feeling that Laing’s plans were about to be revealed – and I was certain I would not be the only victim.
“Right, Felicity,” I said now, aloud, clutching at the bed sheets. “You cannot simply lie here. It is time to come up with a plan.”
“You already came up with one,” a dry voice came from the doorway. “And it wasn’t even completely terrible.”
“Sylla!” I shot out of bed as Sylla Banaji stepped out of the darkness. “How did you…” I felt a moment’s panic. “You can’t be here! Laing’s men—”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Sylla smirked, careful to stay out of view of the window. “Those fools downstairs have no idea we’re here.”
“ We? ” I breathed.
“Put your robe on,” Sylla said. “There’s much to discuss.”
Bundling myself into my silk robe, I followed Sylla down the stairs, through darkened hallways and down the servants’ staircase to the kitchen.
There, sitting at a scrubbed table, drinking steaming cups of tea, I found Mrs Finch, Maud, Winnie and—
“Izzy!” I exclaimed, throwing myself into her arms. “How are any of you here? Laing—”
“Has people watching all of us,” Mrs Finch said calmly.
“And sent me on a wild goose chase.” Izzy squeezed me in a tight hug before releasing me. “We know.”
“Thanks to you,” Maud put in.
“Mari got my note,” I breathed, slumping into a seat at the table. “And she understood.”
Maud immediately set about pouring me a cup of tea and I cradled it in my hands, letting the warmth seep through my whole body. They were here. My friends were here. Everything would be all right now.
“You did extremely well, Felicity,” Mrs Finch said, and I wanted to have the words inked into my skin.
“Mari knew all the flower references, of course.” Izzy dropped into the chair beside me. “Begonia for beware, rhododendron for danger, violet for watchfulness.” She ticked the flowers off on her fingers. “The peach blossom gave us a moment’s pause, but when Mari said it could mean I am your captive , we took that to mean you had fallen into Laing’s hands.”
“It was Win who worked out the bit about the butterfly,” Maud said.
“ Aricia agestis ,” Winnie piped up with a pleased grin. “The Latin name for the brown argus. Very clever of you, Felicity.”
“Argus was called the hundred-eyed, sent by Hera to keep watch over Io to stop Zeus from approaching her,” Sylla said, as though reciting from a book where she had looked it up. “Once we realized Laing had us under surveillance, it was easy enough to slip past his men.” She sniffed. “For a master criminal, I’d say he needs to employ better henchmen. The ones stationed outside my house were practically asleep.”
“Mari wrote to you?” I asked.
“She telegrammed at once with a copy of your message,” Mrs Finch said. “And by then I already had my suspicions that Izzy had been sent on a fruitless mission. Once I had word you were back in London, the pieces slid into place. Laing was at the bottom of it all. I called Izzy back, and Mari and Oliver travelled down, in case we require their assistance. Now, tell us everything that transpired in Cambridge.”
I did so, giving as much detail as possible, while also concealing the identity of Ash’s family. He had told me that few people knew the truth about who he was; I’d have wagered good money that one of those people was Mrs Finch, but I intended to keep my promise to him. His secrets were mine now, just as mine belonged to him, and I would share nothing without his say-so.
“So Laing said he was in Cambridge on some other business?” Sylla asked.
“Yes.” I nodded. I thought for a moment. “And there was one other thing, but it could be nothing.”
Maud grinned. “So many of our best clues start that way.”
“There was a man in the street. He was drunk but he seemed to recognize Laing. Only he called him by a different name.” I screwed up my face, trying to remember. “Reeves,” I said finally. “He called him Reeves. It could have been a case of mistaken identity. Laing didn’t seem bothered by it.”
“It could be something,” Mrs Finch said thoughtfully.
“We know Laing isn’t his real name,” Izzy added. “Could it be Reeves?”
“There was something else too,” I said. “He talked about his struggles in the past, something about being a self-made man … he said … that his destiny had been forged in the fires of his early struggle . That was it. And that he wasn’t soft like the people in power are. The way he talked about the aristocracy, it was with disdain. I know his past is a mystery, but I think he comes from humble origins. His obvious dislike of the nobility could link him to the anarchists.”
Mrs Finch shook her head. “It’s certainly possible that Laing sympathizes with them, but I don’t believe that he is an anarchist. I think whatever Laing is up to, it’s personal rather than political.”
We sat absorbing that for a moment.
“Do you know—” I began, but I was interrupted by the sound of the street-side kitchen door being shoved open.
Izzy was on her feet in an instant. Sylla had a pistol trained on the doorway before I could move. Mrs Finch continued to sip her tea.
“Where the hell is my wife?” My brother came stomping into the room, dishevelled and covered in dirt. His stride ate up the floor as he reached for Izzy.
“Max!” she had time to squeak, before he was pulling her into his arms and covering her mouth with his. My sister-in-law seemed to have no problem with this greeting, melting into his embrace with a murmur of approval.
I exchanged a glance with Sylla, who was tucking the pistol back in her waistband. She rolled her eyes and I tried to smother a giggle. When it seemed as though the kissing was not going to stop any time soon, Mrs Finch delicately cleared her throat.
Izzy emerged from the cocoon of Max’s body, looking pink and adorable, a wide smile stretching across her face.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“Why are you apologizing?” Max asked, his eyes tenderly searching her face as if memorizing every freckle. “We haven’t seen each other for weeks. I didn’t care for it.”
“No,” Izzy admitted, leaning into the side of his body as he slipped his arm round her waist. Her face wore a look of relief. “Neither did I. Let’s not do it again.”
“I heard there was trouble. I was worried.” Max finally tore his attention away from his wife and turned to face the rest of us. His brows dipped into a frown when he caught sight of me sitting alongside the head of the Aviary.
“Felicity,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” I said serenely.
Max looked from Mrs Finch to Izzy to me. “What,” he said coldly, “is going on?”
“Max,” I said quietly, but his eyes were on Mrs Finch and they had narrowed dangerously.
Though Mrs Finch seemed perfectly calm, it was as if the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. “You have dragged my sister into some scheme,” his voice was under rigid control, “which is a line we agreed would never be crossed. If you’ve placed her in danger, then you’ll have me to answer to.”
“Max.” Izzy tugged at his arm. “It is all my fault. You must listen.”
“No,” I said, taking my life in my hands because I had rarely seen Max so furious. “It’s my fault. I talked them into letting me help. I made it so they practically had no choice in the matter.”
For a smouldering second, Max’s focus fell on me, and he frowned. “That does sound like you,” he admitted.
“Perhaps we should make him a sandwich,” Winnie put in. “You know how grumpy he gets when he’s hungry.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m a child,” Max barked.
“So you don’t want a sandwich?” Maud asked innocently, already making her way towards the pantry.
“I didn’t say that,” he grumbled. He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his dirt-streaked face. “I don’t mean to be grumpy. I’m trying to catch up here. It’s been a long and exceedingly trying day, and the message I received was light on details except to say that there was a threat to my family.”
“But we’re all here, and we’re all well,” Izzy said soothingly. “Yes, Felicity knows about the Aviary, and about the work you do for the government. But she’s always known, because she’s quite brilliant and we have underestimated her.”
“Eat your sandwich,” Maud said, sliding a plate across the table before Max could respond.
With another beleaguered sigh, Max picked up the sandwich in one of his big hands and munched into it, letting out a sound of pleasure. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he admitted.
“As yesterday was less than two hours ago, that is hardly a convincing justification for coming in here acting like a bear with a sore head,” Sylla said, examining her fingernails.
Max glowered at her but, catching Izzy’s eye, he sighed again. “You’re right,” he said. “I apologize.” He came towards me, opened his arms, and I stepped into them, feeling the reassuring warmth of his hug. “I’m sorry for snapping, Felicity. I’ve missed you.”
I relaxed into his comforting embrace, then stiffened as I suddenly remembered the threats Laing had made against him.
“But wait.” I wrenched myself free, fear a sudden chill in my veins. “Did anyone see you come in? Did—”
Max laid a gentle hand on my arm. “Mrs Finch contacted me. I had my suspicions that I had been sent off chasing my tail, and so did she. When I heard from one of my men that there were people watching the house, I was careful.”
There was something cold and precise in his voice, something that made me suddenly aware that my big brother was a powerful, even dangerous presence. Strange that it hadn’t occurred to me before, despite knowing something about his work. I suppose that he was not the only one stuck in the patterns of our childhood relationship.
“So,” Max said, “it seems that Felicity knows everything and is in your confidence. And it’s clear that you have an investigation in the works. Is it something Her Majesty’s Government can assist with? Or will it be more help for me to lie low?”
Again, I was surprised. This wasn’t the attitude I expected from Max at all. Rather than riding in to fix everything, he seemed happy to defer to the group of women in front of him.
“Perhaps you can help.” Mrs Finch inclined her head in my direction. “But it’s Felicity’s story to tell.”
Max looked to me, and whatever he saw had a reluctant expression of amusement flitting across his face.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised.” He shook his head. “Wherever there’s trouble, my sister can be found standing in the middle of it.”
“I thought you’d be angry,” I admitted.
“I haven’t heard the story yet,” Max reminded me.
“Well, before I tell it, there are a couple of things I need to say.” I straightened in my seat. I wasn’t sure if this was the right moment to confront my brother, but I also knew that I couldn’t keep my feelings inside any more. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Sylla smile, but it could have been a panic-induced hallucination. My heart was hammering.
“I’m not going to get married,” I burst out, the words a rush. “I know it’s what you and Mother want, but it’s not for me.”
Max blinked, clearly surprised by this conversational turn.
“I understand you feel like that now,” he said after a moment. “But when you meet the right person…”
“I’ve met the right person,” I replied, and Max wasn’t the only one to start at that. Mrs Finch smiled down into her teacup. “And I’ve told him what I’m telling you now: I’m not going to marry. Not now, and possibly not ever. I want to go to university. To Cambridge. I want to travel and see the world. I-I think I want to teach other women mathematics. I want to be part of a change I believe in with my whole being. I’m not settling for anything less.”
I eyed my brother. I hoped he would understand, but even if he didn’t, I meant every word. I would make it happen, with or without him.
Max only looked at me, dazed. “I…” He paused. “Perhaps we should talk about this later.”
“We can,” I agreed, “and I’m sure we will, but it won’t change anything. I’m telling you this now because I can’t go one more moment without sharing it with you. You’re my brother and I love you, but this is my life. I think I deserve a say in what it looks like.”
“I had no idea you felt this strongly,” he said finally.
“Because I didn’t want to disappoint you or Mother,” I admitted. “I know that you both want to protect and provide for me, but the life of a society wife is not for me. I can’t stand it, Max.” My voice lowered. “Trying to fit in has made me deeply unhappy.”
It was these simple words that seemed to truly break through, and had my brother reaching across the table for my hand. “Felicity.” He squeezed my fingers. “The last thing I would ever want is for you to be unhappy. Whatever you want, we can work it out.” He glanced at Izzy and something passed between the two of them, some wordless, married-person conversation that had his mouth pulling into a rueful smile. “If my excellent wife has taught me anything, it’s that I can be a touch overbearing in my efforts to protect the people I love.”
I had to blink back tears, and when I looked at Izzy her expression was smug. It seemed I had underestimated my brother just as badly as he had underestimated me.
“If you really don’t want a season, then we’ll tackle Mother together,” Max added, though he looked a bit queasy at the words.
“Thank you,” I breathed, knowing that this in many ways would be the hardest part for both of us.
“I still think we need to have a conversation about this man who is not planning to marry you.” Max frowned, and I gave a watery laugh.
“Thrilling as that sounds, it will have to wait,” Sylla said.
“And as happy as I am that Max is going to accommodate your wishes, Felicity, I’m afraid your season isn’t over quite yet,” Mrs Finch added.
“Laing,” I sighed.
“Yes,” Mrs Finch agreed. “We received some intelligence from an anarchist contact we’ve been cultivating, regarding their plot.”
“Of course I leave you alone for two weeks and there’s an anarchist plot,” Max groaned, pulling Izzy on to his knee.
“After the bomb at the Aviary, and the equipment we found at the warehouse, we can assume it will involve explosives,” Sylla said.
“There was a bomb ?” Max looked alarmed.
“It was only a very small bomb,” Izzy, Sylla and I all said at once. It seemed by mutual agreement we decided not to mention that there had been a second one.
My brother closed his eyes, as if in pain.
“Our contact has indicated that the attack will be at a prominent social event, one attended by many notable figures…” Mrs Finch looked to me, and it took me a moment to understand what she was hinting at.
“You think they’re going to detonate a bomb at Queen Charlotte’s Ball?” I whispered, the words finally sinking in. “But it’s … it’s at Buckingham Palace! There will be hundreds of people there!”
Mrs Finch nodded gravely. “Politicians, a significant portion of the aristocracy, even members of the royal family.”
“As a target for anarchists, it makes perfect sense,” I finished her thought.
“An attack on the palace?” Max’s entire body was taut. “You can’t be serious. My people have heard nothing about this.”
Sylla raised an eyebrow. “Your people are not the Aviary. It seems this is a small anarchist group and that they’ve employed Laing to handle the logistics of the operation. Not a terrible plan, given how badly they have bungled things previously, and how efficient Laing seems to have been in the past.”
“But that doesn’t make sense.” I shook my head. “I’ll be at the ball, and Laing wants to marry me, not kill me.”
“Laing wants to what ?” I was sure there was a muscle ticking under Max’s eye at this point.
“For heaven’s sake, Max” – Izzy poked him in the arm – “that’s hardly the surprising part of the story. Plenty of people want to marry Felicity.”
“I just don’t want to marry them,” I reminded him.
Max’s only response was to rub his temples with his hands.
“Maybe he’s changed his mind,” Sylla put in, “and he’s not worried about whether you blow up.”
“Thank you for that,” I muttered.
“On the contrary, I think it likely that Laing will try to extract you before the explosion, Felicity,” said Mrs Finch. “But we have no idea when that will be. We must infiltrate the ball and then locate and disarm the device as quickly as possible, without drawing attention to ourselves or alerting Laing. We’ll have Max arrest Laing at the palace, round up the anarchists and get them to turn evidence on him, save the future king of England, and all be home for supper.”
“Oh,” I said faintly. “Is that all?”
“Don’t worry, Felicity.” Sylla’s smile held a feral edge. “This is exactly what we do. I told you, the Aviary always gets her man.”