CHAPTER 28
“Charlotte!” cried Cordelia as Sheffield, too, stopped short on seeing her rise from her chair. “Oh, thank God you are safe!”
“M’lady!” Raven dashed past both of them.
In the first burst of excitement, Kurlansky slipped away without being noticed.
Raven nearly tripped as he tangled in Charlotte’s skirts while trying to catch her in a hug. Wrexford kept both of them upright and raised his voice to be heard above the shouts and questions as everyone began talking at once.
“If you will all quiet down, I will endeavor to explain.”
The noise immediately subsided, though Raven remained glued to Charlotte’s side. She gathered him close and ruffled his hair. “Before you begin, Wrex, please pour yourself a brandy.” A glance showed that Sheffield was also looking distressed. “And one for Kit as well.”
The earl didn’t argue. Fear and fatigue had deepened the lines of worry and hollows on their friend’s face.
“Sorry it took me so long to return,” piped up Raven. “Mr. Sheffield wasn’t home, so I decided to check with the porter at White’s to see if he was there.”
Sheffield cleared his throat with a cough. “M’lady doesn’t need a long-winded explanation—”
Raven, however, went on in a rush. “But as he wasn’t there I decided to give up and go on to Lady Cordelia’s residence. And by a stroke of good fortune, it turned out that he was there, too.”
A flush rose to Cordelia’s cheeks. “We had some important matters to discuss.”
“At midnight? In your night-rail?” replied Raven.
Sheffield was suddenly looking a little green around the gills. “I—I,” he stammered, then simply fell silent.
“It’s time for you to head up to the eyrie and join the others, sweeting,” said Charlotte. “Wrex and I need to have a private discussion with our friends.”
“But—”
“We have determined that Aunt Alison is being held hostage,” she continued. “We need to confer with Kit and Cordelia before we make final plans.”
Raven surrendered with an unhappy sigh and grudgingly left the room.
Charlotte smiled at the embarrassed couple once the boy was out of earshot. “Good heavens, did you really think that I, of all people, would be shocked at the idea of you two anticipating your marriage vows?”
Wrexford hastened to pour two brandies and brought them over to his flustered friends.
“It’s about time the two of you stopped shilly-shallying over pledging your troth.
Bloody hell, if you are waiting for the perfect moment—the stars and the planets aligning, a chorus of angels singing assurances that a problem will never shadow the glow of nuptial bliss—then you are perfect idiots. ”
“I might have phrased it a little more diplomatically,” said Charlotte. “But the essence of what Wrex said is true.”
“But I’ve been such an arse,” mumbled Sheffield. “We argued about something serious, and I was too stubborn to listen.” He stared into his drink. “How can I now ask Cordelia to trust my judgment?”
“Kit—” began Cordelia.
“Ye heavens, arguments are natural—and both of you will take turns being the arse,” replied Charlotte. “You will sort them out, because your strengths are far greater than your weaknesses.” At that moment, all the fears squeezing at her heart gave way to a smile. “And because you love each other.”
Wrexford fetched a glass of brandy for Charlotte and himself before adding, “I suggest that you don’t argue with Charlotte over the power of Love. It’s a dispute you will never win.”
Cordelia took hold of Sheffield’s hand. Their eyes met as their fingers twined together.
“Though only the devil knows why Cordelia is completely blinded by Love,” drawled the earl on seeing the look that passed between them.
“Arse,” shot back Sheffield.
Somehow the music of their ensuing laughter helped steel Charlotte’s resolve. “You know, Alison has been very disappointed that there have been no wedding plans in which to meddle,” she announced. “When we rescue her—”
When. Not if.
“I say we make a pact to celebrate the love and friendship that ties us all together by having you two finally set a date for your wedding.”
“I agree,” chorused Cordelia and Sheffield at the same time.
Wrexford took a long swallow of his brandy. “Now that we’ve resolved one of our challenges, let us turn our attention to the other.”
* * *
The others went very still.
“We were fortunate beyond words tonight,” he began. “Let us hope our luck will hold.” Charlotte was trying to keep a brave face, but Wrexford could see her strength was flagging, so he made himself hurry in explaining about Jarvis to Cordelia and Sheffield.
“Merciful heavens,” whispered Cordelia.
Charlotte clasped her hands together and shot to her feet, a spark of fire lighting her eyes. “I need to fetch something from my workroom,” she called as she hurried into the corridor.
The arrival of Tyler and Henning demanded a repeated account of Charlotte’s rescue, along with the surmise that the villains were holding Alison as a bargaining chip.
“They have taken the Dragon prisoner?” growled the surgeon. “God help them,” he added after a rusty laugh.
“Much as I admire the dowager’s fearsome abilities,” replied the earl, “I would rather that we get her home as soon as possible. I don’t believe she is in any imminent danger—”
But before he could continue, McClellan appeared right behind them with a platter of food. “Sustenance is important to keep our strength up.”
“So is whisky.” Henning’s voice was more gravelly than usual, betraying his fatigue. “When do we leave to rescue the dowager?”
“Not so fast,” said Wrexford over the clink of crystal against crystal. “It’s too dark to search the most likely areas, so we really have no choice but to wait until dawn to begin.”
Tyler spied the maps on the work counter. “It looks as though you have some idea of where they may be holding her.”
“Yes, Kurlansky—”
“Kurlansky?” exclaimed Henning. “And you believe a word that conniving rascal has to say?”
“In this case, yes. It was he who rescued Charlotte from Jarvis’s clutches.”
Before the surgeon could reply, Charlotte came rushing back into the room, a much wrinkled and folded piece of paper clutched in her hands.
“Everyone, gather around,” she called, after moving to the earl’s desk and opening it atop the leather blotter.
It was, saw Wrexford, the satirical print by A. J. Quill that he had brought back from Greeley’s office—the commentary Charlotte had created after hearing the leading nautical engineers in Britain give a symposium on steam power and ships at the Royal Institution.
“Look.” She pointed to one of the figures positioned behind the two gentlemen in the foreground of the artwork.
“Maitland and Tilden were the main speakers at the symposium. So they were the pair that Wrex and I were focused on, wondering whether Greeley saved the print because he knew one of them. However, I drew in other participants—I didn’t mention the names in the captions, but I now realize that one of them was Colonel Jarvis! ”
“A military man, who is probably skilled with a weapon,” said Wrexford. “You’re thinking he is the one responsible for Greeley’s murder, as well as that of the arsonist?”
“It seems a strong possibility. The witness I met at the tavern said the man who hired the arsonist had hair the color of strong tea,” replied Charlotte. “Jarvis has dark reddish-brown hair.”
Which meant the man was a ruthless killer. Once the dowager became expendable . . .
Keeping such disturbing thoughts to himself, the earl nodded. “Kit and I saw that he had no compunction about attacking us to keep the consortium’s secrets safe.”
“I wonder how he came to be working with Taviot?” asked Sheffield.
“My guess is that he decided Taviot’s consortium was ahead in the race to build an oceangoing steamship and saw the opportunity to make an obscene profit by selling out his country,” answered Wrexford.
But it isn’t the past that matters at this moment—it is the present, he reminded himself. “Let us put those questions aside for now. We need to concentrate our efforts on studying the maps and figuring out exactly where the dastards are most likely to have gone to ground.”
After a surreptitious glance at Charlotte, Henning began to fix himself a plate of food. “Take my medical advice, laddie. We’ll have a better chance of doing that if we all have some sustenance and then get a few hours of sleep.”
“I agree, and it makes sense for everyone to stay here,” said McClellan. “The guest rooms off the north staircase are always kept ready for visitors. I’ll show you to your quarters when we’re done.”
Wrexford was surprised to realize he was ravenous and joined the others in partaking of the cold beef, cheddar, and crusty bread that the maid had brought from the kitchen.
Simple but hearty fare, feeding the body, which in turn would help sustain the spirit.
He caught Charlotte watching him and gave her a private smile of encouragement.
“Eat something, my love,” Wrexford counseled, seeing that she was merely crumbling a bit of bread between her fingers. “And then let me take you up to bed.”
“Sleep would be ambrosial,” she admitted. “Though I fear what nightmares may come to haunt me.”
“I will stand watch over you and keep them at bay,” he said, touching her cheek.
She covered his hand with hers.
“Oiy, oiy!” Raven broke free from the shadows of the corridor and skidded to a halt just inside the doorway, the other three boys right behind him.
“You had better not be here to beg for ginger biscuits,” began McClellan, as she wagged a warning finger.
“To the devil with biscuits!” sputtered Raven, fighting to catch his breath. “You need to hear what Osprey just told us!”
Wrexford rose from his chair. “Come in, lad,” he said, gesturing for Horatio to step into the aureole of light cast by the Argand lamp on his desktop.
Squaring his shoulders, the boy obeyed and snapped a military salute as he came to attention.
“At ease,” said Wrexford, “and let us hear what you have to say.”
Raven couldn’t contain his excitement. “He may know where the villains are holding Aunt Alison!”
An instant of silence followed the announcement, and then everyone began asking questions.
“Quiet!” bellowed the earl. “Let the lad speak!”
To his credit, Horatio appeared unrattled, and Wrexford was suddenly reminded that despite his tender years, the boy was an officer in the Royal Navy and used to commanding tough-as-nails sailors.
“Please, go on.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the boy. “As I told the Weasels and Peregrine, I happened to overhear some private conversations that made me fear Colonel Jarvis was up to no good. However, as I had no proof, I didn’t dare approach any of my superiors and confide my suspicions.
” He made a face. “He’s the commanding officer of security, and I’m a lowly midshipman. ”
“That’s understandable,” responded Wrexford. “So . . .”
“So I decided to keep a careful watch on his activities and see if I might gather more evidence. I noticed that he occasionally took one of the rowing skiffs and crossed the river to Isle of Dogs, which lies just opposite the King’s Dockyard.
One early morning, when the fog was swirling enough to provide cover, I decided to follow him. ”
Isle of Dogs was one of the places suggested by Kurlansky, thought the earl as Horatio drew a deep breath.
“You see, I had watched him on several previous sojourns through my spyglass and knew what footpath he took. It was, perhaps, ungentlemanly of me to do so. But I told myself that if he was betraying his oath to our country, then it was my duty to learn the truth.”
Charlotte had inched to the edge of her seat. “Quite right. And did you . . .” She swallowed hard. “Did you—”
“Did I see where Colonel Jarvis went?” finished Horatio. “Yes, milady, I did.”
He looked back to the earl. “The colonel tied up his skiff east of the Ferry House and took a footpath that skirts along the tall reed beds that grow along the shoreline. There is an old, isolated brick warehouse near the water that looks to have been abandoned years ago. The colonel entered it—I saw with my spyglass that he had a key, so it seemed to me that he used it regularly. I didn’t dare get too close, but I made up my mind that I would return at some point when I knew Jarvis had other duties and see what was inside. ”
A sound rumbled in Sheffield’s throat.
“Don’t rush the lad,” said Wrexford, mentally saluting Horatio for being so observant.
“The thing is, sir, I haven’t had a chance to go back yet. But it occurred to me that it may be where the miscreants are holding Auntie Peake.”
“By God,” muttered Wrexford as once again, everyone began to talk all at once.
“Wait—here’s one other key piece of information you should all know!” The note of command in the midshipman’s voice caught everyone’s attention.
The room quieted at once.
Horatio’s gaze was once again focused on the earl.
“Milord, I know that you’re aware of the Royal Navy’s experiments with propeller-driven steamboats.
One of our prototypes is kept at Isle of Dogs, in a secluded stretch of the shoreline just where the river takes a sharp bend upward after Greenwich Reach.
The opposite shore is deserted, so it’s a place where we can make test runs without drawing attention. ”
He drew in a hurried breath. “If Colonel Jarvis and his co-conspirators are looking to escape from England, the steamboat gives them a distinct advantage over traditional boats in the unpredictable eddies and tidal currents of the river as it opens into the sea.”
“I think you’re exactly right, Midshipman Porter.” Wrexford acknowledged Horatio with his official title, no longer thinking of him as a mere boy. “It stands to reason that Jarvis will see his secret lair and prototype steamboat as all but guaranteeing his escape.”
“And he thinks himself fiendishly clever in having a hostage,” muttered Henning, “just in case his brilliant plan goes awry.”
“Well, we are going to prove him wrong on all counts,” said Sheffield. He looked expectantly at the earl. “So, Wrex, what—”
“Enough talking for now, Kit.” Wrexford held out his hand to help Charlotte rise from her chair. “It’s late, and we all need to be sharp for the coming confrontation. We’ll reconvene just before first light and head to Isle of Dogs.”
He cracked his knuckles. “Where we will rescue Alison and finally put an end to the villains and their horrific litany of murder and betrayal.”