Chapter 31
"It is easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience."
―Julius Caesar
Peregrine said little as he pulled Charity with him, heading back towards the Guildhall and leaving his mother with the guards and Hodges. Charity had to step quickly to keep up with him.
“Did you see Thorne?” he asked her, worry threading through his voice. “Ravenscroft I saw was fine, but—”
Charity blinked, thinking. “I did not, but I was looking for the guards. Where did you last see him?”
Perry laughed briefly, the sound a little ragged. “I left him with a thousand pounds of gunpowder in the crypts and the ticking clock due to ignite it.”
She stumbled a little bit, and Peregrine slowed to steady her. No wonder he was in such a hurry. “The building is still whole,” she pointed out, uncertain whether she was reassuring herself or her husband. “He must have stopped it.”
They entered through the vestibule, finding the men Marian had killed had already been taken away. New guards had replaced them, giving Charity and Perry a keen look as they came in from the outside. But they recognised Peregrine and stood down.
Inside, the banquet had finished, and the women had descended from the balconies to join the men for dessert.
Not a single soul seemed to be the wiser about the calamity that had almost been visited upon their heads tonight.
The raucous talking and smiling of hundreds of people seemed oddly inappropriate.
“There’s Ravenscroft,” she pointed the magpie out in the centre of the room. Ravenscroft must have been on the lookout, for he detached himself from the Regent and began working through the crowd toward them.
“There you are!” the dandy said, with an audible note of relief in his voice. “Did you—is she—?”
“My mother is in the hands of a dozen guards and one very angry Will Hodges. Did you catch the Tsar’s traitor? Malenkov?”
“He’s dead,” Lord Ravenscroft said sourly. “Took the coward’s way out with the ring when he realised he was surrounded, before we thought to prevent him from being able to do so. Sidmouth is dealing with that, if you have need of him.”
Charity could practically sense the weariness emanating from Peregrine’s bones. “Lord Sidmouth is more than capable of handling matters here for the rest of this evening. If he needs help, he can call upon Lord Castlereagh,” she murmured.
Perry nodded slightly. “I do not have the patience for politics tonight, Ravenscroft. My only priority now is ensuring that everyone I love is safe, and then bringing them home.” He looked the dandy up and down. “I am glad that Malenkov turned his ring upon himself instead of you.”
The magpie smirked. “The Propagandist was quite taken with his role. For what it is worth, I am also glad you and Charity are whole, Canary. And that you found… whatever it was you had me looking for.”
“A mountain of powder barrels, with Thorne left standing over them. Can you ensure that a guard bars the way to the crypts? It would be vexing to have prevented the explosion of so much gunpowder just to have an unwary servant set it alight now,” Perry told him dryly.
“On that note, I have a knight to check in on.”
Ravenscroft’s eyes widened slowly in horror—though Charity wasn’t sure if that was at the idea of the explosion or Thorne’s absence. “Well, go then!”
Peregrine turned to Charity, but she lifted her hand. “Do not try to leave me here.”
“Are you sure? There might be spiders down there.” The corner of his mouth quirked, the faintest sign of humour beginning to restore itself. It relieved Charity more than words could say.
“I trust you to protect me,” she said dryly, as he held the drape back enough for her to slip behind.
They found the door and went down more by feel than sight. Charity left her hand on Perry’s shoulder as he descended before her. “Sir Nathaniel!” he called out. “Are you still here?”
“Aye,” came a pained baritone voice from a distance. “Don’t worry, Fitzroy, you don’t have to bury me yet. But did you get her?”
“We did.”
They reached the ground, and as they turned into the crypt, the dim light from the single lantern near Thorne began to show the way. He was sitting on the floor, propped against a large barrel, a contraption of brass gears and springs beside him.
Perry hurried to Thorne’s side, crouching down. “Are you well?”
“Took ten years off my life, this did.” Thorne raked his right hand through his forelock. “I needed… a moment.”
He sounded like he needed more than reassurance. Now that she was closer, she saw he was shaking slightly. And he was hiding his left hand inside his coat. “You’re hurt!” she disagreed. “What happened?”
Thorne looked down at the contraption. “It was meant to make a spark to ignite the powder once the wheel turned enough. I couldn’t let the hammer strike the flint.”
Gently, Peregrine extracted Thorne’s arm from the inside of his coat, and Charity winced in sympathy. His left hand was a bloody mess. That was all she made out before Perry quickly hid it from her sight.
“You saved a lot of men’s lives,” Perry told him, wrapping his handkerchief around it loosely. And then her husband’s voice turned slightly teasing. “But could you think of nothing better to put in the machine than a piece of yourself?”
Thorne grunted. “In the time I had left, and while I was trying to pull it out of the barrel at the same time? None so sure. My hand or my life? Seemed an easy choice then.”
“Let us hope it does not cost you either,” Perry said as he stood slowly, helping pull the larger man to his feet.
When Thorne was somewhat steady, he clasped Thorne by the shoulders.
“I can see why Roland is happy to call you brother. You earned that title and more. Let’s get you looked after.
Charity—take the lantern and lead the way. ”
Peregrine threw Thorne’s arm across his shoulders to steady the man, their steps following behind her.
“Thank you for coming back for me,” she heard Thorne say quietly.
“I think Charity will agree with me. You’re one of ours, in the only way that matters,” Peregrine told him, echoing his words from the night of the fire back.
“Our family is small—and perhaps it’s rather odd—but it seems that someone once told me that protecting those that belong to it is proper.
You did fine work. Let us take care of you now, Galahad. ”
When they reached the brighter lit main floor without further incident, Charity breathed a much-needed sigh of relief. Yet, it stuck in her throat as she saw Thorne’s ashen face. Perry left her with Thorne, ducking past the line of drapery to find Ravenscroft.
“Mon Dieu!” Ravenscroft remarked, giving the knight a comprehensive examination. Thorne wisely said nothing, recognising that he was in no condition to fight off the Frenchman.
Ravenscroft produced a handkerchief of his own and added it to the impromptu bandaging, covering where blood began to seep through. “The left arm, again? You have got to stop leading with your good side, Galahad. That side has got more history now than my tailor’s ledger.”
“I assure you, I do not mean to make a habit of it.” Thorne said, rubbing his forehead with his good hand. “But for most tasks, my right arm is the more useful one.”
“Which just goes to prove that you are putting some thought into things when you heroically throw yourself into trouble,” Ravenscroft grumbled.
“But not so much that you stay out of it. You are in desperate need of supervision. Fortunately, I know a valet who will be delighted to take you on. He thrives on lost causes and bloodstains.”
Leaving Thorne safely in Ravenscroft’s hands was a relief. The magpie would make sure that Sir Nathaniel got the attention of a good surgeon quickly. The mechanism Thorne had stopped so bluntly might have broken bones in the man’s hand. Hopefully, Thorne wouldn’t lose use of it.
Time would tell.
Either way, Peregrine would ensure that he kept his promise. Thorne would be looked after, even if he had to blackmail the Prince Regent himself to do it.
Charity took his arm lightly. “We should tell the Queen what happened here tonight.”
“Yes,” he agreed distantly, glad for her suggestion.
Now that the burden of this duty was falling from his shoulders, he was almost…
lost in the crowd of people here. It was a curious, muddled sensation—this swamp of emotions where the anger and pain began to fade away, leaving behind…
mostly an overwhelming sense of relief, a sense of hope, and a trace of unease.
It was over. They could finally look forward. But at this moment, he was not quite ready to do so. No more than he was ready to stare into the sun as it rose on their new dawn.
Instead, he looked down at his wife. She was all the brilliance he needed in this moment. And as if she divined the thoughts in his head, she gave him a small, serene smile that brought his remaining restless thoughts peace.
Everything would be all right.
But Charity was correct; there was still some unfinished business to tend to tonight.
“It is late, but I think she will welcome this news even if she is already abed,” Perry told his wife. “Let’s go see the Queen and Selina. It will put their minds at ease.”
“And Lark?” Charity asked him softly.
He shook his head. “I will send a note to let everyone at Carlton House know that all is well. Let her sleep soundly where she is.”
“Do you know, there is a real benefit to not officially attending an event,” Charity murmured to him with a laugh as they exited the building again. When he turned his gaze her way, she grinned at him impishly. “There is no scandal or need to fret about the impropriety of leaving early.”
Perry chuckled. “There is that. But we might need all that extra time to trace where Hodges ended up.”