The Iron Heart

by Leslie Dicken

  His brother would see him dead.

  The two or three rooms the squatter occupied had been mostly cleared out of evidence. All that remained were scraps of food, a basket with molding bread and jugs of water. A few torn pieces of cloth sat near a window, but on closer inspection that appeared to be where rats had built a nest.

  Ellie shivered.

  The smell, once overpowering as she first entered, had now settled into an underlying churn of nauseating annoyance.

  “Not much to see here, is there?” Miles leaned against a doorway, arms crossed.

  “Oh, there must be something else here.”

  He walked into the next room and she followed. “This is where we found your device. Over in that corner.”

  Ellie moved closer and kicked around the dust and dirt on the floor. A handkerchief emerged from beneath the debris.

  She picked it up. “Is this like the others you took?”

  Miles came over for a closer inspection. “Similar but this one has an initial embroidered on it.”

  They moved closer to the window for better lighting.

  Ellie ran her finger over the smudged letter, flicking off the caked-on mud or food.

  She showed it to Miles. “What do you think it is? The letter P?”

  He squinted and turned it at a different angle. Then scraped at it with his nails. “No, look, part of the letter was missing.”

  Sure enough, some of the thread had frayed and torn off the handkerchief. “It is a B then.”

  Miles nodded. “I would say so.”

  The letter B. Barrington. Bennett.

  Her stomach twisted, caught in a vice of disbelief and possibility. Ice swarmed her blood. No, it couldn’t be. He came here each night to search for the killer, not because he was the killer.

  This cloth with the letter B could be a coincidence. Or perhaps this man had merely found or stolen it.

  She let Miles take it from her hands. “I’ll need to bring this to the station, of course.”

  Ellie nodded.

  Rampant thoughts screamed in her mind. The drawing she saw in Bennett’s workroom…his urgent need for secrets and hidden agendas…the calmness with which he demonstrated the molestations and then regarded the dead bodies…

  Oh Lord, so much of these pointed to him as the attacker.

  It didn’t make sense that a man would dedicate each night, disrupting every aspect of his life, in pursuit of the killer of a woman he didn’t even know.

  Just the other day she believed it so noble of him. Now the concept seemed immensely far-fetched.

  “Are you ready?” Miles was near the door.

  Ellie drew in a deep breath despite the odor. “Do…do you think he’ll return here?”

  “Doubtful. He knows this area is being watched. He’ll move on.”

  Of course he would.

  Suddenly, heaviness dragged on her heart. She was torn between rushing to Bennett to find some way to get the truth from him and crawling under the covers to find solace in sleep.

  Ellie followed Miles out of the rooms and back into the daylight. The thick Lundun air pressed down upon them as they made their way down the road.

  Along with the weight of fog and smoke, a tingle sprinted down her spine. Perceptible and terrifying.

  Hairs pricked up on her arms and the back of her neck.

  She was being watched.

  The killer, possibly the man who’d invaded her home and ripped her newspaper, stared at her from a shadowed alley or dark window.

  Ellie clutched her skirt atop the gun. A final shiver stole through her and she hurried closer to Miles.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You have a visitor, my lord.”

  Bennett rested the clockwork arm he was finishing on its stand and went over to the speak-pipes.

  “Who is it?”

  “Lady Westerling.”

  He wasn’t expecting her, but the visit wasn’t a problem. Unlike Ella. He wasn’t prepared to see her again.

  “Please bring her to me in the workroom.”

  “As you wish.”

  Bennett wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. It had been three days since Ella had invaded his bedchamber. Three days in which sleep evaded him, even as exhaustion weakened him.

  He could still smell her lavender perfume, still feel the weight of her on top of him and the softness of her beneath him. Memories of that morning, and so many before it, plagued him during dreams and stolen moments of daylight.

  A soft knock on the door and then it opened. Lady Westerling wasted no time in entering. She was dressed as eccentric as ever, always bringing a smile to his face.

  “What brings you here?” He pointed to the bench for her to sit.

  She perched on the edge. “I have something for you. A request.”

  Bennett took a sip of the ale in his cup. Please let the request not be about Ella. No more dances or scavenger hunts or the dinners. “Go on.”

  She pulled a slip of paper from a pocket somewhere in her dark, billowing skirt.

  He took it from her hand, scanned its contents and then handed it back to her. “Are you certain this is a good idea?”

  Lady Westerling adjusted her spectacles. “Joseph and I have discussed it at length. We feel confident in our decision.”

  Bennett thrust a hand through his hair. He didn’t think it was such a wise decision. He knew what could come of it, he’d seen it. Then again, so had they.

  He could refuse her request, but the idea of it intrigued him. He was an inventor, after all.

  “Very well.”

  “We will pay you, of course. Whatever price you ask.”

  He shrugged. Money was not the reason for his creations. His father’s fortune in the water crystals was enough to keep him well off for years to come. No, he made these items because he loved the mechanics, the piecing together of gears and levers.

  “When do you need it ready?”

  She stood. “Sooner rather than later. But I don’t want to rush a project like this.”

  He nodded. “I may have a piece started that could be retrofitted.”

  “Good!” She reached for his hand. “Now, let’s go outside.”

  Bennett raised an eyebrow. “Outside?”

  “You are more pale than the ghost of my late husband. When was the last time you saw the sun?”

  He couldn’t remember. Perhaps the day they took the dirigible ride. When was that? So often he forgot days; they bled together in random blurs. Whole blocks of time went by unnoticed.

  Surely madness was stealing him over.

  “Yes, that’s what I thought. Come along.” She opened the door.

  Bennett nodded toward the table. “I have work to do.”

  “It can wait. Don’t make me scold you. Come on with me.”

  Damned bossy women. He went from having virtually no women in his life to having two stubborn ones near him so often.

  Yet he dutifully followed her from the dungeon of the house to the main level, where they exited out the front doors.

  Lady Westerling’s Wheelcraft sat at the top of his drive. She walked over to it. “Let’s take her for a ride. It’s been a long time since she’s felt the grass beneath her wheels.”

  The woman must have some ulterior motive. But as long as Ella wasn’t hiding in the backseat, he was willing to go a long for the jaunt.

  They climbed in and Lady Westerling took off onto the grass and down the hill. The Wheelcraft had excellent springs and took to the bumpy grass with ease.

  He held onto one of the metal poles as they drove down one hill and then up another. The old woman looked like a young girl with the thick goggles over her eyes, white hair whipping about and an enormous smile on her face.

  The air blew across Bennett as they sped along the top of a ridge. The wind swirled the scent of grass and flowers. The very breath of them lifted him to a new level of heaven.

  The Wheelcraft slowed to a stop near a large tree.

>   Lady Westerling patted his knee. “Come with me.”

  As if he had a choice now that he’d come this far. He followed her out of the vehicle and under the shade of the tree.

  They stood at the top of a Greenlands hill, one of many. The ground sloped down to where a stream meandered in the valley. Ducks waded between reeds on the banks and butterflies darted amongst the bushes.

  Sweet serenity.

  “Have you ever been to this spot?” she asked.

  Bennett shrugged. “I suppose. I believe I played in that stream as a child. Or at least chased a fox through it.”

  She smiled. “I used to come here often.”

  “Oh? But you live miles from here.”

  “Yes.” She removed her goggles and slipped her spectacles on in their place. “But your father lived here.”

  His eyes widened. “My father?”

  Lady Westerling lowered herself to the ground with the ease of a woman Ella’s age, not one of a grandmother. She stared up at him until Bennett felt compelled to sit beside her on the grass.

  “Percy and I were an item at one time. Long before I married my late husband.”

  He had no idea. In fact, he knew so little about his father. Even less about his mother, who died when he was a child. His parents were only figures of authority and stern disapproval. Bennett had never considered their lives before he was born.

  “What happened?”

  She shrugged, stared out into the distance. “He had other, secret loves.”

  Bennett realized he gasped aloud when the old woman chuckled.

  “No, not loves like that. Not other women. Other interests.”

  “The water crystals?”

  Lady Westerling ran her finger along one of her necklaces. “Yes, that was his secret. But what I thought he spent most of his time on was the dirigible.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yes, he was perfecting the design. Adding the small propellers and adjusting the size of the cabin so she’d lift higher and have greater speed.”

  Bennett stretched his legs out and leaned back on his elbows. A breeze billowed his shirt. “He had built most of the dirigible by the time I was born.”

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s because he spent nearly every waking moment on it. I gave up on him, you see.” The old woman turned to look at him, her eyes large behind the thick spectacles. “How your mother was able to stand it, I’ll never know.”

  So he and Hugh weren’t the only ones who were never their father’s sole center of attention. Neither of his sons could ever match up to his masterful inventions.

  Lady Westerling patted his arm. “You have your own creations. The clockworks and such. And your brother?”

  Instantly, Bennett tensed. “Hugh worked on the clockworks when the mood struck him. But mostly he wished to sport and little else.”

  “Ah.” Her hand was still on his arm. “So how is Hugh? Percy said he went to southern Europe to recover from his severe injuries.”

  Yes, that was the lie. The lie which held Bennett and his father together when Hugh ran off into the night and never came back.

  He swallowed through a tight throat. “Yes, he doesn’t send many letters, but I believe he’s well.” The words tasted rancid on his tongue. Hugh was anything but well.

  She nodded. “I hope he returns soon. That big house is too quiet with just you and the servants.”

  “Perhaps I like the quiet.” Another lie. At one time he craved the silence, but now that he had it, he began to detest it. The house was too big for just him. Without his father or Hugh, the only time the house saw action was when Ella blasted through the doors.

  Ella.

  Lady Westerling reached out her hand. “Well, I must go into Lundun and tell Joseph of our news. Help an old woman up.”

  Bennett stood then helped her to her feet. “I suspect you could have done that on your own.”

  She smiled. “Perhaps. But you’re a handsome, young man and I don’t mind holding your hand now and then.”

  He laughed.

  “So do you realize why I brought you here?”

  Ducks called to one another down the hill. The tree leaves rustled above him. This was a wonderful place for peace. A place to forget all that weighed on him.

  The old woman squeezed his hand. “Don’t become your father, Bennett. You could lose the one who is meant for you.”

  Ella.

  The breeze swept across his face, bathing his senses in the sweet aroma of lavender.

  He closed his eyes and indulged in the luxury of the moment. The beauty of the sounds of nature, the calm in the air, and the heavenly scent.

  Ella.

  What if something happened to her? What if Hugh snatched her one night? Lord, he could not bear it.

  “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  Bony fingers slipped from his hand. “Pardon?”

  Damnation, he’d actually said it out loud.

  “Ah.” Lady Westerling’s voice softened. “You know she’s been living in Lundun, do you?”

  He nodded. “She admitted it to me when I asked her to stay away from the city.”

  “You wouldn’t alert the Syndicate of her situation, would you?”

  “No. Her secret is safe with me.”

  “Magnificent.”

  For a few minutes, they said nothing and watched the sun sparkle on the water down below. Bennett had a secret, childish urge to run down there and splash through the stream. The ducks would squawk and fly off. Butterflies and bees would scatter. He’d be wet but alive and free of cares and burdens. Even just for a few brief moments.

  Instead, he headed toward the Wheelcraft. “I really should continue my work.” Nightfall would arrive soon and he had somewhere he needed to be.

  “Of course.” She followed and they both climbed back in the vehicle. Before she started the engine, the old woman turned to him. “If I should see Ella later, do you have any message for me to give her?”

  A message for Ella.

  Come back to my bed.

  Don’t ever come back again.

  Give up your hunt for the killer.

  Save every woman you know.

  Accept the change of progress.

  Don’t change the person you are.

  He had so many conflicting feelings about Ella, he couldn’t formulate a coherent thought.

  “No,” he said finally. “No message for Ella.”

  “Hmph.” Lady Westerling kicked over the engine. “I was afraid you would say that.”

  The smell of him washed over her. Sandalwood. Musk. A slight hint of cinnamon. Delicious as the man himself.

  Ellie stood in Bennett’s bedchamber, inhaling the aroma of the man she’d come to snoop on. It was as if he were here with her. But not only had Craft said Bennett was down in his workshop, there was no lump on the bed or sounds of even breathing.

  It had been easy enough to sneak up here. She just waited for Craft to go search for his lordship and then Ellie hurried up the stairs. Certainly Craft would think she’d changed her mind and left the house.

  The room was brightened only by daylight streaming in through the parted curtains. There was no fire, nor any lit oil lamps.

  Ellie stood there for a moment. She could use more illumination to find a handkerchief similar to the one she and Miles had found, but that could be suspicious if she needed to hurry out and was unable to turn them back off.

  And so she did the best she could with the little light she had. She opened drawers and closed them. Nothing. No embroidered cloths on the dressers or chairs.

  Ellie moved to the wardrobe. She opened both doors. One side was filled with several drawers and an upper cabinet. The other side held clothes on hangers.

  At the second to the bottom drawer, her fingers brushed white cloth. Stacks of handkerchiefs folded neatly beside and atop one another.

  Heart hammered in her eardrums. Hands shook. If these had the same marking as the one they’d found would that mea
n Bennett was the killer? Could it be an extraordinary coincidence?

  All she could think of was Bennett’s hands on her skin, his lips on her mouth, his warm breath against her neck. A man who could create these delightful sensations in her could not possibly have anything to do with murder.

  Not possibly.

  Nausea swirled. Palms dampened.

  Suddenly she didn’t want to see the handkerchief in the drawer. She didn’t want to see if she’d possibly discovered the alleyway killer. No, not if it was Bennett.

  There were some things she’d rather not know. Facts be damned.

  Ellie shut the drawer and closed the wardrobe doors. Her stomach flip-flopped as she left his room and made her way down the staircase to the main level.

  She was just about out the front door when she heard a man clear his throat.

  “Ella.”

  Bennett stood at the archway to the parlor. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded, an eyebrow raised.

  Damn, he was so terrifically handsome she often stumbled in her determination. Even now, she hesitated, lulled by his beauty.

  He took a step forward, a predatory glint in his gaze. “Find what you were looking for?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Ellie gasped. Dear Lord, he couldn’t know why she’d come. No, it must be a joke. At her expense, most likely, for when she’d snuck into his room and climbed on his bed.

  His lips curled. “Care to tell me what you were doing in my bedchamber this time?”

  Her heart beat frantically in her breast. She scrambled to find a reason for her suspicious activity but nothing would come forward to save her.

  So instead she smiled at him. “Your delicious touch, as before, except this time I am able to leave without such immense frustration.”

  His cheeks reddened as he realized the meaning of her reply. Of when he, once again, left her unsatisfied.

  “Good day, Lord Barrington.” And she was out the door.

  Within moments, Ellie was up and flying her Lightrider over the rolling hills of the Greenlands. The air was cool, crisp, the sunset brilliantly lit with shades of pink and orange. It was the perfect time for feeling free of all limits. Perfect for flying.