The woman cleared her throat, her strawberry blonde brows riding high upon her face. “As you say, sir. Shall I send word to the French Hospital? Perhaps, he went there again.”
“Yes, yes, do so, but find the man before the police do!”
Theodore Kepler felt the ever increasing weight of fear pressing upon his narrow shoulders, and his legs threatened to give way as he climbed the stairs towards the ground floor. Alexander Collins would fly into a rage when he learnt that Thirteen had escaped their confines again; but worse, Sir William Trent would surely learn of the error. Of all Redwing’s members, Kepler feared Trent the most.
Perhaps, I should speak to Prince Raziel directly and report Collins’s errors in judgement, he thought to himself as he climbed. It might be time to replace loyalty to Trent with loyalty to the true source of power. The one who brings the greatest reward with him.
Picturing a future where Collins and Trent lay writhing in torment—where he was put in charge of the entire hospital—Theodore Kepler’s step quickened, and he actually began to whistle.
Chapter Fourteen
“I hope his nibs enjoyed his gilded ride yesterday,” Galton said as Miles entered the library along with two footmen, bearing pots of coffee and trays of food. “The diverted wheel traffic cluttered up every byway twixt here and Cheapside.”
Risling laughed as his friend and comrade joined the table. “Despite his protests to the contrary, the new lord mayor seemed quite pleased with the pageantry. Whitehead pretends to be a man of simple tastes, yet he has no problem with pomp and ceremony.”
“It’s a long tradition,” Galton noted as he accepted a cup of coffee from a footman. “At least he toned down the usual circus atmosphere, Gog and Magog notwithstanding.”
“I’m surprised Mr. Whitehead allowed those figures to remain in the procession,” Edward MacPherson complained. “If anything smacks of circus, those huge beasts do! I write to the Archbishop every year regarding those pagan monstrosities, but does he listen? Of course, not!” The cleric reached for the sugar. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Lester. Very kind of you,” he added when the cordial footman passed him the hand-painted bowl.
“Whitehead couldn’t very well leave them out,” Sinclair told the gathering as he shut the door. “Good afternoon, all. Forgive the delay, but it couldn’t be helped. I had a fiancée to kiss and two dogs to deliver. Hello, James. I trust we’re all present and accounted for now.”
“Good to have you back, son. From the bruises on your face, it seems you have a tale to tell.”
“It can wait,” the marquess answered as he took a chair.
“Then, let’s begin, shall we?” Duke James said, rising to address the assembled circle members. “Mrs. Smith has prepared a selection of sandwiches and the like, and we’ll dig in as soon as we’ve offered a prayer. But first, let me say a few words of welcome. As some of you already know, we’ve had to reschedule this meeting several times for one reason or another. It’s gratifying, then, that you’ve made the effort to join us today. This is Charles’s first full, circle meeting, for in Scotland, we were able to assemble only a few of our members. Therefore, please, introduce yourselves and tell my nephew how it is you came to be a part of our work.”
The marquess and his cousin sat to the duke’s right and left, respectively, and the man beside Aubrey stood first. “As you already know, Lord Haimsbury, I’m Malcolm Risling. My father is Lord Pemsbury, and he sends his best wishes. He and my mother look forward to meeting you at the wedding on the eighteenth. My elder brother would be here as well, but he’s with the army in Afghanistan presently. My family have served on the circle for six generations.”
“It’s good to see you again, Risling,” Sinclair said. “I shall be pleased to meet your parents. I’ve followed your father’s career in the House of Lords. His advocacy for the police endears him to many of us at the Yard.”
“He’ll be pleased to hear it, sir.”
The next man stood. “Sir Percy Smythe-Daniels, Lord Haimsbury. It’s a very great honour to meet you. As with most of us, my family have served for many generations. Malcolm didn’t tell you, but he also served in the army and is an expert in several fields of endeavour, including advanced weaponry, which I’m told you’d already learnt in Scotland.” Everyone laughed. “I believe our Malcolm hopes to convince you to build an armoury on the Haimsbury estate grounds.”
“An idea already proposed by my cousin,” Charles said, causing everyone to smile and nod. “Of course, Lord Aubrey keeps a small armoury in his bedchamber from all accounts, so I may call upon that in time of need—for now, at least. And your speciality, Sir Percy?”
“Languages, sir. I’ve always had an ear for it, which has allowed me to learn sixteen spoken languages, and I can read six that are considered dead. Also, I work with Mr. Kepelheim on ciphers as required.”
The next members stood, each in turn introducing themselves:
- Algernon Winters, son of a prominent banker, whose ability to recognise patterns in world markets and political news allowed the circle to finance and launch specific operations abroad.
- Dr. Allan Callerson, a chemist who’d been researching coal tar applications.
- Sir Ralph Epperson, an engineering and scientific genius who’d perfected a combustion engine six years before Daimler, but also designed the electric plants used by Queen Anne House and Branham Hall.
- Dr. Andrew Carrington, a medical doctor and chemist who’d studied tropical diseases in South America on behalf of the circle and had only just returned to England the previous week.
- Dr. Simon Allerton, the duke’s leading chemical expert, but also a surgeon, who’d arrived that morning from Germany.
- Sir Anthony Meadows, a skilled archaeologist and anatomist who’d toured the American southwest with Lord Aubrey, and helped to return the skeletal remains of two giants, now stored in a circle warehouse.
- Dr. Deidra Kimberley, a chemist and medical doctor who specialised in diseases of the blood.
- Mavis Carrington, an American heiress representing her father, Matthew Carrington of the New York branch. Accompanying Miss Carrington was her cousin, Peter Carrington, a specialist in ciphers and numbers.
- Sir Dennis Richeson, government attaché to the Argentine and an expert in finance.
- Robert Ludlum, an architect currently designing an underground facility for the duke, who’d brought plans for renovating Loudain House.
- René du Land, an adventurer who’d explored west Africa in search of ancient texts, but also spoke six languages.
- Sir Thomas Canton, an old school chum to Lord Aubrey and a circle historian.
And finally, Mrs. Louisa Gilmore, the Dowager Lady Bramstile, widow of the late Lord Bramstile. As she stood to introduce herself, the entire room grew quiet and respectful.
“Lord Haimsbury, it is a very great pleasure to be here with you on this day. It was precisely six years ago that my husband, Ronald Gilmore, died at the hands of Redwing, slain by a masked man in Romania. As we had no children, I have asked the duke to allow me to attend on my late husband’s behalf. Victoria and I have been friends for nearly thirty years, but it’s my understanding that she has forgone attendance so that she might keep our duchess company. We often refer to Elizabeth as our ‘dear one’, but to me, she is much more than that.”
The sixty-seven-year-old widow wiped at her eyes, and the cheeks of the men shimmered with similar tears. “You most likely do not remember me, Charles, but I met you briefly in ’79 at the memorial service here in London. Our Beth had specified that you were to sit with her at that service, and I can still see it as if it occurred only yesterday. Our darling child, newly named Duchess of Branham, dressed in black crepe, held your hand as she wept. You bent low and whispered to her, promising that she would be all right; that she was safe. I sat behind you, you see. I could hear your words, and could
see her posture alter as you encouraged her. I knew then that you loved her just as we do, but I had no idea who you truly were.
“It wasn’t until this past spring that the duke told me of his suspicions, and that he had tasked Martin with finding the evidence of your inheritance, but I should have seen it. Charles, you are the gentle-hearted boy grown into manhood. I see not only your dear mother in your face, but also your good father—and the late Lord Aubrey as well. It’s remarkable how much you resemble him. You descend from a mighty heritage, Charles, and I believe that it’s always been God’s plan that you return to us this year. Don’t ask me to explain why, for it is more feeling than evidentiary fact. As a policeman, you would probably find such feelings irrational and inadmissible.”
She wiped her eyes once more, her thin frame shuddering as deep emotion took hold. “I hope you brave men will forgive me. I grow sentimental in my older years. Seeing you here, in company with your cousin, brings me such joy, Charles! As you continue to learn about your childhood and the many trials you experienced as a boy, it will all make more sense, but let me end by returning to 1879. When I watched you with Elizabeth, somehow, I knew that your connexion to her would become very important one day. It seemed too deep, too profound to be mere accident. It was as if a great ribbon of light formed betwixt you. And that same beautiful light shines within your eyes now. It is the light of Christ. May he continue to guide you both as you enter into this marriage. May he strengthen you for the inevitable battle ahead.”
The dowager countess returned to her chair, and all of the members wiped their eyes. Charles rose and walked to her place, where he took her hand as he bowed. “Countess, it is a very great honour to meet you again, and I do recall being introduced to you in ’79. I remarked on how lovely your blue eyes are, like a delicate pair of robin’s eggs. They still strike me as such.”
She smiled and touched his face. “Yes, you did say that. I’d forgotten. I don’t know if your uncle has told you, but the Bramstile earldom passed to the late Lord Aubrey, as he was the closest relative when my husband died. He and Ronald were second cousins, you see. When Robert Stuart died two and half years ago, the title fell to your cousin, but I suppose it rightly belongs to you, as you are closer to my husband’s side of the family. Ronald was your first cousin through the MacAllens. The Bramstile earldom is much younger than the Aubrey title, though, and far less important than your marquessate. Oh, Charles, I’m rambling now! Do forgive me.”
He kissed her cheek. “I could forgive you anything, Countess. But as we are related by marriage, would it be presumptuous of me to ask if I might call you Aunt Louisa?”
She began to weep openly. “Oh, I’d like that very much!”
“Thank you, then, Aunt,” he whispered sweetly. “As to the rest of you, I already know Reid and France. Glad you came along, Arthur. And Kepelheim has become a dear friend, of course, as my improved wardrobe will attest.”
All laughed, and the tailor’s plump cheeks rounded with pride. “It is an honour to design them for you, but my creations pale in comparison with your rugged charm.”
Charles laughed as he clapped the tailor on the shoulder. “One of these days, I must hear the truth of your history, Martin. I suspect you are far more than a fast and efficient needle, your cipher and deductive abilities notwithstanding.”
“One day, we’ll tell you all about our intrepid tailor, son,” the duke promised. “Over a cognac or some Drummond whisky. Louisa, did you wish to leave?”
The dowager countess nodded. “Yes, James. As I told you whilst we awaited your nephews, I think the best use of my presence is to keep Elizabeth company. I’d originally planned to listen to all the reports, but I’m sure you prefer that Beth remain outside these doors.”
“I doubt that she’ll try to enter, Louisa,” the duke countered. “Beth has a strong aversion to circle meetings. Though she is curious about our discussions, she fears what may happen if she actually sits inside the room with us. I’ll explain it to Charles at a later date.”
“May I not have one hint, James?” the marquess asked. “As her guardian, any strong aversion within her nature is important to me.”
The duke sighed. “It’s a long tale, son, but allow me to give you that hint. Do you recall the seizure she suffered whilst at your home in ’79?”
“How could I forget? I’d asked her to tell me about the person she called ‘the man in the park’, and she had a dreadful reaction! Her entire body shook, and I thought she might collapse entirely.”
Paul reached over and touched his cousin’s hand. “I know how terrifying that was for you, Charles. Can you imagine, then, what it was like for us, when we asked Elizabeth to answer a few questions about Connor’s death? We wanted the fellowship within our circle to hear her replies and try to make sense of it all, but when I asked if she remembered seeing any other humans upon the moor, she had a similar reaction—only far worse than you described. A mere seizure would have been a blessing that day! Poor Beth collapsed to the floor, her entire body stiffening into an arc, and she literally elevated to the height of the table! It was as if unseen hands had lifted her, and she screamed the entire time. No, we will not bring her in here again. Not ever.”
Sinclair grew thoughtful, and he glanced at the sober faces surrounding him, finally nodding in agreement. “Yes, I can see how her attendance might prove harmful, but this makes me appreciate her remarkable strength all the more. Beth has suffered contacts from another realm since childhood, yet she’s kept her sanity and sense of humour, despite all.”
The dowager countess smiled. “Little Beth possesses a quiet strength beyond that of many men, and I am very glad that you appreciate it, Charles. Not all men would. So, as we prefer she remain occupied, I shall join her and Victoria.”
“I’d like it if you would stay, Aunt Louisa,” Charles implored. “However, if you choose to leave us, please, wait until after I’ve made my announcement.”
The duke cast a curious glance towards the detective. “Do you prefer to make it now or after the prayer?”
“I’ll do it afterwards, sir.”
“Very good, then,” the duke continued. “As I’ll soon be passing leadership to Charles, I’d like to pray this one last time, if I may. Let us bow our heads, ladies and gentlemen.” He paused for a moment, and then the duke’s rich, Scottish baritone rose up as he held his nephews’ hands. “Lord of all that is good and honest, just and true, we come to you with humble hearts this day. Tis an honour to sit with this assembly of your united warriors this afternoon. I would that such a gathering were not necessary, my Lord, but it is. Redwing’s crows flock about London and about my granddaughter like ravenous birds of prey, and so we seek your guidance in how we might prevent their plans from achieving fruition.
“To be honest, my King, when I consider all that happened whilst in Scotland last month, it fills my human heart with dismay and fear. I imagine it affects Charles in much the same way, yet he seldom shows it. You’ve given him a unique ability to remain calm, when the world all about him races towards insanity. Perhaps, that’s one reason you chose to allow Redwing to take him from us at so young an age. The past thirteen years as a policeman have honed his mind into a razor sharp blade that will cut our enemies to the quick! Paul and he have become great friends, but I know that already, Redwing plots how best to sever that alliance, for they fear the united strength of these two cousins. I ask that you show them the path you’ve designed for them to follow, and that you light that path, my Lord. Arm them for the battle and grant them the courage to stand against the foe until their final breath is taken.
“I ask also that you be with our little duchess, my Lord, and help her to remain healthy and strong. Calm her fears and lighten her heart. Banish all the nightmares and replace them with sweet dreams filled with joy, for she brings joy to all our hearts. As this wedding approaches, keep all within our households and wit
hin this circle safe from the enemy’s wiles, for this event is the culmination of centuries of planning on both sides.
“Teach us to honour you in all that we do, to see with your perfect vision and discern with your perfect insight. Keep our heads clear, our minds sharp, and our hands ready to wield whatever weapons you command us to employ. May we serve you faithfully until our dying breath. In the name of your only begotten Son I ask—even the name of Christ Jesus. Amen.”
As the assembly wiped their faces, Dr. MacPherson stood. “I was honoured to spend yesterday morning with this fine young man, my friends. Charles Sinclair is indeed a remarkable servant, who loves the Lord with all his heart. As the duke has said, the enemy thought to destroy him in his early years, but that altered path not only taught Charles to discern the human heart, but also to see things most of us cannot.”
“What do you mean by that, Mac?” Risling asked.
“I’ll allow Charles to explain further, but suffice to say that Sinclair’s eyes are attuned to matters beyond the ken of most. I shall be honoured to pronounce him husband to our beloved duchess on the eighteenth.”
Sinclair stood. “Thank you, Dr. MacPherson—I mean, Mac. I cannot begin to tell you just how pleased I’ll be to hear that pronouncement on the eighteenth! The prospect of calling Elizabeth my wife brings me greater joy than mere words could ever express. Which brings me to my announcement. I know this will likely surprise many of you, but those who know what happened in Scotland last month may not be at all surprised. Let me quickly explain for those who are unaware of those events. On the eighth of October, shortly after our arrival at Drummond Castle, the duchess was given an unknown drug or combination of drugs by the late Dr. Lemuel, a man who betrayed this circle and whose background still requires our attention.”
Risling’s hand went up. “When I give my report, I have something to offer along that line of enquiry.”
The Blood Is the Life Page 23