Charles cleared his throat, for he felt nervous suddenly. “Thank you, Malcolm. I look forward to hearing it. As I said, Lemuel had given the duchess something to render her unable to struggle, and then he abducted her. Because the earl had been shot on our rail journey from London to Branham, the man whom I may now call uncle sent me into the night upon his fastest horse to rescue Elizabeth. When I finally caught up to Lemuel’s carriage, a shooter on the heath killed the man, so I rushed to take Beth to safety. I had no experience with those roads at night, and I became quite lost. Beth was unconscious; therefore, could not aid me in my ignorance. We came upon a farm, and I sought shelter for the night. The couple put us up in their son’s empty cottage. Whilst there, I kept watch on Beth’s welfare.”
He stopped for a moment and took a long sip of water. “What I didn’t know as I sat beside that fire, was that the farmer’s wife had put something into our tea. Beth drank half a cup before falling asleep again, and I consumed an entire jar of it. That night, she and I shared the same dream.”
Charles took another long drink, and the duke tapped his forearm. “You needn’t get into this, son. We all know you’re not to blame. What’s done is done.”
“But I feel as if I’m to blame!” Sinclair objected. “I should have been more aware. More careful, but I wasn’t. As you say, what’s done is done. The dream the duchess and I shared, my friends, was rather... Well, it was quite intimate. She and I realised later, when we compared our experiences, that it was not a dream at all, but rather a real event.”
“Charles told me all about it as soon as he recovered enough to remember,” Drummond explained. “My nephew is a man of honour and compassion, and he worried then what Redwing might have intended.”
“It’s clear what they intended,” the marquess added, taking a deep breath to strengthen his resolve. “What I’m trying to tell you all is this: Elizabeth has seen two doctors, and both are convinced that she is with child.”
Most of the company knew nothing of this news, and their expressions ranged from surprise to great joy. Kepelheim spoke for all as he rose to his feet.
“My dear friends, this is the best of news! Yes, I’ve been privy to the diagnosis for a day or two, but I think it likely that this has been the ultimate goal of Redwing all along: to unite our marquess’s blood with that of Elizabeth. Charles, your uncle and I had a lengthy discussion about this last evening, and we agree that Redwing’s members have committed a very grave error in judgement. They have underestimated you, my friend. Our sovereign king, Christ Jesus, has designed you for this moment in time, Charles. I know it as surely as I know my own name! He allowed your abduction, and he’s been with you on each step of your perilous journey since that day, forming you and shaping you as his servant.
“Victoria has called you and Paul twin arrows in God’s quiver, and it is imagery that I can never forget, for it is a perfect description of your office. Both of you love our duchess, and both of you are required as her protectors. Both. And I believe we are only seeing a tiny sliver of God’s plans for your lives—you three. It occurs to me now that in one way, the three of you are the central triangle within our circle. A triple bond, which adds strength to our formation. May we band of brothers and sisters tighten about you as a protective hedge during the coming trials. And once this child is born, may we surround him or her with all our energies, all our might!”
The entire table broke into applause and shouts of ‘hear! hear!’. The earl took to his feet, tears staining his bearded cheeks. “I can add little to what Martin has said in honour of my cousin, but I would make a confession, if you’ll indulge me.” He paused, his clear blue eyes on Sinclair.
“I’ve come to love and respect this man. Charles Sinclair, whom I first met ten years ago. I think of 1879 as the year everything changed. Not just for Beth, but for Charles, for me, for all of us. Redwing tipped their hand, you might say, though we were blind to it at the time. What Charles has told you about Scotland may sound like fairy tale, but it is hard fact, and it nearly sent me reeling into our enemy’s clutches when I learnt about it! Despite her fiancé’s admonition not to tell me about the baby, the duchess did just that. Last night. Elizabeth told me, because she loves me, just as much as she ever has. I’m not proud of my reaction, for in truth, my entire being was overwhelmed with outrage, even hatred. I actually told Elizabeth that I wanted to choke the life out of my cousin.”
These last words rode upon waves of intense regret, and the earl lowered his head in shame, his broad shoulders spasming. Many of the members prayed silently as Aubrey took a moment, his head against his chest. Charles reached out and touched his cousin’s hand to offer strength.
Paul raised his eyes at last, wiping tears. “Of course, I didn’t really intend to do it, but I felt it. Deeply, intensely, and it revealed a darkness to my heart that shocks me. Charles, I pray that you can forgive me!” he exclaimed as he gripped the marquess’s hand. “I beg you to understand my anguish, for I love Beth with all my heart!”
Sinclair took to his feet, and the two men embraced before the entire company. Not an eye remained dry around the long table, not one heart unmoved; even the two footmen began to weep. James Stuart stood and threw both arms ‘round his nephews, and soon all the company drew near, their hands joined, many of them praying softly as the cousins wept.
Louisa Gilmore, who walked with a cane, made her way to the pair, and the gathering parted as she approached. Like a wise mother-figure, the dowager countess took the hands of both men and began to pray aloud. “Father in heaven, may your Spirit fill this room and bring strength to these two, remarkable young men. May you touch both heart and mind, to cleanse them of any doubts or resentment, and may you then replace those darker emotions with your clear resolve and fellowship.
“It’s easy to see the love these two men hold for one another, but the enemy would turn that love to hatred, for as our tailor wisely observed, they form a bond with our dear duchess that requires them both as her protectors. At the heart of all this, lies the future and safety of an unborn child. I ask especially for your protection upon that small life. Help it to grow and thrive. Provide your guardian spirits to minister to this child’s mother and father, for this is the child the enemy has long sought. And may you equip both Charles and Paul to shelter that child, as they now shelter the duchess.
“Guide our small fellowship, my King! Guide us and instill within us a firm resolve, so that we do not fear whatever lies ahead. May each of us within this ring remain true to you, but also true to these two men. Twin arrows in your quiver describes these remarkable cousins so very well. May they never waiver as they take flight! May they fly straight and true without fear, trusting in your perfect aim. It is in Christ’s name I ask all this, Father. Even, he who taught us to pray. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...” she continued, and all joined her, finishing the Lord’s wonderful prayer of supplication and praise with one voice.
As the company spoke the final words, Charles, who still embraced the earl, opened his eyes. “My life is yours,” he whispered.
“And mine yours,” Aubrey echoed back. “Today and forever.”
The duke wiped his dark eyes. “There’s no man richer in this world!” he told his nephews. “Not one. Now,” he continued as the assembly returned to their chairs. “Louisa, if you still wish to leave us, this would be a good time, but I agree with Charles. I’d like for you to remain. You ladies of the circle provide insights that we foolish men lack. Will you stay?”
Charles escorted the dowager countess to her seat. “I hope you’ll stay with us, Aunt Louisa.”
She smiled, touching his face. “Yes, of course I’ll stay. We women shall serve the roles of Mary and Martha, though I shan’t try to cook.”
Everyone laughed softly, and the marquess returned to his position on the duke’s right. “So, whose report begins us?”
Th
e duke tapped his water glass. “Reports require nourishment. Mr. Miles and his men have brought us a substantial luncheon. Everyone should fill their plates whilst we discuss matters, but first I’d like to hear how you earned those bruises, laddy,” he told Charles. “Did Baxter give you a boxing lesson?”
“He could have, sir, but these marks owe their root to a far less pleasant pastime. One of Beth’s horses was killed last night. Ambrose Aurelius. Drained of blood by a spirit that led me on an exhausting chase through Henry’s Woods.”
“You say the horse was killed?” Paul asked. “How?”
“I’m not sure, but it reminded me of the Victoria Park murders. The only obvious injuries are two puncture wounds upon the throat. The sheep who died at Branham recently may also have been slain by the same dark hand, or another like it. It is a creature of immense power, capable of flight. A new type of hybrid, perhaps, beyond that of the wolves with which we’re familiar.”
The earl stared, trying to sort through the information. “Then, it’s beginning again. Spirits and shadows. Here and at Branham. But why now? Charles, you say you pursued it? Judging from your face, I assume it attacked you.”
“It did, but there is more to the story. The creature intended only to gain my attention, or so I believe. It may have been the same entity that appeared inside my coach on the road to the hall.”
“Son, what do you mean by that?” the duke asked.
“I had three, very interesting conversations during that journey. One with Prince Razarit Grigor, the second with Prince Anatole Romanov, and the third with a being whose name I do not know, though he brought me comfort beyond all capacity to explain. I think this third was sent by God.”
All grew silent, and MacPherson raised a hand. “The first two names are outside my knowledge, but how is it they rode with you in the coach?”
“They appeared to me, Mac, as uninvited guests. I’d already had one encounter with Razarit, and I’d begun to suspect Romanov is more than human, but now I know for certain. The former is evil and arrogant and believes Beth will become his soon. The latter’s loyalties remain unclear, for he acted on my behalf, preventing Razarit from harming me.”
“Then, how is your face bruised?” the earl asked.
“It happened last night, after we discovered the dead horse. Truthfully, I’m still trying to puzzle through it all, but their abilities imply that both Grigor and Romanov are spirits or hybrids of a type unknown to us. Further, they may be but a vanguard of what is to come.”
MacPherson stood. “Forgive me for pressing the issue, Charles, but I’d make one further observation. If you pursued this creature, then it is because this spirit wanted you to see it. You say that it struck you?”
Sinclair nodded. “Yes, Mac, as if daring me to chase after it.”
“Sounds rather infantile to me,” Drummond observed. “Like a child’s prank.”
“Our experience indicates that these spirits have personalities, the same as humans,” MacPherson explained. “Some exhibit more maturity than others. And scripture reveals an order to their ranks, a hierarchy similar to our peerage system.”
Reid stood. “I am sorry to interrupt, but if I may, Charles?”
Sinclair nodded. “Yes, Ed, of course. There was a time when all I had to concern me were police matters, but my duties widen. Please, speak.”
“Thank you,” Edmund answered. “Charles, I’ve not yet sent this report to your office at Whitehall, and you’ll understand why momentarily. I’ve brought typed copies, but for circle eyes only. With that in mind, allow me to introduce Inspector Arthur France. Charles asked me to bring him along, my friends.” Reid turned to look at the young inspector. “Arthur, you’ll want to meet with a few of us privately to learn more about our core command and history, but I think you already understand a little of our mission.”
France stood. “I’m catching on a bit, sir, and I’m honoured to be here, Your Grace, my lords and ladies. I’ll most likely have a cartload of questions, but Mr. Reid has told me the basics whilst on our drive from Whitechapel this morning. It helps explain many of the strange things going on in the east just now, but it also helps me to understand some of the hushed conversations ‘twixt the superintendent and Reid of late.”
Many of the members smiled at this, including Sinclair. “I imagine it does, Arthur. I’m very glad you’re here. Ed, what is it you’ve learnt? I take it this pertains to Mary Kelly.”
“It’s in the written report,” he said, handing copies to both Charles and the duke. “Sunders has performed an initial examination along with Bagster Philips and Bond. As you can imagine, Abberline sees the hand of a man behind these murders, but there are signatures we in the circle recognise as spiritual. Charles, you mentioned the lack of footmarks in the blood. We made a thorough inspection of the room and could find nothing left by our killer—or killers. Witnesses claim that Kelly sang for many hours during the night, continuing until close to dawn. A neighbour reported seeing a man leaving the area, but she may have only seen McCarthy or Indian Harry. We’re trying to prompt the woman’s memory, but she admits to having enjoyed several pints of gin before bedtime; therefore, we cannot be sure of her faculties. Kelly’s heart is indeed missing, by the way. I’ve collected photographs, delivered to me this morning by Lord Aubrey’s friend. The entire east end was riotous when France and I left. We require more men to handle the brawlers, sir. Lusk’s support widens, and he may have gained political ground as well. I strongly advise against anyone driving within four blocks of the Leman Street station house. Our forces are overstretched, and the rioting worsens by the hour.”
“I’ll speak with Monro about seconding men from other divisions,” Sinclair offered.
“Thank you, sir. The sooner they can arrive, the safer it will be for all who live and work in Whitechapel.”
Galton raised his hand. “And O’Brien? It’s my understanding that he once again enjoys your hospitality, Edmund.”
Reid smiled. “So, he does, and I hope our marquess will agree to spend an hour there with me later on. O’Brien claims to have information of interest. I’m not sure just what he fears, but he is quite nervous.”
“I’d hoped to spend time with Beth today, Ed, but if you think O’Brien might talk, then I’ll drop by later this evening. Is there anything else that involves the circle?”
“Only that we’ve also arrested Kelly’s common-law husband, Joe Barnett. He’s unable, or unwilling, to account for his whereabouts Thursday night,” Reid explained. “I am curious, though, sir. I’ve heard tell of a new endeavour involving an investigative body called the ICI. Are the rumours true?”
“They are, Edmund, and I’d planned to speak with you about it, but I’d like to postpone that conversation until after the wedding. Is that all right with you, Uncle James?” Charles asked the duke.
“Fine with me, son. For those who don’t already know, the ICI is to be our circle’s private intelligence organisation. The queen and her privy council have approved, granting us the royal warrant. We’ll be serving as the Crown’s eyes and ears in foreign lands as well as here in England, but we shall remain private and independent. I’ve provided information in your packets. Once we’re through the wedding, and Charles has found a little free time, we’ll host the first meeting at ICI headquarters, Loudain House.”
Dr. Kimberley flipped through the pages of the duke’s packet. “I’ve never been inside, of course, but the house looks suitably large. Will we be using it as office space?”
“Eventually, yes,” Charles answered, still standing. “Forgive me for monopolising so much of our time, but before we begin other reports, I’d like to read something to you all. As some of you may know, I paid a call on Bob Morehouse’s widow this week, and she gave me a letter, which Bob asked his solicitor to send me. Apparently, with my travels over the past month, the envelope failed to find me, so it was return
ed to Lady Morehouse. Martha received a similar letter from Bob, though the copy sent to her did not include this confession.”
Reid’s hand went up. “Fred Abberline said Morehouse sent something to him as well. I wonder if it’s a similar sort of confession.”
“Bob and Fred were quite close,” Sinclair replied, “so it’s possible. However, this revelation is about me. I doubt Abberline’s version contains the same. In addition to the letter, Bob included documents he’d purloined from the Yard. Reports he’d written regarding Duchess Patricia’s murder. And there was one other inclusion, wrapped in newspaper.”
Charles handed a folded newsprint sheet to Aubrey. The earl unwrapped the package. “It’s a stickpin,” he said.
The duke reached out. “Let me see it, son.” Taking the slender pin, Drummond examined it carefully, and then donned his spectacles to peer at a fine line of engraving. “We shall pass this ‘round, but it’s probably familiar to Paul. We’ve both seen this many times.”
The earl took the stickpin once more, his young eyes sharp and aware. “Why would Morehouse have this?”
Charles took it once more, turning it in his hands. “Whose is it?”
“It was worn nearly every day by Sir William Trent,” Aubrey said darkly. “At least, every time I saw him, it was on his cravat. He wore it as a symbol of pride.”
“Yes, but what we never saw then was the engraving on the reverse, son,” Drummond noted, reaching out for the pin and showing it to both nephews. “See here? How brazen can a man get? Nox Lupus. Night Wolf.”
“He certainly isn’t trying to hide his true colours,” Kepelheim remarked. “Charles, what does Morehouse’s letter say? Do you mind reading it aloud?”
“Not at all. It says the following,” Sinclair began.
‘Dear Charles,
This letter serves as my final confession, dear friend, and you receive it, because I am dead. By now, I suspect that you may already know some of my misdeeds, but because they concern you in particular—and from what I have learnt, also a lady known to you—my soul will not rest until I make a clean breast of it.
The Blood Is the Life Page 24