The Derring-Do Club and the Year of the Chrononauts

by David Wake

  “My schemes?” Earnestine said. She wracked her brains, but she had no idea what he meant.

  “Once the law is passed, then the opposition, the conspiracy if you like, will meet here in the very rooms above. I’ve seen to that.”

  Earnestine looked up and saw the vaulted brick ceiling, stained on one side where the water seeped through. All that weight held up by crumbling bricks weighed on her mind briefly, but not as much as the explosives that dominated the far wall. Earnestine was no expert, Charlotte would know, but they appeared to have stocked more with zeal than calculation.

  “Well, serpent’s egg, your kind won’t grow mischievous for I shall kill her in the egg.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Julius Caesar, Act 2, Scene 1.”

  “That’s nothing like Julius Caesar.”

  “With you gone, and your future self with you, and all of the Chronological Committee’s enemies blown to kingdom come, I shall take the controls.”

  “You’re operating under a misconception.”

  “I think not,” said Lord Farthing. “I intend to change the course of history. Tie her up properly!”

  “What? No, just– arr–uum, mmmm…”

  Rough hands yanked her head back and, as she opened her mouth to complain, a gag went between her teeth and pulled her cheeks back. She kicked, but they simply pushed her over, grabbed her legs and wrapped cord around her ankles. She struggled, but she was expertly trussed, and then dragged across to be dumped by the barrels.

  “Here, all your exciting belongings,” said Lord Farthing. He dropped her penknife, Kendal mint cake, a peg, the small sewing kit and so on, onto a barrel. He paused when he found the key. The fob dangled catching the weak galvanic light.

  “The future,” he said, “I think yours is over. Someone has to die.”

  “Mmm mm mm.”

  “What was that? This would be a more useful key,” said Lord Farthing. He showed her the key to the handcuffs and then dropped both onto the barrel with the rest of her kit.

  “Mmmmmmm!”

  “Language, hardly the expression for a young lady. I suppose you expect to escape, crawl over here and get the keys to those handcuffs – the stuff of Derring–Do.”

  “Mmmm mmm.”

  “Tie the rope to the pipe, man!”

  The thug did so, a midshipman’s hitch, and Earnestine groaned when she realised that she’d never get that undone. Even so, Earnestine tugged with her feet, but both the rope and the pipe were secure.

  “The Derring–Do Club, always ready for adventure–”

  “Mmm mmmmmmmmm.”

  “Now, now, my dear. Derbies secure?”

  The bludger man yanked her wrists, the handcuffs threatening to crush her wrist bones.

  “Aye, boss.”

  Earnestine squirmed, managed to roll over to look at Lord Farthing, just as his servant cast black powder all over her and the floor.

  “Goodbye, dearest Ness,” said Lord Farthing. He strode away, laughing. The other man took his time, walking away backwards and leaving a trail of gunpowder behind.

  Earnestine tried to spit, but couldn’t because of the gag, and her curse was muffled too.

  She pulled at the cord, but her ankles were completely secured. Far too far away, the keys on the barrel glinted in the weird galvanic illumination.

  The lights went out.

  It was pitch black.

  “Mmmm mmmm mmm mmmmmmm!”

  Mrs Arthur Merryweather

  Georgina told Charlotte to stand to one side: she would do the talking. For once, Charlotte did as she was told.

  Captain Caruthers arrived.

  Georgina explained.

  The Captain didn’t believe her.

  Neither did McKendry.

  The Porter scoffed too until Caruthers gave him a sharp look.

  “It is true, Captain,” Georgina insisted.

  Caruthers fished into his inside pocket and retrieved a set of much thumbed daguerreotype prints. He flicked through, selecting one, which he showed to Georgina. It was a double exposure of Earnestine and in the background… no, wait! It was a picture of Earnestine standing next to Mrs Frasier and behind them the panoply of a future city, complete with glass towers and flying machines with the Houses of Parliament in the distance.

  “That’s one of Miss Deering–Dolittle and Mrs Frasier together,” said Caruthers. “She’s due to grow into a remarkably beautiful woman, isn’t she? A flawless face, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  “Yes,” said Georgina, distracted.

  “The camera doesn’t lie,” said Caruthers.

  Georgina took the picture off him. Caruthers fanned out the others for her inspection. It was as if he were asking her to choose a card before showing her a trick.

  “I do not know the process used, I confess, but this is faked.”

  “They’ve built that street outside like they do in the theatre,” said Charlotte. “It isn’t real. It’s paint and canvas.”

  Caruthers shook his head: “Everyone is convinced.”

  “People used to think that it was impossible to travel faster than twenty five miles per hour,” Georgina said.

  “Which is an argument for the extraordinary wonders we see in these images,” Caruthers said.

  “Perhaps, or our gullibility to want these wonders, but this is some trick, a painting, scenery or some photographic illusion,” Georgina said, handing the picture back to the Captain. “I am certain.”

  “And the disappearing and appearing?”

  “A stage magician’s trick, nothing more.”

  Caruthers looked at her and then the picture, weighing it up in his mind. Georgina waited, knowing that anything she said would weaken her argument. He had to decide between his eyes and his heart. He flicked through the images: Earnestine, Earnestine, Earnestine with Mrs Frasier…

  “Porter?”

  “Yes, Captain?” said the Porter.

  “Get Major Dan on the… ringing box.”

  “Telephone, Sir.”

  “Major Dan on the Tele… how do you pronounce it?”

  “‘Telephone’, Sir.”

  The Porter went to collect it.

  “It might be quicker to send a boy?” Georgina said.

  “It’s the future,” said Captain Caruthers.

  “If the future is all telephonic contraptions, then I don’t want it,” Georgina said.

  “Nonsense,” said Caruthers. “Soon everyone will have these convenient contraptions.”

  “Sir,” said the Porter. “I’m afraid the cord won’t reach, you’ll have come into the office.”

  Caruthers made his way into the Porter’s room: “Major Dan… Major Dan… Can you hear me? Hear me? I said… yes… I’m at the Club… At the Club. It’s one of the Deering–Dolittle sisters… No, the middle one.”

  “What’s this?” Lord Farthing arrived from the side passageway.

  “Lord Farthing,” said Caruthers.

  “You shall explain to me,” said Lord Farthing.

  “Of course, Sir,” said Caruthers. He put the phone down, but he didn’t place the earpiece on the hook. Georgina opened her mouth to remind him, but the Captain shook his head almost imperceptibly.

  “Now,” said Lord Farthing, “what’s all this about?”

  “It’s about the Temporal Peelers and the Chronological Committee,” Caruthers explained.

  “What of it? The laws have been passed, the thing is done. I’ve just been assuring those meeting here, who disagree, that their fears are unfounded. All will be well. I’m just off to celebrate myself.”

  “My Lord, if you please,” said Caruthers. “Mrs Merryweather.”

  “My Lord,” Georgina responded, politely. “It appears that the Chronological Committee hasn’t been telling us the complete truth.”

  “In what particular?”

  Georgina thought for a moment: “In all particulars. Indeed, it is hard to think of any statement that has any trut
h.”

  “No truth!” said Lord Farthing, looking to Caruthers for explanation.

  “My Lord,” said Caruthers. “The suggestion is that this Chronological Committee has been pretending. There is no time travel and there is no future catastrophe to circumvent.”

  “Mrs Frasier assured me,” said Lord Farthing. He glanced back down a passageway towards the cellars as if seeking an answer there.

  “Mrs Frasier is a liar,” Georgina said.

  “How can you say that about such a woman? Your own sister?”

  “She isn’t my sister, my Lord, that’s the point.”

  “Then all our laws, all the legislation is for nothing.”

  “Surely not for nothing,” Caruthers said. “The worth of an idea should be for the idea’s sake, not due to its source.”

  Lord Farthing stepped apart. He thought for a moment, rubbed his smooth chin. He glanced down the passageway again.

  “I would be… we would be the laughing stock of the Empire,” he said. “No. We simply cannot believe you and–”

  “It is true, My Lord,” Georgina said. “There is evidence.”

  “It is not that we don’t believe you, but that we cannot believe you. As for evidence, I doubt that will survive for long. What’s more we’ve gone too far to turn back now.”

  “In the blood so deep it’s best go on than be mired here,” said Georgina. “Or something like that. Mrs Frasier said it.”

  “Exactly my sentiments. We rule an Empire, we cannot be revealed as fools. It will not do,” said Lord Farthing. “Caruthers, McKendry, Miss… I forbid you to discuss this matter, or to act independently upon this information. I forbid it absolutely.”

  “But my Lord–”

  “Forbidden!”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Your word as a Gentleman.”

  “My word, Sir.”

  “McKendry!”

  “My Lord,” said McKendry.

  “Miss?”

  Georgina had to object: “But my Lord–”

  “Miss!”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “You are not to act unless you have orders and you are not allowed to seek alternative orders,” said Lord Farthing and, after the young man had looked at each in turn to satisfy himself that they had understood, he went over to the Porter.

  “My hat?” said Lord Farthing to the Porter. The young man, so confident, so important, kicked his heels as he waited.

  Georgina was glad Charlotte was keeping quiet and, for once, looking down in a proper manner as if for once she’d realised her place. This was terrible news, but they would have to bear it.

  The Porter went into his office, and, as he did so he tidied up, replacing the earpiece on the telephone’s hook. He collected Lord Farthing’s belongings.

  “We will come out of this well,” said Lord Farthing. He took back his hat, white scarf, gloves and cane. “Our good deeds today will go down in history and your silence will be rewarded in the next life, Caruthers.”

  As he left, he nodded towards the passageway. Georgina saw a servant there, nod back and then turn away.

  Lord Farthing walked away with long strides.

  “So, that’s the end of it,” Georgina said.

  Caruthers smiled and pointed upwards. Georgina didn’t understand the gesture, but McKendry did and raced up the stairs.

  “But you’re not allowed to act unless you have orders and you’re not allowed to seek orders,” said Georgina.

  “He didn’t say anything about making preparations in case we do receive new orders.”

  “You’re not allowed to seek new orders,” Georgina repeated.

  “I’m not seeking new orders, but I–”

  The telephone device rang.

  The Porter answered and then offered it to Caruthers, who stepped into the office to speak into it.

  “Caruthers here… I’m afraid, Sir, I’m not allowed to talk about it. I’ve been given very strict instructions,” he said, and then after a pause, he continued: “If that’s new orders, Sir?”

  As Caruthers listened, McKendry returned down the wide staircase with a collection of young men from the rooms above. He looked to his Captain.

  Caruthers shook his head in reply: “We need proof.”

  The men turned despondently and made their way back up the staircase.

  “What sort of proof?” Georgina asked.

  Caruthers just shrugged.

  “Oh, honestly,” said Georgina.

  “Ted, see that they have a hansom back to Zebediah Row.”

  “Sir,” said the Porter.

  “I’ll see if there’s anything I can do,” said Caruthers to Georgina. “I don’t like this anymore than you do.”

  As Caruthers went upstairs to join the others and the Porter went outside to hail a cab, Georgina was suddenly left alone.

  Where was Charlotte… oh! The girl was bent over on the floor!

  “Charlotte, what are you doing?”

  Miss Charlotte

  Kneeling, Charlotte touched the dirt on the floor. The black grains stood out against the white marble. She licked her finger, dabbed a few grains to pick them up and then tasted them.

  “Charlotte!”

  It tasted very familiar.

  “Charlotte,” Georgina repeated, “Stop it at once, you’ll catch cholera or influenza.”

  “This is gunpowder,” Charlotte replied. “It came off Lord Farthing’s shoes.”

  Her gaze followed the faint line of dirt from the Porter’s hatch to the passageway. And then, with sudden purpose, she stood upright and made her way to the passageway.

  “Charlotte, come back this instant.”

  Georgina went after her, but only caught up once Charlotte was through the door and into the long passageway beyond.

  “Look,” said Charlotte, “a gunpowder trail.”

  There was a black trail, much like the one Charlotte had made to blow up the door of the Temporal Peelers base, but this one was thicker.

  “Oh my,” said Georgina, “we’ll have to get it all brushed up directly. I’ll see if I can find a maid.”

  Charlotte knelt down, touching the trail with her hand.

  “Charlotte, don’t touch that, it’s filthy. You’ll get your dress… ruined further.”

  “This is soot.”

  “All the more reason–”

  “The gunpowder! It’s already been lit!”

  “Well, it still needs–”

  “Lummy!”

  Charlotte leapt forward and sprinted along the line of soot.

  “Lottie,” Georgina shouted after her. “You’ll need a light.”

  But she didn’t.

  Round the corner, fizzing loudly as it belted away from her, was a bursting, fiery living ball of light. She ran past the burning, turned and stamped down upon the fire. It spluttered, flaring around her shoes and she had to lift her skirts to see it spread under her and ignite the trail behind her.

  She let out a yelp.

  Georgina appeared in the passageway.

  Charlotte realised that she needed to get well ahead, and make a gap too large for the conflagration to jump, otherwise her efforts would be in vain. It had turned a corner, twisting down a spiral staircase and the smoke was being drawn up as if it were a chimney.

  She coughed as she went into the fumes, almost tumbled, running down after the firestorm, and leapt over the moving barrier again, but this time she went on.

  It was a cellar.

  She went a further ten paces, counting in her head and then, without looking back, Charlotte–

  Barrels.

  Barrels and barrels.

  Weapons grade.

  Enough for a barrage like no other.

  A bound figure, writhing.

  Earnestine.

  Her eyes white and shining from the fire that was rushing into the room.

  And then, without looking back, Charlotte selected a place and kicked the trail of gunpowder: kick, kick, ki
ck.

  The trail was broken, a little, perhaps a foot, maybe more and then the racing fire caught up with her, flared where the tight line had been scuffed away.

  It fizzled, spluttered, thinning as it caught all the scattered grains.

  “I did it,” cried Charlotte.

  At her feet, the dusting of gunpowder flared with one last effort, a brief burst like a match catching, and then Charlotte’s undergarments, her camisole and petticoats – everything – burst into flames.

  Chapter XXVI

  Mrs Frasier

  The ignition blazed and the match took.

  Mrs Frasier lit her narrow cigar and inhaled.

  Jones was trying to intercept the Derring–Do Club.

  Lombard was preparing the Sanction in case they were discovered.

  Farthing was going to dispose of any opposition to the Chronological Committee.

  Soon, she thought – bang!

  Miss Deering-Dolittle

  “Mmmmmm!”

  Charlotte was screaming in panic, and, as she did so, she stumbled around in the gunpowder dusted cellar.

  Georgina nearly collided with her, nearly knocked her into the room beyond, the room full of barrels and barrels and barrels and barrels of gunpowder. Loose black powder was spread everywhere, all over the floor and all over a tied–up Earnestine.

  “Mmmmmm mm mmmmm!”

  Earnestine was having a fit, shaking her head like she was demented.

  All around Charlotte, fireflies gathered, whirling around in the vortex of flame as the heat tried to find an escape.

  “Lummy!” said Georgina.

  Charlotte flapped, slapped her dress with her hand, sending spiralling wisps of burning material spinning upwards and around.

  “Mmmmmm!”

  “Roll!” Georgina shouted. She pushed Charlotte, who spun, flew away and down to crash on the floor sending soot everywhere.

  Beyond the narrow kicked aside line, everything seemed to be on fire.

  “Mmmmmm!!!”

  Involuntarily, Georgina stepped back and her foot clanged against something. She looked down and saw a–

  “Mmmmmm!!!”

  Georgina grabbed the pail of water, turned, hesitated as she realised she’d have one shot, and then she cast the water. The ground fizzed and spluttered and a dark canopy of soot rose like a demon to envelope everything.