by David Wake
“It was your idea?”
“Just an idea, a tiny fancy, a thought… but she teased it out of me and I made such embellishments to entertain her, until we both believed in the impossible.”
Earnestine nodded.
“It was a story,” said Charlotte.
“Yes,” said Uncle Jeremiah, “a story I started, so it’s only fitting I should end it.”
He had a box of matches and he was sitting on the trail of gunpowder. He lit one, letting it flare and then turning the match so that the wood caught. It was mesmerising.
Uncle Jeremiah looked at Earnestine: “What’s the line of Kipling’s ‘If–’ after ‘If all men count with you, but none too much’?”
Earnestine frowned: “If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance… RUN!”
Earnestine grabbed Charlotte’s hand and pulled. They were up, showing a good pair of heels, as they raced up the stairs, sprinted down the corridor and ran for their lives.
To anyone and everyone they passed, friend and foe whichever side they were now on, they shouted: “Out, everyone out!”
Earnestine was first to the Chronological Conveyor and hopped from one foot to another looking for the control.
“How does it work!?”
“Up here!”
“No, stand there,” said Chief Examiner Lombard.
The two sisters stood on the dais as the gaunt man went to the control lectern. He yanked at a lever and the floor shot upwards with a hiss of hydraulics and a burst of light. Suddenly, the tawdry future corridor was replaced by the pristine paintwork of the past.
Captain Caruthers was there to greet them: “Lottie! Miss Deering–Do– You’re injured.”
“Never mind that, run for it.”
“We’re not beaten, we’ll never retreat.”
“They’ve lit the explosives!” Charlotte yelled. She grabbed Captain Caruthers by the hand and then they were all running for the exit.
“Clear! Fall back!” Caruthers shouted.
The soldiers and gentlemen scampered under the iron archway and scattered into the street.
“How far?” McKendry shouted.
Charlotte thought about the barrels and barrels of gunpowder: “How would I know, but I imagine we’re nothing like far enough yet, because it’ll be–”
The moment was etched on their memories by an overpowering flash like magnesium powder flaring above a camera. It seemed that they were frozen, held trapped in a picture already, as the colour leeched from the scene. Then, with savage abruptness, they were plucked from the ground, hurled sideways, and hammered by the noise of the explosion.
The future had been underground, so the blast went up. The walls of the factory held long enough to deflect the flying shrapnel upwards and then they failed, tumbling down…
… broken.
Epilogue
Mrs Frasier,
Houses of Parliament,
St. Margaret’s Street,
Westminster,
London.
Miss Deering–Dolittle,
12b Zebediah Row,
Kensington,
London.
My Dearest Earnestine,
If you are reading this, then I am dead. That does not matter. Hopefully we will become have become firm friends and allies over the many years to come. It is the work that is important. You must carry the torch into the future. You will undoubtedly discover our secrets: what was done and how. Please understand why. I am confident that you are pragmatic and possessing that abundant common sense needed to see our great work through to the end. It is for the greater good.
Yours with highest regard,
Mrs Marcus Frasier.
Miss Deering-Dolittle
Earnestine fought the impulse to scratch. The dueling scar on her face hurt so, especially when she was anxious. She was still angry with Charlotte. I do not want to talk about it, she’d insisted. She’d been tempted to put the daguerreotype without Charlotte up on the wall, but the original picture of them all at the theatre was back in its place in the drawing room.
There was a scream.
Everyone looked at the ceiling briefly.
“Shame about your party,” said Captain Caruthers.
“I’ll have other birthdays,” Earnestine replied.
“But you only come of age once.”
Another piercing scream ripped the very air.
“Any news of Lord Farthing?” Earnestine asked.
Caruthers shook his head: “He got clean away. There was a report that he’d been seen in Paris, but that came to nothing. It’s not the sort of news you want as a birthday present, I know. They’ve declared all the laws null and void, so that’s something.”
“Yes, something.”
“It was all very awkward for the powers–that–be,” said Caruthers, smoothing down the chevron of his brown moustache with his free hand. The other held a package. “We’re not exactly hushing it up, but everyone’s too embarrassed to talk about it.”
“It is extraordinary how so many Members of Parliament changed their tune.”
“Have you any plans?” Caruthers asked by way of changing the conversation.
“I think we might take a holiday in Georgina’s country house.”
“It’s in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Dartmoor.”
“That’s Devon, isn’t it?” Caruthers said, and he turned to McKendry: “Mac, isn’t that where those lights in the sky were reported?”
“Near Mag… sorry, More Darling – is that it? – Chase,” said McKendry, “No, that was all just local superstition – absolutely nothing in it.”
Charlotte piped in: “It’s cold and horrid.”
“Lottie!” said Earnestine. “It’ll be a chance for some welcome peace and quiet.”
“You deserve it,” said Caruthers.
Earnestine checked her gold pocket watch, seeing the engraving under the cover about the future: the mechanism itself was running slow.
Captain Caruthers had been hovering with a package for far too long. He shuffled uneasily, so Earnestine prompted him: “Yes?”
“For you – birthday, and all that.”
Earnestine took the proffered present. She carefully removed the ribbon and paper to reveal what she already knew was underneath by the feel of the rectangle. It was a framed picture… or rather a poem.
“Oh,” she said, “‘If–’ by Rudyard Kipling.”
“You know it! It’s only been privately circulated in the club and regiment, based on that Jameson chap business; it’s not been officially published.”
Earnestine read it, remembering the lines: Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken.
“Foolish really,” Caruthers continued, “but I think we should put it up on the wall in every cadet’s room, a sort of motto, advice really, so I thought… that is… it’s good advice.”
“If you can keep your head…” she said. “Yes, thank you. Good advice indeed.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Caruthers. “It’s embroidery, you sew it, and when it’s finished you can put it up in a nursery. That is, when you have a son.”
Earnestine knew what she wanted to say to that, but instead she said, “Lovely.”
“And a husband, obviously,” Caruthers added quickly. “Anyway, many happy returns.”
McKendry was even more embarrassed: he’d brought a posy of flowers.
“Beautiful,” Earnestine said.
“Major Dan sends his apologies,” Caruthers added. He’d also sent an envelope, but that ended up unopened upon the mantelpiece where the clock used to be.
“Your Father wanted sons, didn’t he?” Caruthers said.
There was more screaming from upstairs followed by a stream of invective.
“Yes, he did… and Mother, probably for the peace and quiet,” Earnestine said.
“Earnest Deering–Dolittle was a great man.”
“Earnest
George Charles Deering–Dolittle – he couldn’t really have any more children, could he? You think he’s dead?”
“Well… I don’t know… There are expeditions that do disappear without a trace and then re–emerge many years later. Stanley, for example.”
She looked at the embroidery pattern: ‘Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, and – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!’
Birthdays!
Long awaited, always over too quickly.
However, she was a woman now.
Mrs Arthur Merryweather
“Oh, oh, bal– bal– bally hell – you watch your language, you stupid cow, I’m splitting apart!!!”
And Georgina went on in that vein, along with some ornament throwing.
Arthur had done this to her! Her Arthur. The utter–
“Oh! Oh!!!”
The younger midwife hovered by the bedroom door, much afraid.
Miss Charlotte
“Where did she learn words like that?” Charlotte asked, slightly horrified.
“She married,” Earnestine said. “I expect there was a lesson.”
It had been a wonderful birthday and there had been cake, and even more cake for Charlotte when Georgina had gone into labour, and Earnestine had looked lovely in her new burgundy dress. She wore her hair down to hide the scar, and her long, red curls jiggled when she turned her head. Charlotte was very thankful that Earnestine had forgiven her: they would never mention it again, her elder sister had assured her: I do not want to talk about it.
Captain Caruthers and Lieutenant McKendry eventually made their farewells, leaving Charlotte and Earnestine alone in the drawing room.
Earnestine lit a thin cigar, inhaling deeply and lost in her own thoughts.
The maid came in to clear up.
“Leave those, Jane,” Earnestine said. “I’ll gather everything up when we’ve finished. You and Mary can go out if you wish.”
“Thank you, Miss,” said the maid with a curtsey, “very much obliged, Miss.”
Georgina yelled from upstairs: “I am blowing, you stupid–”
And more words, such words that made Charlotte snigger even though she had no idea what they meant.
“School for you,” said Earnestine.
“Can I join a cadet college?”
“Hmmm.”
There wasn’t a Women’s Cadet Academy for Charlotte to enrol in; perhaps there never would be, but it was good to dream.
Earnestine seemed withdrawn, staring at the Lincrusta wall covering while seeing some other vista.
“Are you going to find Marcus?” Charlotte asked.
“Marcus?”
“Mister Frasier, your future husb–”
“I most certainly am not.”
“But it’s destiny.”
“I haven’t forgotten that you should be married off as soon as possible.”
Charlotte felt a certain horror at the idea and thought it best to change the subject: “Do you think Georgina will have a boy or a girl?”
“Either way, it’ll be a Derring–Do.”
Earnestine put the virgin embroidery, still in its frame, onto the mantelpiece, moving some envelope to one side.
“…or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build ‘em up with worn–out tools,” said Earnestine. She didn’t look happy.
“What was that?”
“Kipling.”
“It’s gone now, isn’t it?” said Charlotte with understanding. “That dream that Uncle Jeremiah and Mrs Frasier had.”
“Not yet.”
The End
will return in the
Invasion of the Grey
About the Author
David Wake launched the first of the Derring–Do Club novels when he was Guest of Honour at ArmadaCon 25. This instalment was brought out for Loncon 3, Worldcon. He’ll be picking another SF convention to release the next episode.
Thank you for buying and reading The Derring-Do Club and the Year of the Chrononauts. If you liked this novel, please take a few moments from your own adventures to write a review and help spread the word.
For more information, and to join the mailing list for news of forthcoming releases, see www.davidwake.com.
Many thanks to:–
Dawn Abigail, Siân K Bradshaw, Richard Clay, Andy Conway, Pow–wow, Marion Pitman and Jessica Rydill.
Cover art by Smuzz: www.smuzz.org.uk
Also by David Wake
NOVELS
I, Phone
The Derring-Do Club and the Empire of the Dead
#tag
NOVELLAS
The Other Christmas Carol
ONE–ACT PLAYS
Hen and Fox
Down the Hole
Flowers
Stockholm
Groom
The Other Christmas Carol
A tonic for the Xmas Spirit.
Evil forces threaten the festive season and only Carol Christmas can save the day...
A grim fairy tale told as a children’s book, but perhaps not for children at all.
______
“Genuinely charming…”
“You’re an odd person.”
“You’ve woven all our fears about the commercial side of Xmas into a very compelling Twilight of the Gods drama. Beautiful.”
“Yes. It’s amazing. Click publish before someone gets you to water it down.”
______
This novella is available as an ebook and a paperback.
I, Phone
In a world where phones are more intelligent than humans, but are still treated as mere fashion accessories, one particular piece of plastic lies helpless as its owner is about to the murdered...
The phone tells its own story as events build to a climactic battle that will decide the fate of augmented, virtual and real worlds.
______
“Excellent novel – by turns strikingly original, laugh–out–loud funny and thought provoking.”
“Want to read it again soon…”
“A thoughtful, tense and funny look at a future that seems to be already upon us.”
______
This novel is available as an ebook and a paperback.
#tag
In the near future, no-one’s thoughts are their own and privacy is a thing of the past. Everyone shares their lives in the global social media network and pre-meditated crime is no longer possible.
So when Detective Oliver Braddon finds a dead body, the victim of a planned murder, he is plunged into a dangerous investigation, and forced to use unorthodox means, as he tracks down a murderer, who can kill without thinking.
______
“...it gripped me from the first page with both its narrative flow – hitting the ground running – and its audacious concept. Right from the get go I found myself laughing and saying aloud ‘Oh my God, what a fantastic concept!’”
______
This novel is available as an ebook and a paperback.
The Derring–Do Club
and the
Empire of the Dead
“Are you telling me that all that stands between the British Empire and disaster are three young ladies?”
“My Lord, they are jolly plucky young ladies.”
______
The British Empire is under threat – luckily the Deering–Dolittle sisters, Earnestine, Georgina and Charlotte, are on hand to save the day. Unfortunately, they are under strict instructions not to involve themselves in any adventures…
…but when did that ever stop them.
______
“Full speed from the start. Well researched adventure set in a (slightly) skewed Victorian Europe.”
“Think 'Indiana Jones pace'. Its fast and dangerous and does not involve embroidery! [...] I can't wait for Number 2 from David Wake. My kind of Adventure! MORE PLEASE”
“A race against time; a race against evil; a race against the undead... Excellent.”
___
___
The first novel in the series
Putting their best foot forward, without showing an ankle, since 1896.
This novel is available as an ebook and a paperback.
Table of Contents
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Epilogue
Table of Contents
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV