by A. W. Exley
Her eyes widened and her mouth made an 'O' shape. Then mischief danced in her hazel gaze. "How noisy were you two the other night?"
I glared at my friend. There were some conversations you didn't want to have. Alice had heard all the intimate detail I was prepared to surrender, and I certainly would not be asking Father if he overheard me giving myself to Seth. Time for a change of topic. "How are things with Frank?"
She glared at me but fell silent while Cossimo was hitched to the cart. Then we set off at a trot.
At home I found a new girl helping Magda prepare dinner. "Ella, this is Lucy. She'll take over from Alice."
"Hello, Lucy." The poor mite looked much younger than the fifteen Magda said she was, and Lucy's eyes widened on seeing me carrying the sword. I hung it by the back door. "I assume you know we have company tonight?"
Magda nodded as her finger ran down a recipe in the book propped open on the table. "Yes, your father told me this morning."
"Why am I the last to know?" I muttered. Henry must have written the letter a day or two ago, since Seth had already replied.
"Because you would fret that it would be too much for Sir Jeffrey and you would try to talk him out of it. We all thought it best not to mention it." Magda waved the wooden spoon at me.
Me fretting was only half of the problem. It bothered me what Seth would think of Father. His recovery progressed, but he wasn't the man I remembered or the man who led the local men into war. All while I washed and changed, I worried.
Father sat in an armchair in the parlour, his face freshly shaved and a large smile on his face. He also had a mug of beer, which I'm sure wasn't allowed by his doctor.
"About time we did this," he managed to say on seeing me.
"I fear the crew has turned mutinous," I muttered as I kissed his cheek. Before I could chastise him there was a sharp rap at the front door and Alice raced to admit a uniform-clad Seth.
"Ella." Seth kissed my cheek, then his attention turned to my father. I will admit I held my breath. Would he see the strong character within, or the invalid shell?
Seth raised his hand in a sharp salute. "Colonel Jeffrey, this is an honour. I'm thrilled to hear your recovery progresses."
As it transpired, I needn't have worried about putting the two men in my life together. Seth treated Father with respect and patience, and I fell in love with him anew over dinner.
It was an oddly formal meal with just the three of us. The others refused to sit at the table with the duke, saying it wouldn't be right. It was nothing against him as a person, who most people liked, but respect for his position. Those below stairs didn't mingle with those above. Except for me, straddling both worlds.
Tonight, Father headed up the table. Seth sat to his left and I to his right. Vacant settings stretched the length of the table to the spot directly opposite Father, where mother once sat. Henry took up his position as Father's aide and hovered at his shoulder.
The men swapped stories of the Great War through pre-dinner drinks and the entrée. I never knew that Seth and Father encountered each other often on the front, but both were responsible for the leadership of the Somerset lads, and they had campaigned side by side at times. Seth never rushed Father, but let him speak in the few words he could manage, filling in the blank spots from his own knowledge of the front.
As Magda served the next course, conversation turned from war to love.
"Your intentions?" Father asked, pointing a fork at Seth's head.
The duke winked at me before answering. "Entirely honourable, sir. I have asked Ella to marry me, but she declined my proposal."
Father huffed a quiet laugh. "Stubborn."
"Quite," Seth agreed perhaps a little too readily.
I stared at my trout, caught by Henry earlier in the day. I contemplated whether I had enough potatoes to build a fort to hide myself. Probably not. I looked up to find Father fixed on me. His gaze hovered along the line between warm and stern.
"Didn't ask me," he drew out over several breaths.
Seth laid down his cutlery and gave Father his full attention. "No, I did not. And I do hope you forgive the breach of etiquette. I was rather caught up in the moment when I asked."
Father raised an eyebrow and looked from me to Seth and back again.
"We were fighting." Seth explained. "Katana against claymore. Having found a woman who could wield a sword and so ably defend her people, I told myself I simply couldn't let her slip through my fingers."
Father let out a sigh and his eyes misted. He reached for my hand and squeezed my fingers. I loved that sword and remembered the solemn day when he left for war after placing it in my hands. Learning how to use it was a small way I kept his memory alive all the years he was absent.
He swallowed a large lump and winked at me. "That's my girl. Pretty too."
My heart swelled. The last few weeks had caused us all pain as we caught Father up on events. He had no memory of step-mother trying to kill him, and we told him that she and Louise succumbed to the virus. A white lie that I hoped he forgave if he ever learned the horrible truth.
Seth dabbed at his lips with his crisp napkin. "Well, her beauty is rather a bonus, but not what attracted me to her. And of course, she did say no."
Next the fork waved at me. "Why not?"
I let out a big sigh. While glad to have Father's mind return to us, I was less happy about the probing into my love life. "I love Seth, but I'm not ready to take up the mantle of duchess. I am too young, Father, and we are fighting a battle against an undead enemy. I want to do my part in the war, not fuss over seating arrangements at parties."
He nodded, his expression solemn and unreadable. Duty and doing your bit something understood all too well in our family.
"Your mother would be proud." The one sentence took Father nearly a whole minute to form and it brought tears to my eyes. He understood my need to work and not be an ornament.
Seth spoke as I dabbed at my eyes with the napkin.
"I rather suspect Ella would redefine what it means to be Duchess of Leithfield. I imagine her running classes teaching young women hand to hand combat and sword play, rather than embroidery and deportment."
That caught my attention. Seth didn't expect me to be the same sort of duchess as his mother and all the women before? Could I truly mould the role to suit the true me, rather than having to become a stuffy matron? That gave me something to consider. I might not make him wait until I turned forty after all.
The rest of dinner passed in conversation about current events and the Grim War. Seth told Father of our mission to London to read the secret documents and he gave his approval, so long as Alice stayed by my side. Then he said his goodnights and Henry wheeled him from the room.
I took Seth's hand and led him to the front door. He donned his overcoat and hat. On the front step, the evening wrapped around us like a thick blanket.
"Until morning," he whispered before kissing me.
As he drove away in the motorcar I realised I had forgotten to ask one important question—had he booked one room at the Ritz for us, or two?
8
At first light, Alice and I were ready to leave. Magda hugged us both, and then she tapped the end of Alice's nose. "Behave and don't go leading Ella into any trouble."
Alice snorted. "Of course not. I am her secretary and chaperone.”
She lifted her nose in the air in a haughty manner, but she winked over the top of Magda's head and I knew mischief was exactly on her mind. Frank's suffering was about to get a whole lot worse. She picked up the suitcase we shared for the trip and we walked out to the driveway. Dawn bled across the sky as we waited for the motorcar.
"Red sky in morning, shepherd's warning," Alice whispered the old saying. She wore a practical walking suit left behind by Louise. The dark green pinstripe was a perfect match for her chocolate hair and pale skin.
Alice's words shivered over my skin under my clothing and I hoped it wasn't a premonition. While my friend
looked the epitome of the working girl, I had tossed and turned all night, trying to decide what to wear. I had nothing stylish or up to date, and I would be the drab country mouse come to town. So I decided to embrace what made me different. I was the village slayer.
Polished high boots encased my calves. I chose dark caramel trousers for my legs. On my torso I donned a crisp white shirt, fitted waistcoat and a dark tweed jacket. While my attire was probably more suited to riding, it was also my slaying armour. The katana sat next to the suitcase. I wouldn’t go anywhere without my weapon.
Headlights swept along the drive before the motor appeared. Seth and Frank both stepped out. Frank's usual playful manner seemed subdued as he picked up the suitcase and popped it in the trunk. Alice stiffened and tried to ignore him as he held the passenger door open for her.
"You look ready to do battle," Seth said as he kissed my cheek.
"I'm no boy scout, but I believe in being prepared." I clung to the sword like a talisman. We might not face the undead in London, but the living could cut you with their sharp tongues. Today I headed into the beating heart of society, where the ton ruled. As the scullery maid who caught the attention of a duke, vermin might prove to be the least of my problems.
It was a journey of some 160 miles between our rural spot in Somerset and London. That was a long time to sit in a motorcar. Seth worked, a tray on his lap as he read dispatches and letters and penned his notes. Exhaustion swept over me and I slept for a part of the ride, propped up in the corner.
We broke the journey once to stretch our legs and to answer calls of nature, squatting behind trees but not too far from each other in case vermin lurked in the forest. We reached London just before lunch. As we approached the city, trees and fields thinned out to be replaced by buildings and smoking chimneys. The roads grew busier, horses mingled with their petrol-powered replacements.
I had only been to London once, a lifetime ago. As a young girl, Father had taken mother and me by horse and cart. It had seemed such an adventure to a bright and vibrant city. This visit was wreathed in the sombre tones of a country at war. Even the weather was dull and gloomy as autumn edged toward winter. The colour had faded from both my memory and London.
Life continued in the bustling capital, but precautions were evident. Pedestrians moved a little faster and looked determined. Beggars and the homeless were given a wide berth and regarded with suspicion.
Soldiers patrolled the streets. More uniformed men followed behind carts with loads draped in black canvas that were pulled by large draft horses. With rifles drawn and bayonets affixed, the soldiers ensured the dead beneath the covering didn't escape. Some pedestrians made the sign of the cross as the death carts passed.
"I thought London was free of the Turned?" I said to Seth, my face pressed to the window.
"That is what the War Office thought, until we turned up two underground hives in Somerset. Ever since, there has been an increase in incidents. They now suspect they may be sitting atop an army of the undead. Men are searching all the sewage tunnels and catacombs, looking for signs."
Our village and region had only a few thousand souls. The entire population of Somerset was less than 500,000 people, whereas the London area held over seven million. My mind didn't want to contemplate how large a hive might exist beneath the cobbled streets. Imagine if all the dead in the world rose up at once. We would drown under the subsequent wave. Was that what Millicent had planned all those years ago?
"Frank will drop us at the War Office. Then he will check us into the Ritz and collect us later this afternoon," Seth said as he packed away his papers into the battered satchel.
We stopped outside the grand War Office buildings on the corner of Whitehall and Horse Guards Avenue. The soaring building made of muted stone dominated its corner with wings spreading back down each road. Soldiers and civilians streamed in and out of the main entrance.
I dropped the leather strap of my beloved katana over my head. The weight was a comfort against my back. I could do this. Seth escorted us across the footpath when Alice tugged on my sleeve and pulled me to one side.
"This is madness, Ella. I'm a house maid. What am I doing here?" Her eyes were wide with worry and she kept glancing at every person who scuttled past. The women wore finely tailored suits or dresses with warm wool coats over the top.
She shouldn't worry on account of her clothing. I used to pay the dressmaker’s bill, and Louise's walking suit was as expensive as any other outfit that brushed by us. I took a moment to find the words to give my friend the courage to walk her new path. "You wanted a bigger life Alice, so here it is. Women are starting to rise up and demand more rights, and here is your chance to be a part of that. No man is going to point his finger and command you back to the kitchen. If you're feeling a little intimidated, just pretend you're Louise. No matter the situation, she was convinced of her own superiority over everyone else."
Alice snorted and her smile returned. "I can do that."
Confidence restored, we carried on up the steps and walked across a tiled lobby. We followed Seth up a winding staircase to the second floor. The balustrades were a dark wood so highly polished I checked my hair in a passing reflection. Lush carpets in deep green wool muffled our footsteps. Clerks hurried past carrying piles of folders clutched to their chests. Uniformed soldiers nodded to Seth and saluted as he passed.
Seth paused at one door in the long corridor and pushed it open to reveal a noisy typing pool. Alice was to have a crash course in typing, secretarial duties and how a government department ran, while we poured over dusty documents. An older woman bustled over, smiled at Seth, and took Alice under her wing. With my friend set to work, we carried on down the corridor. We approached wide double doors and Seth pulled them open.
We entered a lush outer office with deep reds on the walls and greens underfoot to offset the dark wooden panelling. Polished brass light fittings gleamed overhead. Another set of double doors beckoned. To one side a woman banged away at a typewriter, a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose. Across from her, the other desk was manned by an obnoxious looking little man who seemed overly fond of moustache wax.
"You are?" he asked with a nasal inflection.
Seth crossed his arms. "Don't be ridiculous, Bradford. You know who I am. We're here to see the general on urgent business."
The moustache pulled to one side as he sneered. "I'm not sure if he's in."
"I spoke to him yesterday morning; he's in and waiting for me." Seth took another step closer to the desk.
The secretary leaned back in his chair, as though he sought to escape. Then his gaze narrowed at me. "She doesn't have any authority to be here."
I wondered if I could use my sword as my authority. Before I could grab the hilt, Seth leaned his knuckles on the desk and glared at the bureaucrat.
"Miss Jeffrey is a special civilian liaison to the War Office. Not to mention she has single-handedly defended her village from the Turned and made several vital discoveries in our knowledge of the undead. What has your contribution been to the war effort? I doubt you have done anything more dangerous than sharpen a pencil. Good men have fought and died while you have hidden behind your desk."
This forceful Seth did strange things to my insides, and my knees quivered.
The office door opened and an older gentleman appeared. His tired eyes lit up on seeing Seth, and then they skimmed over me. "Is this the amazing young woman who discovered hives and queens? Come in, we have much to discuss. Really Bradford, why haven't you shown them in?"
Ha! I smiled my sweetest smile as we walked past Bradford's desk and I very nearly poked my tongue out. Even though I was a serious career girl and had an image to maintain, I still did it in my head.
"General, this is Miss Eleanor Jeffrey. Ella, this is General Donovan, head of intelligence for the Grim War." Seth slipped back into ducal mode as he made the introductions.
I froze. Did I curtsey, salute or something else e
ntirely? The general rescued me from indecision by seizing my hand and shaking it heartily. "Wonderful to meet you at last. The science lads are quite rapt with your hive and bee analogy. They have all sorts of ideas they are testing out."
"I am glad to be of some use," I said.
"We are here about a particular individual," Seth said as the general directed us to the chairs arrayed before his desk.
The general grunted deep in his throat. He clasped his hands behind his back and narrowed his gaze at Seth. "You must understand that what you suggest all sounds a bit… mad. Satanists, witches, and hocus pocus. It's the sort of thing to titillate bored ladies in their parlours, not how the army runs a war."
"Know thy enemy," I said.
His gaze snapped to me. "Do you really think one insipid man with rabid beliefs is behind all of this?"
"I've been inside two hives, both times the queens whispered that they needed more. I believe they gather an army for an unknown purpose. I also believe their true leader has yet to reveal themself." Did I really know my instinct was on the right path? It did sound mad. There wasn't the smallest shred of evidence to link Millicent to this war apart from the whisper in my head and a comment Elizabeth made. Pursuing Crowley was likewise a dart thrown in the dark.
The general huffed and moved to stare out his window. "This sort of talk scares people. It's the type of tale told to naughty children at night. We can't afford to spark panic. A scientific explanation gives people comfort. They need to believe this is something we can study, understand, and formulate a way to defeat it."
I glanced to Seth, but he held his silence. I searched inside myself, trying to find a way to show the general the pattern I saw in random circumstances. "In Somerset and Dorset we have found queens who control their followers. But what if there is another, higher authority controlling the queens? That is the enemy we must study and understand if we are to have any hope of turning the tide."
His gaze swung back inside the room and he considered me for a long silent moment. "You really think Crowley has some hand in this?"