Mrs. Auric joined him on the settee. They both stared at the fire.
“I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well, sir.” Redoubling her enthusiasm might not be her natural reaction to hostile company, but it was what she’d come here for, to make an impression.
“Thank you, young lady. I apologize if I was off with you just now. It’s just that I’ve been bedridden for days, and I can’t abide being cooped up like this.”
“Same here, sir. I’d much rather be out—”
“Not that I don’t have every right to be off with you, Miss McEwan, knowing what you’re doing to my son, and to all of us.” He brushed aside his wife’s objection. “No, Winifred, sometimes you must be cruel to be kind. This needs nipping in the bud once and for all.”
Sonja shifted her weight. “I understand how you feel, sir. It’s not my intention to disparage your name in any way. Quite the contrary. I’d do anything to uphold it, to defend it. Derek means the world to me.”
“And I appreciate that, but it’s simply not good enough. Not when you have a tainted name like yours.” By this point every gaze in the room bore into her, including the monstrous hare’s. Only Mrs. Auric couldn’t look up. “Look, missy, your head’s in the clouds, and so is my son’s. He wouldn’t hear reason the other day, insisted on bringing you here, so I’ll have to tell you what I told him, in no uncertain terms. You will never marry Derek, you will not ruin his prospects, and you will never, I repeat never be a part of this family. Do I make myself clear?”
“Can I have that in writing?”
He leapt to his feet, almost frothing with rage. “I beg your pardon!”
“In writing—” Sonja widened her stance, plonked her fists on her hips, “—so I can mail it back to you from our honeymoon. It will be black and edible.”
“What? Why?”
“So you can eat crow.”
“Don’t give me any of your lip! The Challenders said you were a bad influence on Derek. It’s not hard to see why.”
“Yes, and it’s not hard to see the resemblance between you and several generations of cowpat.”
He stepped forward, reddening. “Common as your father’s reputation suggests. We’ll be well rid of you, and your bloody name.”
“All right, you can insult me all you want, but don’t start on Father like you know even a fraction of what he’s about, what he’s had to put with for years from preening gobshites like you. You want to listen to smear gossip, feel free, but don’t pretend it’s in anyone’s best interest but your own, and don’t come it the sage when we all know sages do nothing but sag with old age. And by the way, that’s one godawful smoking jacket. Derek and I are getting married. And you’re right when you say I won’t be a part of your family, because he’ll be a part of mine, and you know what, we’ll have a family of our own, too. So sod it. Yes, sod it. Sod this meeting. Sod what anyone thinks. And bugger you all sideways with a prizewinning leek, you obnoxious turds. How’s that for a daughter-in-law?”
Before anyone could answer—they were gobsmacked anyway—she marched onto the newspaper rug and kicked the monstrous wooden hare into the fire. Its creosote went up like an inferno. “What do you know—I can cook.”
She left and didn’t look back.
***
First the acrid smell of burning tar, then wispy fingers of green smoke, then shrieks from the living room combined to rip Derek from his telephone call, from the ambivalent news relayed to him by Mrs. Benjamin, Headmistress of South Hampshire Grammar. He stuffed a handkerchief over his mouth and dashed through the choking cloud into the living room. There Father, Brunnie, Uncle Rufus and Beardsley were busy stamping out flames on the sheet in front of the fire. The monstrous wooden gargoyle was now a black, charred oval lump about the size of a rugby ball.
“What happened? Where’s Sonja?”
“Gone. And good riddance, I say.” Father growled as he flung the upper windows open, then coughed louder and longer and with more rage than anyone else. “Brunnie, what the devil possessed you to fetch it out of the fire?”
“The smoke, Father. I-I thought I could extinguish—”
“Nearly burned the whole bloody house to a cinder, didn’t you. Yes, rather than let it burn up into the chimney, which is what a chimney is for, by Christ, you went and—oh, to hell with it. I’m in no fit state for this.”
After comforting Mother, who wept by herself on a chair beside the automatons, Derek grabbed a tennis racquet from the sideboard—exactly what he’d use it for he couldn’t say—and sprang into outraged action. He grabbed Brunnie by the collar. “What did you do to her, you shit? What did you say to Sonja?”
“Get off. Father, get him off me. I’d rather not fight with ladies present.”
Derek shook him until things dropped from his pockets. “If you insulted her in any way, I’ll knock you into the middle of next week. That goes for any of you. You know how much she means to me. What did you say?”
“Oh, what do you think I said? Wake up, son.” The cheap indignation in father’s words as he fanned the smoke toward the open windows with his jacket spelled the whole scene out. Derek shoved Brunnie onto the settee.
“You told her what you told me?”
Father coughed up a storm.
“It was worse than that,” Mother answered for him. “I’ve never been so ashamed in all my life. The poor girl went out of her way to be civil, even after everyone was rude to her—and I do mean everyone.” Disbelief rather than scorn tightened her brow as she glanced at the others. “I’ve never said this before, but today I feel ashamed to be a part of this family. It was wicked how you all treated that girl. Obscene and wicked. And you most of all, Sebastian.”
“Father? This was your doing?”
The old man hurled his jacket onto the floor, began unfastening his cuff-links. He muttered something to himself, then said aloud, “I didn’t realise she was such a spitfire, your little muse. Impressive girl. Stood up to us all and didn’t back down an inch.”
“Why in God’s name should she have to? I bring her here as our guest, and all you can think to do is—If you were any other man I’d beat you senseless.”
“Son, you don’t understand. It was for your own good. For all of you.”
“That’s...insane talk. Absolutely insane. And I’ve listened to it for the last time. Sonja and I are going to be married, and I don’t intend to ever set foot in this house again. That’s for your own good, because right now I’m finding it hard not to wipe the floor with the lot of you.”
“Hold it there, son. Just hold it right there. Give me a chance to explain.”
“Not on your life.”
“And I’ve had enough.” Mother spoke with such brittle resignation it turned everyone toward her. It was as though her constant optimistic centre everyone took for granted like the light of the sun, had flickered out, darkening the room more than any smoke could have. “You’re too much, all of you.” Her sobs hardened when she cast Father a wounded stare. “Sebastian, I never thought it would come to this—” She fingered her wedding ring, sniffled a few times, “—but you’ve tried to ruin our son’s happiness, and it’s killing me. I don’t know what you’re doing or why, but you’re no longer the man I married. He would never seek to sabotage his little boy’s love like this. And it’s so out of the blue, I just don’t understand why you’re being so cruel. It’s like you’re obsessed with breaking Derek’s heart...and Sonja’s.” There she burst into tears.
Appalled that no one saw fit to console her—they were all too shocked by her speech—Derek held her close, whispered that everything would be all right. He’d see her as often as humanly possible, so long as it wasn’t here at Auric Manor, and so would Sonja.
“Everyone, please listen. I’ve something to say, and I fear this may be my last chance. Please, Derek. Please, Winifred.” Sleeves rolled up, Father used the backs of the armchairs for support as he inched to the middle of the room, where the gargoyle had been. Hi
s hands shook. His look of intense worry did not belong. An unwavering, imperious man all his life, or at least as long as Derek had known him, he didn’t beg audiences, never displayed nerves, and saw dissent as something to be stepped on. Here, however, he was frayed and contrite.
“Perhaps I should have told you this sooner—especially you, Winifred—God knows I tried. But the truth is I’ve never been as frightened in my life.”
“What is it, darling? What’s wrong?” Mother, even at her most confrontational, had the biggest heart in the room.
“I’ll be leaving soon, love. And I’m afraid I might never see you again.”
Auric Manor had never known such a silence.
“Father?” Brunnie sounded so small he could be at primary school again, pleading for Father to save him from those playground bullies.
“You all know about the upcoming vote on ad hoc conscription in Parliament?” Everyone nodded. “Well the vote’s just a formality. The bill will pass. It’s already been decided.” He swallowed. “And the list has already been drawn up...for all those to be conscripted in the first draft. I’ve been informed—quite unofficially of course—that my name is on that list.”
“Sebastian?”
“I’m sorry, love. I just didn’t know how to tell you. My old commission as an officer in the 109th has been renewed, with a promotion to Colonel, for imminent deployment to West Africa, to Benguela, where I’m to assist in the communications and logistics operations. Apparently my media savvy and political acumen as a businessman are just the ticket over there. Quite what selling stationary has to do with battling insurgents is anybody’s guess, but there it is. I’m to leave as soon as they see fit, which could be the morning after the bill is passed, or a few months from now. And there’s no chance of appeal. I either fly to Benguela or go to prison.”
“Sebastian!”
“So you have to understand, my only concern now is for you. I shan’t be here to protect you all, to fight your battles in London or in the press if needs be, perhaps for a very long time. Benguela is the most dangerous place on Earth right now—the tower there is constantly under siege from Coalition insurgencies. I might as well be going to the giant red spot on Jupiter. So you see an alliance with the McEwan family now, in my absence, puts you all in jeopardy. Ralph McEwan’s enemies will attack us, and with no one to publicly fight for you, to smooth it over in London, I don’t know what will happen. I’d burn the Leviacrum to the ground before I’d see the empire turn on you like they did the McEwans.”
“But isn’t that our choice to make?” asked Derek.
“Our choice, or your choice?” said Brunnie.
“Either way, Sonja shames the lot of you,” Derek replied, “even when she isn’t here. She grew up facing more scorn than we’ll ever know. Even you had to admit she’s impressive, Father. Now I’ve no wish to heap controversy on our family, but if you live your whole life according to what other people find palatable, you won’t have lived at all. I can promise you Sonja and I will never do anything to disgrace the Auric name. If the empire wishes to hate us for that, then the fault lies with the empire, not us. And it’s as simple as that.”
“And I love you Sebastian, always have, always will, wherever they send you, but I also agree with Derek, with all my heart.” Mother’s soft fingers pressed his hand, made him feel a hundred times stronger, able to fight the empire and win if he had to. “I’ll be there at the wedding, on my own if needs be, but I’ll be there.”
The others watched the carpet at their feet.
“In that case—” Father rolled down his sleeves now that the cold air from outside had gripped the room in the absence of heat from the fire, “—we’d best discuss this further. If you’re absolutely determined to go through with this, we must talk it through. Rufus, fetch Beardsley, will you? Have him bring us some refreshments in the library. Everyone else, follow me. If you’d be so kind. This concerns you all.”
Chapter Fifteen
Descent, Ascent
Nude, knees folded up to her chin as she sat on a wicker chair, Meredith stared long and hard at the empty pin-striped suit bespattered with blood on her bed. Denton’s suit. It couldn’t harm her in any way, but it was the most dangerous thing she’d ever had in her possession. The way it draped over the edge of the quilt, expensive, disembodied, seemed symbolic in a thousand different ways. It was the ghost of the man whose death she’d caused. It was mankind, faceless and threatening. It was the husband she didn’t have, maybe never would have. It was the mystery man stealing her sister away. It was the utmost apparel, the man’s suit, that no one in the world looked down upon, worn by kings and politicians and the heads of secret orders. It kept women in their place, a symbol of power and masculinity. It was the empire itself, a beautiful, carefully designed thing that appeared seamless until you looked closer—it was stitched together, and those stitches could be undone. It was her absentee father. It was the role she and Sonja had had to assume themselves, without real guidance these past years. And it was the figure she would always have to look out for, watching over her shoulder, suspecting her of last night’s shocking murders.
The empty suit, bespattered with blood, would haunt her forever.
It was late when Sonja telephoned, well after the last of the anti-conscription demonstrators had been carted away in irons from their last stand against the fence outside Vincey Park, not half a block from Meredith’s apartment. They’d been dispersed from Downing Street, where Prime Minister Pinder had declared them “cowardly insurrectionists”. Then they’d rallied in their hundreds on Bond Street, in defiance of the proposed military draft to replenish the empire’s depleted troops in West Africa, where the Coalition had renewed its campaign to destabilise the Leviacrum’s stranglehold. A bloody confrontation with police on Bond Street had scattered the demonstrators, but pockets of protestors had set up camp in other public places across London. They had not lasted long. The extinguishing influence of the Leviacrum Council was akin to a loyal, ravenous dog unleashed upon command.
“I wanted to ring you yesterday,” Meredith said, “but it got too late, and I didn’t want to upset you, you know, with things being so fragile with Derek.”
“What do you mean, upset me?”
“It’s about Aunt Lily—she’s in hospital.”
“Why?”
“I’m not quite sure how to say this, Sonja, but she’s not—” No, it wouldn’t do to say any more over the telephone. Someone might be listening in. “She was stabbed.”
“No! Is it serious?”
“Not life-threatening. She’ll recover. But there’s more—Cathy was shot, during the same robbery, and she’s in worse shape. A number of other people were killed.”
“How awful. Have you been to visit them?”
“Not yet. The police are being rather tight-lipped about the whole thing. A detective came to see me yesterday, said Aunt Lily and Cathy are receiving the best of care, but he wouldn’t tell me where they’re being looked after.”
“Damned odd. What reason did he give?”
“That they’re the only living witnesses, and they might be able to identify the swine that did it. Their whereabouts need to be kept secret.” To protect a bigger secret.
“Yes, that’s good. Stash them out of harm’s way. Do you think I should come to London? You’ve no one there with you. I should really be there.”
“I’m all right, really. Donnelly’s been a godsend, checks up on me every chance he gets. Let’s just wait and see what happens.”
“All right. If you say so, Merry. But I still wish I was there.”
One of those frustrating pauses took root, so Merry decided to change the subject. Ending the call so soon would be unthinkable. She’d felt so vulnerable in her empty apartment, so reclusive since the incident. Sonja’s voice smuggled in the safest tones of home. “Have you spoken to Derek yet?”
“I have.” A blast of either rage or bonhomie echoed through the receiver. “The foo
l proposed. Can you believe that?”
Meredith let out the last inkling of the breath she’d held, before slumping, chin-on-collar, into the abyss she’d teetered over for the past two days and nights. The tenterhooks had slipped, her last hold on the family she’d known was lost, and she was utterly, eternally on her own. “He did?” More than just on her own; she was unwanted, superfluous, obsolete.
Stop being so bloody selfish.
“His family were dead against it, told him so, the rotters. They even said it outright to me, to my face, in the most evil ambush you’ve ever heard of, at their house this morning.”
“They sound monstrous.”
“They are. Oh, they are. You’ve no idea. But the strangest thing happened just now, and I tell you what: it’s all going ahead. The engagement, the wedding, with the blessing of Derek’s family. I couldn’t believe it when Mrs. Auric showed up with Derek, not an hour ago, to give me the news. I’d given the whole thing up for dead this morning after the set-to I had with the old man. Oh, you’d have been so proud of me, Merry—they tried roughing me up, the lot of ‘em, but I bided my time and then gave ‘em hell, full triple-deck broadside, right where it hurt. Even booted an old heirloom into the fire. Ha! Ha! You’d have laughed till you wet yourself.”
“You...really made an impression, then. How on earth did they come around after that?”
“Mrs. Auric—Derek’s mother—said enough was enough when Derek vowed to never clap eyes on any of them again. The ruckus reached white heat, by the sounds of it. She’s not normally like that, though, never so much as raises her voice in anger, so it tells you how volcanic the whole scene must have got. Anyway, to cut a long story short, the old man came out with his big secret in the nick of time. He’s up for the draft soon, and rather than see his family split for good, he reluctantly gave his blessing to the engagement. It really would have been a scandal if Derek had cut the family loose altogether and we’d eloped on our own. At least this way the Aurics still have their successful son. The old man must really have thought he could talk Derek out of it. Tried his darnedest to pull it off, right to the bitter end, but it back-fired. I gather he hadn’t expected me to make such a passionate show of it, and it impressed him no end. Derek said that tipped his decision, but if you ask me the old man’s wife squaring up to him like that shook him to the core. I wish I’d have seen it.”
Imperial Clock (The Steam Clock Legacy) Page 21