Lady Helen and the Dark Days Pact

by Alison Goodman

  ‘By taking this oath, you will be dedicating your life to the Dark Days Club and its mission to ensure the safety of mankind,’ Pike said. ‘You will be swearing it to God, King and country and breaking it would be treason. Do you understand?’ He fixed her with a hard stare as if he could peel back her skin and expose any weakness or doubt. ‘Treason carries the death penalty.’

  He was trying to make her baulk; some kind of test. Well, she would not be cowed by an ill-mannered official.

  ‘I am fully aware of the gravity of this oath, Mr Pike,’ she said, pasting on a smile as cold as his own. ‘I remind you that I have stepped away from my family and from the normal expectations of a woman of my rank to take on this duty. My decision has not been without due consideration.’

  A fine statement, Helen thought, but in all truth the decision had been made in a split second on the night of her ball. She had chosen her path the moment she had saved Lord Carlston and lost the Colligat to Philip. A large part of that choice had come from her sense of duty and her rather shameful allegiance to Lord Carlston, but she had to admit now that another part had been self-preservation. She was a Reclaimer, and as such, a target for those renegade creatures that would choose to break the peace pact between human and Deceiver. She could not afford to be without the training and support of the Dark Days Club.

  Pike gave a nod and rose from his seat. ‘Then place your hand upon the Bible.’

  With the precious book in hand, Helen stood and pressed her palm against the soft leather. Although she had stated her commitment only seconds before, the magnitude of the moment caught her in her chest. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat and steadied her breath.

  Pike motioned the other two men closer. ‘Mr Hammond, Mr Stokes, stand as witness with me.’

  They both stepped forward. Mr Hammond met her eyes: appropriately solemn, but with a lingering tension around his mouth. He was still uneasy about the absence of Lord Carlston. She had to agree it did feel wrong.

  Pike handed her a piece of parchment. ‘When you are ready, Lady Helen.’

  She cleared her throat and read: ‘I, Helen Catherine Wrexhall, of my own voluntary will, do declare and swear to God Almighty and to my King and my country that from this day onwards I am a serving member of the secret order known as the Dark Days Club attached to the Home Office of His Majesty’s government. I acknowledge that I am subject to its rule, that I serve at the King’s pleasure, and that I will never, by deed or word, place the Dark Days Club in jeopardy. As a Reclaimer, I swear to uphold and police the Compact that stands between mankind and those creatures known as Deceivers, and in the event of that Compact being broken I will protect mankind with my life and put out of the world any renegade creature. I take upon myself the duty to save the souls of Deceivers’ offspring and reclaim them back to humanity when possible, and when it is not, to save them from a life of torment. I swear this in the presence of three witnesses, and under the penalty of death with my name and character forever held in abhorrence.’ She raised her eyes to say the final vow and found Pike intent upon her face, an unsettling avidity in his expression. ‘So help me God.’

  ‘Amen,’ all three men said in unison.

  Helen eased her grip on the Bible, her thumb pad ridged from the edge of the tooled cross. It was done now, sworn in the presence of God and on her honour. An unbreakable oath.

  ‘Well done, Lady Helen,’ Mr Stokes said. ‘You are truly one of us now.’

  He said it with such conviction, as if the vow immediately created the Reclaimer, but Helen was not so sure. Could she really put out of the world any renegade creature or its offspring? Even just imagining such an act brought disquiet to her soul. Yet surely if such duties were sanctified by God, they could not be wrong?

  ‘The oath, please,’ Pike said, hand outstretched. ‘And the Bible.’

  Helen passed both to him, her unease swamped by irritation at the man’s lack of occasion. He might at least acknowledge the solemnity of the moment.

  ‘We must all sign it,’ Pike said, smoothing the oath across the writing slant.

  He passed the pen to Helen. She dipped the nib in the ink, then scratched her name along the bottom of the paper.

  ‘Allow me,’ Pike said. He picked up the sand pot and sprinkled the fine dust upon her signature, then shook it off. ‘Your turn, Mr Stokes.’

  One by one the men signed and sanded their names. Pike studied the completed document. All, it seemed, was to his satisfaction for he said, ‘I understand that Lord Carlston intends to train you in combat.’

  ‘Yes,’ Helen replied warily.

  ‘And that your maid, Miss Darby, is to be your Terrene?’

  Helen nodded. ‘She is being trained by Mr Quinn, Lord Carlston’s Terrene.’

  Pike looked up from his task. ‘I know who Quinn is, Lady Helen. Your maid is not yet bound to your power, is that correct?’

  Helen searched his face, but could read nothing in its bland expression. ‘Lord Carlston said she must be fully trained before the binding ritual.’

  ‘Lord Carlston is right. She must be trained, and then she must be tested by myself and another Reclaimer. A Reclaimer other than Lord Carlston.’

  Helen glanced at Mr Stokes. Was that the real reason why Pike had brought him to Brighton, to test her and Darby? If so, it was clearly news to him too. He shifted his feet and clasped his hands behind his back, but made no comment.

  Mr Hammond was not so circumspect. ‘That is not how it is done. There is no Terrene test.’

  ‘It is how it will be done in this case,’ Pike said. ‘There has never been a female Terrene, let alone a female Reclaimer and Terrene partnership trained to fight as well as reclaim. There is doubt that such a pairing could be effective.’

  ‘Doubt from whom?’ Helen demanded.

  ‘Myself, and Lord Sidmouth.’

  The new Home Secretary did not have any faith in them. Now that was bad news.

  ‘Darby is a most resolute young woman,’ Helen said firmly. ‘I assure you that we will be as effective as our male counterparts.’

  ‘That seems highly unlikely, Lady Helen. Two weak elements do not make a strong whole. We would prefer that you have a male Terrene. I am sure you are most intelligent, but you are still a woman and therefore reliant upon emotion rather than logic, and subject to your sensibilities as are all your sex. You cannot be expected to have the same strength, strategic mind or logic competence as a man. A male Terrene would counter that deficit.’

  ‘I see,’ Helen said through her teeth. She had heard that opinion of women over and over from her uncle; there was no use trying to gainsay it. She glanced at Mr Stokes, but his face was impassive. No help there. She tried another tack. ‘Lord Carlston has no reservation about Darby’s capabilities. Or mine for that matter.’

  ‘Nevertheless, she will be tested.’

  ‘What if she fails?’

  ‘Then we will pair you with a more suitable Terrene and Miss Darby’s status will be reconsidered.’

  Reconsidered? Helen frowned: what did that mean? She opened her mouth to ask, but Pike had already turned to address the other Reclaimer.

  ‘Mr Stokes, I believe you have business elsewhere.’ It was a blatant dismissal.

  Mr Stokes paused for a beat, eyes narrowing at Pike’s manner, then said, ‘As you wish, Second Secretary.’ He turned to Helen and made his bow. ‘It was an honour to witness your oath, Lady Helen. Please, give my regards to Lord Carlston.’

  He left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Mr Pike rose from his seat and walked back to the window.

  Mr Hammond cleared his throat. ‘I think the test is unf—’

  ‘Quiet,’ Pike ordered. His attention was on the street below.

  Mr Hammond regarded him from under a resentful brow, but refrained from speaking.

  Pike must be watching for Stokes, Helen realised. She focused her hearing and tracked the Reclaimer as he walked down the stairs, retrieved his hat from Garner an
d departed through the front door. He had almost reached the corner of Marine Parade, and the full extent of Helen’s hearing, before Pike spoke again.

  ‘Mr Hammond, dismiss the footmen. I do not want our conversation overheard.’

  Lud, he had been waiting for Stokes to be out of Reclaimer earshot. What was coming now?

  As Mr Hammond obediently dismissed both footmen and closed the door again, Helen watched Pike carefully wrap the Bible back into its linen then fold the oath parchment in two and place it in the writing box. Every movement exact and considered. Perhaps it was his cold precision that sent a chill down her back, or maybe it was the way in which Stokes and Hammond jumped to his command. Certainly, he had the weight of the Home Office behind his orders, but it was more than that. He had an air of menace and ruthless intensity that was entirely his own.

  He picked up the letters and placed one in her hands and passed the other to Mr Hammond. ‘Read these, please. They will be destroyed once you have finished.’

  Helen sat and turned the packet over, aware of Mr Hammond doing the same. She heard the sharp draw of his breath as he recognised the Royal seal at the back. So she was right to be apprehensive.

  A flick of her thumbnail broke the wax on her own packet. She unfolded the paper, finding the signature at the bottom.

  In his Name and on behalf of His Majesty,

  George PR

  The letter was from the Prince Regent. Helen’s eyes flew up to the date. Carlton House, Wednesday, 1st July, 1812.

  Three days ago.

  Lady Helen,

  I have lately been apprised of your astounding abilities and your selfless decision to join the endeavours of that most noble of societies, the Dark Days Club.

  So the Prince Regent, like his mother, Queen Charlotte, knew about the Deceivers.

  On behalf of my father, I thank you for your devotion to our interests and to the protection of our realm and the British people.

  You see before you Mr Ignatious Pike. He stands as the emissary of my wishes via Lord Sidmouth, whom I have newly appointed as Home Secretary. The duties that Mr Pike places upon you have my full endorsement. By following his instruction you may be assured that you are serving your King, his Regent and your country. I shall, of course, never speak of this to you or any other, but I wish you to understand that you have my full admiration and the eternal thanks of a grateful nation. May God go with you.

  She was to obey Pike; not an attractive proposition. Yet she had given her solemn word to do her duty, and if that meant following Pike’s orders, that was what she must do. One’s word was binding. And one’s word sworn upon the Bible was unbreakable.

  ‘I wonder,’ Mr Hammond said, bringing Helen’s eyes up from the flourish of the Prince Regent’s mark, ‘why it has been deemed necessary for me to be reminded of my duty to his Royal Highness?’ His voice was as tight as his hold upon his own letter. ‘Is my loyalty in question?’

  ‘The letter is a reminder that your loyalty is to the Dark Days Club and not to Lord Carlston,’ Pike said. He held up a forestalling hand. ‘Do not waste my time denying that your loyalty lies with his lordship. We both know it is the case.’

  ‘And what if it is?’ Mr Hammond said. ‘Since his lordship is loyal to the Dark Days Club, then I am too, by default.’

  ‘Ah, now we come to the crux of the matter.’ Pike paused. ‘We are not convinced that Lord Carlston is still loyal to his King and country. He has been in exile on the Continent for over three years. Reports have had him in contact with French agents. There is every possibility that he is now working for the enemy.’

  Mr Hammond snorted. ‘That is ridiculous.’

  ‘Outrageous,’ Helen said. ‘Have you seen what his lordship braves for his country? Besides, the other Reclaimers have made him their leader and you, the Home Office, have agreed to it. Why would you do so if you do not trust him?’

  ‘As a former Terrene,’ Helen caught Pike’s almost imperceptible wince of loss, ‘I am well aware of what he faces, and I am also well aware that none of the other Reclaimers have the ability to lead as Lord Carlston does. Nevertheless, the reports must be investigated. We would be fools to assume that he is still loyal. Three years is a long time to be exiled from one’s country. Particularly under such ugly circumstances.’

  ‘You want us to spy on him.’ Mr Hammond drew himself up into ramrod opposition. ‘I refuse to do so. Most adamantly I refuse.’

  Pike sighed, the sound of a weary adult dealing with a truculent child. ‘You and I both know you will do as I say, Mr Hammond. You have put yourself in a position where you cannot refuse.’

  Mr Hammond stepped back as if he had been physically hit. ‘Are you threatening …?’ He paused, clearly trying to compose himself. ‘Mr Ryder said that would never be used against me.’

  Pike lifted an eloquent shoulder. ‘I am sure God will forgive Mr Ryder’s broken promise more readily than he will forgive your sick perversions.’

  Helen’s breath caught at the disgust in Pike’s voice. Sick perversions? She looked up at Mr Hammond. His eyes slid from her own.

  ‘Lady Helen,’ Pike said, ‘I see that you are wondering —’

  ‘No!’ Mr Hammond lurched forward. ‘I will do as you ask.’

  Pike nodded. ‘I know you will.’ He plucked the letter from Mr Hammond’s hands. ‘Nevertheless, Lady Helen should know that you are a sodomite.’

  The word burst through Helen, sending freezing shock into her very core. Sodomite. Could it be true?

  Mr Hammond gave a small breathy moan, like a wounded animal, and backed away. The very shape of his body, curled into anguish, confirmed Pike’s words. And, of course, now it made sense. That fierce loyalty to Lord Carlston, and the terrible sadness behind it. Poor man; it seemed not only the sister was in love with his lordship. Yet how could she, a Reclaimer, have missed such clear devotion? Helen shook her head. Because it had not even entered her mind to see it, let alone name it as such. Dear God, if it came into public knowledge, Mr Hammond would be hanged. No wonder he was at Pike’s mercy.

  ‘You must forgive me for being so indelicate, Lady Helen,’ Pike said, taking the letter from her slackened grasp. He walked to the hearth and tossed both letters into the fire. They ignited, burning in a tall reach of bright orange. ‘But there is no place for a lady’s sensibility now that you are a Reclaimer. I have no doubt you are disgusted by his presence, but you must overcome your revulsion.’

  Mr Hammond whirled around, a fist raised. ‘Stop, or I’ll …’

  Pike stepped up to him. ‘You’ll what?’

  ‘Mr Hammond!’ Helen sprang up from her chair to stand between them.

  ‘He will not hit me; he is a molly,’ Pike sneered. ‘Don’t make me reconsider, Hammond. Your proclivities have made you useful. Be thankful for that.’

  Helen saw Mr Hammond’s eyes bulge, his judgment gone in a blaze of fury. His fist tightened. He was going to hit Pike — she could see it in her mind’s eye, a possible projection of the next few seconds that could never be taken back.

  Gathering all her authority, she thrust her face in front of his and yelled, ‘Mr Hammond, sit down!’

  He met her eyes for a terrible moment, and she saw the anger and fear and humiliation coursing through him.

  ‘Please,’ she said more gently, ‘sit down.’ She touched his arm, directing him to the sofa.

  He lowered his fist and sat, stiff and slow as an old man. ‘Lady Helen, you should not be burdened with my —’

  ‘I am not as delicate as some would have me, Mr Hammond. Do not be anxious on my account.’ She gave him a fleeting smile.

  In truth, it was a strain to put aside her shock, but it was worth the effort: the dreadful fear and rage in his face had gone. Shame, however, still lingered in his eyes.

  She took her own seat again. ‘What is it you want us to do?’ she asked Pike coldly. ‘I cannot see why Mr Hammond’s …’ She paused, searching for a way to spare the man more humiliation. ‘Wh
y his nature has anything to do with spying upon Lord Carlston.’

  ‘I do not need you to spy upon his lordship,’ Pike said. ‘You two have an entirely different task.’

  Helen glanced at Mr Hammond. Whatever surprise Pike was about to deliver, they must stand together. Mr Hammond gave a small nod.

  Pike walked to the fireplace again. ‘I believe you have both met the man who was Mr Benchley’s Terrene.’

  ‘Lowry,’ Mr Hammond said grimly. ‘Bartholomew Lowry.’

  ‘Yes, that is the man.’

  ‘You saw him at Vauxhall Gardens, Lady Helen,’ Mr Hammond said.

  Helen nodded. She clearly recalled the man at Samuel Benchley’s side: lank hair, oily brow and barely contained violence. A low man, Mr Hammond had said at the time. Even Benchley had remarked upon his Terrene’s ‘predilections’ with distaste. She glanced at Mr Hammond. Did he share the same proclivity as Lowry? Was that why Pike had said he would be useful?

  ‘Lowry claims he has Benchley’s journal and it contains a register of Deceivers that we do not know about,’ Pike said. ‘He is offering to sell it to us. You two will meet with him and strike the deal.’

  Helen sat back. Why on earth would Pike choose her to deal with someone like Lowry? She opened her mouth to ask, but Mr Hammond was already on the attack.

  ‘Lowry is trying to gammon you,’ he told Pike. ‘Lord Carlston says Benchley did not leave any papers.’

  ‘Lowry has proved the journal’s existence and the usefulness of the information within it,’ Pike said flatly.

  ‘In what way?’ Helen asked.

  ‘In a way that has satisfied those who need to be satisfied.’

  He was not going to give her any more than that; it was in the stiff set of his shoulders.