“They are freshly baked, as soft as if they were just pulled out of the oven. Magnificent offering. Such variety. Have you seen enough?” I asked, smiling at the sound of Sully’s laughter.
“Oh, yes. This is far less interesting than I had hoped. Take me to this restaurant now, Purefoy, or else the evening is a complete disaster!”
And so, we left, turning our backs upon the still-shouting Rose. I will admit that I felt a deep sense of satisfaction in not explaining myself. I have never behaved in the manner expected of me by anyone in the Doctoral Council, and I wondered why they expected anything different this time. I am also well aware that as Hyde’s personal apprentice, there is no requirement for me to explain myself to Rose. MacDougal, possibly, but certainly not his assistant.
“I only wish we had gotten a copy of whatever it was he filed against you,” Sully said later as we sat before a resplendent feast, all procured from those funny little windows. “Just for a good laugh. We should have Smithson file something terrible against him, although I think Rose has enough difficulty, being himself, day after day. He does not require additional trouble, possessing enough of his own already.”
A quick aside . . . In the company of O’Sullivan, I realized that the top windows are nearer the ceiling than I thought, and while I have no difficulty glimpsing their offerings, it was necessary for me to relay them to the shorter Sully. I had not previously noticed our discrepancy in height, and appreciated his cheer in suggesting that I either rattle off the offerings, or procure a chair for him to look his fill.
I had not considered this before, and realized that you would not be able to view the upper offerings with such ease. I hope this does not trouble you or make you unwilling to visit what has become my favorite restaurant. Please allow me to relay the upper rows, to procure whatever you desire. I do not wish you to be put off by this, and want you to love the place as much as I do. I would like nothing more than to describe the contents of the upper windows to you, as I did Sully, and hope this does not dampen any enthusiasm for such a wonderful menu.
“It was rude of me to ignore him,” I said, not feeling a bit of remorse, and not expecting Sully to either. “Would have been more rude to not show up at all, possibly, but at least you had the entertainment of seeing him irritated.”
“Pathetic creature,” Sully said. “Looks like he might blow over, should a strong wind arise. Filing a complaint! How ridiculous.”
“I suppose I am lucky that he did not file a complaint with the police,” I said. “Probably Detective Drummond would be delighted to arrest me again, for being in possession of an unauthorized research cadaver.”
“Oh, I thought you had heard,” Sully said. “Drummond was relieved of his services with the police. I think he has retired to someplace up North. Aberdeen, perhaps.”
“Drummond was relieved?” I said, blinking in surprise.
“Oh, yes,” Sully said. “Word is he had a habit of arresting the wrong men. The wrong man,” he added, pointedly. “Let me assure you that his new replacement will not be as foolish, considering that he is being supervised by your neighbor.” He grinned. “By Trantham.”
By Trantham! I will admit that a hundred pounds of concern was released from my shoulders, dearest E. Most of my nightmares involve finding myself back in that police antechamber. To know that Drummond is not lurking and waiting for me to make even so much as the slightest misstep is a great relief to me. I was well aware that my release was not a popular decision, police-wise, and have been dreading the repercussions of my freedom.
To discover that there are to be none is dizzying.
Who are these Gentlemen and how can they possibly exert so much power within the city? Even with their unarguable social positioning, it is still a shocking capability. Do they truly control the city at their every whim? Is that possible?
And quietly, I think . . . I am to be linked with them? The idea is both thrilling and alarming.
I had a nice day yesterday, Sunday. To my surprise, Dog Benge arrived at the town house, inviting me out for Sunday exercise. I think he was envious of missing out on the restaurant the night before. I have learned that the Gentlemen are a jealous group, envious of any loss of entertainment.
A walk! Such freedom! And to be accompanied by another Gentleman meant that all fears of the mysterious could be, for now, put aside.
Benge told me to dress warmly, that he had heard rumor that I was in desperate need of fresh air. I challenged him to find me something that did not result in an intake of soot and grime. He asked if I cared to make a wager, with regard to his ability to discover some, but I have also been warned against betting against the Savage and his uncanny talent of winning money. My declining to wager caused him to laugh.
Again, I asked Hyde to accompany us, and again was blessed to receive a very blistering reply, which I will not transcribe, not even to you, darling E. Too many insults to keep straight, and The Darkness must have been heavy upon him because he was quite creative. Suffice it to say, I merely handed him a bottle of whisky, and left without saying another word.
To my intense horror, I realized that Benge intended to use the funicular. He took a great deal of pleasure in my obvious dismay, deciding to regale me with many past instances of tramway disasters. Things like the brakes failing, causing the craft to plummet to its destructive death. He went on and on for the entire time it took for us to purchase tickets and board and I was finally so irritated that I hardly cared as we squealed our way up the incline.
We had purchased First Class tickets, which meant that the gawkers and gapers of the platform, who were all avidly staring at the Indian, were not packed into our compartment. I was never more pleased for the procurement of an otherwise empty carriage. The reaction he inspires everywhere we go must be tiresome (it certainly is to me, and I only witness it), but Benge seems completely oblivious to such attention.
He asked me about the restaurant, how Sully liked it (I knew he was envious about missing it!). I told him about it, all about the odd meeting with Rose. He laughed and laughed about that, and assured me that he would have Smithson procure a copy of the complaint filed.
“He wishes to slay you with paperwork.” Benge laughed as we chugged our way up the dismal incline. “I only wish that you had taken out a knife and shown him exactly how a proper butcher would slice him up!”
“And be falsely accused again.” I sighed. “No thank you.”
This funicular did not take the path I was expecting, traveling (in its chugging way) toward the Palace of Holyroodhouse. Intrigued, I ignored completely my difficulties with such modes of travel, and was too intent upon the adventure to mind as it came to a hellish and shuddering halt.
“Must be a difficulty with the brakes,” Benge quipped, clearly struggling against laughter. I ignored him, and when the porter opened the carriage door, I quickly descended to the platform.
I have not explored this area of the city much, and yesterday was no different. Dog Benge was not willing to linger, to let my tourist eyes overtake his plans. He hurried me forward, through the park that lay on the outskirts of the Palace, and I realized then that we had reached the base of one of the cliffs.
There was a path, a true path, clearly outlined and set at an easy grade. We set out at a brisk clip, using our canes for unneeded leverage. I will admit a keen excitement to find myself on such an outing. . . . I have not done so since accompanying your father on his weekly jaunts amid the hills. This path was in no way comparable to the sharp inclines favored by your father, and yet I was prepared for that eventuality.
One of the things I enjoy most about Dog Benge is his tendency toward silence. He does not believe in useless chatter, and so I was allowed the pleasure of walking and enjoying the incredible surroundings. We were traveling upward and making good time, and I could see the beginnings of the city spreading out ben
eath our lofty climb.
And what a city it is! I could not believe the view that was being presented to me. I could see the narrow closes of Auld Toon. I could see the neat rows of New Town. Kirk spires and chimney pots. Airships churning through the darkening morning skies! With each increment upward I could see more and more, and as the fresh air rushed into my lungs, I took a rich, fragrant breath.
It was as if I were suddenly in an oasis. For months now, I have breathed in the dank scents of the city. I realized yesterday that I had forgotten how clean air could smell! How cleansing! How necessary!
In a flash, I was back in the Highlands. I was with you, wandering alongside the Loch. I took breath after breath, each one revitalizing me. My thoughts became clearer. My steps lighter.
There was a splendid little tearoom arranged at what Benge referred to as the midpoint of our climb. He suggested we pause for a cup, and I was more than happy to. The interior was brightly painted and cozy, with a large picture window set just against the mountainous edge, which revealed a breathtaking view. All of the city lay sprawled beneath us. I could see the tops of carriages. I could see the funiculars.
We had jam tarts and tea, seated at a table against the window. Benge explained that Edinburgh is comprised of seven hills, and that we were viewing the glory of it. I could see the Firth, with its sparkling waters. I could see ships tossing to and fro upon it. And the castle looked as splendid and stately as always, firmly ensconced upon its own hill.
I asked Benge if this reminded him of his home, and he simply nodded.
We set out again, determined to reach the top. I was dismayed to see that weather was pouring in, clouds darkening with the grey threat of impending snow. The wind was picking up somewhat, making the stroll a bit more strenuous, but still it was nothing compared to the treacherous walks favored by your father!
Bring a pair of sturdy boots, E., as well as your warmest coat and gloves. I know that you often walk with your father, so this climb should be nothing to you. And the view! Well, I will insist that you see it, and believe you will love it as much as I did.
There is an old ruined shell of a building up there, pieces of stone walls standing against the ravages of time. I know how much you enjoy ruins, and this one will surely please you. I found it eerie, imagining the past lives of whoever had once tried to live and survive here, and fantastically, I began to feel as if that someone were watching me.
I know you are laughing, darling girl, over my active imagination, but I know what I felt. It was as if someone, someone sinister, were watching my every move. Hidden against the stone walls. Moving through the gathering fog. There were others hiking, forming quite a crowd, but none that I glanced at seemed to be particularly malevolent.
I pushed aside all thoughts of the past, all previous traumas. I was with one of the Gentlemen. Why waste a perfectly good walk with paranoia?
This imagination of mine! How you must be laughing, shaking your head at my ridiculous folly! I anticipate your teasing me on our own walk. Let me warn you that, should that happen, I will definitely find a way to avoid the notice of your maid or whatever chaperones we will be burdened with. A kiss, in all likelihood, will be called for, and even I would be willing to face the malevolent ruins to gain a kiss from your lips!
We walked on briskly, moving upward, until we had reached the summit. The wind was ferocious now, as were the approaching clouds, but I was simply too pleased to be surrounded by such air that I hardly cared! The view was obscured now, but there was a tall stone pillar that provided an odd seat. I took it, and closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply again and again.
When I opened them, Benge was gone. I began to grow worried, knowing that we were at a dangerous locale. I struggled to not think of the past, of the subterranean horror. The rocks are treacherous, easily deadly beneath such winds, but he appeared just as I slid off the rocky seat. He suggested that we hurry back, lest we wish to be snowed upon, and we did just that.
It is still snowing, as I look out from the bookshop window. A glance at the clock assures me that I can catch the last posting of the night, and so I am regrettably ending this letter. I find that I am enjoying the regularity of our letters, since I have added the enhancements, but even they cannot assuage the intense longing I have for you. Letters are of little comfort now that I know you love me. I wish to see you, and am ardently counting the days until you arrive.
Mr. Stuart has asked me to come by his tavern tonight, but I think I will cancel. He wishes to discuss books and literature, but I find myself so tired from my academic pursuits that I feel it a burden to conduct such talk. I have no wish to be that deeply in Auld Toon alone, and know that is an unnecessary wander. I believe I will return home, sit in front of the fire, and imagine the luxury of your sitting beside me!
All my love,
Your devoted Alistair
Chapter Twenty-Seven
November 21
Dear Miss Campbell,
My name is Olivia Whitcomb, and I know that we have not yet made acquaintance, but I am in possession of your recent letter, and I had originally planned on writing a far more cheerful note but have discarded that entirely. Forgive me, but I must speak plainly to you, as if we are already truly the friends I envision us to be. Miss Campbell, please, you must come to Edinburgh now! Immediately! It is your Mr. Purefoy! He has been injured, grievously, and I know that, were I in your place, I would want to know that my beloved has been hurt.
I do not know many details, and I am sorry about that. I do know that your Mr. Purefoy went missing on Monday night, and that his friends were adamant to find him. They had been scouring the city, and Dr. Hyde contacted my brothers to see if they had seen him. Of course, that caused me alarm, and I immediately asked Dr. Hyde the nature of what had happened. He did not provide many details to me, but I was dogged, for your sake, Miss Campbell. I insisted that he contact me when your Mr. Purefoy was discovered, and you can imagine my relief to have received a note that he had been found.
I believe he had been kidnapped. I do know that he is injured, but I do not know how or the extent of it! Miss Campbell, I am sorry for that, but be assured I have been unwavering in my attempts to learn more!
I was frantic for more information, but Dr. Hyde has always been a difficult man to converse with. Suffice it to say, I finally contacted Lacey MacBean, who is the wife of one of Mr. Purefoy’s friends. Mrs. MacBean possesses a calmer nature than mine own, and also has the capability of discovering more information than I am able to. She learned that your Mr. Purefoy has, indeed, been greatly harmed, but is alive, and after a brief discussion we decided that you should be called for.
I do not know if you do in fact love him as much as he loves you. I know only that he is devoted to you, and if you feel the same, then I would think it appropriate that you come. Lacey has made the arrangements, procuring Upper Class tickets on the airship for you and your maid. Her carriage will be waiting for your arrival, so if you are not willing to come then please contact her at her address as soon as possible.
I have not told Hyde that you are coming, because he refuses to leave Mr. Purefoy’s side. None of his friends have left, and even Mr. MacBean, Lacey’s husband, is there, and is providing her a rare opportunity to take matters into her own hands. Which we are.
We are ladies, Miss Campbell. The men might be intent upon healing his physical injuries, but we know that there must be healing of the heart.
I am enclosing the air tickets, and I hope that you take advantage of them.
Mr. Purefoy needs you, Miss Campbell. I do not know much about healing, certainly not as much as Dr. Hyde, but I do know the power of love. I know he loves you beyond all reasoning, and if you even feel a tenth of what he does, then you simply must come and help him! If you do not love him, then I am at a loss, and I suppose it would be better if you ignored our summoning, rat
her than hurt him further in this time of pain. But I know that you do!
Lacey says for you to be strong. Be calm. Pack a small bag only, and she will provide anything else you need during this time. We are offering you our friendship and support in this terrible tragedy. She is sending this note special post, directly to your cottage address, thereby expediting your awareness of this horror.
Oh, hurry, Miss Campbell! Hurry to Edinburgh and your beloved Purefoy!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
November 21
Hyde Town House
Dear Miss Campbell,
I have been instructed that everything I write will be destroyed by you. I have been assured that you will speak to no one about what I have to say. I have been told to speak plainly to you, to give you a full accounting of everything that has happened.
My name is Dog Benge, and I am a friend to Alistair Purefoy.
He is a Warrior, Miss Campbell, someone who would be appreciated by the members of my tribe. Before I begin, you must understand that your man went through a very rough trial and yet he came through it with strength and honor. I am proud to call him friend, and I think you will be proud of having been his lady.
I know that you are aware of recent events, that there have been murders, and that Purefoy was falsely accused. My friends and I had been hunting down the true suspects and were involved in the investigations when the unthinkable happened, and your Mr. Purefoy was captured.
We know that the capture occurred late Monday night. Hyde knew that Purefoy was at Hay’s Bookshop, securing an order. We know that he posted a letter to you. We know that he did not return home after being seen at the Air Station, and so we assume that the capture happened at that point.
He was assailed by chloroform that was soaked in a handkerchief and pressed against his mouth and nose. It would have been simple enough to do this. The pavements of Edinburgh are crowded, and it would be simple to make such an attack, with a man being pulled into a narrow close, with no one the wiser. We believe that is what happened, and then Purefoy was loaded into a carriage and taken away. Purefoy is a very strong man, and without the chloroform, it would have been close to impossible for him to be overwhelmed.
The Curious Steambox Affair Page 29