Riga’s face had crimsoned with anger, and he stamped his feet, which caused his twisted back to spasm. Sinclair and Stuart each took a side and helped the patient back to his bed.
“Here,” Charles said gently, “your passion does you credit, but you must rest to heal. I shan’t bother you men any longer tonight. If I may, I’d like to speak with you again tomorrow. Also, with the loss of your home, you’ll need new lodgings. As the prince is yet to return, I wonder if you’d consider staying with us?”
“With you?” Riga asked, his face lengthening in surprise. “But, sir, you know nothing of us!”
“I know that you saved my wife’s life, and she admires and trusts each of you. The Queen Anne dower house has six apartments and two drawing rooms, as well as a small conservatory, music room, a library, and servants’ quarters. You’ll have access to doctors, books, outdoor and indoor activities, and new friends. There’s a very nice piano in the music room, and the house is wired for electricity on all three floors. I’ve already spoken to the duchess, and we hope you’ll accept.”
The count looked at the other men. “We’re not like normal guests, my lord,” Stanley objected. “We’d not want to cause any trouble.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Stanley, I believe you may serve a wonderful purpose in our lives. We are ever expanding our families, and with your names added to the rolls, we shall be the richer for it.”
“May we give you our answer tomorrow, sir?” Riga asked. “We must confer with the ladies, and we’ll want Mr. Blinkmire to have a say.”
“Of course. Good evening, gentlemen. On behalf of my duchess, I thank you for your courage and friendship.”
They left the ward, and as the door shut, Riga and the others began to weep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
28th November – 10:02 pm
The White’s Row public house sat one block north and one west of the London Hospital, and by ten o’clock that Wednesday night was filled to bursting with harried medical students, single nurses looking to impress harried medical students, doctors longing for simpler days when they were merely harried medical students, and on this night, three peers of the realm.
“Henry, I can’t thank you enough for what you did for Beth,” Sinclair said as the trio shared a simple meal at a backroom table.
“As I said earlier, Charles, it’s nothing any other man wouldn’t have done. I’m only glad my blundering didn’t end badly. I should have assumed the prince had a good reason for insisting I remain in the castle. I wonder where he is, anyway?”
“It’s our experience that Romanov appears when he’s least expected,” the earl noted as a pretty barmaid arrived with a tray of Scotch ales. “Thank you,” he said, taking one and handing the others to Charles and Henry. “You probably enjoy working here,” he told the maid. The earl had a habit of striking up conversations at the oddest of times, but it usually had a purpose. “Do you see many medical men hereabouts?”
“All the time, sir. Mostly students,” the redhead answered. Her henna-dyed locks practically shouted, and her provocative attire followed suit in raucous harmony with the hair. She bent low to offer the handsome peer a closer look at the pillowy flesh above her neckline, causing Paul to wink as though interested.
“I’m happy to meet up with any man what wants a bit o’ schoolin’,” she teased.
“I’ve no doubt you’ve much to teach,” he answered with a bright smile. “I fear my mind tends towards other matters tonight, but you might help me with one of them. Have you noticed a dark-haired Scotsman in here of late? Lean of face, tall, dark eyes, muscular build?”
“Would that be the new professor, sir? Real good looker? Six foot tall, if he’s an inch. Stylish dresser?”
“That’s the one.”
She showed disappointment. “I hope you don’t work from the other side o’ the street, sir. Seems like all the handsome men do nowadays. I don’ reckon this doc’d be on t’other side, though. Dr. Gehlen looks right rugged ta me.”
“I’m sure he is, but I work from your side of the street, my dear,” Aubrey assured her. “Tis a very pleasant side, is it not?”
“My shift ends at midnight, sir. Iffin you’ve the time, then, I could show you some o’ them lessons.”
Charles handed the girl five pounds. “This is for the ale and the information, Miss. I fear my friend must decline your kind offer of instruction,” he added showing his warrant card. “Besides, he’s a very poor student.”
“You’re blue?” she exclaimed, seeing the police card.
Henry laughed. “This gentleman is as blue as they come. Not only his uniform, but also his blood, according to all the papers. Is that all we need for now?”
“For now,” Aubrey said, laughing as he handed her a fiver of his own. “Go buy yourself a pretty frock to wear out with one of these students. On me.”
She took the money and left, and Sinclair shook his head. “Do ladies ever stop throwing themselves at you, Cousin?”
“I’ll let you know,” the earl answered impishly.
“Did you ask about Gehlen for a particular reason?” the viscount enquired as he dipped a spoon into the thick stew.
“Not really. My father taught me to distrust anyone new until he proves his bona fides, you might say. The duke is the same, only he makes you think he trusts you, whilst he searches through your pockets and investigates every aspect of your life.”
“Keep your enemies close and talking,” Sinclair quoted. “I remember hearing him say that more than once. Do you consider Gehlen a possible enemy?”
“I’ve no idea,” the earl said, “but I’d be a fool to abandon a practise that’s kept me alive for many years. Actually, now that I think of it, I’ve disregarded that practise twice since Father insisted I use it.”
“Only twice?” Salperton asked.
“Only twice, and I’m looking at both instances. You and Charles. Our little duchess has the finest intuition known to mankind. She can spot a fraud across any ballroom, detect deceit in any crowd, and she does it all with a mix of grace and fire. Grace to all until they cross her, and then you’d best put on armour against the inevitable inferno.”
His cousin and the physician smiled at this, and the earl continued, “Let me explain. When Beth was a child and demonstrated an aversion to someone new—assuming myself older and wiser—I paid little heed to her intuition, yet in every case, without fail, her instincts proved to be correct. So, when Elizabeth told me in ’79 that she trusted you completely, then I also trusted you, Charles. She knew from the very first moment, that you were worthy of unswerving trust, Cousin. And Henry is much the same. Elizabeth told me that she knew instantly that you’re a good and honest man. She trusts you without reservation,” he told the viscount, “therefore, even if I hadn’t known you since Eton, Henry, I’d have placed full faith in you. Beth is never wrong.”
“I pray that I’m always worthy of that trust—from both of you.”
Charles had eaten half a sandwich and drunk all his ale, and he pushed away the plate, noticing the beginnings of the headache returning.
“I may have to leave soon,” he said. “Lack of sleep begins to catch up with me.”
“Charles, your injuries begin to catch up with you!” Aubrey exclaimed. “I should have insisted you go to bed right away.”
“No, I’m fine, and I needed to eat. Besides, this fellowship is more therapeutic than all of Emerson’s potions, though don’t tell him I said that.”
The earl had ordered the stew as well, and he broke a crust of bread and dipped it into the steaming broth. “Henry, if you’ll recall, I tried to bring you into our circle back at Oxford, and if your spiritual eyes are as clear as I’m told, then you would be a very great asset. You say Romanov knows your history?”
“So he claimed,” Salperton said, wiping ale from his upper lip. “I wish now
I’d paid more heed to your talk of the inner circle back in school. Better late to the party than not at all, I suppose. This Romanov’s a most peculiar man, though man is an improbable noun to use. I think him quite unnatural in his species. As is this di Specchio creature.”
“You know the countess?” Charles asked, leaning upon the waxed oak table. “How?”
“The woman had the audacity to show up at my home this evening! I’d returned to Montmore to make sure my resident patients hadn’t fallen into neglect during my unanticipated absence. I am grateful to the Lord that they all seemed well. One woman had worried me exceedingly, for the prince claimed she tried to leap out of a window, though how he knew it—well, that is another matter. This countess, though, she did not so much as knock upon my door! Just appeared as though invited, which I assure you, she was not. Then, when she’d made her threats known, vanished from sight without so much as a wink! My poor butler fainted, and he’ll probably take days to recover his senses. You’d think that working in a madhouse would prepare a man for unnatural occurrences, but perhaps we’re just not mad enough.”
Charles said nothing. He held the empty ale glass in his hands, staring at it as though trying to pierce its reflective surface, his thoughts far away.
Salperton cleared his throat nervously, fearing he’d misspoken. “Charles, I meant no offence. I pray you don’t think my idle comment about madness had anything to do with you or the duchess.”
Sinclair’s hands tightened ‘round the glass, whitening the knuckles. It seemed as though he wanted to break it.
“Charles, what is it?” Aubrey asked.
“I know you’re joking, Henry, but sometimes, I feel as though I’m going mad,” he whispered, looking up at his friends. “I try to be strong for Beth. Try to say nothing that might alarm her, but no matter what I do, Shadows follow us like hissing snakes.”
“Shadows?” Henry enquired. “Spirits, you mean? Charles, can you see them? I know the duchess often does. Anatole told me as much, but do you also perceive these creatures?”
The detective smiled nervously, and he moved the glass to one side. “Were you any other alienist, Henry, I’d find that question worrisome, but as you also experience such visitations, then yes, I’ll admit it. I do see them, but not the way Beth does. When they appear to me, it’s as though they want me to see them. It’s a game to them, I think. In Beth’s hospital room earlier, I felt a deep chill, which had no physical source.”
“Yes, I felt it as well,” Henry observed. “Paul, what about you?”
The earl pushed back in his chair as though distancing himself from the conversation. “No. Nothing. I don’t doubt either of you, and I’ve certainly seen Elizabeth’s reaction when she encounters these spirits, but they conceal themselves from my eyes. Charles, you look completely worn out. Let me walk you back to the London. Henry, why don’t you come back to Aubrey House with me, and we’ll discuss inducting you into the circle at our next meeting—that is, if you’re still interested.”
He and Salperton took to their feet, and the barmaid started towards them to clear the table. Charles also started to stand, but the ale glass inexplicably shot from the table of its own accord, narrowly missing Sinclair’s head by quarter of an inch.
Paul Stuart’s reflexes kicked into gear, and he nearly caught the glass, but it smashed against the wooden partition that separated the private area from the main area of the pub. Shards of sparkling glass rained down the wall like glittering ice.
“I think we’re not wanted here,” Henry observed matter-of-factly. “Let’s talk elsewhere, gentlemen, and if there’s a Bible in the duchess’s room, I think it’s time we use it.”
Charles made sure of her welfare as soon as they returned to the London and found her asleep. Then, whilst Charles held her hand, Henry quietly inspected every square inch of Beth’s small room; opening the closet, looking inside drawers and behind books, even opening each volume to make sure the titles and contents matched. After quarter of an hour and satisfied with his search, Salperton set a Bible upon Elizabeth’s side table and opened it to Psalm Ninety-One.
As Henry MacAlpin made his survey, Paul Stuart paid a quick visit to Cordelia Wychwright. She’d fallen asleep, thanks to the soporific ordered by Treves, and the earl kissed her sweetly on the cheek and left.
Paul then wired Kepelheim and asked him to bring as many circle members as he could muster to the hospital for a hastily arranged prayer meeting. It was half eleven by the time their small group convened: Haimsbury, Aubrey, Salperton, Sir Thomas Galton, Martin Kepelheim, and Arthur France, who’d taken up temporary residence with Edmund and Emily Reid whilst investigating the Lord Hemsfield murder. Kepelheim brought with him a collection of journals and papers, and he was the last to join the group.
“Charles, my dear friend, forgive my saying so, but you are a fright! Here I thought you well enough that I could leave London for a day or so, but clearly I was mistaken. Why aren’t you in hospital along with your dear wife?”
“Because he is just as stubborn as our duchess, Martin,” the earl told the tailor. “But then aren’t most of us? Thanks for answering my summons. It’s good to have you back. Did you discover anything in Cumbria that might help us?”
“Cumbria?” Henry asked. “Forgive me for sounding naive, but, sir, who are you? Are you a detective?”
Kepelheim laughed, and his round cheeks grew pink with mirth. “Our marquess asked me that once, or something akin to it. As I recall, what you actually said, Charles, was that my abilities might qualify me to serve as a detective, to which I intimated that I’ve been one all along.”
Sinclair smiled at the memory. “Has it only been two months since then, Martin? Not even that, actually. In some ways, it seems like no time at all has passed, but other times, as though we’ve lived a hundred years.”
“Yes, I should think so,” the tailor replied. “Your love for Elizabeth must make the days fly past, but these dangers that surround you both weigh you down. I can see it in your face, and in those remarkable eyes. What is it Elizabeth calls them? Oh, yes, ‘sea blue’. Now, to Lord Salperton’s question, I think I can provide an answer that will surprise him.”
“Surprise me?” the viscount asked. “How?”
Arthur France and Galton whispered together at the far end of the table. Two porters had been kind enough to deliver it from storage along with half a dozen wooden chairs. Kepelheim’s stack of papers and journals were spread out before him, and each man had a glass of water. France sipped his, still speaking in whispers with Galton.
“Forgive me, sir, but what was that?” the inspector asked the tailor. “Sir Thomas was just explaining who Lord Salperton is. I apologise for bein’ rude, Superintendent.”
“It’s my fault, Arthur. I should have made introductions as soon as you and Galton arrived. Allow me to introduce the membership to a man you’ll soon come to know very well. Dr. Henry MacAlpin, 7th Viscount Salperton. Henry, this is an old friend and colleague, Inspector Arthur France. Arthur and I have been friends for more than a decade. He will now serve as part of our investigatory team at Inner Circle Intelligence, when he’s not keeping an eye on my wife, that is. Of course, Sir Thomas and you are old friends.”
“Indeed. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Inspector,” Salperton said politely. “I look forward to getting to know you better. Do go on, Mr. Kepelheim. Why would your trip to Cumbria surprise me?”
“Ah, yes,” Martin said after swallowing the water he’d just gulped. “Well, the trip per se may not surprise you, but what I discovered whilst rummaging through Rose House might. That beautiful home is a fascinating place with deep historical significance. It overlooks Eden Valley, of course, but it is built upon land once owned by Uther Pendragon. Did you know that, Charles?”
“I’d surmised as much, based on hints you’ve offered, but also the memories of Christmas you helped me recover.
The tree was set up in the Pendragon Room. It overlooks Uther’s ruined castle.”
“It does indeed, but Uther’s tale is also connected to our viscount’s family. Henry, you’re related to Charles through more than just the Stuart line. You also have Sinclair blood in your veins. I discovered it in these scrolls, and I’d no idea that upon my return to London, I’d find you here, back with your family. But then, that is always the way with God’s timing, isn’t it? He brings us surprises when and where we least expect it. Charles’s meeting with Elizabeth in ’79 is but one example.”
“And we know that all things work together for good to them who love God, to them who are the called, according to his purpose,” Salperton quoted “It’s one of the first verses my mother had me learn. She said it would make sense as I grew older.”
“As do nearly all things,” Kepelheim observed soberly. “And so it is with our circle. This is what I discovered, and it’s written in code, by your father’s own hand, Charles. Here is the original, which you may pass around the table. I’ve translated it as closely as my limited knowledge of your father’s complicated ciphers allows.”
The tailor handed Sinclair a tanned leather book, wound about with a split leather cord. “This entry is dated the 11th of June, 1855, but before I read it, let me explain that Robby Sinclair rarely wrote down anything in plain English. He had a very strong fear of Redwing spies within his own house. Charles, as you know, your father and mother married in early September of ‘54, and very quickly after, she conceived you. Robby thought it was on their wedding night, in fact. A miracle, but then your life is filled with them. Here is my translation of the entry:
‘Not one wink of sleep last night, but it’s all been worth it. As I write this, I gaze at my newborn son. Never have I felt such exhilaration nor such anxiety, all at once! Angela did beautifully, despite the long hours of labour. Charles Robert Arthur Sinclair III is the perfect result of that very long night. He has my hair, Angela’s eyes, and the doctors say he’ll be quite tall. My greatest prayer at this moment is that the Lord will allow me to see him grow and perhaps have his own children one day. Though, I fear that may never happen. The creature appeared again last night, hovering over Angela’s birthing bed as if waiting for our son to be born! How I hate that loathsome spirit! I said nothing to Victoria. How could I? Only I can see the demon. Even my beautiful wife could not see it, but I did. Why, I cannot say. I’ve discussed it with Connor many times, and he believes it is a spirit-tie of the blood. I must speak to Martin about it, when he visits next week.
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