by A. W. Exley
Nessy’s Locket
The Artifact Hunters 5
A.W. Exley
Nessy’s Locket – copyright © 2018 A. W. Exley
Published by Ribbonwood Press
All Rights Reserved
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No part of this book may be used or reproduced without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Author's Note:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Rachel
Also by A.W. Exley
About A. W. Exley
Author's Note:
This book uses British English
1
Lowestoft, early May 1862
“No. It’s impossible.” The legendary implacable façade of the villainous viscount cracked as a frown dug a trench between Nate’s dark brows. In the midst of buttoning his white linen shirt, he buckled at the knees without even looking if a chair was behind him. Luckily there was, or he would have ended up on his arse on the floor.
“Impossible? Given the nature of our relationship, I would think the word you want is inevitable,” Cara replied.
She had dropped the impossible revelation after her fingers had grazed the faint swell to her stomach while dressing. That, and for several days now her insides roiled on waking as though she had succumbed to a bout of seasickness. Confronted with growing physical evidence she could no longer ignore, Cara had told Nate of her discovery.
The outcome had not been planned. Cara had taken what precautions were available to her. At times they used those hideously thick and smelly prophylactics produced by the Goodyear rubber factory. Every morning she drank the tea to cleanse her womb. And yet—
Life finds a way.
She walked to the window and stared out across the Lyons’ Lowestoft estate. As she watched the sheep graze the front lawn, one hand rubbed her stomach beneath the silver silk of her morning robe. The change to her form was subtle and, despite Nate’s closest inspection of her body, had gone unremarked upon. Somehow creation had sparked within her and held on, burrowing into her to grow.
She didn’t want to be a mother and had never intended to fall pregnant or give birth. Rachel was different and a much loved addition to the family. The young girl was the daughter of her heart and through the youngster, Cara sought to save the child she had once been.
She held in a desperate sigh. With all the ancient and archaic books she had access to, she should have devoted some time to finding an artifact to ensure she stayed childless. Except Nate had a way of distracting her whenever she tried to study. With heated kisses and soft caresses, he made her forget the dusty books.
Now it was too late.
She tried to reach her husband through their mystical bond, but the connection wasn’t just closed—it was shut, bolted, and Nate barricaded on the other side. Was the prospect of a child with her so horrifying? She realised it would add another vulnerability to the infamous villainous viscount. A man in his position couldn’t afford to hand his enemies a weakness to exploit.
As much as it tore her apart to even contemplate, there was one solution.
“If…if you do not want this, I could find a doctor—”
She never finished the sentence. Nate was out of the chair and had his arms around her before the words formed on her tongue.
He kissed her and swept the very idea from her mouth so it could never be uttered again. When her knees threatened to fold from the heat that flared between them, he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers.
“I want this. You cannot know how much. It’s just that I never imagined it happening.” His voice was rough, and he opened the valve created by Nefertiti’s Heart to show her the turmoil he struggled to control. Hope and excitement warred with his fear for both her and child. He didn’t know if he should be shouting the news from the rooftop or locking her below in the secret cavern to keep her safe.
Cara turned in his arms, leaned against his solid chest, and laced his hands with hers over her stomach. Once, being in his embrace scared all the demons away. She had only to whisper his name to make the most horrific brutes scuttle back to their dark corners. But this adversary was inside her, and it terrified her.
One tiny life could be the end of hers.
“Childbirth is a curse for my family. Nan once said that God doesn’t want argumentative Eddington women to procreate. Her mother died trying to give birth to her, and the doctor had to cut her from the womb. Gideon nearly lost both his wife and daughter and was asked to choose who to save. Then when her time came, Isabella died for me.” She turned again to bury her face in his shirt, wiping the tears on the soft linen as they formed in her eyes.
In the oncoming battle, who would survive—her or their child?
“I don’t want to die,” she whispered. Why did the process have to be so fraught? Cows and sheep never laboured for days only for either mother or child to die. When animals expelled their offspring from the womb, both would be running around within minutes.
Nate’s arms tightened around her as though by sheer force he could keep her in the realm of the living. “I will defy God for the particular argumentative Eddington woman I love. You and the child will live, Cara. I promise you. We will find a way.”
He kissed her again as he wrapped her in his love to assuage her fears. Except the fear was too deeply rooted and it remained. But he did spark hotter feelings within, and the familiar ache of desire bloomed—the one that got her in the current predicament. She let the heat flow along her limbs; it wasn’t like she could get more pregnant, could she?
“How far along are you?” Nate asked when he stopped placing soft kisses on her neck.
Cara tried to think, but she had no idea which particular occasion planted the seed that grew within her. There were simply too many to choose from. “I’m not entirely sure, but sometime before the Curator stole me and locked me away. Perhaps three or four months?”
He made a noise deep in his throat that rumbled through his chest. “We have approximately six months at most, then. I will surround you with the best doctors, midwives, and shamans I can find. We can set Malachi loose to see if there is an artifact we can find to give you an easier time of it, and there may yet be something to discover in the Curator’s house.”
Part of the weight pressing down on her lifted. Nate took up her burden, and she had no doubt he would do everything in his power to help. But when the time came, it would be her body the baby would fight to be free from, not his.
“Shall we tell the others?” She wondered how much midwifery Amy could cram into six months of study.
Cara chewed the corner of her lip, thinking of Nan’s reaction. No doubt her excitement at a great-grandchild would be tempered by the knowledge that she might lose her granddaughter in the process.
“They
can wait. I must undertake a thorough examination of your body first.” Nate claimed her mouth again while he walked her backwards to the bed.
They were already late for breakfast—what was another hour?
When they descended the stairs some time later, there was an added bloom to Cara’s cheeks. They found the extended family finishing their breakfast. Nan and Nessy sat with Rachel between them, the young girl tackling her meal one-handed. Amy and Jackson sat on the other side of the long table in the bright and cheerful room. While they had their own cottage by the lake, the couple often joined the family to plan their day over breakfast.
Amy had redecorated the room in sunshine yellows while recovering from the disapproval of society for breaking off her engagement. Hiding at Lowestoft had sparked her relationship with Jackson and her decision to study medicine. Currently she was on a short break from college, and Jackson doted on his delicate rose.
“Morning,” Cara said as she took a chair next to Amy and across from Nan.
Nate took his usual spot at the head of the table, with Jackson to his left.
“You look quite flushed, dear. Everything all right?” Nan asked as she poured tea from a small Chinese pot. The white porcelain was decorated with teeny green oriental dragons. The handleless cup had the same repeating motif of flying dragons.
Cara slid the cup closer and wrapped two hands around it as she inhaled the sweet scent that rose off the pale brew. It appeared to have a slight green tinge. “Smells fabulous, what is it?”
“Peppermint tea. It will help with the nausea.” Nan winked and went back to drinking her earl grey with a dash of milk.
Cara discarded the more obvious questions. There was no point in playing coy with her grandmother; the woman always had a knack of knowing what Cara planned, often before she knew herself. More than once as a child she had climbed out her bedroom window only to discover her nan reading a book directly below.
Cara wouldn’t be at all surprised if her grandmother kept some artifact tucked in a pocket that conveyed mystical knowledge. Or perhaps the two women were simply too similar in nature, and the older had only to cast back to her youth to know what the younger one plotted.
“How long have you known?” Cara sipped the peppermint tea. The brew did indeed settle the unrest in her stomach. If only all her worries could be so easily soothed.
“Since you were returned to us. You’ve had a look about you, while Nate has looked blissfully ignorant. Until this morning. I’ve not seen him this worried since you disappeared.”
Nate was trying to drink his coffee, but he seemed to have forgotten what he was doing and just sat there, staring at his wife over the top of his cup. His brows would pull in a frown and then smooth out, only to have some new worry dig a trench again.
“Known what?” Rachel piped up, her head turning from one adult to another.
“What is this upset stomach that has so worried Nate?” Amy stared at the peppermint tea as though Nan was practicing witchcraft.
Nate put down his untouched coffee and arched an eyebrow at Cara.
She nodded, giving him permission to break their news.
He tapped a long finger on the side of the cup. “As you may have noticed, Cara has been sick in the mornings and Kirill has become more protective of her.”
“Is he protective because you’re sick?” Rachel asked, a frown marring her young face.
“In a way.” Cara smiled at the child to reassure her fears while they waited for Nate to continue.
Nate laid his hand flat on the table. “Cara is sick because she is expecting our child.”
Amy and Rachel both squealed and rushed to hug Cara. Jackson stared at Nate as though his boss had grown a third arm, and Nan and Nessy gave the smug smiles of those who already knew. Cara was bombarded with questions from her best friend and adopted daughter.
“When?” Amy wanted to know.
“Can Nate feel the baby like he feels you?” Rachel’s enquiring mind leapt ahead of everyone else and jumped to how Nefertiti’s Heart would affect the child.
“Bloody hell, how did that happen?” was Jackson’s contribution to the conversation.
“How?” Cara looked to the brutish henchman and then at her friend. “I’m so sorry for you, Amy, if Jackson doesn’t know how it might have happened. Do you have any medical textbooks with pictures you could show him? Maybe ones with rabbits.”
The former pugilist screwed up his face. “I know how, blast it, doll. I meant…well, you know…”
Amy wrapped her arms around her partner’s thick neck and kissed his cheek. “You know she’s only teasing, but I do have a book I can show you later. You still need to tell us when, Cara.”
Why did everyone keep asking her that? It wasn’t like she kept a diary of every time she and Nate were intimate. “I don’t know, sometime in January, perhaps? I’m hoping you can help me nail down a date.”
Amy frowned. “I’m not studying obstetrics, but when did your monthly courses cease?”
Jackson’s fork clattered to his plate. He blanched and shot Nate a horrified look.
“Perhaps you ladies could discuss that later? When we’re not around,” Nate suggested.
Cara snorted. Such delicate wee things. They could pummel another man bloody, but went faint at the mention of a woman’s monthly bleeding.
A sob from Rachel made Cara swallow her retort, and she turned to the young girl. Wide eyes shone with unshed tears.
“Will you send me back to my da now you’ll have a child of your own?” The tremor in Rachel’s voice sliced through Cara and silenced the room.
“Oh, darling.” She pulled the slight girl onto her lap. Rachel’s father had chopped off her lower arm to make his child a more pathetic beggar. Cara had vowed she would never go back there. “Never in a million years would I ever give you up, no matter how many babies I had.”
Although she did hope it would only be the one. She kissed the top of Rachel’s head. How could the child ever think she would be abandoned? “I am going to need your help, though. I have to confess that I don’t know anything at all about babies, and I will be relying on you and Amy to help me through. Plus I think you will be the most amazing big sister for the new addition.”
Rachel screwed up her face. “All right, but I don’t like nappies. Or rather what they contain. Do you think Nate could hire someone to do that bit?”
“Brilliant idea, and of course we shall hire a nanny.” Nate bestowed a rare smile on the girl. Despite his fierce reputation as lord of his underground enterprises, Nate had an enormous soft spot where Rachel was concerned. He called Cara and Rachel his humanity, and they kept him from succumbing to the darkness that tormented his soul.
“And we will have a nursery to decorate.” Amy winked at Rachel.
A serious expression, so similar to Nate’s, dropped over the girl’s face. She thought for a long moment. “Black.”
“Black?” Nan exclaimed. “Why on earth would you paint a nursery black?”
A sly grin crept over her lips. “This is the child of the villainous viscount. Society would expect no less than a black nursery for his devil spawn.”
Nessy chortled with laughter, and even Jackson sniggered.
Cara looked down at her stomach. She didn’t like the idea of carrying devil spawn, particularly after her time held prisoner by the Curator. There was another thing to worry an impending mother: not just would she survive, but would her child be human or twisted by her exposure to ancient objects of power?
“That’s enough of calling this baby devil spawn. We have more immediate concerns, like finding you a suitable tutor, miss.” She tapped the end of Rachel’s nose. The child had attracted Cara’s attention when they opened a school in the St Giles Rookery. She had a thirst for knowledge and seemed to spend every possible hour in the classroom. Now that they had removed her from her former classmates, Cara wanted to tailor a study programme to feed the girl’s hunger to learn.
A sp
arkle glinted in Rachel’s eyes when they spoke of education. “Science, mathematics, and mechanics. I want to study the artifacts when I get older.”
Singing, needlework, and deportment would most definitely not be on her curriculum.
“Very well, in that case you will also need history and languages. And I’m sure Nate will want to add fencing and shooting.” Any daughter of theirs would know how to protect herself, and she could still use a pistol or blade with one hand.
Rachel held up her left arm that ended midforearm. “We could add a weapon to my new prosthetic the engineers are making.”
“Not until you show your proficiency with a weapon, but otherwise I agree that something should be included in the schematics,” Nate said. He took a sip of cooling coffee. “I have engaged a new tutor for you. He starts next week and is open-minded enough to be looking forward to teaching a very intelligent young woman.”
Then they needed to start interviewing for a nanny. Cara smiled at her peppermint tea. She’d never dreamed her family would expand in such a way. A glimmer of excitement burned inside her. Nate would find a way to protect her and the babe. He simply had to, because she didn’t want to contemplate the alternative.
2
After breakfast, Cara changed into buckskin trousers and a fitted waistcoat in a fine grey check. She grabbed a charcoal-coloured wool coat from the chaise at the end of the bed and headed downstairs. She had promised Rachel they would visit the dragons.