A Christmas Keepsake (19 page)

“Has anyone come out of this drive?” she asked.

The driver nodded, glowering at them. “Quite a nip in the air, miss,” he said, pointedly.

James’s lip twitched. “Would there be anything in your regulations against taking us to the nearest inn for a warming drink? I don’t believe I’d notice, of course, if you had one as well.”

The man smiled broadly. “Mighty kind of you, sir, mighty kind indeed.”

“Did anyone come out?” Christy repeated.

“Yes, miss. Another ’ackney.”

“Another—it was our tail!”

“What happened?” James asked.

“Oh, ’e arrived ’ere just after you two disappeared through that there ’edge. Pulled abreast of me, ’e did, then the passenger told the jarvey to turn into that there gate. Come out again after no more than fifteen minutes I’d say.”

Christy cast James a rueful glance. “Now what?”

“Let’s go back, I think.”

“Any particular inn you was thinking of, guv’nor?” the jarvey asked, his tone hopeful. Obviously he didn’t intend to let them forget the promised treat.

“One of your liking,” James said, and helped Christy into the carriage.

“What is this, a standoff?” She slid over to make room for him. “They now know that we know who they are.”

“Do we?” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I know whose house they went to. What I cannot understand is Sir Dominic’s involvement in anything so mystifying. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems.”

“Unless he really supports Prinny.”

James shook his head. “He’s a member of the Opposition—as are most of my cousin’s friends. And very outspoken about Prinny’s extravagances. You may remember that from Sir Oliver’s comments.”

“
Everyone
your cousin knows is outspoken about that.” She sighed. “That also provides an innocent explanation for the letter, doesn’t it? Or
could
his opposition all be a cover on his part, to make you think he supports what you do when in fact he’s trying to kill you?”

“I can’t think of a single reason why he should want to. It seems I shall have to ask him.”

“
We
will. You are not meeting him anywhere alone.”

James regarded her through lowered lids. “He would be hard pressed to murder me in our club,” he pointed out.

“And do you think he’ll go there now he knows you know?” She shivered. “He’ll probably have to strike fast, now. Why didn’t they just trap us there?”

“One can only assume he has his reasons.”

She glared at him. “Possibly one being the presence of our driver in the road. They must have guessed you’d tell him to go to the authorities.”

“Possibly.” James fell silent for a very long while, staring out the window of the carriage.

The heath behind them, they drove through the outskirts of the city, then pulled into the yard of a respectable inn. James handed the driver some coins, then took Christy inside where he ordered a couple of coffees. He steered her to the inglenook, where they sat on a wooden bench and stared into the fire.

“It’s creepy,” Christy said at last. “Somebody you
know
.”

“Very few people are murdered by strangers,” he pointed out. “Except for psychopaths.”

But the truth of what he said sank in. She came from an era jam-packed with random drive-by shootings and serial killers. But this was different. This was the systematic stalking of one man, for a specific reason. In some way, James must jeopardize someone’s existence.

“Is it only when you do something in particular?” she asked suddenly. “They seem to follow you all the time, but they don’t always try to kill you. They didn’t this morning, they didn’t now, and there have been other occasions, too. Why is it that sometimes they attack, and others they don’t?”

He shook his head. “Opportunity, perhaps?”

“Or if they think you are about to do something to harm them?”

“How could I have possibly harmed anyone while skating on the Serpentine?”

She drew an unsteady breath. “No, I suppose you’re right.”

“There’s only one thing to be done. I will confront Sir Dominic and demand an explanation.”

“Do you think he will talk to you?” She looked up at him, worried.

“If he doesn’t, I will call upon him—and in a manner he is not likely to find pleasant.”

They finished their coffees and returned to the hackney. The jarvey once more sat on his box, looking considerably more pleased with his lot in life. James gave the direction of the orphanage, and once more they set off, wending their way through the snow-filled streets.

Christy stared out at the blank coldness of the view that met her gaze. “It doesn’t feel like only a couple days before Christmas. There should be lights everywhere, and garlands and banners.”

“I almost wish I could see this world of yours. It sounds so very different from my own.”

“It is,” she agreed. “I miss it, terribly. I thought I hated it, with all its pollution and crime and commercialism, but it’s
mine
.”

He covered her chilled hand. “There’s a very good chance you’ll go back to it. It’s where you belong.”

But not completely what she wanted, not after what they shared last night... A longing filled her, to stay in this alien time with James—yet she missed her brothers and sisters. The ache in her heart deepened, tearing at her. Whether she remained or returned, she was going to lose someone she loved.

She blinked back the moisture that stung her eyes. “Do you know what it is to be close to a family?”

A long moment passed. “No,” he said at last. “I had only my uncle and cousin, and not by any stretch of the imagination could we have been considered close.”

“I’m sorry. You missed out on a lot.” She strove for a lighter note. “Do you know, my oldest brother’s getting married next week, and I’m supposed to be one of the bridesmaids.”

“Maybe you will be. That’s still at least seven days away—” He broke off.

“Exactly. Seven days and almost two hundred years.” She managed a facsimile of her usually bright smile. “That ought to give me enough time.”

They reached the house off Golden Lane, and James handed over a considerable number of bills. The jarvey promptly offered his services at any time in the future if they should need to follow anyone again.

James’s lips twitched into a smile. “Thank you, but—” He broke off. “Will you wait for a few minutes?”

“What are we doing next?” she asked as he came up the steps.

“Flinging down my gauntlet.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You’re going to send a message back with the driver?”

James nodded. “It seems the easiest. I wouldn’t wish to risk sending a friend or someone in my employ, who might be taken hostage and held. A jarvey they would have no reason to treat as anything other than a messenger.”

“Any idea how to word this?”

“I’ll think of something, I feel quite certain.”

Nancy opened the door, and her face broke into a wreath of smiles. “There you are, guv’nor. About to send the watch out after you, we was. Where ever’ve you been?”

“On a slight side excursion.” He strode through the door.

“The missus is that worried about you, Miss Christy.” Nancy shook her head.

“I’ll go to her at once and apologize.” Christy ran lightly up the stairs. From the schoolroom, she could hear the boys’ voices raised in repetitions of the multiplication table. She winced, remembering her own struggles with that—and her failure to think of anything better.

She opened the door and stuck in her head, and instantly the lesson came to a standstill. The boys gathered about her, demanding to know where she had been, and if she would take over in their studies. She shook her head, silenced them at last, then apologized to Mrs. Runcorn, for her absence.

“It’s quite all right, my dear. As long as you both are safe.”

“For a bit longer. I must go back down and keep James from doing anything too rash.”

Elinor Runcorn’s eyebrows rose, and a slight smile touched her lips. “Of course, my dear. No,” she silenced the boys as they protested. “Miss Campbell will return when she is able. I suggest you continue with your lessons, so you may all surprise her with how much you have learned. Remember, later this afternoon you are to go out Thomassing.”

“What?” That stopped Christy.

“Thomassing. It is a very old custom, but one we still observe. Perhaps you have abandoned it in America. The children go from door to door, begging the ingredients for Christmas frumenty.”

Christmas frumenty. Another tradition she would love to learn more about. But not now, not while James remained in such danger.

She headed down the steps to the resumption of the chanting of the times tables. At least they were memorizing it, if not actually learning it.

As she reached the hall, James entered the house once more. “Have you sent the message already?” she demanded. “Where are you to meet?”

“A very public place, I assure you. I have no taste for assignations at midnight in the ruins of an old abbey.”

“Well, you
do
like to take all the fun out of things, don’t you?” In a way, that was almost what she feared from him. “Where?”

“The British Museum, in the Egyptian Room.”

“You’re kidding. That sounds the perfect place for some intrigue.”

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“When?”

“I suggested four o’clock. Two hours from now. We shall wait and see.”

Christy did wait, though with rapidly dwindling patience. She slipped up to her room and sought comfort from a chocolate chip, then returned to pace the study with James. Most of the allotted time passed before the jarvey returned, bearing Sir Dominic’s agreement. A thrill of nerves danced along Christy’s spine as she read the scribbled note. Whether or not they did the right thing, they were now committed.

Again, James retained the services of the jarvey, whose open grin indicated he regarded James as a Father Christmas personified. Christy climbed into the vehicle and sat back against the now familiar cushions, and stared out the window as the snow increased. At last, they pulled up in Great Russell Street before the British Museum.

She stared at it, startled. It bore little resemblance to the structure she had visited so very long ago, in the future.

“Want me to wait, guv’nor?” the jarvey called as James climbed out. A note of complacency sounded in his voice. James actually smiled. “Please do.”

He escorted Christy down the path and through the front doors. As they wended their way to the Egyptian Room, Christy clutched his arm, nerves dancing through her stomach. Desperately, she tried to keep at bay the “what ifs” that crowded her mind.

“It will be all right, nothing can happen here,” James said softly.

“Where have I heard that before? You’d just about fit into one of the mummy cases, if someone shoved you in. Look, shouldn’t we have gotten some help?”

“We’re just here to talk. Maybe we can clear everything up.”

“Oh, right. His trying to kill you is all a misunderstanding. Of course.”

He shook his head. “We’ll find out in a moment.”

They entered the rooms devoted to the Egyptian antiquities captured from the French. Christy sauntered at his side in what she hoped was a fair imitation of a tourist.

“There,” James breathed.

She looked up quickly. At the far end of the first room, a dapper little man sat on a bench, his hands folded over the rounded head of his walking stick.

“
That’s
Sir Dominic?” she demanded. “He could
never
have been the man on the ice. He’s much too frail.”

“We shall see.” James led her forward.

Sir Dominic Kaye rose as they approached, and awarded James a deferential bow. James introduced Christy, and the elderly gentleman raised her fingers briefly to his lips.

“A pleasure, Miss Campbell.”

“I believe we have much to talk about,” James said, his voice steady.

“More than you realize, Major. Very much more than you realize. I have a great deal to tell you of considerable importance.” A slight frown creased his brow. “I had hoped not to have to reveal this to you as yet, but we are agreed the time is now upon us when you must know all—”

“About that, at least, I agree,” James said.

Sir Dominic held up a fragile hand. “I fear you are under a misapprehension, and for that I am greatly to blame. What I must tell you involves the reason someone wishes to kill you—and why I have placed a guard on you for your protection.”

“Protection? Is that what you call having someone fire at me?”

Sir Dominic shook his grayed head. “Never would I order such a thing.”

“Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

Sir Dominic’s grip tightened on his cane. “I can understand your distrust. It saddens me, yet it doesn’t surprise me.”