Ether & Elephants (16 page)

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “We don’t know that Charlie was there.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears. “But we’ll find out.”

“Yes.” His own voice came out thick and shaken. He tried again. “Yes, we will find out.” Of that much he was utterly certain. He would, or die trying, regardless of whether or not the boy was his son. No child, no human, deserved that kind of an ending. Again, Death flashed through his mind. Endings, all around. Even the ending of Nell’s love for Tom, if her calling him
brother
meant what he suspected it did. Now the upside-down Magician taunted him. His own doubt and confusion fought to control him.

Tom fixed his eyes on the road and turned toward Cambridge.

Nell had been to Cambridge before, of course, both the city and the university, but it had been years. Not since Tom and Connor graduated had she passed through the gates onto campus. Nothing much had changed, except for the addition of telephone poles and wires, and perhaps a few more electrical devices. Gowned students and professors scurried about in a state of studied concentration, ignoring Tom and Nell as if any interlopers were beneath their notice.

“I thought I might start with a friend,” Tom said, taking her arm as he handed her out of the car. They’d changed clothing and managed to choke down some tea at a roadside inn, so now, instead of the unremarkable factory worker, the dapper young baronet strode at her side, into one of the many academic buildings. High ceilings offered plenty of space to be filled with the clapping of footsteps on the marble floors, and quality air scrubbers allowed them to both remove their masks.

How many of the great minds of the world had passed through these halls? With Tom at Cambridge and Wink at Oxford, Nell had always felt something of a dimwit for merely attending the Royal Academy. It boggled her mind that so many young women, most, in fact, considered an education to be unnecessary. Maybe it was growing up on the streets, but Nell needed to be independent, much as she’d hoped to marry someday. The idea of a life filled with nothing but household and social duties was oddly daunting. Even her mother, who’d given up governessing when she married Papa, still had outside interests. She was active in education reform and hands-on in the education of her children and the schools she’d established for the families on the Hadrian estates. Nell supposed she fell somewhere between on the spectrum, never a lady of leisure, but not a genius, either. As usual, the odd one out. She was neither fish, fowl nor flesh.

“In here.” Tom steered her into a large office, full of books, papers and random other objects. “Professor Wiggins? Can you spare a moment?”

“Of course.” The face that popped up from behind a stack of books wasn’t at all the kind Nell expected. There was no shaggy beard or gray hair sticking up in all directions, no patched tweed coat or burled pipe puffing tobacco. Instead, an attractive, dapper, slender gentleman of a certain age stood and smiled at Tom. “What can I do for you, Sir Troublemaker? You haven’t been back to visit in eons.” He straightened his coattails and held out one long, elegant hand, dark eyes sparkling. Neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair remained tidily in place as he bowed his head. “And who is this vision in apricot? Lady Devere, by any chance? If so, you have done well for yourself, young Tom.”

Tom gave the older man a rueful grin. “I’m afraid not. Professor Everett Wiggins, may I present my foster sister, Miss Eleanor Hadrian? Nell, this is Professor Wiggins, who was my tutor here.” Tom coughed uncomfortably as they exchanged pleasantries and shook hands. Nell couldn’t resist letting the handsome older man linger a little longer than necessary over her hand, just to make Tom squirm.

After a moment, he looked around the office, away from Nell and Wiggins. “The professor was aware of my…difficulties…with Polly. Like much of the family, he maintained that the marriage likely wasn’t legal.”

“Ah. Here on that matter, are you? About time.” Wiggins gestured to two chairs in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat. Delighted to help.”

Nell fluffed out her skirts and settled into one of the chairs, smiling at the professor. “Thank you. But I don’t understand. Tom, if you thought Professor Wiggins could help, why haven’t you asked him sooner?”

“She’s clever as well as beautiful. Bet this one will keep you on your toes.” The professor winked. “Come to think of it, she’s wasted on you. I don’t suppose you’d consider an academic sort of man, Miss Hadrian? Forget this bounder and marry me instead.”

His teasing made her laugh. “Sister, remember? Besides, I thought dons weren’t allowed to marry.”

Wiggins perched on his own chair behind the desk and chuckled. “Foster sister isn’t the same thing. And some women would be worth chucking it all for if I ever found one who would put up with me. Now, Thomas, answer the lady’s question. Why haven’t you come to me before?”

“Because until now, I didn’t realize I wasn’t the only one,” Tom said baldly. “You’re the most discreet man I’ve ever met—too discreet in this case. Why did you never tell me that others had been in the same situation?”

“For the same reason I never broke any of your confidences, young man. In many ways, the pupil-tutor relationship is not unlike that of a physician and patient, or barrister and client. A sacred trust, if you will. It wasn’t my place to bring up the situation when you never showed the least inclination to resolve it. Had you asked if there were others, I’d have told you there were, although I wouldn’t have given you names.”

“All your pupils?” Nell gripped the arms of her chair. Was this the link? “How many?”

“No, but most of them were from a small sampling of the college life. I suspect the young woman had some access to the records department. All the victims I’ve heard about, perhaps a dozen over the years, have been similar to you, at least overtly. All were wealthy and from good families, with reputations as well as money to lose. Whether or not it was a single young woman or a group, I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that I’ve heard of a similar situation a number of times since it happened to you, and probably three others were my pupils. Not all of them went so far as a wedding, but I know at least one did, despite my advice to the contrary. All of them did hand over generous sums. Archibald, Professor Cox, that is, mentioned a similar issue. He’s one of my counterparts at Oxford. We do keep in touch.”

Cox wasn’t the name they’d been given as the prince’s college advisor, so Nell mentioned that to Professor Wiggins, who widened his eyes. “I’ve met the man. I can’t say I’m surprised, but even among the faculty that one is close-lipped, which is one reason he’s assigned some of the highest in the land as his pupils. It does sound like the kind of scrape in which some of our most illustrious students might find themselves.”

That was likely as close to confirmation as they would get that the prince’s tutor had known. Nell gazed at the professor. “Is there anything you can tell us that might help us find this woman, or indeed, these women? A commonality? Something that we can use to find her, find the records, do anything to prove what she’s been doing all these years?”

“Nell,” Tom whispered sharply, “easy.”

“Let her speak, lad, she makes more sense than you ever did.” Wiggins waved a hand at Tom and beamed at Nell. “Excellent questions, young lady. As a matter of fact, I may have some information that could help.” He rifled through a card file and came up with a notecard, which he handed her. “Here are the names that were used, the pubs where the so-called bride was working and the churches where any weddings took place, at least as many as I’ve been able to compile, here and in Oxford. I’ve also noted the sum the woman was paid, at least when I’ve had access to that information.”

Nell glanced at the card, where a neat table displayed the information. There were also dates, starting with the year Tom had been married. Sure enough, next to that date were the initials T. D. “And the initials in the next column? I assume those indicate the student involved.”

“Correct.” Wiggins frowned. “I’d ask that you do not pursue that angle, at least not at first. If you give me a few hours, I can probably contact some of the young men and ask them if they mind me giving you their names, especially as a favor for the royal family.”

“Please do.” Tom’s voice was quiet and deferential. “But please don’t mention His Highness. With his new marriage, we don’t want word of his youthful indiscretions to spread. Did none of these men try to find her? To have their marriages deemed invalid?”

Wiggins shrugged so elegantly it was barely a motion. “A few made slight efforts. In one case at least about five years ago, the boy’s father had it annulled based on desertion. I’m not sure about the others.”

“When you speak to them, can you get a description of the woman? I’m particularly curious to see if she’s a decade older now. That will give us a clue as to whether it’s one, or a conspiracy.” Nell handed the card to Tom and held out a hand to Wiggins. “Thank you so much, Professor.”

“Not at all, dear lady.” He squeezed her hand and tipped his head over it. “Delighted to be of assistance.” He darted a glare at Tom. “I’d have been so some time earlier, if this one had bothered to ask.”

“I didn’t know there were others,” Tom repeated, a pink flush brightening his tanned face. “I was so wrapped up in my own misery, it didn’t occur to me that Polly might have been part of a larger scheme.”

“Always look beyond your own nose. Always look for the grand scheme. That’s a cornerstone for science, philosophy and so much more.” Wiggins scratched his chin and gave Nell a conspiratorial grin. “You try to teach these young men, Miss Hadrian, but they do resist.”

She couldn’t resist smiling in return. “My mother says the same. And while my pupils are younger, I see it as well. I’m sure you do the best you can, Professor.”

“A teacher? How lovely—” Wiggins began.

“Not now.” Tom stood and slapped the notecard against his palm. “In case we didn’t mention it before, at this time, we have a bigger problem than my own marital uncertainty. At the least, we’re searching for a kidnapper and killer, and at the worst, a threat to the entire kingdom. We need to go. Professor, if you could contact the others and see if any are willing to talk to me, I can compare them against the list of marriage lines our sister found in the Babbage engine files. First though, I think I’ll go show her likeness to the publicans on your list.” He swallowed hard and flushed, as if realizing he may have said too much.

Nell stood and allowed the professor to linger a bit as he shook her hand in farewell. His exaggerated flirting had lifted her spirits despite the urgency of their mission. “Thank you so much, Professor Wiggins. I hope we meet again.”

“Delighted, my dear. I do hope so.” He gave Tom a brief handshake. “I do understand the nature of your work, Sir Thomas. I always have. I’ve a distant connection to the Order myself, which is why most of you, including yourself and Sir Connor, are assigned to me when you matriculate here. Do let me know if I can be of further assistance. I’ll start telephoning immediately, of course.”

“Thank you.” Tom clasped the man’s hand. “Why did you never tell us that you knew?”

Wiggins smiled. “I never needed to.” He gestured to the door. “Now be off with you while I make these telephone calls. Good hunting and be safe, children.” He sat back at his desk and didn’t look up as they left.

“Well, that was interesting,” Nell said on the way back to the car.

Tom grunted. “I guess. I suppose you’re going to insist on coming with me to interview publicans?”

“Of course.” She linked her arm through his. “You obviously can’t be trusted in a pub on your own.”

Chapter Eight

This wouldn’t be Tom’s first pub crawl through Oxford, but it was going to be the least pleasant. For one thing, back when he was a student, he’d been a young man out drinking with his mates. Now he was a grown man on a mission. For another, back in those days, Nell had been ever-present in his heart, but nowhere near him physically. Now she stood beside him, her stiff carriage and brittle smile letting him know how hurt she was by his actions.

What an idiot he’d been.

What a cad he was, to involve her in his dirty laundry despite the grief it must be causing her.

He would spend the rest of his life making it up to her, if he only had the chance.

What
would
he do if he wasn’t married to Polly? If there was public proof that the marriage had never happened. Yes, he’d take responsibility for the child, whether the boy was Tom’s or not—if there even was one, and if he was alive. Tom rubbed his chest where it burned at the thought of Nell’s Charlie being one of the bodies in that pit. He’d seen the young man’s photograph as part of a larger group at the school and had no idea whether or not the boy was his son. It didn’t seem right. Shouldn’t he know? Shouldn’t a father have instincts about these things? Especially with his type of magick?

Tom had no idea, a situation becoming all too common in the past two days. His mind kept turning over the “what ifs.” If he didn’t have a child, if his marriage did turn out to be completely bogus, that would mean he was free to marry Nell. If she’d have him. Earlier, she’d indicated that she was done waiting. She loved him. She’d never tried to hide that, but she’d had time to come to terms with her disappointment and she’d made a life for herself without him. He had betrayed her trust in ways he didn’t know if she could ever forgive. He’d sure as hell never be able to forgive himself.

So much depended on how these next few hours played out. Tom’s stomach burned and acid filled his mouth. He’d never had a case that made him physically ill before, but he hadn’t slept in the past two days and he was barely able to eat. Hardest of all was trying to maintain his composure in front of Nell. A big part of him wanted to lay his head in her lap, beg her forgiveness and weep. He was a disgrace to the Order and to the men who had raised him.

“May I see the photo again?” Nell paused as he moved to hand her into the vehicle. “I want to see if she resembles Charlie.”