Steam & Sorcery (14 page)

“Yes, he’s always this bossy, even when he’s the patient,” the surgeon said, his gray-blue eyes twinkling. “I’m going to go wash the travel dust from my hands, then I’ll be right back to look at that cut. Mrs. Granger, if you could fetch me a basin of water and some cloths?”

“Of course, Mr. Wallace. I have the lye soap you prefer as well.” The housekeeper relinquished her position, bustling from the room as the surgeon ducked into the bathroom, bar of soap in hand.

When he returned, he sat by the bed and carefully lifted the pad. “Ah, not too bad. The wound isn’t deep. Your stays blunted the worst of it.” Accepting a wet cloth from Mrs. Granger when she returned, he began to carefully clean away the blood. “Still, Sir Merrick is right—it could use a stitch or two.”

“Very well.”

“I do have ether, or I can give you some laudanum first, so you won’t feel it.” He checked her pupils. “Do you have any head injuries? There’s no obvious sign of concussion.”

“A mild headache, but nothing serious. And I’d rather you didn’t sedate me if that’s all right. Some medications make me ill. I can hold still while you set the stitches. I’ve done it before.”

“Ah, you do fit right in around here, don’t you?” He chuckled as he began to thread a curved needle. “Very well. Sir Merrick and Mrs. Granger should certainly be able to hold you down if the need arises.”

She did keep her eyes averted as he packed the cut with a foul-smelling salve, then she gripped the bedclothes tightly with her good hand as she felt the first sting of the needle. Merrick appeared beside her and gathered her hand into his bigger one. “Squeeze as hard as you like.”

It was the first time they’d touched while neither wore gloves, and the feel of his rough skin was a marvelous distraction from the pain of being sewn back together. Unable to help herself, she gazed into his eyes as she clamped down hard on his hand. If she heard a slight huff of disapproval from Mrs. Granger, who stood with one hand on Caroline’s other shoulder, she ignored it.

It seemed only a moment later that the task was done. The surgeon swabbed the entire area with iodine, then asked Sir Merrick and Mrs. Granger to help her sit, so he could wrap her torso in bandages. Once that was done, he disappeared into the lavatory again and returned to examine her wrist.

“Keep it wrapped for a few days, but it’s a very minor sprain.” Using yet another roll of linen, he wrapped it tightly, then looked into her eyes, his kindly expression turning stern. “Now, I imagine you’ll want a bath, but you need to keep those stitches dry. One of the maids can help you with a sponge bath, and into some nightclothes. Then I want you off your feet for the rest of today and preferably most of tomorrow, though you can sit up in a chair if it’s comfortable. You lost a good bit of blood and will need some time to regain your strength.”

Caroline opened her mouth to argue, but a sharp glance from Merrick stopped her protest. “She’ll be taken care of, Mr. Wallace. You can count on it. Now, if you’ve another moment or two, I’d like you to look in on the girls.” He led the surgeon from the room with a look at Mrs. Granger. “You’ll assist Miss Bristol?”

“Yes, Sir Merrick.” As soon as the men left the room, she turned to Caroline. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then.”

Caroline sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her head swam at first, but only a little. Still, she didn’t reject the other woman’s help on the way into the bathing room, or in removing what was left of her clothes.

“I’ll send up a tray with your luncheon,” Mrs. Granger said once Caroline was washed and dressed in a clean nightgown. “You leave Sally and Becky to deal with the children.”

“Yes, ma’am. And thank you.”

With a crisp nod and a grunt that might have been approval or disgust, Mrs. Granger left the room. Caroline stared at the closed door. She wasn’t sleepy. Her book and embroidery were both in the nursery. What was she supposed to do now?

Ten minutes later, Becky arrived with a tray full of oxtail soup, fresh bread and butter, and a pitcher of milk. While Caroline ate, she quizzed the maid on the children, relieved to discover that the surgeon had concurred with Caroline and Merrick’s diagnoses. Both Nell and Wink were to rest for today, and Nell was to keep off her ankle for a week or so. Now Mr. Wallace was checking up on Jamie’s broken arm. Before she took the tray away, Becky happily fetched Caroline’s things from the nursery and left both doors open so Caroline only had to call out if she needed anything. She couldn’t remember ever being so coddled.

Warm and well fed, if sore, she settled back against the pillows and lost herself in the pages of
Jane Eyre,
one of her favorite gothic novels
.
This time through, though, Caroline couldn’t help mentally chiding the protagonist. Silly governess, falling in love with her employer—and a married one at that. Nonetheless, whenever Caroline pictured Mr. Rochester, he bore a strong resemblance to a certain brown-eyed baronet.

She’d gotten so caught up in the novel that she didn’t hear anyone enter her room. When Merrick cleared his throat loudly from the foot of her bed, Caroline started and dropped the book in her lap.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” One lock of dark hair had fallen over his forehead and she had the most dreadful urge to brush it back.

“I am,” she assured him wryly. “Honestly, I don’t feel ill at all. I’m only lying here because I don’t want to undo Mr. Wallace’s hard work.”

“Good. Then if you’re up to it, I want you to tell me everything you can remember about the attack—don’t leave out any detail, no matter how seemingly insignificant.” He folded himself into the small desk chair that still rested right next to the bed.

Caroline sat up straighter against her pillows and angled her body to face him more directly. Slowly, carefully, she recounted the events from the time they left the zoo until they’d returned to Hadrian House.

“One of the reasons I brought all five children here to live,” he said softly, “was that I believed them to be in danger. Is it possible that this was a planned attack on the girls specifically, or did it feel more random? I believe you have reliable instincts, Caro, and I’m asking you to use them.”

“I’ve been assuming it was random.” Still, she thought back, carefully reliving the ambush. “But it might have been intentional. Once we split off and headed to the Botanic Gardens, it would have been obvious we’d take that same path back to the coach. Our hour or so in the garden would have given them plenty of time to rig the trip wire.”

“It could.” He nodded thoughtfully. “The boys stayed out in the open, reducing their vulnerability. Also, the girls and George might seem the larger threat. If I’m correct, our villains know very well that Wink, at least, is a force to be reckoned with. And George. But they miscalculated Nell’s abilities and your own—for which I’m grateful.”

“I never thought I’d be glad for having had cause to learn self-defense.” Her laugh was shaky, but she managed to keep her voice from cracking. “I do wish you’d mentioned the possibility of danger. We’ve been outside nearly every day.”

“From now on, you’ll have an armed escort, I’m afraid. But these children would lose their minds if they were confined inside every day.” Merrick gave her a rueful half smile. “I’d send them up to Hadrian Hall in Northumberland, but I’m afraid the problems would simply follow them.”

“Who or what do you think is behind this danger? Is it the vampyres they were fighting when you met them?” Some things weren’t considered proper to talk about, but she needed to know what she was facing.

“Yes. Vampyres have never been known to work in groups before, much less cooperate with humans. Now we seem to have a large-level conspiracy between some highly placed men and several of the undead. I’m afraid that my wards are caught up in the middle of the problem, having been seen and identified by some of the creatures.”

“Does this tie in to your mysterious Order? The one I’m not supposed to even know about, according to Mr. Berry?”

Merrick shoved his hand through his hair, wishing he knew what to do. On the one hand, he’d sworn an oath of secrecy. On the other, she needed to know what she could be facing. She was part of his household now, and they’d already hurt her once.

“The Order of the Round Table is England’s oldest,” he began. “It’s not a myth, as most people believe, but a real organization, founded by the Romano-British chieftain Artorius and his druid friend Merlin. From the very beginning, they collected warriors with certain powers, abilities that would help them combat enemies both human and otherwise. The Order still exists today, with membership mostly descended from Arthur’s original cadre.”

“
Sir
Merrick,” Caroline mused, her brow wrinkled slightly in thought. “
Sir
William MacKay—MacKay, son of Kay. Mr. Berry—from Bleoberis? I’ll assume his father or older brother or uncle is a baronet?”

“You know your Arthurian legends.” He bowed his head in approval. “Bleoberis isn’t one of the more popular Knights in modern adaptations of the tale. And yes, he was an ancestor of Edwin’s, whose nephew, by the way, is the current Knight of the Order, while Edwin’s older brother retains the baronetcy.”

“The Duke of Trowbridge’s family name is Lake,” she mused. “Du Lac? No wonder he’s the head of your Order. He’s descended from Sir Lancelot.”

“And Arthur’s granddaughter, who married one of Galahad’s sons. Mordred was Arthur’s only son, but he and Guinevere did have a daughter.”

“Gavin—for Gawain?” Ah yes, she’d met Trowbridge’s secretary at Gideon’s house.

“Of course.” Merrick smiled at her perception.

“And Hadrian? That doesn’t tie into any of the Knights I’ve ever heard of, though I suppose Emperor Hadrian built his wall at about the same time in history.”

Her quick absorption of the information and the way she followed the strands of the tale without appearing either shocked or skeptical caused a surge of pride. His aunt had chosen well—this was an ally he’d be delighted to have by his side. “My distant ancestor was a bastard son of said emperor, when he visited Northumberland in the second century. His mother was a druid priestess—and the daughter of a Knight who bore no sons. Apparently when he was ready to retire and finding himself without a direct male heir, Sir Tristram chose to bring his half-Roman grandson into the Order, establishing my lineage in the organization.”

“Fascinating.” Her intent, intelligent expression bore out her words. “Now how does that relate to this current problem with vampyres?”

To his own surprise, he told her. Everything. About his father’s death and his own initiation at the age of twenty-two, and his training with Sir William. Even up to the missing Babbage engine cards and his search for a traitor within the Order. Throughout his recitation, she didn’t say a word, though her brilliant green eyes grew round with horror.

“Is there any way I can help?” Somehow he’d known those would be the first words out of her mouth.

He shook his head. “Just watch over the children. That’s more than enough—more than I have any right to ask.”

Her chin set stubbornly as she stared him down. “Merrick, I’ve seen a great deal of the worst of human behavior. I would never voluntarily leave any child, even ones more competent in some ways than myself—to face that kind of evil alone.”

He gave in to the urge to reach out and touch her uninjured hand. “I’ve told you my story, Caro. I would know yours, beyond that you’re from Somerset, illegitimate and part leannan sidhe. How did you go from being a gently bred lady to a governess?”

She shrugged. “As I’ve said before, it’s not an unusual tale. My mother was the daughter of a peer. Her father loved her dearly and didn’t disown her when she fell pregnant with no husband in sight. She continued to run his household, and he doted on the pair of us until the day he died. Unfortunately, he was careless when it came to his legal affairs, and he didn’t specify our continued subsistence in his will. His lordship, my uncle, wasn’t inclined to support his disgraced sister and her offspring, so out we went, with little more than the clothes on our backs. My mother…broke, somehow. Her mind was never altogether sound again. So it fell to me to support the pair of us—first at a small village school, then as a private instructor after my mother died.”

“And you were how old?” He’d like to find her uncle and throttle the man.

“Sixteen.”

He barely suppressed a growl. “And which peer of our realm is your relative? It occurs to me I may know the man—though I can’t think of one with the surname Bristol.”

She bit her lip, then admitted, “I took the name Bristol from the nearest city to the village where I taught. It’s not my real name.”

“Caro—who is he?”

“No.” She met his gaze, determination evident in hers. Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, she turned her hand in his, squeezing tightly. “I’m not going to tell you,
Sir
Merrick. Please just let it go.”

He didn’t have it in him to deny her—not while she lay there, vulnerable. But one of these days he was going to find out and make the bastard pay. He reached out and cradled her face in his free hand. “Caro—” Even he didn’t know what he’d been about to say. He couldn’t fight the urge to see if she tasted as good as she looked. Moving slowly, giving her plenty of time to push him away, he leaned forward and lowered his lips to hers.

The barest brush of skin against skin burned like an electrical shock. This wasn’t faery magick or a Knight’s power, but the raw, elemental earth magick of male and female. He kissed her again, this time with enough pressure to actually call it a kiss. It still wasn’t enough. Far from rebuffing him, Caro clutched his head with her good hand, her fingers spearing through his hair to hold him closer.

“Ahem.”

Merrick jumped back from Caro and she recoiled back against the headboard, her face flaming a vibrant pink. They both turned guilty faces toward the bedroom door.

The expression on Dorothy’s face was more amused than disapproving, but over that was strain and even fear. Merrick got to his feet without even knowing he’d done so. “Aunt, what’s the matter?”