The Derring-Do Club and the Empire of the Dead (39 page)

“Don’t worry,” Georgina whispered. “Arthur will save us.”

The damaged Zeppelin shook and vibrated as it continued its downward movement. When they landed, the internal hydrogen balloons being vented to reduce buoyancy, the craft settled, creaking and forlorn like an industrial whale beached on the land.

It was in another field and so Captain Merryweather was not there to rescue them. They were on their own.

Miss Charlotte

“What is the meaning of this?”? Charlotte demanded. “I will to be treated like-”?

“A precocious British schoolgirl.”

Charlotte was quiet and held on to Georgina’s hand; they were both drenched and shivering.

The Graf was dry, handsome, with his neatly trimmed saturnine beard as sharp as his words. His features were a mix of those stern and remote faces painted on the enormous canvasses in solid gold frames that blocked every inch of the walls. Scattered across these long dead people was his aquiline nose, his piercing eyes, his heroic chin, his intelligent brow; but this man was real, blue blood coursed in his veins and his uniform had not faded in the light.

They were in the Austro–Hungarian embassy.

“That’s what you are, really? Ja?”

Charlotte said nothing.

Georgina spoke out: “He killed the girls in the boarding school!”

The Graf was taken by surprise: “How did you… you are clever as well as beautiful.”

“Thank you– No!”

“Why did you kill them?” Charlotte asked.

“It was necessary,” said the Graf. He stepped away from her and waved his hand as if to encompass the room, but Charlotte knew that his meaning lay further afield. “We have a duty to our nations and to history. Think of… I’m sorry I can only put this in military terms.”

Charlotte knew she’d understand: “Then put it in military terms.”

“If a nation invades your lands, then it rapes and pillages, it destroys everything. Your army fights back, your people flock to the cause, and, with God’s blessing and a good general, you force them back and win the day. But you cannot stop there, you must push on to destroy the aggressors in their own land, so that they never threaten you again. If that army, cowardly, hides within a city, then you have no choice but to lay siege. You know that there are people within the city, innocents, perhaps even subjects of your own, but you must push ahead for the greater good. Do you see? It is the same. It is glory.”

“Murdering innocent girls in a school?” Charlotte said.

“There was a… competitor hiding within that school’s walls. There was an opportunity. We had little time. It was worth trying.”

“You mean to kill Prince Pieter, your brother.”

“Ja, without him the Great Plan would be nothing and my plan would be inevitable.”

His breeding and lifetime’s training could not hold back his emotions, so Charlotte could see the pain etched on his face. She wanted to believe him. She wanted this strong man to live up to his uniform. She wanted…

“But the girls as well, women
and children
?”

“I am not proud of what I have done. I did not order them to kill the girls, I gave explicit orders to the contrary, the soldiers exceeded their commission,” – the Graf paused to hold up his hand to quell Charlotte’s objection before continuing – “but even so, I, and I alone, am responsible. That is what it means to be imperial.”

“It’s still wrong.”

“Yes, yes, so you must help me put it right. Stand by my side, together, be my conscience, so that I may spend the rest of my days atoning. My backward country is a medieval land, it must be dragged into the new century. We must have industry and commerce and education, schools, yes. A hundred schools for our brave boys and our vital girls.”

Charlotte wavered under his spell: “Yes.”

“But no, you are nothing to me, there is no blue blood in your veins.”

“I’m British.”

“When they finished at the school, we gathered them all together, afterwards.”

“I saw,” said Georgina.

The Graff began a wide circle of the room: “They were checked against the register. We are nothing if not thorough. The school kept accurate records, something to be admired.”

Georgina again, angry, her word twisted by bottled emotions: “And?”

“There were three missing. All sisters.” There was a rustle of paper before the man murdered the vowels: “Deering–Dolittle: Earnestine, Georgina and Charlotte.”

He stopped and stared at them: “I met an Earnestine at the castle and you! Yes, you are familiar from… Strasburg. You said you were… Merryweather.”

“I am.”

“But before then, you were a Deering–Dolittle. I have heard of you, a family from England… Surrey.”

Charlotte couldn’t help herself: “Kent!”

“We found a stowaway on the Zed Oh Three.”

“Really?”

“A girl. We assumed from the school. One of the Deering–Dolittles, but I think that was a mistake. I think that you are not the Princess and she was not the school girl.”

“I guess you’ll have to marry her now,” said Charlotte.

Georgina stifled a sob.

“Nein,” the Graf answered. “We shot her and threw her body over the parapet for the eagles.”

Charlotte remembered the terrified but determined princess: “No!”

“My grandmother, the Gräfin, will be so upset.”

“You cad,” said Georgina.

Charlotte remembered that Earnestine had told her about the Princess, blamed her even, and Earnestine had been in the other Zeppelin when it had turned into fire.

A flash lit up the high windows.

“You will have to excuse me,” the Graf said, clicking his heels and bowing formally. “The capacitors must be charged by now and I am needed. England is a dreary country, no mountains, but it is known for its–”

There was a flash.

“Rain, its wonderful rain.”

Thunder rumbled on distantly.

Chapter XXII

Miss Deering-Dolittle

“You’ve done your bit now, Miss Deering-Dolittle, you can leave it with Major Dan and ourselves.”?

“Thank you, Captain Caruthers.”

The men stood.

Earnestine remained seated. She was very conscious of the rain water seeping out of her skirts and bustle, and soaking the chair.

The men left, active and certain of their commission

Earnestine sat primly, breathing in and out as much as her corset allowed, and gradually calmed down. Her job was done and it was a relief. The men would, of course, do the best they could, and they were Gentlemen Adventurers, so clearly far more able than herself; however, she could be proud: she had fulfilled her responsibility admirably.

The carriage clock on the mantelpiece ticked.

When this was over, when Major Dan, Captain Caruthers, Captain Merryweather and Lieutenant McKendry had solved this, there might well be an article in the Times and, if there was any justice, it would mention in passing the gallant assistance that three sisters had afforded the British Empire in a time of crisis. It might even mention their names and go some way to redressing the balance in the reporting that the Kent family tended to suffer.

The ticking continued: a flash lit the sky briefly.

Of course the odds were against them, but they were men and better used to handling these matters than a young lady like herself, even a Derring–Do… She corrected herself: Deering–Dolittle.

The clock ticked on. Outside the rain pattered on the window and a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

“Oh to hell with this!” Earnestine said aloud.

Back at Zebediah Row, Earnestine dumped her wet clothes on her bedroom floor and then, dressed only in her undergarments, she pulled the battered suitcase from on top of the wardrobe.

There was a cough.

A woman stood in the doorway in a prim, black dress with starched white lace trim. She looked over her glasses at Earnestine.

“I heard you were back,” she said.

“Yes, Nanny.”

“And you’ve been partaking in some very unladylike activities by the look of things.”

“I don’t have time, Nanny,” said Earnestine.

“Of course you have time!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t sit around fanning myself while the British Empire falls.”

“It’s up to the men to sort that out.”

Earnestine dressed, sensible red Worsted and a small bustle.

“Your underclothes are damp,” said Nanny, “you’ll catch your death.”

“Then I’ll catch my death.”

Earnestine took everything out of her canvas bag and laid them out on her bed.

Just the essentials and a few other items, she thought, so the medium kit. She weighed the canvas bag in her hand before checking everything was in place: penknife, compass, flashlight, spare batteries, binoculars, matches, tinder, sewing kit, spare button, handkerchief, whistle, map of London, pencil and notebook, water bottle, dark lantern, extra socks, a bandage and both packs of Kendal mint cake.

“You should stay here,” Nanny insisted.

“I’m a Deering–Dolittle and I must go.”

“I believe your mother gave you strict instructions.”

“She did,” said Earnestine:
no exploring, no trouble, no adventures.

“I thought you, at least, had listened.”

“I have to go.”

“Up the river?”

“Not that.”

“You might not come back.”

“Then I won’t come back.”

She ran down the stairs past Nanny, past the daguerreotypes of her grandfather, uncle, father and mother and slammed the door behind her.

A moment later she let herself back in to fetch her precious umbrella.

She caught a Hansom cab to the deserted docks and found the passageway that led down into the sewers. She lit her dark lantern, opened the shutter to allow just enough light to see by and made her way into the marvel of the age.

Peg for her nose, that’s what she’d forgotten.

Mrs Arthur Merryweather

“Arthur will save us,”? Georgina said.

“We could grab one of those cavalry swords,” Charlotte suggested.

Georgina glanced up at the rosette of blades and hilts set on the wall. There were many military souvenirs on display, sharp evil things, and suits of armour guarding either side of the grand fireplace. It seemed a foolish room to keep enemy prisoners, for that’s what they were, she realised, but then there were plenty of soldiers coming to–and–fro with messages and they were the weaker sex.

“They’re not fixed, just held in loops.”

“Charlotte, sit still.”

Georgina sat with her hands on her lap, carefully arranged. The unfamiliar ring on her finger was comforting.

“We should do something.”

“I’m sure the matter is in hand.”

“The Graf is our enemy, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“He looked so smart in his uniform,” said Charlotte.

“Oh for goodness sake, you silly girl,” said Georgina. “Lottie, the man is a… he’s some sort of foreigner.”

“You can still admire his uniform.”

“Lottie!”

“We must do something,” Charlotte insisted.

“Arthur will have everything in hand, I’m sure.”

“But it’s one for all.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” said Georgina.

“Not for us, the Deering–Dolittle Sisters,” said Charlotte holding up her hand to prevent Georgina interrupting: “Even if you are a Merryweather now, you are still one of us.”

“One of us?”

Charlotte summed it up: “The Derring–Do Club.”

“You’ve had that idea in your head for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yes, and I did a coat–of–arms for us in my French exercise book.”

“Instead of doing French?”

“You’re as bad as Ness!”

“Thank you.”

The electric lights flickered: surged in brightness. One above the fireplace exploded and the room was plunged into darkness.

The Graf roared: “Ha, ha! Es beginnt!”

Candles were lit.

“What are you doing, Liebchen?”

Charlotte was standing on tiptoe on a chair and reaching for a sword.

“It looked pretty,” Charlotte said. “I was going to have a closer look.”

“Sit with your sister.”

“I wouldn’t have broken it.”

Charlotte came down and sat with Georgina again.

The Graf considered them for a moment: “Watch them,” he ordered. A soldier snapped to attention and then stood on guard.

“I wouldn’t have broken it!” Charlotte repeated. “I was only going to look.”

“Honestly, Charlotte,” Georgina said.

“We have to do something.”

“Arthur will save us.”

“How?”

“Even now, he, Captain Caruthers and Lieutenant McKendry, along with a detachment of Peelers, are no doubt presenting a warrant at the embassy door.”

“They won’t accept a warrant. There’s diplomatic immunity.”

“Nonetheless, they will insist and brush aside all objections. If not, they will force an entry. Peelers will go left and right, up and down, and they’ll search the whole building rooting out these villains. But my Merry will storm ahead–”

“Revolver at the ready.”

“If you like,” Georgina agreed. “And then he’ll barge in here, give the Graf a piece of his mind and… there’ll be fisticuffs. But Arthur boxed for his regiment… probably. They’ll fight back and forth, knocking over candlesticks and suits of armour until finally Arthur will just biff him on the nose.”

Unconsciously, Georgina punched with her own hand, a sharp uppercut in miniature.

She raised her voice: “These cowards who murder innocent girls will show their true colours and run all the way back to that cold, horrible castle, while we put out bunting and bake cakes. See if we don’t!”

There was a commotion at the door.

“I say,” said Merryweather, as two burly soldiers hauled him in.

“Arthur!”

Merryweather looked across, relief on his face: “Georgina! Are you safe?”

The guard stepped forward menacingly; Georgina stayed seated.

“Not really, dearest,” Georgina said.

“But you are unhurt?”

“I’m unhurt.”

His captors threw him to the marbled floor, but Merryweather ignored them: “And these bounders have treated you reasonably?”