The Moonstone and Miss Jones (17 page)
He and Jersey made their way through the blacked out streets. The closer they got to the river the more devastation they saw. Things were literally falling apart—unraveling as Gaspar put it. They jogged past a double-decker bus turned on its side, riddled with bullet holes. The buildings behind the omnibus were blackened and burned out.
“Rebels.” Jersey frowned. “This is what happens when the power runs out. People go crazy.”
Oddly, there were districts of the city that appeared almost untouched, but as they came upon the river, the devastation grew worse.
A jog across the Vauxhall Bridge revealed the Thames was gone—or nearly so. Just a small muddy stream running along the bottom of a wide, dry gully.
They met up with three sober looking comrades across the river. Stunned, Phaeton took in the ruin as far as the eye could see. The only bridges left that still crossed the river were the Vauxhall and the Tower Bridge down river. Looking north, Phaeton was aghast at the sight of a ravaged Westminster Palace—Big Ben was still standing, but God knows what was left of the Abbey.
Phaeton’s eyes narrowed. “Someone please remind me that this is happening here, not at home.”
“Their reality is only one possible future of ours.” Lovecraft wore that tiny smirk on his face—the one that Phaeton often had the urge to wipe off with a slap.
Cutter moved between them, mumbling something.
Still dazed and dumfounded by the sights around him, Phaeton finally looked up. “What?”
“I said—how was the lap dance?”
“Stimulating.” Then, he said something shocking. “Almost the entire time I kept thinking about America.” Phaeton brightened at the thought. “Not in a guilty way. More like—–I kept seeing her lovely round bum.”
Chapter Nineteen
A
MERICA ACCOMPANIED
D
OCTOR
E
XETER
and Inspector Farrell to the foyer. “I know Phaeton will continue to be most helpful on the Ryder case, Inspector Farrell.”
MERICA ACCOMPANIED
D
OCTOR
E
XETER
and Inspector Farrell to the foyer. “I know Phaeton will continue to be most helpful on the Ryder case, Inspector Farrell.”
“I’m counting on all of you. Eleven deaths, nearly all of them suspicious; it is a certainty there was some kind of foul play.” The inspector brushed off the brim of his bowler. “This has become an embarrassment and a scourge that will eventually reach the press. Ever since the Ripper, it’s been nonstop. A never-ending stream of unusual sightings, and I’m afraid the Yard is woefully lacking in expertise when it comes to the occult.”
“I shall ring you the moment I have a shingle up and a telephone installed.” America smiled. “I see no sense in half measures—I intend to run a modern enterprise.”
“Then, my worries are soon over.” The inspector tipped his hat. “Good night, Miss Jones—Doctor.”
The moment the door closed, Exeter turned to her. “Are you really going to the expense of having a telephone line installed?”
America blinked. “Is it that costly?”
Exeter walked her back toward the parlor. “Depends, I suppose, on the distance they have to go.”
America smiled. “Not far at all—Drakes had a telephone installed last week, no doubt for some nefarious gambling purpose, but that brings the line close, does it not?”
“The bold and beautiful Miss Jones. I have never for a moment questioned Phaeton’s attraction to you.” The doctor smiled. “It’s so brilliantly obvious.”
America hesitated outside the parlor door. “Might I have a word alone, doctor?”
Exeter seemed pleased. “I was just about to request a similar favor.” He gestured to the grand stairs and they made their way to the upstairs parlor.
America settled herself in a corner of a comfortable settee and waited for the doctor to poke a few coals about in the hearth. A tall, elegant man, everything about Exeter exuded intellect and confidence. He also had the loveliest green eyes that never missed a trick. And there was that dashing Van Dyke beard which suited his golden skin, an exotic gift from his Persian mother.
“Now, how can I be of service, Miss Jones?”
“America, please?”
The doctor took a seat on the settee. “Only if you call me Jason.” There began a very long silence between them until Exeter finally cleared his throat. “Are you feeling well, America? Any morning sickness?”
“The morning sickness is gone, happily.” Her smile was brief. “Phaeton, on the other hand, did not take the news well.”
Exeter raised his chin and struck a thoughtful pose. “Despite his devil-may-care approach to most things, I believe Phaeton worries too much about the people he loves. Give him time, America.”
She felt a pout coming on. “I gave him a week.”
The doctor’s eyes sparkled. “And, how long ago was that?”
“Two days ago.”
Exeter reached across the divan and took her hand in his. “Over the next few months, and even after the child is born, you’re going to be more emotional, for a time.”
She nodded, eyes wide. “I cry at the drop of a hat—it’s . . .” Drat! She blinked back tears.
“It’s natural.” He patted her hand.
She exhaled a deep sigh. “He has five more days.”
Exeter laughed. “I doubt that he will need more, but if he does—do give him a few more.” He dipped his head and winked. “I know an excellent midwife—very experienced and decidedly more skilled than the average doctor at birthing. If you’d like, I will be there to administer a bit of ether. Not too much but enough to ease your pain.”
America was suddenly overcome by his kindness. She threw her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you,” she blinked through the tears. “I know, in his heart, Phaeton will be pleased.”
“It is a gift to be present at the birth of a new life.” He opened a pocket square and dabbed her eyes. “Shall I ring for something? Mr. Tandi makes a sweet tea with hot milk, cinnamon, and clove.”
“Sounds lovely,” America sniffed.
Ever the consummate host, Exeter ordered the special tea and a brandy for himself. The moment the servant closed the door, he returned to her. “Might you be feeling well enough for a consult?”
“Of course,” she said. There was a storm brewing behind the doctor’s intense green eyes. “Phaeton and I have both noticed that you are not yourself. Something is troubling you, Jason.”
Another deathly quiet silence permeated the room. “Mia has recently experienced some frightening episodes. Quite extraordinary really.” His brows furrowed. “Has she mentioned them to you?”
America shook her head. “Mia and I have yet to speak privately. Whatever you can tell me tonight might prove useful, should she bring me into her confidence.”
Exeter nodded. “The day after the Moonstone was taken, I received a wire from the chaperone of Mia’s boardinghouse stating that she had been found unconscious between the campus and the house—and asking how soon I could come fetch her.”
He continued. “Of course I caught the first train to Oxford, and was at the residence by late morning. By the time I arrived, Mia was recovered—but far from normal. Immediately I suspected there was more to the tale than was being presented to me.”
America frowned. “No doubt the boardinghouse chaperone didn’t wish to be blamed.”
“Mia wasn’t very forthcoming, either.” The muscle in his jaw clenched. “Eventually I got most of the story. She was walking home from a musicale, and got separated from her peers. Not clear exactly how that happened. Apparently the area was densely wooded, and she became frightened and started to run—she said she fell down and the next thing she remembered was waking up. Someone—one of her friends from school—found her and helped her back into the boardinghouse. Rightly, they wired to tell me about the incident.”
“But they didn’t just inform you of an accident, they asked that you come fetch her.”
Exeter’s eyes narrowed. “There were dark circles under Mia’s eyes. She appeared to suffer from exhaustion—her speech was confused, and she was unable to focus her thoughts. I administered a sedative and once she was asleep, I questioned a few more of her friends, who were slightly more forthcoming.”
A gentle rap on the door brought Mr. Tandi into the room. He placed a tray beside the settee with the doctor’s brandy and her tea. “There is more warm milk and sugar should you desire it, Miss Jones.” The tall African man nodded a bow and slipped quietly out of the room.
America sipped the tea. “Mmm, how delicious!”
Exeter’s smile quickly disappeared. “Later that day, I met with the dean of the women’s study program, a Miss Margaret Twombly, who finally shared the alarming details. Mia was found in the woods unconscious, completely nude—her clothes were strewn about—some of them torn. At first they thought she might have been attacked by some sort of fiend, there were splotches of blood between her legs. By the way, she was found on her knees, down on all fours—in a kind of trance, but not unconscious.”
“Frankly, the dean was concerned about hysteria, more specifically, Mia’s state of mind.”
America nearly dropped her teacup. “But, Mia seemed perfectly herself at dinner this evening.”
“She is restored, for the most part.” He shook his head. “But—there’s more to it than just one incident. These . . . odd behaviors started before she left for University.”
America sipped more spicy tea. “What started?”
“She kissed me.” Exeter was blushing, she was sure of it. And he certainly swallowed hard enough.
She set the cup down. “More than a peck on the cheek?”
“A great deal more.” Exeter’s eyes darted a bit. “And . . . I may have lost control for a moment.”
“You returned her affection.”
Exeter didn’t answer, instead he leapt to his feet. “I was greatly relieved when it was time for her to leave for University. It was my hope this adolescent infatuation would soon pass once she became absorbed in her studies.”
America tucked herself farther back into her corner of the settee. “Confess all, Jason, or I’ll wheedle it out of your charge.”
He waged his finger in the air. “That’s just it—she is my charge. I cannot . . . feel these . . . I must not . . .” Exeter stopped pacing long enough to connect with her gaze, which was riveted on him. She had never seen him in such a state. The even-tempered, unflappable doctor was . . . in emotional turmoil. There really was only one question she could think of to ask. “Do you love her?”
“I have come to care deeply for Mia.” He appeared to struggle for breath, on the verge of some sort of attack of nerves. Still, he was not getting away with that answer.
“Jason, not as your ward, but as a woman.” America narrowed her eyes. “Do you love her?”
“I cannot answer such a question. I must not complicate matters for Mia right now. Not until I find out what is happening to her.”
America leaned forward to pour a bit more tea. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Exeter paced the length of the Aubusson carpet and back. “Please don’t speak of it to anyone right now.”
Admittedly, she did not know Exeter’s ward that well, the young lady was barely past her eighteenth birthday. She did recall a wonderful sense of humor and a carefree girlish manner— a bit precocious, but then what pretty, doted upon young woman of privilege would not be?
“Valentine sensed something interesting about Mia this morning.” Deep in thought, America moistened her lips. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten exactly what she said.”
“We’ll ask her to join.” Exeter dipped into the hallway and sent an upstairs maid down to fetch Valentine. Returning to the parlor, he took up a post at the hearth. “Mia was born in South Africa—the Transvaal. Her parents were both killed during the first Boar War. She and Mr. Tandi escaped to a neighboring farm. From there, they managed to make their way to the Cape colony and book passage on a merchant ship to England.”
“We’re only distantly related by marriage. The de Roos baronage is the oldest in the realm. They must have known the name de Roos and when they arrived in London, they looked up my father. You met the Baron shortly before he died—despite his many indiscretions, he was good at heart. He took them both in, and within months they became . . . a part of the family.” Exeter rubbed his beard.
America recalled a terribly disfigured Baron de Roos covered in bandages. A dying man who had committed terrible deeds, in fear for his mortal soul. And yet, as Exeter claimed, there had also been something gentle about his nature.
A brief tap caused Exeter to pivot toward the door. “Please come in. ”
Exeter’s pretty charge entered the room. “Ruby and Valentine are in the middle of a game.” Mia’s gaze quickly moved from America to Exeter. “This is about me, isn’t it, Om Asa?”
Mia backed the door shut. “Valentine approached me after dinner this evening and asked me a number of intimate questions.” The color in the girl’s cheeks burned and she appeared a bit wild-eyed.
America was suddenly overcome by feelings of loneliness—it was purely intuitive, but she sensed Mia’s isolation and terror. “Come and sit by me.” She patted the seat of the settee. “Mr. Tandi made a spice tea, which is still warm.”
She settled back and let the young woman sip the exotic brew. “Mia, if you were free from worry, about what people might think or say, or how they might judge you—how would you describe what is happening to you?”
“Here at home, it always begins as a dream. In the dream my whole body feels alive, alert—every sense so magnified, so wonderful, I never want to wake up. I am drawn out of my bed, and into the garden where I can see and taste and smell the earth—it is as if all my senses are fully engaged at once, my body tingles all over—but it’s worse than a tingle because it doesn’t go away. It becomes something that makes we want to—” Mia stared at the tea leaves floating at the bottom of her cup. “The tingling grows so painful I claw at my nightgown.”
America exchanged worried looks with the doctor.
“I awoke in the garden last night. Valentine was there. She helped me up and returned me to my bedchamber.” Mia looked up at Exeter. “I know you worry for me.” Her eyes darted about the room. Her skin seemed paler than normal and the poor girl had a look of exhaustion about her. “That is why you asked for Valentine tonight. She knows what is happening to me, doesn’t she?”
“You are a half-breed, Mia.” Valentine stood in the parlor entry. “You are part nocturnal creature, and you have just entered your womanhood.” The female Nightshade approached the doctor. “Mia is experiencing her first menorrhea.”
“This is unusually late to begin menarche—I would have thought,” Exeter’s brows crashed together. “I’m very sorry Mia—I should have thought to ask years ago.”
She raised her chin rather defiantly. America thought the flush on Mia’s cheeks gave her some lovely color. “Why ever would you think to ask, when you see me as a child?” Mia’s stare was rather cool, and wonderfully adult.
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