Ivan Cantrell had been ordered to land his plane on a remote part of the city’s aerodrome. Soldiers had surrounded the vehicle as they touched down, nervous men in ill-fitting khaki uniforms, squeezing the stocks of rifles which had been antique back in their grandfathers’ time. But dotted among them were several Confederation Navy Marines, clad in sleek one-piece suits which seemed like an outgrowth of rubbery skin. And their dull black weapons were definitely not obsolete. Louise suspected a single shot from one of those blank muzzles would be quite capable of destroying the aeroambulance.
The soldiers had calmed considerably when the Kavanagh sisters had climbed down the plane’s airstairs followed by Felicia Cantrell and her girls. Their commanding officer, a captain called Lester-Swindell, accepted that they were refugees, but it took another two hours of being questioned before they had been “cleared.” At the end Louise had to call Aunt Celina to come and vouch for her and Genevieve. She really hadn’t wanted to, but by that time there was little choice. Aunt Celina was Mother’s elder sister, and Louise never could quite believe the two could be related: the woman was completely brainless, a simpering airhead concerned only with the season and shopping. But Aunt Celina was married to Jules Hewson, the Earl of Luffenham, and he was a senior advisor to the Prince’s court. If the Kavanagh name didn’t carry quite the weight here on Ramsey which it did on Kesteven, his certainly did.
Two minutes after Aunt Celina had blustered and whined her way into the office, Louise and Genevieve were outside being bundled into her carriage. Fletcher Christian—a
Louise dropped her gaze from the unblemished sky over Norwich. Balfern House was in the centre of Brompton, the most exclusive borough of the capital city, but even so it stood in its own extensive grounds. There had been two policemen on duty outside the iron gates as they drove in yesterday evening.
Safe for the moment, then, she told herself. Except she had brought one of the possessed right into the heart of the capital. Into the core of government, in fact.
But Fletcher Christian was her secret, hers and Genevieve’s; and Gen wouldn’t tell. It was funny, but she trusted Fletcher now, more so than the Earl and the Prime Minister. He had already proved he would and could protect her from the other possessed. And she in turn was charged with protecting Genevieve. Because Heaven knows the militia soldiers and Confederation marines couldn’t, not against
She slumped her shoulders and walked the length of the room, pulling back the remaining curtains. What do I do next? Tell people the truth about what they’re facing? I can just imagine Uncle Jules listening to that. He’ll think I’m hysterical. Yet if they don’t know, they’ll never be able to protect themselves.
It was a horrible dilemma. And to think, she’d expected her problems to end once they reached the safety of the capital. That something would be done. That we could rescue Mummy and Daddy. A schoolgirl dream.
Carmitha’s shotgun was resting against the side of the bed. Louise smiled fondly at the weapon. Aunt Celina had fussed so when she insisted on bringing it with them from the aerodrome, bleating that Young Ladies simply did not know about such things, let alone carry them on their person.
It was going to go hard on Aunt Celina when the possessed caught up with her. Louise’s smile faded.
Louise found Genevieve sitting in the middle of her bed in the next room, knees tucked up under her chin, sulking silently. They both took one look at each other and burst out laughing. The maids, on Aunt Celina’s strict instruction, had provided them with the most fanciful dresses, brightly coloured silk and velvet fabrics with huge ruffed skirts and puffball sleeves.
“Come on.” Louise took her little sister’s hand. “Let’s get out of this madhouse.”
Aunt Celina was taking breakfast in the long glass-walled morning room which looked out over the garden’s lily ponds. She sat at the head of the teak table, an old world empress marshalling her troops of liveried manservants and starch-uniformed maids. A gaggle of overweight corgies snuffled hopefully around her chair to be rewarded with the odd tidbit of toast or bacon.
“Oh, that’s so much better,” she declared when the sisters were ushered in. “You did look simply awful yesterday. Why I barely recognized you. Those dresses are so much prettier. And your hair is so shiny now, Louise. You look a picture.”
“Thank you, Aunt Celina,” Louise said.
“Sit down, my dear, and do tuck in. Why you must be famished after such a terrible ordeal. Such dreadful things you’ve seen and endured, more than any gal I know. I gave thanks to God last night that you both reached us in one piece.”
One of the maids put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Louise. She felt her stomach curdle alarmingly. Oh, please Jesus, don’t let me throw up now. “Just some toast, please,” she managed to say.
“You remember Roberto, don’t you, Louise?” Aunt Celina said. Her voice became slippery with pride. “My dear son, and such a strapping lad, too.”
Louise glanced at the boy sitting at the other end of the table, munching his way through a pile of bacon, eggs, and kidneys. Roberto was a couple of years older than she was. They hadn’t got on the last time he visited Cricklade. He never seemed to want to do anything. And now he’d put on at least another stone and a half, most of it around his middle.
Their eyes met. He was giving her what she now called the William Elphinstone look. And the dratted dress with its tight bodice flattered her figure.
She was rather surprised when her steely stare made him blush and shift his gaze hurriedly back to his plate. I’ve got to get out of here, she thought, out of this house, this city, away from these stupid bovine people, and most of all out of this bloody dress. I don’t need Fletcher to tell me that.
“I never did know why your mother went to live on Kesteven,” Aunt Celina said. “It’s such a
“They’ll come here, too,” an indignant Genevieve said. “You can’t stop them, you know. Nobody can.”
Louise jabbed her with a toe and glared. Genevieve simply shrugged and tucked into her eggs.
Aunt Celina blanched theatrically, her handkerchief flapping in front of her face. “Why, my darling child, what a simply dreadful thing to say. Oh, your mother should never have left the capital. Gals are brought up properly here.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Celina,” Louise said swiftly. “Neither of us is thinking straight right now. Not after . . . you know.”
“Of course I understand. You must both visit a doctor. I should have summoned one last night. Goodness knows what you picked up tramping around the countryside for days on end.”
“No!” A doctor would discover her pregnancy in minutes. And Heaven knows how Aunt Celina would react to that. “Thank you, Aunt Celina. But really, it’s nothing a few days rest won’t cure. I was thinking, we could tour Norwich now we’re here. It would be a real treat for us.” She smiled winningly. “Please, Aunt Celina.”
“Yes. Please may we?” Genevieve chipped in.
“I don’t know,” Aunt Celina said. “This is hardly the time for sightseeing, what with the militias forming up. And I promised Hermione I would attend the Red Cross meeting today. One must do what one can to support our brave menfolk in such times. I really can’t spare the time to show you around.”
“I could,” Roberto said. “I’d enjoy it.” His eyes were lingering on Louise again.
“Don’t be silly, darling,” Aunt Celina said. “You have school today.”
“Fletcher Christian could chaperone us,” Louise said quickly. “He’s more than proved his worth. We’d be completely safe.” From the corner of her eye she could see Roberto frowning.
“Well—”
“Please!” Genevieve wheedled. “I want to buy you some flowers, you’ve been so kind.”
Aunt Celina clasped her hands together. “Oh, you are a little treasure, aren’t you. I always wanted a little gal of my own, you know. Of course you can go.”
