series 02 01 Conspiracy of Silence Read online

  Bunting and banners had also been erected, connecting the trees of the common with messages of glad tidings. Of the return of The First Son of Putney! Nathanial could scarcely believe it, and would never have thought it so, had he not seen it with his own eyes, but the people of Putney Parish had put on a homecoming party for him!

  This was not what Nathanial wanted. How was he to tell his parents, his siblings, that he had been dismissed from his post of responsibility and incarcerated for the last week in Chatham Convict Prison under suspicion of treason? When they saw his arm in a sling they would assume the best—a noble injury suffered in service to the Empire, instead of gained in a common brawl among inmates?

  Regardless, his presence had been spotted. The thin, austere figure of Mister Payn, the verger of All Saints’, approached him, hand held out. “Professor Stone! A hearty welcome home, sir!” After a moment’s hesitation, Payn reached for Nathanial’s left hand and pumped it generously. “We have been following your adventures with the utmost interest. Every week your mother would share with us the particulars of your journeys. The plateaus of Venus, what! And a lizard-man wearing a deerstalker! What the deuce,” he concluded, with a wink that suggested they were sharing some secret.

  Nathanial had been sending telegrams to Edwin ever since he had left Putney, but he was surprised to hear that his young brother had shared the contents of the missives with his mother, and she with the church! It was most unacceptable. There was information contained in those telegrams that was personal. He determined there and then that when he saw Edwin, and their mother, stern words would be said.

  As Mister Payn continued to talk, Nathanial making but the briefest sounds in response, he cast his eyes around the common to see if he could espy either Edwin or his mother. Instead, however, his eyes came to light on a woman of the most amazing beauty on the arm of man he did not immediately recognise, although the man was certainly known to him. He was one Colonel Daniel Sanford of the Royal Horse Artillery, 3rd Brigade. Colonel Sanford was, of course, out of uniform, but two things gave him away. One, his posture; it was so defined and straight that he could only be a man used to military discipline. And two, the most important; the woman on his arm was his wife, Mrs Emily Sanford, the eldest of Nathanial’s siblings.

  “If you will excuse me, Mister Payn,” Nathanial said, picking up his bag once more, “it wouldn’t do if you were to monopolise all of my time, after all this party is in my honour, and I think it only fair that I should…mingle.”

  “Of course, Professor,” the verger said. “I believe your father is here…somewhere. Perhaps you would like me to find him?”

  Nathanial forced himself to smile. A reunion with his father. How splendid! “If you would be so kind, I shall be…” He waved his cast randomly. “Somewhere in that direction.”

  With that he turned and walked away, getting as much distance as he could from his sister, and her husband. People nodded and smiled at him as he walked, some of the men patting him on the back with a “welcome home”. Some of the faces he even recognised! He did not get far, however, before a deep voice, one he knew very well, bellowed out his name. Nathanial stopped, feeling the mud of the common squelch under his feet, and turned, his face grim.

  “Dorian, how wonderful to see you,” he said, in a tone that made it clear it was anything but.

  “Oh come now, Lucky, let us not pretend,” Dorian Stone retorted, smiling devilishly at his younger brother. Dorian took after their father, being a good foot shorter than Nathanial, his features deeper and more severe. Even now, at only thirty-three years of age, his hairline was receding. Nathanial could, at least, take some private pleasure in that. Dorian turned to the woman on his arm. “Do you see the way he cringes when I speak to him?”

  The woman gave Dorian a look that said everything Nathanial needed to know about her. She was not one to suffer fools, which, in turn, led Nathanial to wonder how she had managed to find the arm of his brother. “Do forgive my fiancé, Professor Stone, but I suspect an element of jealousy which is most unbecoming of a man of his standing.” She removed herself from Dorian’s arm and stepped forward, hand out politely. “And since he has so singularly failed to introduce us, allow me to introduce myself. I am Kathleen Ashe, of the Esher Ashes.”

  Nathanial assumed this was supposed to mean something to him, but the names of rich families meant very little to him. Of course, he was too polite to say so, and simply took her hand in his and kissed it gently. “Delighted, Miss Ashe. But, please, if you are to become my sister-in-law, do call me Nathanial.”

  Miss Ashe laughed giddily behind her handkerchief. “Oh, Professor, that simply would never do. My father would never forgive me. He is a great fan of your work, and asked me to inquire as to when you will be publishing a paper on the principles behind your aether propeller governor?”

  “Your…father?”

  “Why yes, Lord Ashe.”

  For a moment Nathanial was stumped, then it came to him. Lord Montgomery Ashe, Earl of Granville, was a patron of the Royal Society, and one of the men who had funded Nathanial’s initial trip to Arizona. Not that he had been in need of funds, but the Royal Society believed in vesting an interest in Nathanial’s professional activities. “I haven’t seen him since I last dined at the Clevedon Club with Professor Thomson.”

  “Some two years ago, I believe, although in your absence Doctor Thomson has himself become Lord Kelvin.”

  Nathanial regarded Miss Ashe, certain she was reproaching him for his lack of attendance. It was most unusual for a woman to take an interest, any interest, in the goings-on of a gentleman’s club. Clearly Miss Kathleen Ashe thought nothing of speaking on behalf of her father. Nathanial smiled, instantly reminded of his mother and how she often spoke on behalf of not only her husband, but indeed her own family, regardless of the fact that most of her children were no longer living in Fairfax House and were grown adults. He was quite drawn to Miss Ashe, and suddenly understood why she and Dorian had become engaged. “I feel it is a mistake I must soon rectify, now that I am back in Surrey it will be but a simple journey into London,” Nathanial said, with a light bow.

  “My father will be most pleased to hear that… Nathanial,” Miss Ashe said, with tentative emphasis on his name. “Anyway, pray excuse me, for I believe your sister is most looking forward to seeing you. I believe I know where she is.” She looked up at Dorian pointedly. “It will give you gentlemen a chance to reacquaint yourselves.”

  Nathanial watched her walk away carefully, minding not to slip on the increasingly boggy ground. Really, an outdoor celebration was not suited to winter on Putney Lower Common!

  “Dear Kathleen believes I should make more of an effort with you, Lucky,” Dorian began, he, too, watching her retreating form, “but then she knows very little of our history. Except that which I have told her, of course.”

  “Which I’m certain would have been a truly unbiased account.”

  “Well, naturally,” Dorian said, turning to look at Nathanial, his pale eyes glinting with barely suppressed derision. “She knows full well that I, like Samuel, worked hard to attain my current position, whereas you were handed everything on a platter, not only by our parents but by everyone to whom you were ever introduced.”

  Nathanial shook his head. “That is nonsense and you know it, Dorian!” he snapped. He glanced around, but if anybody noticed the verbal altercation between the brothers they chose to politely ignore it. Putney attracted a certain class of people, and was largely regarded as a well-to-do area, and propriety was high on their lists of socially accepted behaviour. Nathanial gathered himself together and reached down for his bag. “Well, it has been delightful to see you again, and I thank you for making the effort to see me, but…”

  “Are you not going to ask after Samuel?” Dorian cut in.

  Nathanial narrowed his eyes and, with a sigh, stood up straight once more, his bag remaining on the sodden grass. “Can I not ask him myself? I’m certain he, too, cannot
wait to tell me about how hard he has worked to get where he is.”

  “I’m sure, but, alas, he is even now in Portobello Road drumming up business. Not everyone can expect things to fall on their laps. Earning his keep, and ensuring his family is well fed, is of far more import to him than a spendthrift celebration in honour of the great Professor Stone.”

  For a moment the air between them seemed colder than usual, but Nathanial refused to bite. He was tired, and wanted to quickly repair to his lab on Charlwood Road, away from all this nonsense. He had little to celebrate.

  “I suspect you continued to receive great acclaim on your travels, parading your new invention for all to see? Kathleen does keep on about it so, the amazing aether propeller governor used on Sovereign, the pride of Her Majesty’s Navy.”

  “You have no idea what I have been through, Dorian, none at all!”

  Nathanial spoke with such force than Dorian took a step back in surprise. Even those nearby looked over, intrigued despite themselves. After a few moments of silence, all heads returned to their previous conversations, and Dorian regarded Nathanial’s damaged arm.

  “A bit of humility it would seem,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face.

  Perhaps Dorian was right. Nathanial remembered the crowds of onlookers that gathered at the Dover Embarkation Platform shortly before he had first boarded Sovereign, and how he had promised himself that he would never forget that he had come from the same place as most of them. Only that had not happened. He had, over the months that followed, become quite enamoured with the life he had fallen into, travelling the planets with Annabelle. Despite the dangers and the risks involved, he had come to enjoy his ever growing reputation. But then he had been arrested on Mars, and despite his actions on Luna he had immediately been thrown into prison for treason…

  He shook his head. No, he would not dwell on the past week. Not now. Not in front of Dorian.

  “How is business at Talbot Accountants?” he asked, forcing himself to be congenial. Anything to keep the nightmare of the previous week at bay.

  Dorian raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and for a moment it looked as if he had become their father. “I am on the verge of becoming a partner; it is all dependent on how I handle our latest client. The Honourable Sébastien Fontaine, ex-French ambassador and the infamous philanthropist who is now on a self-imposed exile from the French Commune. A rather eccentric individual, who asked for me by name, would you believe? Clearly my reputation precedes me,” he finished with a smug smile.

  Nathanial knew all about how one’s reputation could precede a person. He had become a victim of his own reputation, even now in Putney, regardless of how warranted such a reputation was. “Congratulations, I’m certain you will succeed.” He offered his brother his hand, which Dorian regarded like it was a poisoned chalice. “Please, Dorian, as I said, you have no idea what I have been through, but just accept my congratulations. Despite what you may think of me, I am glad to hear that you are proving successful in your career. You are, after all, my eldest brother.”

  At this Dorian laughed. “Quite so, despite what Samuel may protest to the contrary, I was born minutes before him so that makes me the elder sibling.”

  “Not counting Emily, of course,” Nathanial said, suddenly laughing, too. It felt good to laugh—something that had been in short order of late.

  “She is a woman, Lucky, she never counts.” Dorian accepted Nathanial’s left hand and shook it. “Although,” he continued, the mirth now evaporating, “she has done rather well for herself. The wife of a colonel in the Royal Horse Artillery is nothing to laugh at.”

  “Indeed not.”

  “And here she is,” Dorian said, looking over Nathanial’s shoulder, an impressive feat itself considering Dorian only just reached Nathanial’s shoulder.

  Nathanial closed his eyes. This was an encounter he was looking forward to even less than the one he had just survived.

  “Professor Stone, an honour, sir,” Colonel Sanford said, shaking Nathanial’s hand firmly.

  “Indeed,” Nathanial responded, barely looking the colonel in the eyes. He allowed himself to be distracted by Miss Ashe sharing a parting kiss on the cheek with his sister, before Dorian led his fiancé away. Nathanial was surprised that Dorian did not stay the course, happy to watch his younger brother squirm under the steely gaze of Colonel Sanford. Instead, showing an unusual amount of decorum, he excused himself almost as soon as Emily and her husband arrived.

  Nathanial had to wonder why Colonel Sanford’s presence put him off his stroke. He had been around many military officers since Peregrine, and even went so far as to consider Jacob Folkard, Sovereign’s captain, a friend. Of course, much had changed since leaving Mars, despite his best efforts on Luna. He remained uncertain as to how and why he had been released from prison, but that he still carried the mark of a traitor to the Crown was something he felt keenly. His brother-in-law was a colonel in the Royal Horse Artillery, who was to know what information he had at his fingertips?

  Nathanial braced himself and glanced a look at Sanford, who was now smiling at his wife, explaining the particulars of their first meeting in the summer of 1888. Was the colonel merely putting on a show for his wife, showing his open acceptance of her brother despite the truth he knew? Nathanial could not say, but he knew he wanted this introduction to be as swift as possible.

  “Is he not a cad, Nathanial?” Emily asked.

  “Yes, he is indeed,” Nathanial responded, although he had missed what Sanford had actually said. “I feel you shall fit in with my family perfectly, Colonel Sanford.”

  “Please, call me Daniel, after all we are brothers now, what!”

  Had Nathanial been away from Earth so long that the formality of relations in the British Empire waned so much? Between Miss Ashe and Colonel Sanford, Nathanial felt like he had returned to a world as different from the one he remembered as Mercury was from Mars.

  “Yes, Lucky, Daniel is quite right. Such formality should be saved for the parade grounds.” As if to prove her point, Emily kissed her husband on his cheek, without a hint of regard for those around them. Good Lord, his sister was turning into a suffragette!”

  “I see your arm is injured,” Colonel Sanford observed. “Something to do with that fracas on Luna, I suppose.”

  Nathanial almost closed his eyes in dismay but maintained a noncommittal expression. “It is nothing really. A trifle.”

  “Nevertheless he carries it in a sling,” Emily observed archly. “Lucky always had a flair for the melodramatic. How do you find Miss Ashe, by the way? She strikes me as the kind of woman you need.”

  Nathanial eyed his sister, wondering if she were mad, pushing him toward his brother’s fiancé, or just picking a fight. First the comment about his arm, then this. He had lost count the amount of times when, as teenagers, she would badger him for not dallying with the local doxies. As if a young woman should be invested in such pursuits herself! Emily would argue she was being progressive, but as a man of some learning, Nathanial did wonder if perhaps she aspired to become one of the many harlots that scurried around the backstreets of London. All things considered, a suffragette was a better option, he supposed. Colonel Sanford was beaming at Nathanial, clearly enjoying his wife’s forwardness. Why was it that Nathanial seemed to always be surrounded by such women as these?

  “I’m sure Annabelle would agree with you, Emily.”

  “Oh, and who is Annabelle?” Nathanial did not care for his sister’s solicitous tone. “Are we to have another woman in the Stone family soon? God knows, I could do with another sister-in-law. Being raised with four brothers was so very trying.”

  “And yet you acquitted yourself quite admirably, my dear,” Sanford said, still beaming.

  “You have met my mother, Daniel, as you know I had the best teacher.” Emily turned once again to Nathanial, her smile now as sly as Dorian’s had been. “So, tell me of Miss Annabelle.”

  Nathanial looked away, his hand finding i
ts way into the pocket of his waistcoat, and the watch within. He ran his fingers along the contours of its casing. “She is a friend, little more,” he said softly. “Her heart belongs to another, I believe.”

  “Then I am sad to hear that, Lucky. Perhaps you have found another suitable contender on your travels?”

  Nathanial blinked away the memory of… He sniffed. “If I do, I will be certain to let you know first and foremost, Emily,” he said acidly. “Then you and Dorian can plan the best way to denigrate me before them. Tell your stories of ‘Lucky’ and why you all resent me so.” The look on his sister’s face was all the satisfaction he needed. Nathanial nodded at Colonel Sanford. “A pleasure, now if you’ll excuse me, I think there are others who require my attention.”

  Closing his ears to the indignant responses, Nathanial picked up his bag and walked away. It really was time he returned to his laboratory. All this socialising and visiting memory lane was far too much for him. He had had such a horrendous week that it was time to find himself a bottle of cognac and retire. Perhaps permanently.

  He should have known that such a recourse was not to prove easy, a fact bolstered by the return of Mister Payn and, a couple of steps behind him, the impressive bulk of the Honourable and Reverend Ronald Stone.

  The two years had not been good on his father. Perhaps it was the cold and the way he was dressed up against it, or maybe the way he used his walking stick to support his weight, but every one of his sixty-four years were showing. Still the Reverend, as Nathanial could not but help think of him, maintained his bulk, but the skin of his face seemed to be thinning out, his once black hair now greying and thin as it protruded from his hat. The man seemed so much smaller now, hunched as he was. It did not take a genius to work out that the Reverend was ill.