series 02 01 Conspiracy of Silence Read online

  “Nathanial!” he said, the strength of his voice as Nathanial remembered it “The prodigal returneth!”

  “Father, I am hardly that. I did not run away, I was called away. On business.”

  “Be that as it may, you have at the last returned. Your mother will be most pleased to see you.”

  Mister Payn looked awkwardly between son and father. Reverend Stone noticed, and waved his verger away. “If you would be so kind as to inform Mister Dancey that my son and I shall be along shortly.”

  “Of course, Reverend,” Payn said, and set off in the direction of the bandstand.

  Alone, Nathanial and his father said nothing; they merely regarded each other with caution. There were many conversations—some might even have called them arguments—left unfinished, and Nathanial wondered which would be the first to be revisited. “Your mother will join us here shortly. She is currently engaged in her Christian duty at the Royal Hospital of Incurables, helping the unfortunates there to read.”

  “Then I look forward to seeing her.”

  “Quite.” A pause, one Nathanial did not like. He could see the gears of thought working behind the Reverend’s eyes. “Did you finally get to Mars?”

  Such a question was not expected. “Why, yes I did. Although I hardly see why you would…”

  “It disturbs me, that these godless people call us red devils. Did you know that one such Martian had been living here for a few years? Enjoying an Oxford education, no less! One of my parishioners showed me a photograph of him from one of the city papers. Those eyebrows—those ears! And they have the audacity to call us devils?”

  Nathanial shook his head, the tiredness creeping on again. He had spent a whole month on Mars, and now felt he knew at least something of the people of that world. It was hardly a shock to hear his father offer up such a strong opinion about people he knew nothing of save a few rumours and one photograph. A man of the cloth his father might have been, but, nonetheless, he was also a man of strong, and often uninformed, opinions. A character flaw Nathanial had once shared with the Reverend, until he had left Putney. “This is not the time for such a conversation. I have only been in Putney for an hour, and already I have been accosted by…” He sighed. “It matters not. I am tired, and I need rest. This…” He waved his good arm around. “This is all too much!”

  “Your mother planned this, Nathanial. She has been planning this since your brother received your telegram from Venus.” Despite his response, it was clear from the look in Reverend Stone’s grey eyes that he agreed with Nathanial.

  “It is called a heliogram, Father, and I left Venus over five months ago.”

  “Quite, so you see, she needs this. Half a year we have heard nothing of you, all we knew is that you were out there, in the heavens. A place man has no right to be! Your mother had been worried. At least your brothers and sister have the sense to remain on Earth, safe.”

  “Safe?” Nathanial was beside himself. “How can you call Earth safe? I would wager that I was safer on my travels than I am on this world! I have seen the queerest things, Father; ghosts, lizard-men, giant ants that can speak! I spent a month travelling the plains and canals of Mars with an old Martian prince who cared more for Annabelle and me than he did for himself. I have even met intelligences that live within the hearts of planets, but nothing, nothing amazes me as much as the cruelty one man can show another! Certainly, I have experienced little that compares to the brutality and disregard for another man’s wellbeing than I have since I’ve returned to Earth. I travelled the aether for nigh on eight months, and where did I see the most destruction? On a heliograph station created by man. Death on such a scale…so many good people killed by a mad man…”

  Nathanial stopped, aware that his face was red, the warmth of the blood almost stinging against the cold air. His father was looking at him; not quite sure if he ought to believe the words his son spoke. Nathanial wanted nothing more than for his father to reach out and embrace him, but he knew that would never happen. Any such display of affection ceased when Nathanial became a man. Reverend Stone showed more concern for his Church that he did for his children. It was something they had all got used to over the years.

  “Have you not even wondered why my arm is in a sling?” Nathanial said, horrified by the painful need in his voice.

  Reverend Stone simply raised an eyebrow. “I assumed some kind of accident. You were ever clumsy, Nathanial.”

  “Clumsy? I am not that child you remember, Father,” he began, but stopped himself. He sounded like a petulant child, not a well-travelled and respected professor. Of course, he was not really a professor at all, despite being called so by some in the Navy, and he was not so well-respected as he had once been. Perhaps there was more of the petulant child in him than he cared to admit. “I…” He didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing. “Good day, Father,” he said instead, his words barely a breath of air. “Give Mother my love, and tell her if she wishes to see me I will be at my lab. Otherwise, I have no wish to be disturbed by anyone!”

  So saying, Nathanial walked away, a burning fire of hurt in his belly.

  2.

  HE HAD EXPECTED to return to a dusty lab, but instead, as he walked through the door of his lab housed in a small building on Charlwood Road, he found it to be in pristine condition. The wooden benches were polished, the instruments, including his beloved Crookes Maltese cross tube, were sparkling and, he reflected sadly, hopelessly out of date. He dumped his bag on the floor and walked over to the large sink. Several beakers sat beside the sink, and he selected one, blew into it to remove any residual dust, and pulled out a stool.

  Once he had removed his long coat and poured himself a generous measure of the cognac he had procured from the landlord at The White Lion, Nathanial raised a toast to his missing friends. To two years of journeying, of meeting the most amazing people…of the worst kind of loss.

  He was still sitting there, the cognac untouched, when the door of his lab opened gently. Nathanial frowned and turned his head slightly. For the first time in hours his heart felt light.

  The figure at the door, looking at him with unbelieving eyes, looked a good deal younger than his twenty-one years. But there was no mistaking the intelligence in the grey eyes, or the strength in the tall body. Whereas Nathanial always looked taller than he was due to his slim build, the young man at the door looked shorter because of his more muscular body. The multiple layers of clothes only served to add to the illusion.

  “Nathe,” he said, bounding across the lab in two strides, “it is so good to see you!”

  Before Nathanial knew what was happening he was gathered up in the strong arms of his younger brother. Nathanial’s instinct was to pull away, to protest at the informality. After all, he was the older brother and he had to set an example. Such actions would not do! Instead, however, Nathanial embraced his brother in return, grateful for the warm welcome.

  “It is most agreeable to see you, too, Edwin,” Nathanial said, once he had been released, and received a boyish grin in response. Nathanial regarded the lab. “I assume I have you to thank for the good condition of my laboratory?”

  “Well, of course, you don’t think Dorian would entertain such a notion, do you?”

  Nathanial could not help but laugh. “Well, no, I don’t suppose he would.” Glad for the laughter, he indicated the bottle of cognac. “Grab yourself a…well, a beaker.”

  Edwin was clearly surprised by the offer—as close as they had been growing up, Nathanial had never encouraged any social interaction with his younger brother—but he didn’t wait for Nathanial to change his mind. As Edwin poured himself a measure, Nathanial reflected that maybe he should change that.

  “Some things need fixing,” he murmured.

  “I’m sorry?” Edwin bit back a choke on the heat of the cognac. “What was that?”

  Nathanial shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Eddie,” he said softly, slipping the diminutive in unconsciously. Edwin noticed, and hi
s brow furrowed in a way not to dissimilar to the way Nathanial creased his own brows when taken aback. Out of all his family, Edwin and he were probably the most alike. At least, they would have been had Nathanial been allowed a normal life.

  For a long moment Edwin regarded Nathanial thoughtfully, chewing his bottom lip. “What has happened to you? You’re hiding away from people, drinking on your own…this is not like you, Nathanial.”

  “Perhaps I am just tired. I have had a long journey.”

  “Piffle!”

  Now it was Nathanial’s turn to furrow his brow. “Really, Edwin, you sound like Dorian.”

  “Ah,” Edwin said with a sage nod, “you think by insulting me I will simply leave so you can sulk away on your own? I may be the youngest sibling, and the only one still yet to leave Fairfax House, but I am not so green as all that. Spend as much time helping Mother at the Royal Hospital of Incurables as I have and you learn to see the truth behind things.”

  Nathanial narrowed his eyes, and sipped his cognac. “Now I am reminded of a French geologist I know.” He lifted the beaker and regarded the brown liquid within. “Arnaud does so love his cognac,” he added softly.

  “I assume this Arnaud is an esteemed French geologist? It will lessen the insult. That is, if it is an insult,” Edwin finished, with a sly smile.

  “It was not. I am certain Arnaud would like to think he is so, but then I would rather suspect he thinks he’s quite an esteemed waiter, too.” Nathanial smiled at Edwin’s confused expression, and waved it away. “It matters not, Doctor Fontaine is a long, long way from Surrey. All I have is you.”

  “And you think this a bad thing?”

  For a moment Nathanial did not answer, then he shook his head. “Of course not, Edwin. You’ve always been a rock for me; the only one who did not resent my position in this family. I am sorry I have not been in contact since arriving on Mercury.”

  Edwin cleared his throat and forced a smile. It did not fool Nathanial. The hurt in his brother’s eyes was clear. “I was looking forward to hearing more of your adventures in the aether. When I received your telegram, that you were not returning from Venus but going on to Mercury, I grew quite envious I admit. And excited!” The forced smile was replaced by a sincere one at this. “Did you meet the creatures living on the dark side? I read about them in a recent scientific journal. Body chemistry based on ammonia! What a wheeze!”

  Nathanial wondered at the tone in his brother’s voice. It was close to awe, a reverence that his journeys did not deserve. “I did not venture to the dark side of Mercury, I fear, rather I spent my time mostly at Princess Christiana Station, and in the caves beneath.” Edwin’s eyes grew wide at this, and Nathanial found himself unable to hold back on his telling. “But the things I saw there, Edwin! Arnaud and I discovered rock that was able to retain light, and then release it! Fontainite we called it. Only we later discovered it was so much more…”

  Nathanial wasn’t certain how long they sat there, he talking about the things he saw on Mercury and Edwin listening with rapt attention, but they successfully emptied the contents of the cognac bottle between them in that time. He washed back the final drop, feeling quite light-headed all of a sudden.

  “That is amazing! Do you suppose you will return there? I mean, your friend is still there, and he will no doubt expect you to return sometime.” Edwin grinned, his eyes glazing over. “I could come with you!”

  “You?” Nathanial stood abruptly and staggered backwards. “That is out of the question, Edwin! I cannot take responsibility for you. I was responsible for Annabelle and look how that turned out! No,” he said, shaking his head profusely, which only served to add to his dizziness, “I cannot do that. You have no idea of what’s out there, Edwin, no idea! You just see the excitement, the wonder…not the truth. The danger! So many people have died because of me and I cannot…”

  He stopped suddenly, shaken by the look of horror on Edwin’s face.

  “Nathanial, what…”

  “I am tainted, Edwin,” he said, the words pouring out of his mouth despite his best efforts to contain them. “You shouldn’t be here now, with me. I’m like the albatross. Good luck turned on its head! Lucky! They have no idea. What an apposite epithet! Not without reason was I born on the first of April.” Gathering himself together as best he could, Nathanial walked over to the bench and retrieved the empty bottle and beakers. “You should go, Edwin,” he said, turning his back on his brother.

  He waited for the sound of the closing door to follow the scraping of Edwin’s stool on the tiled floor, but it never came. Once he’d finished washing the beakers he looked back. Edwin stood there, still by the bench, watching his older brother.

  “I am not going until you explain yourself, Nathanial. I may be the youngest, but I am still your brother.” Edwin took a step towards Nathanial. “What has happened? Your adventures on Venus, on Mercury, even on Luna, sound so amazing. But what went wrong?”

  Nathanial had not wanted to explain. He had simply wanted to return home, to escape the last few months. What he had experienced from the moment he had been forced to board Peregrine Station, everything that had happened to him since then, all the deaths, all the pain, the disasters…befriending John Pilling in prison… He wanted to be free of it. But there was something in Edwin’s eyes, something that reached deep down inside Nathanial.

  “I killed them all, Edwin,” he said, unable to hold back any more. “Good men, friends… I killed them all.”

  3.

  IT WAS SOME time later that Edwin left, although he made Nathanial promise to return to Fairfax House before the night’s end. Alone once more, Nathanial sat on the stool, a piece of paper before him.

  For a short while he stared at the blank whiteness, a state he wished his mind could mirror, but every time he closed his eyes he saw their faces. In the silence, the shadows from the flickering candles bouncing around him, he imagined he could hear the callous words of the inmates of Chatham Convict Prison still.

  He glanced at the pocket watch beside the paper…

  He gasped for breath as another boot crashed into his ribs. The pain did not matter; they could not take it from him. He scrambled in the dirt, his right hand reaching out for the pocket watch that lay, forever broken, the only thing he had left that gave him any hope. How many weeks, months even, would he have to endure this place?

  His hand gripped the watch, and he yelled out as another boot crashed down on his wrist. Fire surged through his nervous system as bones cracked beneath the impact, but he refused to release his grip on the watch. He never would!

  Even now he could feel the pain in his wrist, but that did not matter. The watch was safe, although Nathanial had no idea where the owner of the watch was now. No one would tell him, not the governor at the prison, not even Director White at the dockyard, but he was certain that somehow he would return the watch to her.

  The last image he had of her was one of confusion, as Lieutenant George Bedford held her in his arms, protecting her from any danger that might come her way in the wake of the events that surrounded Nathanial’s return to British soil. As he was forcefully led away, she had reached out and grasped his hand, placing the watch in his palm. The only link she had to her parents. The importance of such an item could not be exaggerated, and the message contained in the act was simple. They would meet up again.

  He dipped the pen in the ink and began writing.

  My dearest Annabelle. I am so very sorry…

  Chapter Two

  “At Dorset House”

  1.

  ANNABELLE EXAMINED THE room with dismay: too much furniture, carpets laid one on top of another, the walls nearly covered with paintings—as if it were a warehouse for unwanted furnishings. Gaslights illuminated the room adequately but dimly, the heavy curtains drawn across the windows and keeping out whatever afternoon sunlight penetrated the clouds and omnipresent smoke. The curtains reeked of carbolic acid, the accepted way of holding the stench of London
at bay. After a ride by steam carriage of nearly a mile through the city’s streets, the air thick with soot and stinking of both industrial and human waste, she accepted the necessity for this deodorizing expedient, but that made it no less unpleasant. Arizona’s clear skies and clean air seemed impossibly far away now, further even than in her darkest hours on Mars.

  “Hellstink,” Uncle Cyrus muttered, “proof of the Pit, for poor fools who need it. Dreams don’t smell, you know. Dreams don’t smell!” His eyes grew wilder and his breath came in short gasps, Annabelle took his arm and tried to soothe him.

  “It’s all right, Uncle. Here, why don’t you sit for a while? I’ll…”

  “No, you stupid fool!” he cried out and pushed away from her.

  She lost her balance and tumbled back over an ottoman, fell hard onto the carpet between an overstuffed leather wingback and an end table, cracking her head on the table leg. A maid, no more than ten or twelve, dropped the heavy valise she struggled with to scamper over to Annabelle’s side.

  “Ooo, is ya ’right, Miss?”

  Annabelle’s dress and petticoat had ridden up and exposed her legs, or rather her left leg and the square-cut black peg that replaced her right leg from lower thigh down. The young girl’s eyes flashed down to the peg leg and then grew wide. She drew back, shock and revulsion replacing her concern for a moment, and then pity sweeping them all away.

  An object of pity from an illiterate girl destined for a life of menial servitude—that was what Annabelle’s life had come to. She sat up, her back against the chair, and rubbed the bruised side of her forehead. Uncle Cyrus shuffled about the room, looking from paintings to furnishings, his flash of anger gone and replaced by mumbling confusion.