Sparrow Falling (30 page)

Aloft

“T
HERE
!” A
DELITA POINTED.

“Are you sure?” Beth said.

“Yes, it’s the Russian embassy, and look, you can see there’s a party! Ma? Ma Pether!”

“I en’t looking at nothing.” Ma’s unlit pipe shuddered between her teeth, and her hands clenched white-knuckled on a strut. The
Aerymouse
tilted and swooped.

Eagle Estates

W
HEN THE FIGURE
stepped from the shadows, Stug’s hands came up, clutching his cane across his chest. A thug, a murderer. Not now! Not now, when he was so close! His face clenched in a grimace, and he gripped the cane hard.

“Why sir, you look quite fearsome. Not scared of old Bartholomew, are we?”

“Simms! What are you doing here?” The man looked more like a burglar than ever, with a great sack over his shoulder.

“Looking to your interests, sir, merely looking to your interests.”

“I can’t deal with you now. I’ve business.” If the girl saw Simms, she’d flee. He could not help glancing down the street.

“If you’re looking for that wench Eveline, sir, you’re out of luck.” Simms shook his head. “Wish you’d taken my advice, that I do, sir, but don’t you worry, I’ve dealt with it.”

“What do you mean, you’ve dealt with it? Where is she?” Stug stepped forward, his cane coming up, baring his teeth. “
What have you done?
”

Stug stepped back, raised his free hand. “I’ve ensured she won’t blab, that’s what I’ve done. Sending a girl to do a man’s job, I dunno, sir, really I don’t.”

“You’ve ruined it all!”

“Now, that’s unkind, sir, when all I’ve done is ensure there won’t be any unpleasantness. Oh, I expect you’ll be wanting the prize, sir, won’t you?”

He slid the sack from his back with unwonted gentleness, and opened the mouth.

There, fast asleep, her thumb in her mouth, was a tiny girl, wrapped in blankets. Asleep or... her mouth moved around her thumb, and Stug breathed out.

“Is that...”

“The Russian ambassador’s daughter, sir, yes it is.”

Even as elation surged in him, Stug realised just how much Bartholomew must have known, just how dangerous he was.

But he was a wild animal, and would sniff out Stug’s intentions in a moment. Stug must be careful.

“Bring her inside,” he said, and unlocked the door to his offices with trembling hands.

Once upstairs, he lit the lamps. The shutters were tightly drawn – he had gone through the place before he left, darkening every window, ensuring no light would escape to spark the interest of that patrolling officer, or any other passer-by.
We shall hunt the badger by owl-light, it is a deed of darkness.
What nonsense the brain threw up. Was it Webster? Or Shakespeare? Now Shakespeare was a man who knew something of ambition. He’d had a son, who had died, had he not? Stug shook his head. Enough. It was the excitement, the nearness of his hopes, that filled his brain with these whispering fragments. “Put her down. Wait. How can I be sure?” he said. “If this is some by-blow of yours...”

“Now, sir, would a child of mine be dressed so fine? Look at that lace. Besides, you’ll know tomorrow, the hue-and-cry will be all over London. And further, I should say. All the way to Mother Russia, they’ll be wailing.”

“Then you’ll get paid tomorrow,” Stug said. “Late. Midnight.” By tomorrow he could have made arrangements to get Simms dealt with. Maybe even with the Folk. That would have a certain symmetry to it. And after that, this foul business would be done, and all would be as it was meant to be. He could wash his hands of it. Make a donation, perhaps, to some charitable organisation.

“Very well, sir, as it suits you, as it suits,” Bartholomew Simms said. “Perhaps a little on account, for my trouble?”

“Very well.” Stug unlocked the safe, constantly glancing over his shoulder at the child. She was still sleeping, perhaps he had drugged her... would that change things? What if she was damaged? He shoved the money bag at Simms without looking, and took hold of the baby, propping her upright. She opened her eyes, and blinked at him, then her mouth turned down and she began to cry, a thin wail. “Hush!” he told her.

She cried louder. Someone might hear.

“Give her your watch,” Simms said. “Let her listen to it. That often calms ’em.”

“How do you...” Never mind, it was no matter. He had to quiet her. He whipped the watch from its pocket and held it to the child’s ear.

She quieted. “Good. Now, Simms...” But when Stug looked up, Simms, for all his heavy boots and bullish breadth, had disappeared as silently as one of the Folk.

The Russian Embassy

B
ETH LOOKED FOR
somewhere to put down. The space in front of the embassy milled with carriages, horses – already people were looking up and pointing. “Go around,” Ma said. She had opened one eye, and was peering at the building. “Dammitall, this ain’t natural, this ain’t. Go
around,
girl.”

“But there’s a space...”

“I’m looking.”

“For what?”

“There. See?” Ma pointed a less than steady hand. “Under that glim.”

“What...”

“Wake up. What’d a ladder be doing there? Think they got some cove in to swab the glazes while all the nobs are about?”

“You think that’s where... but I can’t land on the lawn!”

“Land, never was there a more beautiful word. Ho, yes, land right by the ladder and draw even more eyes. No, you daft hap’orth, take us down where the rest of the nobs are.”

“Yes, Ma.”

“And let me know when it’s safe,” Ma said, clenching her eyes firmly shut again.

“It will be,” Madeleine said. “Beth’s a natural, aren’t you, dear?”

But Beth was no longer listening, calculating the distance, the wind, the amount of space... there... if that carriage stayed where it was... she dropped the speed as much as she dared, the
Aerymouse
yawed gently towards the spot she’d chosen, a nice open patch of drive with plenty of room to land. Easy, easy...

A small boy holding one of the carriage-horses looked up, saw the
Aerymouse
twenty feet above him and yelled with surprise.

The horse he was holding laid back its ears and bolted, dragging its carriage, and the boy, right into the path of the
Aerymouse.

Beth hauled back on the joystick, the engine stuttered, and a blurt of smoke shot past Madeleine and caught Ma square in the face. They’d lost too much speed, they couldn’t go around again, they
had
to land.

Building, landscape and milling, pointing crowd faded from the edges of Beth’s consciousness. She knew only angles, and speed, and distance. The boy, the carriage, the horse, the ground became shapes to negotiate.

One wing dipped, the undercarriage skimmed a foot from the carriage roof, and the
Aerymouse
touched down, spewing gravel into the crowd.

“What was that?” Ma squeaked.

“We’re down,” Beth said, blinking. “We’re down, Ma.” She unlocked her fingers from the joystick, her arms gone suddenly weak with strain.

“Well praise be.” Ma cautiously opened first one eye, then the other.

Beth looked up, startled, at a patter of applause. The partygoers, having overcome their fright, were moving towards the
Aerymouse
.

“Beautifully done, Beth dear,” Madeleine said. “Ma Pether...”

“What is it?”

Wordlessly, Madeleine took a mirror from her reticule.

“Oh now look,” Ma said. “Smutted like a sweep. This thing’s worse’n the trains. I’ll be going home by hansom if it’s all the same to you.” She scrubbed at her face with her handkerchief, eyeing the approaching figures.

“We need to move,” Ma said. “Beth, you and me gotta go in the servants’ entrance. Rest of you, once yer in, you know where to go – find that room where the ladder is. Second floor, north west side, we’ll meet you there.”

Madeleine, Adelita, Doris, and Tinder headed for the main door.

“Coo,” Doris said, “Reckon there’s enough sparks between here and the door to keep us in meat for a year, eh?” She regarded a passing matron with particular interest. “Look at them luggers, how’s she hold her head up with that lot hanging off her ears?”

“You en’t in class now,” Ma Pether growled. “Act like a young lady, ’less you want us all hung.”

“Yes, Ma.”

“What exactly have you been teaching them in your classes?” Madeleine said. “No, this isn’t the time. Oh, dear. Come along, girls.” Her voice was tight. Beth saw how hard her fingers clutched at her shawl. “She’ll be all right, Mrs Sparrow,” she said.

“Evvie?” Ma said. “Ah, she’ll do. Tough as a boot, she is. You lot, obey Mrs Sparrow, you hear me?
She
knows how to act like a lady, being as she is one. Come on, Beth.” She hustled Beth towards the crowd.

“Splendid flying,” said a young blood in a crimson waistcoat. “I say, it’s a gel! Well done, that gel. Any chance of a spin?”

Beth felt herself blushing, pulled her hat further down and hurried after Ma.

A
POLICEMAN STOOD
rigid-spined and shiny-buttoned at the servant’s entrance. Beth’s heart dropped to her boots. But Ma strode up to him, bolder than a brass knuckle. “Hofficer? I got sent over from the agency to help in the kitchen, only I come out the side door for a breath of air and I can’t find my way back in nohow, and here’s this one sent to wait for her people to come out and she can’t find her way neither, and could you tell us where we need to go as if I don’t sit down soon my knees’ll go on me, terrible, they are, my mother was just the same, her knees were a torment to her, well, it was the scrubbing, see, years of it, should have seen her hands, mine were going the same way, I tried goose-grease on ’em but not a particle of difference did it make...”

Beth glanced at the policeman’s face as he slowly backed into a corner of the portico, and rapidly looked away before the bubble of hysterical laughter rising in her chest could burst out.

“Through there!” he said. “Go down to the left, you’ll find the kitchens, and if not someone will tell you the way, good evening!”

“There, now, that’s very helpful, you’re a very helpful young man, you put me in mind of my youngest, gone to sea, he has, oh, he’s a very smart boy, not that you look alike, but he has just that way...” Ma continued, steaming down the corridor. Beth, ducking in her wake, risked a final glance at the policeman. He grinned, suddenly looking no older than herself, rolled his eyes and fanned himself with one hand. Beth shot him a smile which felt guilt-ridden and scuttled after Ma.

The back rooms of the embassy were aheave with cooks and maids and footmen, in a dozen different liveries. Ma strode through them without a care, until a large man with a huge beard spilling over his dirty white shirt, who had cornered a maid with an armload of laundry, caught sight of Beth. His eyes widened and he pointed at her, and said something which she couldn’t understand, but sounded like a question.

Ma ignored him, and Beth tried to follow her example, but the bearded man strode towards them, put himself in her path, and said it again, bending down to yell into her face. He had great bushy eyebrows to match his beard, and dreadful teeth. Beth stared up at him, her mind racing. He must be Russian. What did he want? Did he suspect something?

Ma stopped and looked over her shoulder. She gave Beth a single hard stare, and then headed away through the kitchen, disappearing into the steam.

Beth swallowed. Several people had stopped and were looking at her, staring.

“He has never seen woman in trousers,” said another man, this one in livery, his Russian accent giving the words a heavy, metallic edge. “He want to know if you are boy or girl.”

Beth took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m an
engineer
,” she said, and pushed past the bearded man, doing her best to stride.
Heart of metal, I know the heart of metal.

Her hands were sweating, her heart beating so hard her eyes blurred. Where the hell was Ma?

Never mind Ma, find Evvie.

Behind her, she heard a babble of Russian, and then a wave of laughter.

A maid with an armload of towels hurried through a door and Beth followed her.

Back stairs, a thin strip of worn carpet down the middle, bare, black-stained boards. A single hissing gas lamp sending dim greenish light down and up.

Beth let the maid get ahead, hoping no-one would come the other way and ask what a chauffeur was doing creeping about on the servants’ stairs. She would say she was looking for the privy. Or something.

The maid exited at the top, a door opened and shut. Beth emerged into a silent corridor, far better lit, too well lit, she felt like a moth on a lampshade. And she had no idea which direction she was facing.

She made for a window and pushed the heavy damask curtain aside, heaved up the sash, and leaned out.

There, over to her left, she could just make out the line of the ladder.
Why would Evvie leave it there? She wouldn’t. Not unless she had no choice.

Part of Beth’s brain was already working on a way to improve the design of the ladder as she hurried down the corridor towards the room, praying that Evvie would be there, that she was all right.

W
HEN SHE OPENED
the door she saw Madeleine, crouched on the floor in the moonlight, a dark stain seeping up the lavender satin gown, and then she saw Evvie.

“Oh no. Evvie...”

“She’s alive,” Madeleine said. “But she’s unconscious. So much blood... I’ll never... I should never...”

“Bust it!” Ma stared for a moment, then pulled the door shut behind her. “Come on, we gotta get her out of here.”

“Wait!” Madeleine snapped. “She’s still bleeding. We mustn’t move her, it could make it worse.”

“We don’t move her we’re going to have forty Peelers on our necks and there ain’t much nursing to be had in Holloway neither,” Ma said. “Where are the girls?”

“Here,” said Tinder. “I got some linens. Get out the way, I can do this, but you gotta get me some light.”