The Cogspeare Conspiracy (The Cogspeare Chronicles Book 1) (5 page)

              “Mrs. Cogspeare, thank heavens you’re back, ‘an safe and sound, too! I was just telling Steamins and Monsieur Bongout” a name which she butchered more than the chef’s beef stew, “that you would be alright, wasn’t I, Steamins? And then Monsieur went on askin’ what you’d like for supper after your ordeal, and I said that she’d be wantin’ something light but he said that you’d want somethin’ with a bit o’pop to it, and since we all know what that means I said as that would be too much for your nerves and-”

              When Mrs. Bunsen got talking, it was incredibly difficult to shut her up. But Edwina, after years of practice, stepped in deftly and said,

              “I’m sure you’re right, Mrs. Bunsen. This is Miss McFlynt who will be staying with us. Will you take her up to the guest room and see to her ankle, please?”

              Unlike most housekeepers who would look disdainfully at a dirty, dishevelled young woman brought home with the mistress of the house like a souvenir from her jaunt in prison, Mrs. Bunsen beamed at her newest prey on whom she could pounce with deadly amounts comfort and coddling. If Magnus were giving to grinning, he would. And Sebastian couldn’t help but chuckle as the housekeeper grabbed her hand and led her slowly up the stairs, calling out to Edwina that Lily would draw a bath for her directly.

              “What time shall I tell Monsieur Bongout to serve dinner, madam?” Edwina turned and smiled at her butler.

              “I think the more accurate question would be, what time will Monsieur Bongout deign to feed us?”

              Magnus sighed.

Chapter 10:

Monsieur Bongout had evidently decided that, despite the adventures and tribulations of the day, nothing would interfere with the correct timing of his meal, and three Cogspeares and their guest sat down at the mahogany table in the large dining room at precisely seven o’clock. Mr. Cogspeare was still nowhere to be seen, but his presence was felt. As Minerva had come down the staircase, the walls shook and the chandeliers rattled, their crystal tinkling ominously. She had paused, looking nervous.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, miss,” Mrs. Bunsen had smiled as she walked by with a tray of freshly-washed glasses. For a moment, Minerva was even more startled by the servant’s open interaction with an above-stairs guest than she was by the house shaking. When she was at her great-aunt’s house, and the few times she had stayed at friends’ homes, the servants were deferential and nigh invisible. Obviously the Cogspeare household was different in more ways than one. She smiled.

              “It’s just some of his usual experiments. But the house is very well protected, and made to withstand bombs and the like.” Despite the plump woman’s friendly smile, Minerva was almost more worried by her reassurances than the rattling, which had since ceased.

              As she completed her descent, Mrs. Bunsen had pointed her in the direction of the dining room, but not before leaving her with the even more ominous comment,

              “Though of course you wouldn’t find me sleeping under this roof; it’s in my contract!”

              With that, Minerva entered the dining room.

              While the parlour that she had seen earlier had been an unhealthy confection of tassels in all shades of purple, this long room was a restrained effort in oak panels and wine-coloured tapestries. The lumination tubes on the walls were reflected in the tall window at the end of the room. Between her and the window stretched a long, dark table, surrounded by eight large, carved chairs. Mrs. Cogspeare had taken the chair at the head of the table, Magnus to her left, a free chair to her right and Sebastian next to it.

              Magnus looked up. “You look…rested.” Minerva rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Thank you for the effort, though I know exactly how this looks. Not precisely my taste,” she whispered conspiratorially. Despite having no luggage and only one, now practically ruined outfit, Minerva looked fresh after her ablutions. She also looked like a lamp with a heavily tasselled lampshade. Evidently Edwina, much shorter than their guest, had raided her closet to clothe her.

Sebastian rose and helped her into her chair. But just as she sat down, Minerva jumped up again with a little cry. All heads turned towards her.

“Good lord! Something wet just touched my ankle!”

The Cogspeares sighed in relief. “What?”

“That’s just L.B, Miss McFlynt. He’s our family dog,” explained Sebastian as they all resumed their seats. Minerva did so carefully and then quickly ducked under the table to check. Sure enough, there was the mutt that had been following Sebastian around earlier. He now lounged on the plush carpet, and after ascertaining that dinner wasn’t immediately forthcoming, began to snore and drool gently.

“As you can see,” Magnus popped his head under the table as well, “he is a canine of rather unsavoury origins and manners. And be careful- L.B. stands for Leaky Beaker.”

“Well, I think he’s friendly and charming,” she replied as they both rose above the table top. Edwina and Sebastian could barely wipe the smiles off their faces fast enough.

As they waited for dinner to be served, Minerva looked across the table at Sebastian and asked,

“I saw you holding a magazine about animals earlier. Are you interested in them?”

He smiled shyly at her, his face darkening to show off his freckles further. “Yes, Miss McFlynt. I would like to become a veterinarian someday.”

“His affinity with animals is quite astounding, Minerva,” added Edwina. “He collects and rehabilitates strays with remarkable results.” As Sebastian turned an even deeper shade of scarlet, Magnus replied,

“And he’s not the only one.”

“Magnus!” scolded his mother, but he simply shrugged.

“What do you mean?” Magnus turned to face Minerva fully.

“Mother recruited Mrs. Bunsen and Steamins from a brothel.”

Minerva smiled, but then realized that he wasn’t joking. She looked to her hostess for confirmation as Magnus added,

“She was a madam and he was the head bouncer. I suppose there isn’t a very great difference between what they did then and now.”

It was Edwina’s turn to flush, but she said as calmly as she could, “You know that’s quite untrue, dear. They both lead respectful and decent lives that they both find much more…palatable and secure.”

“My brother, Erasmus,” he continued as if not hearing her, “he’s continued to provide a steady stream of maids, also sourced from East End bordellos. Of course, I’m sure his original interactions with them weren’t so altruistic.”

Though she should have been scandalized, Minerva couldn’t stop from listening fascinated. It was like an accident that just kept on going.

“Erasmus- he’s the doctor, correct?” she asked for clarification. Really, there were a lot of Cogspeare sons.

Sebastian quickly jumped in.

“Yes. He’s six years my senior. He studied here at St. Belichor’s, though we barely see him since he’s doing a residency up in Edinburgh. His twin, Amadeus, is finishing at Oxford later this year.”

“And isn’t there another brother at Oxford too?”

“Did mother tell you that as you were handcuffed together?” commented Magnus.

“No. She told me that as we were marching outside the Prime Minister’s house.”

“Heavens,” breathed Edwina, raising her eyes to the ceiling, hoping for divine intervention.

“Yes!” interjected the pacifist Sebastian, trying valiantly to save the conversation. “Declan, the second eldest, is a don there as well. He does physical engineering. And Quintus, the brother just older than I, he’s there studying maths.”

Magnus and Minerva had locked angry eyes with each other, but she finally pulled away to smile kindly at Edwina, who was taking a large gulp of wine.

“It seems that you have some very learned sons, Edwina.”

She smiled beatifically.

“Indeed I do.” She looked first at one, then the other present and Magnus had the grace to look a tad shamefaced for his outburst. “They get that from their father.”

“But you must have shared some part in that…” Edwina waved her hand dismissively.

“Oh, no, dear. I just run the house and support my men.” But there was something about the gleam in her eye that, just for a moment, made Minerva suspect otherwise of the delicate Irishwoman.

Just then, L.B. gave a short bark.

“Oh good,” exclaimed Edwina, “dinner is served.”

Steamins flung open the door with barely restrained theatricality, and announced, “Dinner is served!”

He stepped aside to allow first Lily, and two other equally pretty maids carry in silver salvers heaped with steaming dishes. As they set them on the table in front of the four diners, Steamins explained,

“Monsieur Bongout has realized that you have been through an ordeal, madam, and so has deemed that, though we have an esteemed…guest,” he barely blinked at Minerva, “you shall be served
a la Russe
. That is, from the table. And,” he swallowed and sniffed as though something putrid was filling the air instead of the heavenly scents that were making them salivate, “if you so deem, you may serve yourselves.”

“We do indeed, Steamins,” Edwina quickly said. She knew that the fewer people in the room, the better it would be better for Magnus. She could tell that Minerva agitated him. She just couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

“Indeed, madam,” Steamins replied in icy tones. “Then, for your dinner Bongout has made:” he pointed to each dish as he listed, “turtle cutlets in a saffron and vermouth cream sauce; trout poached in white sherry with Brussel sprouts; and a beef Napoleon flambéed in Cognac.” He quickly beckoned Lily over with a small dish that was placed in front of Sebastian. “And for you,” he added, “a vegetable pie. Please enjoy your meal.” As he left and they began to serve themselves, Minerva leaned over to Edwina and asked quietly,

“Is Steamins a man or a woman?”

“Oh, we don’t ask, dear. Turtle cutlet?” she offered, but Minerva passed. 

The rest of the meal passed quietly, the only conversation being when Sebastian explained to Minerva that he didn’t eat meat or fish, or anything which came from harming an animal. Consequently, Bongout cooked small dishes for him and otherwise avoided him since he thought the particular young man diseased, a kind of culinary leper. 

Edwina then made one last attempt to steer the conversation into more salubrious channels.

“Very oddly pleasant weather we are having for March, is it not? Quiet a pleasant change from the deluge of the last two weeks. Must be careful with the spesium when that weather comes in.”

“Indeed! That company should have taken much more care with its miners down in Cornwall- the one that had the explosion a month ago.” Edwina began to nod in agreement to Minerva, but Magnus couldn’t help but cut in.

“The workers knew the hazards, Miss McFlynt, and the company should hold no responsibility for what nature deems to mete out.” She turned in her chair and looked astonished.

“It’s a
spesium
mining company in
England
,” she emphasized the two words, evidentially trying to appeal to his obligation as the son of spesium’s inventor and as an Englishman. “How can you possibly defend
them
?” The last word dripped with contempt.

“Because,” he replied, calmly chewing a piece of trout, “those miners came up with the brilliant idea of suing that company, and I am defending the chairman.”

“Really?” gasped Sebastian.

“Magnus! What a wonderful opportunity for you!” but just as quickly as she began to smile at her son, Minerva cut her off.

“No, Edwina, you don’t understand. That company, and the chairman as head of that company, is at fault. They have to provide protection for their employees or else there would be none left for this dangerous type of work.”

“Again, Miss McFlynt: they are aware of the risks.”

“Just because they are aware of the risks doesn’t mean they have the choice to reject them. Those people are in sore need of jobs!” She pushed away her plate.

“And they have them, Miss McFlynt. And it’s not as though Lord Clinton, the chairman, can psychically predict the weather.”

“Thank God!” sighed Edwina, bringing a halt to their heated discussion. “Here comes dessert.”

Magnus and Minerva spent the rest of the meal in a sulky silence, and as they finished the pudding Magnus went to help his mother out of her chair. As they all wandered from the panelled dining room to the drawing room, Steamins came in.

“Mr. Cogspeare sends his regrets, madam, but he will not be making an appearance until breakfast at the earliest.”

“Oh, dear,” Edwina said, delicately sipping her tea, “And I’m sure that he so wanted to meet you, dear,” she nodded to Minerva. “But once he gets fixated on a project, he follows through immediately.”

“And single-mindedly,” Magnus murmured. Minerva shot him a questioning look, but he instead finished large serving of Cognac from a cut crystal snifter and rose from his chair.

“Well, I must be going. Mother,” he went over and bent, giving her hair the merest kiss, bowed to Minerva, and ruffled Sebastian’s hair as he walked out.