The Osiris Ritual

Chapter Twenty-Six

Newbury stood by the window, holding back the netting and peering out onto the sprawling view of Kensington High Street below. It already seemed like a lifetime had passed since the incident on Knox's submersible, but in truth it had only been a matter of days. The fog had lifted during the intervening days, leaving behind only a few thin fingers that still clung obstinately to the street lamps, or lurked in the quieter parts of the city.

Below, the street was a hive of activity. He watched a ground train rolling by, the passengers inside bobbing easily with the motion of the vehicle. Hansom cabs sent pedestrians scattering as they bowled along the cobbled road, and children ran circles around each other, frolicking in the morning sunshine.

This was the third time that Newbury had cal ed on his assistant since she had been discharged from the hospital, and on each occasion he had found her sleeping, unable to receive visitors. As she had on both previous occasions, Mrs. Grant had tried to send him away with assurances that her mistress was recovering well – no doubt concerned that his presence would in some way disturb that recovery – but today he had resolved to not take no for an answer. So, instead, he found himself waiting in the drawing room as Veronica dozed peacefully nearby.

He turned to her, leaving the constant drone of the traffic behind him. She was resting on a chaise longue, her head and shoulders propped up, covered by a blanket that had been neatly embroidered with the design of a willow tree. Her shoulder was strapped to protect her wound. She stirred, and he crossed the room, stepping closer so that she might see him when she woke. Her eyes opened. She looked momentarily dazed, and then her eyes fixed on Newbury, a pretty smile lighting her face. "How are you, Miss Hobbes?"

Veronica moistened her lips, and then looked around for a drink. Newbury fetched the jug from the bedside table and poured her a glass of water. She drank from it thirstily. After a moment, she handed it back to Newbury and gave a smal cough. She looked up at him. "I'm wel enough, Sir Maurice. It takes more than a bullet to incapacitate me."

Newbury smiled. "I'm delighted to hear it. I've been.. concerned."

Veronica's eyes were shining. "Yes, I'd rather hoped you might." She paused whilst he tried to make sense of her statement. "But real y, I'm recovering well. The doctor was able to repair the wound, so now it's just a matter of time. Although I admit I find this convalescing business most tiresome. There is so much to be done."

Newbury laughed. "Yes, well. You'll recall how often you berated me for attending the office last December when I should have been at home, resting. I fear I set a rather bad example. I've never been the best at sitting stil."

Veronica glanced at the door, as if to be sure that her housekeeper, Mrs Grant, was nowhere in the vicinity of the room. "It's a good thing you were wrong about Ashford, isn't it?"

"How so?" asked Newbury, an impish expression on his face.

Veronica shrugged, and then winced as the gesture obviously caused her shoulder to spasm in pain. "He said he would turn himself in after you'd seen him at the house, just before we set off for the docks."

Newbury offered her a wry grin. "No, Miss Hobbes. I said that I was confident he would do the right thing."

Veronica frowned. "Precisely… Oh… you mean…"

Newbury glanced away. His expression darkened. "I fear I used the poor man, Miss Hobbes. I used his anger, his desire for revenge. I used him as a weapon against Aubrey Knox. In truth, I suppose I engineered his death. I must take responsibility for that, just as I must take responsibility for poor Mr. Purefoy, and for your injury. I could hardly bear the fact that you were hurt."

Veronica shook her head emphatically. "No. Sir Maurice, the responsibility is wholly mine I went after those girls. I knew the danger I was opening myself up to. And as for Ashford – he was dead long before you ever got to him. He was just a ghost in a machine, the remnants of a man, bound to steel and brass. If you offered him anything, you offered him a resolution, an end to his nightmare.

You offered him a chance at peace."

Newbury took her hand and held it gently in his own. "You're too kind, Miss Hobbes. I don't deserve that. But I thank you for it al the same."

Veronica squeezed his hand. "You deserve more than you al ow yourself room to imagine."

They regarded each other in silence.

After a moment, Newbury brightened. "There is something I've been meaning to say." He looked her in the eye. "But I haven't been able to find the right time."

Veronica's response was almost breathless. "Yes."

Newbury could see something in her eyes, in her expression. The weight of expectation. Hope.

In turn, something inside him snapped. He could barely look at her. "It's about Amelia."

"Oh."

"No, it's good news!"

Veronica offered him a weak smile. Clearly, she'd hoped for something more. But he couldn't give her that, couldn't put her through it. Couldn't put himself through it. He'd seen what had become of Charles and Isobel, of Ashford and Catherine. The risks were too great.

Veronica, of course, was brave enough to put it to one side, to hide her disappointment. She toyed, absently, with the edge of her blanket. "Go on."

"I've spoken with Her Majesty. She's in agreement. Amelia is to be moved to a private establishment, the Grayling Institute, under the care of her personal team of physicians."

Veronica's eyes widened. "Oh, Maurice." She tried to sit up, but it was clearly too much.

Newbury waved her still.

"I believe it is a sign of Her Majesty's gratitude towards you. For all your work on her behalf, and for your help with the Chapman amp; Villiers case. Evidently, you're highly regarded."

Veronica sighed, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "That's quite wonderful news. Please extend my gratitude to Her Majesty."

"I will." He put his hand on her arm. "Just as soon as you're well, I'll take you to see her -

Amelia, that is – in her new home. I'm convinced things wil work out for the best."

Veronica smiled, warmly. "More than that, Sir Maurice, I'm convinced this intervention will save her life. Or at least prolong it for some time." She glanced out of the window, as if seeing something that wasn't there. "I shall have to inform my parents."

"No need. The matter has already been taken in hand. Your parents have signed the relevant documents. Amelia is being transferred on Friday."

Veronica touched her damaged shoulder with an unconscious gesture. "I don't know how to thank you."

"By getting better. There's nothing more important now." Newbury paced back to the window.

"So what did Her Majesty have to say about the deaths of Knox and Ashford?"

Newbury shrugged. "I saw her this morning. She was sanguine. She gave little away. I suspect it draws a line under a long and complicated story, a story that I'm only now beginning to understand."

Veronica nodded. "I suppose it does." Newbury studied her expression. What was it that she wasn't tel ing him? For now, he knew, he had to forgo al such thoughts. What was important was that she recovered, as quickly as possible. "So, what next?" she asked, inquisitively.

"Next? Next we do what we always do. We return to our sedentary lives, to fine wine and cigars, to meals with Sir Charles, and to an office at the British Museum. To filing papers and writing dry academic treatise, as we await further instruction. It doesn't sound so bad, when you put it like that, does it?"

Veronica looked longingly out of the window, and sighed. "I'm not so terribly good at waiting."

Newbury's face cracked in a wide grin. "Nor am I, my dear Miss Hobbes," he crossed to where his coat was draped on the back of a chair, preparing to leave her to rest, "nor am I." He studied her from across the room. His eyes twinkled. "I'm sure it won't be long before something comes our way. Besides, it's nearly spring. It wouldn't do to miss the fine weather, stuck indoors behind a musty old desk." He located his hat, and placed it on his head with a flourish.

"You're leaving, then?"

"For now. I've had word that an old friend of mine is in town. It's high time I paid him a visit. In the meantime, you need to rest. I'll return on Friday with news of your sister."

Veronica allowed herself to sink back into the cushions of the chaise longue. "Be sure to do just that. Friday seems like an eternity away."

Newbury offered her a dramatic bow. "Until then, Miss Hobbes."

"Until then, Sir Maurice."

And without further ado, he was gone.