The Policeman of Secrets

Chapter 11 Part 1

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeta pulled herself slowly from her steaming bath, every movement sending an ache into her brain.

She knew she was very lucky to have avoided serious injury in her plunge from the window. That did little to ease her foul temper as she dried herself amid the luxuriant surroundings of her bathroom.

Warmed by the fireplace, and with an excellent wine to hand on the table beside the bath, she silently cursed Lord Stone’s unlamented children for their inadequacy. If only they had held Balthazar off a little longer. Solomon, she was sure, could have been hers; a helpless fool turned towards the Arcanum’s course. However, the twins had proved incompetent when it truly mattered and her plan of stealing somebody from the Workshop of Light had come to naught. She paused: no, stealing somebody else from the Workshop.

Supping on the wine, which was a rich crimson in the firelight, she admired herself in the mirrors which stood on every wall. She had been shielded from the glass of the pub window by Mara’s falling body, and as a result her face showed little sign of the fall. Only a few scratches on her arms, and a narrow slash near her neck, would remain to remind her of her narrow escape.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Josefina laughing as she played with her toys in the parlor, under the care of the latest servant girl.

Pulling on a robe, Elizabeta returned to her daughter, ordering the maid to see to the bath and extinguish the fire. She never troubled herself to learn servants’ names, judging such effort a waste of time given that their stay in the house was never long. All, of course, were under the thrall of the Subjugation Assembly, but Elizabeta remained unconvinced about its long-term power over the victims’ minds. They would obey, certainly, and follow the orders of those their overpowered brain told them were their superiors. But what did they know? What were they thinking as they walked along whatever path they were set? Stone and Flair were the experts in such matters, but they had remained silent on the subject, damn them, despite her frequent questions. So she was forced to replace her maid every few months, whenever she decided there was too much life in the girls’ eyes. Sent on one final journey to Doctor Flair, they never crossed her mind again. There would always be more.

Sitting on the floor beside Josefina, Elizabeta listened to her daughter pour forth an excited report about a busy day: We went to the park to feed the birds, and then Susanna—was that the maid’s name?—took me on a carriage ride, and then we... and then we... The girl’s words became a blur, fading into the distance as Elizabeta thought of her own circumstances.

It would be easy enough to explain away the death of Stone’s twins, and the story would only serve to push his lordship’s hatred of Balthazar to new heights. She could also make a good case for some extra compensation once the Arcanum’s plan was finally complete. I almost died trying to save your children, milord, she imagined herself saying when the time for rewards came.

Confident of her position, she smiled to herself and returned her gaze to Josefina, who finished her account and went back to her game.

There was a hard and fast knock at the door. It had to be the Arcanum; neighbors and anybody else who might be expected to call at the elegant three-story apartments in this discreet Mayfair street had been left in no doubt that she was not to be disturbed at any time.

Elizabeta watched as the maid quickly strode to the stairs, silent and head bowed. Ah, she might do for a little longer.

There was a brief muted conversation from the hallway, then a man’s voice, urgent and insistent. Elizabeta moved out, pulling the parlor door partially closed behind her. Briefly reaching into the drawer of the small table that stood atop the staircase, she hid the implement she found there within her robe and readied herself.