The Derring-Do Club and the Year of the Chrononauts Read Free Page B

something for you,” said Caruthers.
    He dug in his pocket for something, something flat and white, and at any moment he would drop to one knee and present a ring, but instead he thrust an envelope into her hands.
    She fumbled with it and, finally, she felt an emotion.
    “One cannot accept this,” she stated.
    “Why ever not?”
    “We don’t live on charity.”
    “It’s not charity.”
    “What is it then?”
    “It’s a letter of introduction for employment.”
    “Employment!”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m not a domestic.”
    “No, please… may I start again?”
    “If you please – directly.”
    “Major Dan and I thought, well, your situation prompted us to consider you, and, of course, your sterling service to Her Majesty and the Empire, which must remain secret, so then the secrecy is a qualification. Don’t you see?”
    “I’m afraid not, you are being obscure.”
    “It’s an administrative position at the Patents Pending Office.”
    “Patents…”
    “Pending Office, yes. On Queensbury Road, it’s impossible to miss,” Caruthers explained. “You need simply go and announce yourself.”
    “I see.”
    “That’s a letter of introduction from Major Dan.”
    Earnestine smoothed out the envelope. It bore a single letter: ‘B’.
    “I’ll give it some thought,” she said.
    “Do,” said Caruthers, and then he paused with casual carelessness. “You’d be doing us a great service, of course, and we all have our duties.”
    He smiled.
    Earnestine nodded: she knew when she’d been gulled.
    Mrs Arthur Merryweather
    The evening had gone so quickly, and for Georgina it had been fleeting and ephemeral. She had laughed, and sung, and actually enjoyed herself. The entertainment had been jolly and diverting certainly, but to have heard from Arthur again had been a true wonder. However, each step now seemed to take her further away from his kindly visitation. Despite the jostling crowd, she felt alone once more.
    The show was over.
    She missed Arthur. She wanted to check his watch again, to hold that connection with him a little longer, but the crowd bumped into her too many times and she feared dropping it. She’d been without him longer than they’d been together, but time didn’t seem to make a difference. He was an ever–present gap next to her.
    Outside the theatre, there was the usual bustle and noise. The street was lit by the garish glow of many gas lamps, those of the theatre glaring up at posters of entertainment and advertisement, while the street lamps blazed upon their wrought iron posts. Women sold matches or posies of flowers, boys ran hither and thither with messages and hawkers plied their wares. A Peeler shooed away a beggar. Newspaper men shouted the headlines and waved copies of the evening editions aloft.
    “Another disappearance, another disappearance…” they hollered: there being only one story of the day.
    That’s what she wanted: to disappear, to get away from all the fuss, and well–meaning tea, sympathy and cake. She wanted to be left alone and yet at the same time she wanted to hold on to what she had left. She knew it wasn’t the world that was slipping away from her, but she herself who was drifting.
    In her bag was a letter, an official document that she had so often hidden, put aside and distracted herself from, so that it had begun to dominate her every thought. Such was its influence that she had got out her luggage and put away her luggage so many times. She’d even taken down her Bradshaw to look up the train times.
    Caruthers appeared with an arm to guide her to a quieter area by some stone steps, but even here it was busy.
    “Erm…” he said.
    A gentleman vendor approached to suggest that they have their picture taken as a souvenir.
    Caruthers sidled away leaving Georgina with an opportunity to examine the photographic apparatus, lifting her dark veil to do so. Perched atop a tripod was a teak box. A glass lens protruded from the front held in a brass fitting