“That is the trouble with the youth of today,” she grumbled. “Nobottom.”
She waved me away but when I reached the door, she summoned me back.
“I have just remembered. Julius had a twin sister, Eliza. Must be thirty-five or thereabouts. I’ve heard nothing of her for years, but if you want to find her, you can do no better than to call upon Parthenope Fleet.”
“Parthenope Fleet?” This was good news indeed. I did not know Miss Fleet myself, but we shared membership in the Curiosity Club, providing as it did a refuge for scientists, explorers, and thinkers of all disciplines. Miss Fleet’s particular field—applied galvanics—held no interest for me whatsoever and our paths had never crossed.
But that was about to change.
CHAPTER
15
That a visit to a scientific laboratory would interest Stoker surprised me not in the slightest. But his almost indecent enthusiasm was unexpected indeed. His eyes shone, and he scarcely made a single coherent comment before dashing away as soon as I extended the invitation. He was returned within the quarter of the hour, scrubbed, polished, and fairly gleaming from hair to hem.
“I have seen you less perfectly groomed when meeting royalty,” I protested. “What, pray, is the significance of this particular call that you should be as neat as a pin and fresh as the proverbial daisy?”
“Parthenope Fleet,” he said, pronouncing the name with the same sort of reverence one might encounter amongst Romans when speaking of the pope.
Before I could make further inquiry, he directed me to change my own attire to something far smarter, and scrutinised me thoroughly when I had done so.
“It will suffice,” he said finally. He took me firmly by the elbow and guided me along the path to the main gate of Bishop’s Folly where it gave onto Marylebone Road and would provide us ample opportunity to hail a cab.
“Suffice!” I protested as we walked, the tips of my shoes fairly dragging as he bowled me along. “This isWorth,” I reminded him. “Chosen by you and fitted by one of the master’s own modistes in Paris.” I might have saved my breath to cool my porridge for all the attention he paid me. He stood upon the kerb, letting several hansoms pass us by before raising his hand.
“Stoker, we might have been halfway to Shoreditch by now. What do you mean by allowing empty conveyances to pass us by?”
“We are not going in a hansom,” he advised me loftily. “I do not wish to arrive besmirched by the city soots.”
I stood in stupefaction, marvelling at his newfound pernicketiness, but he was not to be moved. In due course, a hackney was secured, and we climbed inside, insulated from the dirt of the streets. It deposited us where Stoker directed, outside a house in Hounslow. It was a sturdy and unhandsome building of mock-Tudor design, clearly chosen for its location. It sat in a small bit of green lawn, the grass all but obscured by a shrubbery that might have been conjured by a fairy-tale witch, all thorns and creeping vines that hung low over the windows. The door was of stout wood, and though it boasted a heavy, modern lock, an enchanted troll as a guard would not have looked amiss. We stepped onto the little porch which was shadowed by the overhanging floor above.
“It isn’t very welcoming,” I murmured.
“It isn’t meant to be,” a voice said. It seemed to float down to us, and by stepping backwards off of the porch, we saw that the casement directly above us had been flung open. A silver-white head leant out, and a pair of eyes, brilliant and sharply blue, assessed us. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Forgive the intrusion, Miss Fleet,” Stoker said, immediately doffing his hat with a sweeping gesture that would have credited any ci-devant marquis. “I am Revelstoke Templeton-Vane, and this is Miss Veronica Speedwell.”
“Speedwell? Have I seen your name in the club ledger?” she demanded.
“Yes, Miss Fleet,” I said, smiling ingratiatingly. “I wagered with Lady Cordelia Beauclerk upon the outcome of the Sullivan-Kilrain fight.” The bare-knuckled bout in the States had been the fight of the century, lasting some seventy-five rounds, and had excited attention even in the hushed halls of the Curiosity Club.
“Did you win?” she demanded.
“Alas, no. I am afraid I wagered on Mr. Kilrain and he proved a disappointment.”
She made an harrumphing noise. “How much did you lose?”
“Only a guinea.”
“Only a guinea! Listen to the child. Do you know how many laboratory supplies a guinea would purchase? Tell me why I should admit such an extravagant little madam into my home.”
The words were tart, and the gaze none too friendly. Stoker spoke up. “Well, you needn’t, if you do not like to. We could leave her standing upon the porch like a pointer whilst we chat.”
She gave a great guffaw of laughter and banged the casement shut. I regarded Stoker with some irritation, but he responded with an upraised forefinger, the universal gesture commanding patience. After a long moment, a series of thumps and bumps and the metallic thud of a bolt being drawn back announced her arrival. The door was thrown back upon its hinges, shrieking mightily in protest. Parthenope Fleet stood behind it, and for a long moment, I was so arrested by her appearance, I did not move. She was tall, her inches almost equalling Stoker’s, and her shoulders were broad, giving her the elegance of a born equestrienne. Her head was held on a long, graceful neck, and her silver hair had been cropped short. The eyes were beguiling, blue as a summer sky, and she used them to great effect, permitting herself a twinkle as they rested upon Stoker.
“My god, but you’re a good-looking lad,” she said, gesturing for him to enter. “I might have married if I had ever found the like in my day.” He made a gesture of protest which seemed to enchant her all the more. “And he blushes! Whoever thought a man alive could possess such gentility. Come in, child, and bring the flibbertigibbet behind you.”
Thus encouraged, we followed her into the shadows of the house. The creepers hanging over the windows gave the rooms a shifting, aqueous light. It was like swimming at the bottom of a mossy pond, and I marvelled that a creature of science like Parthenope Fleet could inspire so many thoughts of witchcraft and enchantment.