“I admit we were dazzled by what you were achieving,” he said, descending another step. “But Ambrose and I came to our senses. You were lost. You became so obsessed by your ambitions, by your unnatural attachment to thatthing—”
“Do not speak of her!” Eliza ordered. “She would have been the greatest scientific achievement in all of history, and you ruined that.”
“I thought I was saving you,” he said sadly. He had reached the bottom of the steps and he paused there, stretching out his hand to his sister. “Eliza, it is not too late. Give this up now. I will speak to the authorities about Ambrose. You are clearly not in your right mind. You needn’t hang for it. I will make certain they are kind to you.”
She gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Even now, you think you can decide my fate for me. You destroyed my work and you kept me separated from her for years. Do you know how I have mourned since the fire? It was not because of you, Julius. I did not regret losing you. But every day that has passed, I have grieved forher. For the loss of what I was about to achieve. And now I discover that you knew where she wasall along. You kept us apart because you are a small, small man. You could not bear my greatness.”
Tears of rage spilled onto her cheeks, and the hand clasped about my arm trembled.
“Eliza, you are not well—”
“Stop saying that!” She tightened her grip upon me, shoving the poker harder against my flesh. “We are leaving, Julius. Miss Speedwell is going to lead me to her, and then I will let her go. If you are wise, you will not meddle with me further, brother.”
She jerked hard upon my arm, urging me forwards.
“Not a step further!”
The shout came from behind us, next to the roaring engine of the little train. Eliza whirled, carrying me with her, and I beheld then the gladdest sight I have ever seen in the whole of my life.
“Stoker!”
He was standing beside the engine, as timely an appearance as a fairy-tale prince. He had not taken himself off to Plumfield at all. Instead he had been here all the while, waiting, preparing to mount a rescue should I require one.
And such a rescue it was! He looked like an avenging angel, a beautiful Lucifer standing with legs planted far apart, the flames playing over his face.
“Let her go,” Stoker commanded over the rush and hiss of the steam.
“I think not,” Eliza began, but Stoker looked at me, flicking a finger, and I understood him at once. Without a moment’s hesitation, I stamped hard upon Eliza’s instep, likely breaking a bone in her foot. Most opponents would have unhanded me at that moment, but Eliza only squeezed harder in her fury. In a feint, I raised my left arm as if to strike her, causing her to turn her head. As she did so, I drove my right thumb into her eye socket. She released me with a howl of pain, and I dove for the platform. I landed, again and unluckily, squarely upon young Wilfred.Together we scrambled to our feet, allowing Stoker to guide us towards the stairs as Julius went to his sister.
He reached a hand to her. “Come, Eliza. Let me help you.”
She hesitated, then took his hand, levering herself to her feet. As she did so, she pulled him off balance and onto the little train. In one smooth motion, she snatched up the poker once more and held it to his throat. “No, Julius. I will finish this.”
She reached her free hand towards the brake, and as she did so, Julius made to grab the poker from her. She wrenched it away and drew her arm back, preparing to swing.
“No!” I cried.
I was too late. She swung the poker down, connecting with Julius’s temple. Blood spurted from the wound, and for one terrible moment, I feared she had killed him. But he was merely stunned, giving a low moan and clapping his hand to his head, ruddy gore flowing through his fingers.
She whirled and pointed to Wilfred. “You. Bring me one of those jars,” she ordered, indicating the shelves that lined the stone stairs. Wilfred hesitated and Stoker started forwards, but she brandished the poker once more.
“A step closer and I will finish him,” she warned them. Stoker halted, and Wilfred blinked at her, hesitating. “Give me what I asked for,” she said. “I will hit him again for every time you make me repeat myself.” She raised the poker, and Wilfred leapt into action, retrieving a jar of spirits of formalin and carrying it to the edge of the platform. “Put it down and back away,” she said. Wilfred did as he was told and he retreated to stand next to us in an uneasy tableau.
Stoker put up his hands to show he meant her no harm.
“Eliza, leave Julius be. You need not kill an innocent man,” he said.
Her expression was scornful. “Innocent? Is that what he told you?” She gestured towards Julius with a thrust of the poker.
“He shared your story with us,” I told her, placating, playing for time. “We know of your brilliance, Eliza. We know how difficult it must have been for you, always overshadowed by Julius when yours was the real genius.”
“Do not pity me,” she spat. “You know nothing of what my life was like, forced to creep in his shadow, yet knowing I was his superior in every way.” She looked down at her brother, huddled on the floor of the train, bereft of dignity. “This is the end you deserve, Julius. And you cannot deny it.”
“Why?” Stoker asked. “Because he dared to stop your experiments?”
“Stop them? Hebeganthem. She was our maidservant, did he tell you that?”
“You knew her?” I could not keep the note of accusation from my tone.