The Janus Affair: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel (18 page)

“What? The son of New Zealand’s leading suffragist trying to tell a perfectly capable woman what to order?”

“Oh tosh,” Douglas leaned towards her across the tiny table. “Mother would never forgive me if I ignored all my upbringing and didn’t at least give you my opinion. I confess I believe civilisation would fall if we had to give up proper behaviour. You may have the vote back home, Eliza, but you are still a lady.”

She pressed her lips together at that. Across from them, Brandon and Ihita were engaged in animated conversation, laughing, with their eyes fixed on each other. Eliza recognised that look and the accompanying feelings. It felt so long ago.

In the awkward silence, Eliza and Douglas ordered lobster bisque to be followed by the roast beef, and she was grateful the entree arrived so quickly. It was served in fine porcelain bowls and smelt delicious. As she dipped in her soupspoon, from back to front as she’d been taught by Kate, she wondered how many details about that last dreadful incident in New Zealand the suffragist had imparted to her son.

Eliza enjoyed the soup, which was perfectly prepared and beautifully seasoned; and as she took her time with the first course, she examined Douglas closely, covertly. Time had not really changed him, and that made her smile. She wondered if she looked any different to him.

“I was in the Bull and Bear shortly before we departed.” His sudden revelation caught her by surprise and she dropped her spoon into her plate with a clatter. Douglas slid an envelope across the table. “I nearly forgot about it, truth be told, but your mother gave me this since she was somehow positive we would run into each other.”

Inside was a picture of her family: Mum, Dad, Grace, Gerald, and Nora. The only people missing from it were Herbert, still locked away in the asylum, Anna who was happily married and living in Napier, and herself. Eliza swallowed hard. Though there were regular messages from her parents, and even the odd photograph, this was a new one. Nora, only four when she had been cast out of New Zealand, looked so grown-up. Would she remember her sister Eliza?

“Thank you, Douglas.” Eliza, swallowing against the tightness in her throat, tucked the photograph into her purse. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you took the time for that.”

Finishing his soup, he dabbed at his mouth. “I go in there quite often actually. It is still the best pub in Auckland after all. Your father keeps a well-ordered establishment. In fact he’s talking about getting one of those McTighe bars in, and buying another place further south . . . maybe in Christchurch.”

“Oh yes, he says Auckland is getting too big for him—but I don’t think he will ever do it.” Eliza smiled. “Unlike myself, my father really doesn’t like change.”

Douglas leaned back and the waiter cleared the soup course. “Well, it’s a good thing that you do. Otherwise this whole escapade would be quite unbearable.” He waved his hands to include the airship, the food, and all of London. “And the movement would have lost one of its greatest champions.”

It was quite a statement, but one Eliza knew was not entirely true. “Champion? Come now, most of the English suffragists can’t stand me, and most of the New Zealand ones never even knew what I did to help your mother.”

Douglas’ eyes met hers. “But she does, and Mum believes you can help find these women, and who is behind these abductions.”

“Yet she must keep her distance as my own reputation within the ranks of the London suffragists precedes me.” Eliza folded her hands on her lap. “I understand.”

They paused their conversation while the waiter refilled their crystal glasses with good Spanish wine, and served them roast beef and potatoes. Eliza could detect hints of rosemary in the sauce, but at that moment the food did not have her attention.

Douglas didn’t notice, too busy looking uncomfortable, but eventually he met her gaze. “That is the nature of your personality, isn’t it, Eliza? We both know that you make people uneasy. You enjoy it, in fact.” He took a sip of his wine and waited with one raised eyebrow for her reply.

Her thoughts darted once again to Wellington. “Maybe. But by doing that, sometimes it moves things along. Poke someone enough and they reveal truths they prefer were hidden.”

Douglas gave a slight chuckle, and nodded. “No, my sweet Eliza, you have not changed that much after all, now have you?”

A shudder passed through her when he called her “my sweet Eliza,” and she could feel her cheeks burn at his words.
No, I haven’t changed that much, but I miss home. I miss it so,
she thought in earnest
.

Eliza looked at where his hand rested. It was so close. She felt her fingertips itch.

“So, what can you tell me about your investigation?” he asked suddenly.

The itch subsided. Taking up the glass of wine in the hand wanting to feel Douglas’ own, she leaned forward and asked, “Do you know a person called Dorothy Bassnight? Or Diamond Dottie?”

Douglas frowned. “No, I think I would remember someone with such a dramatic name.”

“Well, if she didn’t tell you her proper name, you probably remember seeing her. As tall as a man, and excessively dressed even at a meeting—silks, furs, and enough jewellery to sink a ship?”

Her former lover was not so much of a dunce that he missed such a brilliant creature among all the deliberately dowdy suffragists. “Oh yes, her! Quite the strapping woman. She could probably give even me a good go in the ring. Do you think she has something to do with this whole mess?”

Eliza finished her wine, and then placed her silverware on the empty plate that had held her very excellent dinner. The waiter with his eagle eye immediately cleared away her plate. “Well, she is one of the most powerful women in the city. She runs a huge gang of female thieves and thugs known as the Elephants. They in turn are part of an even wider criminal organisation that takes in all of London. A very strange woman to be attending one of these movement meetings, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Perhaps she is interested in having a say too,” Douglas offered.

“More like scoping out the territory. At the very least she could be sizing up the ladies there as marks for robbery—at the worst she could be involved in something that the larger gang has planned.”

“This is delightful, Eliza.” Finally Ihita found her voice. She leaned over and spoke slightly louder than was polite. “Thank you so much for inviting me . . .” She cleared her throat. “I mean . . . us.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eliza replied. “Excellent food is only improved by excellent company.” It was something she’d heard Kate say often. Douglas grinned a little at that.

At least someone was having a good time. Apart from their surroundings, Eliza felt as though she’d been balanced on a knife’s edge throughout dinner.

Douglas raised his hand slightly, and the waiter brought over the dessert—a trembling plate of blancmange. It looked both sinful and erotic to Eliza, and she managed not to giggle. This was, after all, serious business.

“So you’ll question this delightfully named Diamond Dottie?” He leaned closer to her over the table, his smile a bit rakish. “Perhaps enquire about some fashion tips?”

For a second they were both back in New Zealand, trading little jibes. She stuck out her tongue at him—a reflex gesture that hearkened back to her childhood. She swallowed after doing it, and felt herself go red again. “I don’t think that I will be taking advice from Miss Diamond. Her tastes are far more extravagant than my own—and besides, she is not someone you just go up to and question. She tends to have her own bodyguards about.”

“Armed men?”

“No.” She smirked a little. Even this son of a leading suffragist leapt to the default position—when he had so much experience of how things could be. “Think more of the movement’s own protection.”

“Ah.” He was perhaps imagining the sticks, the yelling, and the rather fearsome results those ladies were known for. “I can see that might be a problem for you. Does that mean you’ll need to call in people from the Ministry to assist?”

Eliza raised her finger. “I still have some mysteries, Douglas, and though you may know a tiny bit about my employer, I think it best I not share all of its secrets. They tend to frown on that sort of thing.” She thanked the waiter for the topping off her wine and smiled at Douglas, taking the glass up. “Let’s say that I have a plan or two that should do the trick. I imagine within the week we will have an answer as to what has happened to the women.”

Douglas smiled. “You always were so very sure of yourself, Eliza.”

As the sip of wine settled in her stomach, she began to wonder about how true that was. “Not all the time . . . not when it came to you.”

Once the waiter had done his work and retreated to the sideboard to stack the dishes, Douglas leaned forward in his chair and held out his hand to her. “We all have regrets in life, Eliza. What is important is that we don’t look back, but keep moving forward.”

Moving forward. A quaint notion
, Eliza thought, taking his hand,
but I want so very much to go back.

This time, they both turned their attention to the grand window, and she felt his hand tighten over hers. She cleared her throat, staring out at the lights, but not really seeing them. Her heartbeat was erratic, her thoughts in chaos.

She shot a glance over her shoulder and observed Brandon promenading with Ihita on the other side of the deck. What had meant to be a jolly dinner party had somehow turned into an intimate evening for two couples. Her best attempts to scupper Douglas’ plans had certainly not worked out. This would not do at all.

“In order to move forward I must solve this case, and I must make arrangements between myself and Miss Bassnight. Can we land please?” She knew she was snapping and really didn’t care.

A dark look washed over Douglas’ handsome features but he nodded. It was a simple enough thing to do; one quick conversation with the pilot through the brass mouthpiece attached to an articulated hose, and the
Bird’s Eye View
tipped her nose down.

“All good things must end,” Eliza spoke as brightly as she could while walking towards her fellow agents. “Perhaps for the better. Some urgent Ministry business . . .”

A slight frown crossed Brandon’s face—surely he was wondering what sort of “urgent business” could originate from the Archives—but he did not comment.

“I should be going too,” Ihita broke in, her face slightly flushed. “My landlady is quite the dragon about me arriving in late.”

The four of them watched in an awkward silence as the airship began its circling descent.

“Can I see you again, Eliza?” Douglas finally whispered into her ear, and by his tone she could tell he was feeling the same stream of odd emotions. The feeling of his breath on her naked skin sent chills scampering down her spine.

She bit her lip, and thought about replying,
What would be the point?
but something stopped that answer. Instead she nodded. “Once I have Diamond Dottie’s story, that would be lovely.”

“It’s a strange world,” he said, his hand tightening on her waist, “that brings us back together under such dire circumstances.”

She shot a glance at Ihita and Brandon, but they were sharing a few intimate words themselves. “You always were the optimist, Douglas.”

The
Bird’s Eye View
released her ropes; and its patrons watched as underneath them, ground crew scurried about as dancers in a ballet and tied her off. Powerful winches then began to pull the airship into her dock. Together the four of them walked down the gangplank and back towards a rank of hansoms, settling into slightly uncomfortable pairs.

“Let me at least see you to your apartments.” Douglas’ dark eyes sparkled from beneath the brim of his top hat. Eliza was remembering other things about Douglas. His passion. His strength. Pleasant as it might have been to dive into that pool once more, she knew from experience that there were plenty of rocks lurking in those depths.

“That’s very sweet of you.” She patted his arm. “But I have some work to do tonight. I will get my own hansom, thank you.”

“And what about you Miss Pujari—would you like me to accompany you to your redoubtable landlady?” Brandon’s voice held none of the seductive lilt that Douglas’ did, but Ihita still stumbled over her next words.

“No, no . . . there’s no need for that. I found my way from India to London well enough. I can make it home by myself.” She went to hail herself another hansom, but her hand froze just as it reached eye level. She then turned to Brandon and smiled, “But I do know of a place where we can, perhaps, enjoy a lovely nightcap. Would you care to join me?”

“Oh, that sounds delightful!”

“And Eliza,” she began, holding a stern finger at Eliza that was tempered by a delighted smile, “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“My thanks too.” Brandon tipped his hat, offering Ihita his arm. “A fine night of dining and”—he winked—“opportunity.” Then they both strode off into the night, apparently intending their evening to continue until they were done with it.

A corner of Douglas’ delightful lips lifted, but he knew better than to argue. He tipped his hat and gave her a little bow before hopping into the closest hansom. “Then I shall see you soon. As always, it has been a delight.”