Even now, I occasionally have a dream where things don’t work out so well—where Evaline and Edison jump, but land in lifeless heaps on the roof, or where the airship tumbles down behind them, crashing atop all of us waiting on the rooftop—instead of shunting off into the air.

  The vessel eventually ended up in the frigid river (as Miss Babbage predicted loudly once she was safely on the rooftop and was able to adjust her infernal computations). No one was injured from an airship’s fiery crash. It didn’t even catch on fire, landing in the Thames as it did then sinking like a black behemoth into the deep.

  However, as we stood, gasping for breath, still terrified and yet energized that all six of us had made it to safety, Dylan grabbed my arm and pointed up.

  “There!”

  In the dawn-lightening sky, we saw the life-basket with its parachute.

  It was bouncing wildly through the air. Something had gone wrong, for the protective canvas that arced above the gondola wasn’t stretched properly over whatever ribbing was meant to keep it in shape. The parachute was malfunctioning horribly.

  As it tumbled from the sky, wafting and gliding out of control, I could see three figures battling to save themselves. Isabella, Emmett, and Ned.

  The basket tipped and swayed due to their desperate actions—or maybe it was just the inevitable result of a damaged parachute—and finally, in a horrific moment, dumped them all free. Suddenly the trio was plummeting to the earth.

  With a gasp, I closed my eyes and buried my face in the object closest to me—Grayling’s chest. His arm stole tight around my waist, and I allowed myself to release the pent-up emotions that had wound up so tightly inside. I shuddered, breathing in the comforting scents of lemon and mint and the solidness of his stature. When I pulled away, I’m not ashamed to admit that my face was a little damp. And probably flushed as well.

  Mine was not the only countenance that betrayed strong emotions.

  Everyone was silent for a long while after that, standing on the roof beneath a dawning sky, shivering from cold and agitation. It was quiet for London and I knew it would be the only peace we would have for the next little while once we found our way off this roof.

  There were many things to which we must attend, questions to answer, and people to see. Including my father, whom, I presumed, had been called back to London by now.

  I had to tamp down my frustration that, with the Ankh now certainly dead—along with her henchmen the Oligarys—I may never have confirmation of some of my conclusions and deductions. Of course, I knew I was correct in them, but there’s a matter of personal satisfaction in hearing the villain brag about how clever they are—and having already been clever enough to figure it out on my own.

  As we walked off the roof, Dylan came up next to me where I was walking with Grayling and said, “I’ve got to ask you something, Mina.”

  “What’s that?” I replied, expecting to at last be able to explain all of my conclusions and observations—including how I’d come to possess the time-travel scarab after all. Although I was exhausted, of course I would manage.

  “Why are you dressed like a flapper?”

  Miss Holmes

  ~ Of Calculations & Computations ~

  That was an exceptionally long seventeen minutes,” I said, looking down my nose at Miss Babbage. “On the airship.”

  “Sixteen minutes and fifteen seconds,” she replied in a tone that implied she was correcting me.

  “I beg your pardon?” I responded.

  “I miscalculated. It was sixteen minutes and fifteen seconds before the airship actually crashed—”

  “But it seemed so much longer,” Evaline interrupted. “So many things happened.”

  Miss Babbage gave her a quelling look. “One cannot argue with fact. Or scientific calculations. My timepiece is perfectly accurate, and it measured sixteen minutes and fifteen seconds from the time I looked at it until the airship touched the Thames.” And then she went on, ad nauseam, about how she’d done those computations and what factors she’d included, giving us far more information than anyone needed.

  I sniffed and adjusted the bustle beneath my seat. I was back to wearing a froth of petticoats and skirts, along with a street-fashion corset. While my attire was certainly warmer than the flapper-girl costume, it wasn’t terribly comfortable. However, when one is called to a meeting at the Parliamentary Offices, one dresses appropriately.

  It was later on the same day we’d landed on the roof during our daring escape. The three of us were droopy-eyed and exhausted, and I, for one, was sore in areas I had not even realized could be sore. I had numerous scrapes and bruises and a lump at the back of my head. It was difficult to believe so many things had happened since I’d arrived at Evaline’s masquerade ball the evening before.

  We were seated in a chamber with a large table and a dozen chairs. Evaline had fancifully commented that it brought to mind the Knights of the Round Table, and I couldn’t fault her for that comparison, as the arrangement reminded me of the sort of meeting room for an advisory council or planning meeting.

  The door to the chamber opened and Dylan came in, along with Miss Adler, Inspector Grayling, and Edison Smith.

  I was embarrassingly pleased when Grayling took the seat next to me, but Edison sat as far from Evaline as possible. I noticed it was in a seat where he could easily view her, but she would not be able to see him without turning to look.

  Miss Adler came into the room just as we were getting settled, and I noticed her attention went directly to Dylan before sliding over the rest of us. “I’m so relieved you’re all safe,” she said.

  “Presumably there is no longer a need for the ‘forthright’ conversation you meant for us to have,” I said meaningfully to Miss Adler.

  She smiled—a little bashfully, I thought—and said, “Despite the events of last evening, there are still some things we should discuss.”

  “I agree, and the first is an acknowledgement on my part that I was fully aware that you were attempting to keep me otherwise occupied over the last two months with simplistic, plebeian investigations. I didn’t object, but rest assured I was aware of your intent. Presumably it was because you feared the Ankh—Lady Isabella—was about to make her move and that Evaline and I could be caught in the crossfire, so to speak.”

  “Indeed,” Miss Adler replied. “I had become well aware of her fascination—and perhaps even obsession—with you two, and I simply didn’t want either of you to be hurt—or worse.”

  “Or enticed to join her,” I added with a castigating look.

  “I never thought you would join forces with the Ankh!” Miss Adler said flatly. “Not even once.”

  I was very pleased to hear the stark vehemence in her voice. “I am relieved to hear that. Thank you for that confidence.”

  “However, I would never have approached you and Evaline a year ago about the clockwork scarab problem had I known Isabella Cosgrove-Pitt was the culprit. She was—as you’ve no doubt realized—a cunning, evil woman.”

  I confess I felt a little strange about Miss Adler’s use of the word “evil” to describe the Ankh. Of course she was a murderous woman with the bodies of more than five individuals (that I knew of) on her conscience—but at the same time, I could almost empathize with her opinions about our great nation and the way our female gender is treated. She could understand Evaline’s disgust at (nearly) being forced to marry against her will—and Lurelia’s as well.

  But I suppose anyone who blithely kills others, no matter what the reasoning, must be regarded as evil.

  “Indeed.” I was about to continue speaking when I recognized that Miss Adler was attempting to formulate her next sentence. I sensed there was something important she wanted—or needed—to tell us, and so I waited.

  “There’s something you should know, Mina. And Evaline,” she added, although her next words told me why my partner had been a sort of afterthought. “I know that you were quite unsettled when Dylan returned and didn’t contact you.”

  I felt Grayling shift next to me, and my cheeks warmed with a touch of heat, but I merely nodded. There are times when silence is the most appropriate response.

  “It was mostly because of my encouragement that he didn’t contact you. Partly because we were working—undercover is the word, yes?” she asked, glancing at him. He nodded, and I noticed that he seemed to have some great emotion stamped on his face.

  A shocking, unexpected thought erupted in my mind, and I stiffened. I had a sense I knew what she was about to say—and I didn’t know how I was going to react when she did.

  Miss Adler and Dylan? No, no, no. I simply couldn’t countenance it. He was twenty-one, and she had to be at least in her late thirties…

  I remained silent, steeling myself for her announcement. Rest assured, my mixed emotions weren’t because I was envious of any sort of relationship Dylan might have with Miss Adler—or any other woman—but because it seemed like such a foreign, strange concept.

  “But it was also because I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible,” Miss Adler went on, giving me a slightly sick feeling. “Because…well…because Dylan is my great-great-grandson.”

  I stared at her as the words penetrated my brain and their meaning settled there.

  “Your great-great-grandson?” Evaline exclaimed. “Why, that’s wonderful!”

  “We thought so as well, once we figured it out,” Miss Adler replied. “It was only by chance that we did.”

  But Evaline was looking at her closely now. “But you don’t have any children. So…well, does that mean you’re…er…going to be in a family way?”

  Miss Adler gave her a funny smile. “As a matter of fact…it may happen sooner than you think.”

  I looked over to see that Dylan was beaming, and I realized I was as well. I was genuinely happy for both of them—and for myself, for now I better understood (and excused) his lapse in judgment by not contacting me upon his return.

  “That is happy news,” I said to Dylan once the felicitations from my companions became less effusive. “But that reminds me of one of the important questions to which I must have an answer. You indicated that Isabella specifically wanted you—the man from the future—and Miss Babbage to work on a project. She called it her secret weapon, I believe, and referenced the Theophanine Chess Table. Am I to surmise that this information she obtained from the chess table is, in fact, related to some future event?”

  I heard Evaline’s sound of interest and surprise. “Are you saying that whatever was in the chess table was from the future? How is that possible?”

  “Presumably the same way Dylan himself has traveled to and from the future now several times,” I replied coolly. “The scarab is of Egyptian origin, is it not? My suspicion is that someone from that era—at least one, perhaps more—have used this scarab”—I placed it on the table—“to travel. And they brought something back with them.”

  Dylan was looking at me, nodding and smiling as I spoke. “That’s what she said—Isabella. The thing was, she didn’t know what it was—what the documents were, what they meant. And I’m guessing no one else over the centuries knew what it was either—it wouldn’t have made any sense to them at the time, because it’s all about the theory of relativity and quantum physics.” Then he sobered. “It’s the plans for the worst, most destructive weapon in the history of the world. It’s called a nuclear bomb.”

  “But she knew you were from the future, and she thought you’d be able to make this bomb?” Evaline said.

  Dylan laughed. “Well, I couldn’t make it. But Olympia has the smarts to do it—although she’d need some help. The thing was, the Ankh—Isabella—needed me to tell her what it was, and to help sort of translate the information. And she wanted me to work with Olympia to make it.”

  “What does this bomb do?” Grayling asked.

  Dylan’s expression turned grim. “It could flatten all of London. And then destroy miles and miles around it, and even beyond that, it sort of…it affects people and animals. It’s devastating.”

  “And this bomb—has it ever been used?”

  Dylan nodded. “Twice. In 1945. It was horrible. And it will never, hopefully, be used again. And,” he added quickly, “the plans—the documents—all went down with the airship. So no one else here will get them.”

  “Until 1945, at least,” Edison said quietly.

  Dylan sighed. “Yeah.”

  Just then, the door opened and my father strode in.

  I automatically sat up straighter. He glanced at me. “Alvermina. You look well. Good afternoon, Miss Adler. Inspector Grayling. Mr. Smith, is it?” His gaze—sharp and intelligent as always—surveyed our other companions. He gave them each a businesslike nod then took a seat in the chair at the spot of the round table that would have been noon on a timepiece.

  “Anything that is discussed in this chamber cannot be repeated, implied, hinted at, or otherwise confirmed after today’s meeting. Is that understood?”

  We all nodded, and he continued, “We are waiting for one more individual.”

  At that, the door opened and in walked a woman.

  “Daisy?”

  “Siri!”

  “Mother?”

  Miss Holmes

  ~ A Final, Shocking Entrance ~

  It was, indeed, my maternal parent, Desirée Holmes, who’d joined us. I could hardly breathe, and my thoughts collapsed into a wild jumble.

  To my great mortification, tears sprang to my eyes as I struggled to control my emotions.

  Then she made it worse, for instead of simply taking a seat and allowing me to come to terms with the fact that not only had my mother returned, but she had apparently been a chambermaid at Cosgrove Terrace (for how long? why? had she been there the several times I was there? why?) she came directly to me. I looked up at her through blurry vision, still without words or coherent thoughts.

  “Mina,” she said in a strange, tight voice, and, taking my hands, drew me to my feet.

  Sir Mycroft made a harrumphing sound, and she turned to him. “I’ll have a moment with my daughter, Myc.” Her tone was firm and even arrogant. “Your bloody speech can wait.”

  Mother embraced me with tight arms and whispered in my ear, “I’m so very sorry, Mina. I hope you can forgive me for all of the secrecy—for abandoning you with hardly a word. And I’m very proud of you—of everything you’ve accomplished in relation to this case. Thank you.”

  Although I didn’t understand at that moment why she was thanking me, I held her tightly and tried in vain to keep from dripping tears all over the shoulder of her fine shirtwaist. “I’m glad you’ve returned,” I said, pulling back at last. Someone stuffed a handkerchief into my hand—Grayling—and I took it gratefully.

  Mother leaned closer again. “Your short hair is beautiful. And so very unique and bold. Just like my daughter.”

  And drat it—I had to dab my eyes again with the handkerchief.

  “If we can begin?” Sir Mycroft said.

  But Mother ignored him and went to Evaline to embrace her as well. “Well done,” she said, clasping her hands and looking down at her student. “Brilliantly done. Victoria Gardella could have done no better.”

  Brilliantly done? Evaline and I exchanged glances as we realized that was exactly what someone had said to her before coshing her on the head outside of Cosgrove Terrace. It had been my mother who’d done so, not Isabella!

  Mother turned to Miss Adler, who’d been watching all of this. The tip of Miss Adler’s nose was slightly pink from the suppression of her own emotions, but her eyes were dark and filled with censure.

  “Desirée. I had no idea you were here. The whole time? If only I had known…” Despite her angry words and tone, she embraced my mother tightly. When I saw Miss Adler’s dark head next to my mother’s taller chestnut one, it reminded me, suddenly, of my partnership with Evaline. “You should have told me, Desirée.” Her voice was bitter.

  “I’m so sorry, Irene. He didn’t want to take the chance, but I—I should have found a way to tell you. You deserved to know.”

  I knew—and I suspect everyone in the chamber did as well—that the “he” she referred to was Sir Mycroft.

  As she and Miss Adler parted, Mother displayed her ungloved hands. They were no longer the fine hands of a lady, but showed evidence of her position as a chambermaid. “It was a difficult two years,” she said with a wry smile. Then, instead of allowing my father to speak, she went on.

  At first, I confess, I hardly listened, for I was filling up my eyes with the woman I hadn’t seen for so long. Despite her work-worn hands, she appeared every inch a lady. Her dark honey-colored hair was coiffed in a complicated twist settled high at the back of her head with a few random wisps to frame her lovely face. Her eyes were the same changeable light brown-to-green as mine, but her nose was much smaller and more delicate. She wore a beautiful day dress of mustard yellow with a subtle paisley pattern in navy. The sleeves, hems, and gathers were trimmed in orange and navy bric-a-brac and white lace.

  As always, she carried herself with the elegance and grace I’ve forever admired and never quite achieved.

  “The first thing you should know, Mina, Evaline, Inspector—is it Grayling?—Mr. Smith, and Mr.—er— Eckhert?—is that Sir Emmett is not the philanthropist and pleasant man most Londoners believe he is. Or was, I should say. From my understanding, he, his brother, and Isabella are all quite deceased.”

  She glanced at my father, who nodded. And then, of course, he picked up the thread. “Yes. They’re dead. And a twenty-year project has now come to an end.”

  “Twenty years?” I repeated. “Since you knew Isabella and Emmett Oligary in Paris?”

  Mother inclined her head. “Yes—nearly as long. We were friends first, before— Well, it was during that time that I first began to work, along with Sir Mycroft, with the Home Office. I have…certain skills, as some of you are aware…that are valuable to the Crown and this country for obvious reasons. That is part of the reason Irene approached the two of you”—she smiled warmly at Evaline and me—“to ask for your assistance, originally with the scarab problem, which of course I was aware of but could do nothing about, as I was working in an assumed position under an assumed name. Undercover, as you say,” she added, looking at Dylan.

 

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