“Miss Tulman,” said Ben, smiling hugely, “you’ve had a trying time in Paris, and you seem … rather distressed. Do sit with me a moment. I’ve some things I’d like to discuss.”
He indicated a wooden box behind me as if it were a brocaded chair, waiting politely for me to sit first. My uncle chattered on, incoherent. I stayed where I was.
“I desire that you would sit,” Ben said, his voice gone cold. I sat, and when he had done the same, he said, “Miss Tulman, this enmity between us accomplishes little, don’t you think? Have you ever considered that there is much to be gained with our understanding?”
My lips parted in disbelief.
“Katharine,” he said gently. It made me shudder. “Have you ever considered that I can give you everything you have ever wanted?”
“You know nothing of what I want.”
“Don’t I? What if I told you that your uncle could have a workshop like this, a much better one than this, better than anything he’s ever had, that he could live out his days making every brilliant thing that pops into his head?” He leaned forward, boyish face serious. “What if I told you that I could make sure that Mr. Tully never sees the inside of an asylum?”
I stared.
“I can make that happen, Miss Tulman. And you can be with him, no thought of separation. I can set you up in Paris, in luxury you’ve never known. Infamy is of no concern when there is power behind it, and the emperor likes you. You would be perfectly independent, doing exactly as you wished. Bring Lane Moreau with you, if you can find him. I care not. Or if Paris is truly not to your taste, then by all means take your uncle to Stranwyne and we will build his workshop there. Have you thought of a proper hospital for the village, with the newest treatments, or teachers that are not the outcasts of society? The place would be the model of England, and how life would be improved for those who live there! Perhaps you would like to repair the house, to bring it back to its glory days in the time of your grandmother? A steward to run it for you?”
I sat on my crate, hair in braids and wearing absurd trousers, my uncle murmuring nonsense behind me, a man spewing nonsense in front of me, and a weapon of incredible destruction to my side, all in an underground cavern that would defy common belief. And for one moment, sitting there, I tasted the sweetness of what was offered me. Respect, independence, the freedom to do and even marry as I pleased. A complete and lifelong protection of my uncle, who would live in a world of unblemished happiness. It was utterly charming. Ben smiled.
“I would do it all, Miss Tulman, every bit. Happily, and all I would need is the result of your uncle’s work. Can you imagine what other wonders reside in his head? He has already won a war for two countries. What might he do next for mankind?”
My uncle muttered on about clocks and their turnings, the chain on his ankle clinked, and I was back in my reality. These lies were mirrors and bright light, honey and ambrosia, pretty words whispered in a glittering, gilded, velvet cage. I rejected them. I would not live like Mrs. Hardcastle. And then, just on the edge of hearing, I thought I heard an echo from the tunnel. “Did I tell you that I met your mother the other day?” I said quickly.
The smile on Ben’s face froze. “Then I’m sure you heard many interesting things.”
“Oh, yes. She told me all about her Louis. She said he never came to see you, though you were such a handsome child.”
“He sees me now, Miss Tulman. Do we have an agreement?”
“But what about the empress? I am still rather concerned about what she will —”
“That woman has nothing to do with me. Nothing!”
He was getting agitated now, but words were the only weapons of distraction at my disposal. “But will she stand aside, do you think, while Napoléon makes another woman’s child his heir to —”
“You think he will not?” Ben yelled, leaping to his feet. I felt my uncle jump a bit behind me, but he kept on working. “You think the emperor will ignore me? He will have no need to look further than me! There will only be him and me!”
He went still, breathing hard, and I thought for a moment he was calming until he hit me hard across the face with the back of his hand, spinning me around and down behind the wooden crates that surrounded my uncle.
And that was when a shot rang out in the tunnel.
28
Lights danced behind my eyes, the gas jets above my head sparkling. There was wood beneath my hands, and I heard the grunting, crashing noise of men fighting. I blinked, tasted blood in my mouth, and pushed myself upward in a daze. Beneath the table, I saw a jumble of thrashing legs, then the legs seemed to sort themselves and the bodies stilled.
“Bloody fool!” Ben was screaming.
I heard Lane say my name.
“Shut him up,” Ben yelled.
“Katharine?”
I stood shakily and saw Lane, disheveled but unhurt, his hands up, palms out, and then Henri with rumpled hair and a bloodied nose, tense and still, a pistol pressed to the back of his head. The man at the trigger was Robert, Mary’s Robert from the courtyard. My heart skipped and sank. Not Mrs. DuPont, then, but Mary. No wonder they’d known where to find Uncle Tully. What had she said to Robert, and did she even know she’d done it? I glanced at my uncle, who had evidently never stopped working. His fingers were flying, coiling wire, and he was muttering, repeating the same words over and over, “Not to touch, not to touch …”
“… told them to watch the church!” Ben was still yelling. “No one to come but her!” He swung around to Lane.
“You! Why did you come back here? This has nothing to do with you anymore!”
“I disagree,” Lane said quietly. “This has everything to do with you and me.”
“Shut him up!”
These directions were being yelled at Robert, who had at least some English, because he was trying to do as Ben asked. The gun swung its aim from Henri’s head to Lane’s. Henri let out a breath.
“Not to touch, not to touch, not to touch,” Uncle Tully muttered.
I met Lane’s gaze, my head humming. He was dusty and dirty from the tunnel, making his skin even darker, and in contrast his eyes were almost startling, beautiful and possibly dangerous, like the sea. He held me with his look, as if the cavern had narrowed to the size of the tunnel, as if there were no one else in the room, and then his gaze slid once to the side.
“Shut him up!” Ben ordered, only now I realized he was speaking of Uncle Tully. Robert didn’t seem to be sure where he should point the gun. I looked hard at Lane. Where were Joseph and his pistol? The gray eyes made the movement one more time, and I realized with a start that my body, the body of Mary’s young man with the swiveling gun, and the entrance to the cavern all made a straight line. And that there were six barrels of guncotton directly behind me. I gave Lane one almost imperceptible shake of my head.
Henri was staring at my uncle as if transfixed, his nose bleeding freely, but he’d slipped one small step closer to Robert, who seemed to have settled on Lane for his target. I remembered the knife he had somewhere in his clothes.
“Not to touch, not to touch, not to touch …” Uncle Tully muttered.
Lane had turned back to Ben. “It’s time to settle this.” Ben actually laughed, and the gray eyes caught mine, and again slid to the right. I shook my head.
“Settle what? Do you want a share of the money? A sliver of the glory? You should talk to dear Katharine. Ask her what I’ve offered.” Ben glanced once at me, grinning like a shark. When he did, Henri took another small step toward Robert, whose eyes were trained on Ben, waiting for instruction. “Tell him what I am giving you, love,” he said.