“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and she could sense the weight behind the words.
She nodded but didn’t speak.
“What time is it?”
“I have no idea,” Veronica said truthfully. “Sometime after dawn.” She was huddled against the opposite wall, her knees drawn up beneath her chin. She was cold, tired, and scared.
Newbury looked bewildered by this revelation. “We’ve been in here that long?”
She nodded again. “And all the while, Amelia’s been trapped in the Grayling Institute in terrible danger.” She banged her fist against the wall in frustration.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. There was nothing else he could say. It wasn’t his fault. She was grateful he didn’t offer platitudes or try to reassure her that everything was going to be all right. “Have they given any indication of what they’re planning for us?”
“No,” she replied. “They’ve told me nothing. But I’ve been thinking about what you said, about Graves and the duplicates. About how you thought he was telling the truth that they were never actually alive.” She unfolded herself as she talked, curling her legs beneath her. Newbury listened intently from the other side of the cell. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, whether he was even in any fit mental state to understand what she was saying, but she needed to talk, to get it out.
“Go on,” he said, urging her to continue.
“If that’s true, then what Fabian is doing with Amelia is something entirely different. His technology creates living copies. He clearly doesn’t share the beliefs of the Bastion Society, so there has to be another reason, other than simply generating duplicates for ritual use.” Veronica cleared her throat. Her mouth was dry. There was no water in the cell, and despite having harangued the guards a number of times, none had been forthcoming.
“I came to the same conclusion myself. I imagine it’s to do with her clairvoyant abilities, that Fabian is using the duplicates to try to predict the future.” Newbury coughed into his cupped hands.
“No. I don’t think so.” Veronica rubbed her knees to try to get some warmth back into them. “I think there’s more to it than that. The Queen is obsessed with longevity. She’s desperate to extend her life and her reign. I think she’s tasked Fabian with finding a way to duplicate her, to create a new, healthy body so she can continue her legacy.”
Newbury sighed. “Ah, yes. The Queen. I forget, you know all about the Queen.”
“Well, I…” Veronica was momentarily taken aback by the sarcasm in his tone.
“Why did you keep it from me, Veronica? Why am I the only one you didn’t tell?” His voice was firm, controlled. There was no sign of the man who, only an hour or two earlier, had been scratching at the walls and howling in agony in the grip of opium withdrawal. He met her gaze, and she couldn’t help but see the accusation in his eyes. “For God’s sake, even Graves knows the truth about you!” His voice dropped, tinged with sorrow and confusion. “Why did you do it?”
Veronica’s heart was pounding in her chest. She felt sick, her stomach twisted into a tight knot. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm her. It was finally here. The conversation she’d played out in her mind so many times before. The conversation she’d always hoped to avoid but knew would come one day. She was shaking. She didn’t know what to say, how to explain. Why had she done it? Duty, she supposed. And fear.
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to see his reaction. “I did it because I thought if you knew, you’d shut me out. Because I didn’t want you to believe that I doubted you. Because I didn’t want to lose you, Maurice. I couldn’t bear to lose you. I…” She sobbed, hanging her head. She couldn’t say the words.
“I’ve known for months,” he said quietly, and the words were like an arrow through her heart. “Ever since that time in the cellar with Aubrey Knox. Since I followed you to the palace and saw you go inside. You should have told me, Veronica.” He paused, hanging his head. “You should have told me.”
“And what then, Maurice? What if I had told you? What difference would it have made?” She left the questions hanging. She felt conflicted, unsure of her own emotions. On the one hand she knew that her duplicity had most likely played a part in Newbury’s spiral into despondency and drug abuse, but on the other she knew that he was responsible for his own actions, and that there was little she could have done to prevent it. Part of her was furious with him, and another wanted only to gather him up in her arms and hold him. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she knew it wasn’t nearly enough.
For a moment Newbury didn’t respond. When he did, his voice was cracked with emotion. “You could have put a stop to it, Veronica. You could have told her you weren’t prepared to go on.”
Veronica shook her head. “No! I had no choice! You know what she’s like, Maurice. You never say no! No one ever says no to her! She would have reassigned me, and that would have been the end of it, of everything.” Veronica could hear the exasperation in her own voice. “She would have prevented me from seeing you, even if it meant I’d have to face the firing squad. She would have orchestrated someone else to spy on you instead, some puppet who really would have told her everything about you. And then where would we be? Where would either of us be?”
“So it was better that you spy on me than anyone else? Is that it?”
“I didn’t spy on you, Maurice! You have to believe me. I told her only as much as she needed to know. Just enough to keep her out of our lives. I’ve never betrayed you, not once.” She got to her feet and crossed the cell, kneeling before him. “I’d never betray you, Maurice.” She put her hand on his cheek. “Never.”
He refused to meet her gaze.
Veronica slowly withdrew her hand. She felt like she wanted to scream in frustration. This was everything she’d feared. He’d discovered the truth and now he couldn’t even look at her. After all they’d been through, he wouldn’t even look her in the eye. Here, in a cell, somewhere in the bowels of the city, waiting to die. She felt the anger welling up inside her. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew? Why did you just pull away like that, hiding behind that damn weed instead of simply talking to me about it? You had a choice, too, and you chose the easy way out.”
He raised his head. Their eyes met. He looked scared. “Because I didn’t want to lose you, either,” he said.
And then he was holding her in his arms, kissing her deeply and passionately on the lips. She kissed him back, pulling him closer, running her fingers through his hair. She had wanted this for so long. But she knew she couldn’t hold on to it. Not now, not here. Not like this. Not while Amelia was still trapped in that horrible place, and Newbury was still a slave to that dreadful poppy.
Veronica felt numb. Slowly, she pushed him away. She was shaking.
He stared at her, confusion in his eyes. “I thought…”
She shook her head. “Not here, Maurice. Not like this. You’re ill. You don’t know what you’re doing. And Amelia’s still out there in need of our help.” She paused, fighting the urge to reach for him again. Instead, she ran her fingers along the front of his jacket, brushing the dirt away. “When this is over. When you’re better.” She broke off, unable to go on.
Newbury nodded. “I will get better, Veronica. I promise you that.”
They were silent for a while, both gazing at each other in the darkness of the cell. Later, she promised herself. There would be time then. For now she had to focus on getting out of the cell alive, on saving Amelia. She had to be strong enough for all of them. “Maurice… All this with Amelia and the Queen…” She paused, unsure quite how to go on. “I think we might be part of something dreadful.”
Newbury shook his head. “No, Veronica. I can’t believe that. We work for the British Empire, for the monarchy. We work for the Queen of England!”
Veronica put her hand on his sleeve. Her voice was soft. “But what if the Queen has strayed? What if Fabian’s machines have turned her into a monster, unable to tell the difference between right and wrong? What if you and I and Sir Charles are working for the wrong side? What then?”