Steven Harper - The Doomsday Vault

“You don’t even know what it was,” Alice choked.

He touched her face with the back of one finger as the alarm continued to shrill in the distance. “Then tell me.”

“They did blame me, and it was my fault.”

“What was?”

Words spilled out of her. “When I was little, I managed to slip away from my governess and got outside the walls of our garden. It was so much fun! I found a group of street children, and they let me play with them in exchange for the ribbons in my hair. My parents were frantic, as you can probably imagine. My mother thought a child-snatcher had taken me for ransom or to steal my clothes. Near sunset, Lady Greenfellow, of all people, happened to be riding by in her carriage and saw me with those children. It was bad enough that a baron’s daughter was playing with street urchins, but, worse still, a plague zombie was rummaging around in a dustheap not far from where we were playing. We didn’t even notice. Lady Greenfellow snatched me away and delivered me home. Everyone was horrified, and I was spanked. Only a few days later, fever struck my brother and both my parents. My mother and brother. .” Tears choked her voice, but the words continued to flow. It was the first time she had ever told this story to anyone, and once she started, she found she couldn’t stop.

“They died,” she finished. “My father survived, but he was crippled. When the news came out, people whispered. Lady Greenfellow had seen a plague zombie only a few yards away from me, so everyone knew.”

“Knew what?” Gavin’s eyes were filled with sympathy, and Alice couldn’t bear to meet them.

“That it was my fault!” she exploded. “The zombie had brushed against me, or I had touched something it had contaminated, and I brought the plague into my family’s house. And later, Father arranged for me to marry Frederick, the son of an earl, but then he took sick and died of the plague, and that was my fault, too. It was all my fault.” Tears were dripping off her chin. She fumbled in her dress pocket and belatedly realized she had no handkerchief. Gavin pressed one into her hand. She thanked him and turned her back to wipe her face in an attempt to get herself back under control. The faint alarm bell continued its shrill, unhappy cry.

Two strong arms encircled her from behind, engulfing her with strength and the smell of leather. “It’s all right,” Gavin murmured. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” she whispered. “Oh God, it was. And now I’ve finally earned my way back into society’s good graces. I’m engaged to a proper man, and I’ll live in a proper house, and I’ve finally begun to pay back my father for bringing the plague into his house and killing my family and making everyone say dreadful things. I won’t give them a chance to say those things again, Gavin. I won’t. That’s why I can’t ever be with. . why I can’t join the Third Ward.”

He said, “I understand.”

His arms were still wrapped around her. For a moment, Alice let herself relax against his male strength, let herself imagine that this moment would go on forever. She felt safe here. Then she straightened and stepped from him. He let his arms drop.

“I need to go.” She handed him back his handkerchief. “Start the lift before someone panics.”

He did. They emerged at the main floor and found a small crowd of people looking anxiously at them.

“We’re all right,” Gavin said. “Small malfunction, I guess.”

“I guess,” said Simon d’Arco. He looked between Alice and Gavin as the crowd dispersed. “Miss Michaels looks a bit upset.”

“I’ll be all right.” Alice forced a smile. “Agent Ennock offered to summon a cab for me.”

Outside, the chilly fog surrounded them like a damp fist. Alice could barely make out the street from the gate and heard only the clopping of hooves and rattle of wheels on the stones, both of them slow and cautious. It was perfect plague zombie weather, which meant everyone who could stayed indoors, but two English institutions-the Royal Mail and London carriage drivers-were famous for ignoring the plague zombie threat and making their services available at all times. A hack was waiting just outside the gate, in fact, and whether it had been there all along or whether someone had summoned it for her, Alice didn’t much care.

Gavin offered her a hand into the cab, and she felt as if she were leaving home instead of heading toward it. He shut the door and suddenly leaned through the open side window. The driver checked the horses.

“Listen,” Gavin said. “The first thing I bought for myself when I got my salary was a pair of standing tickets to the symphony at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. The orchestra plays twice a month, and the next performance is tomorrow. Come with me. As my friend.”

“I can’t, Gavin.” She didn’t think her heart could stand being torn so often and still keep beating. “Please don’t ask again. It hurts too much.”

He reached for her hand, then pulled back when she shied away. The damp invaded the cab and clung to her skirts. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I need to go,” Alice whispered. “Norbert is worried.”

Gavin’s eyes were bright. “He is. I know he is.” He stepped back from the hack, and the driver clicked to the horses. Alice had to turn and watch him as the cab pulled away. In seconds, the fog devoured Gavin in whiteness, and he was gone.

Norbert was waiting for her when she got home. His brown eyes were worried but reserved. “So,” he said, “what happened?”

Alice handed her borrowed straw hat to the footman, who managed to take it with disdain despite its painted features. “I was delayed.”

“Overnight?” His voice rose a little on the last syllable.

“It wasn’t planned. Get me a cup of tea and I’ll explain.”

Over a hot drink in the parlor, she gave him the half lie, that she had gone after the stolen machines on her own and gotten them back from Barton by herself, thereby protecting Norbert’s reputation. She left Gavin out of it entirely, and since Phipps had arranged for the newspapers to remain silent, there was no way for Norbert to gainsay her.

Norbert had narrowed his eyes just a little as she finished her story, and she was sure he didn’t believe her. For a moment, she thought he was going to call her out. But then he nodded. Everything remained smooth and tidy as a newly swept rug. Norbert drained his whiskey glass and set it down hard.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” he said. “Let’s elope.”

Alice’s hand jerked, and she slopped tea into her saucer. “What?”

“Let’s elope,” Norbert repeated. “We’re not planning a big wedding, anyway. You’ve often called for simplicity, and nothing is simpler than eloping. Besides, your little adventure showed me how easily I could. . lose you. How about the end of the week?”

Alice felt as if she’d been whacked on the back of the head with a board. The room remained silent except for the faint hissing of the radiators and the soft crackle of the fire in the grate. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn against damp evening fog, and it felt as if they would eat any answer she gave. What could she say to this? She couldn’t help comparing dry, stolid Norbert and the squalid secrets he kept in a square, mechanical house to bright, merry Gavin and the golden music he made in a rose-strewn tower. The comparison made her want to fling her cup down and flee.

“Tongues have been wagging at the amount of time you spend here,” Norbert said into the silence, “even if nothing untoward is happening. People know your father is an invalid and not much of a chaperone. I’d hate to move him out at this stage just for the sake of propriety.”