Lady Helen and the Dark Days Pact

She was to obey Pike; not an attractive proposition. Yet she had given her solemn word to do her duty, and if that meant following Pike’s orders, that was what she must do. One’s word was binding. And one’s word sworn upon the Bible was unbreakable.

‘I wonder,’ Mr Hammond said, bringing Helen’s eyes up from the flourish of the Prince Regent’s mark, ‘why it has been deemed necessary for me to be reminded of my duty to his Royal Highness?’ His voice was as tight as his hold upon his own letter. ‘Is my loyalty in question?’

‘The letter is a reminder that your loyalty is to the Dark Days Club and not to Lord Carlston,’ Pike said. He held up a forestalling hand. ‘Do not waste my time denying that your loyalty lies with his lordship. We both know it is the case.’

‘And what if it is?’ Mr Hammond said. ‘Since his lordship is loyal to the Dark Days Club, then I am too, by default.’

‘Ah, now we come to the crux of the matter.’ Pike paused. ‘We are not convinced that Lord Carlston is still loyal to his King and country. He has been in exile on the Continent for over three years. Reports have had him in contact with French agents. There is every possibility that he is now working for the enemy.’

Mr Hammond snorted. ‘That is ridiculous.’

‘Outrageous,’ Helen said. ‘Have you seen what his lordship braves for his country? Besides, the other Reclaimers have made him their leader and you, the Home Office, have agreed to it. Why would you do so if you do not trust him?’

‘As a former Terrene,’ Helen caught Pike’s almost imperceptible wince of loss, ‘I am well aware of what he faces, and I am also well aware that none of the other Reclaimers have the ability to lead as Lord Carlston does. Nevertheless, the reports must be investigated. We would be fools to assume that he is still loyal. Three years is a long time to be exiled from one’s country. Particularly under such ugly circumstances.’

‘You want us to spy on him.’ Mr Hammond drew himself up into ramrod opposition. ‘I refuse to do so. Most adamantly I refuse.’

Pike sighed, the sound of a weary adult dealing with a truculent child. ‘You and I both know you will do as I say, Mr Hammond. You have put yourself in a position where you cannot refuse.’

Mr Hammond stepped back as if he had been physically hit. ‘Are you threatening …?’ He paused, clearly trying to compose himself. ‘Mr Ryder said that would never be used against me.’

Pike lifted an eloquent shoulder. ‘I am sure God will forgive Mr Ryder’s broken promise more readily than he will forgive your sick perversions.’

Helen’s breath caught at the disgust in Pike’s voice. Sick perversions? She looked up at Mr Hammond. His eyes slid from her own.

‘Lady Helen,’ Pike said, ‘I see that you are wondering —’

‘No!’ Mr Hammond lurched forward. ‘I will do as you ask.’

Pike nodded. ‘I know you will.’ He plucked the letter from Mr Hammond’s hands. ‘Nevertheless, Lady Helen should know that you are a sodomite.’

The word burst through Helen, sending freezing shock into her very core. Sodomite. Could it be true?

Mr Hammond gave a small breathy moan, like a wounded animal, and backed away. The very shape of his body, curled into anguish, confirmed Pike’s words. And, of course, now it made sense. That fierce loyalty to Lord Carlston, and the terrible sadness behind it. Poor man; it seemed not only the sister was in love with his lordship. Yet how could she, a Reclaimer, have missed such clear devotion? Helen shook her head. Because it had not even entered her mind to see it, let alone name it as such. Dear God, if it came into public knowledge, Mr Hammond would be hanged. No wonder he was at Pike’s mercy.

‘You must forgive me for being so indelicate, Lady Helen,’ Pike said, taking the letter from her slackened grasp. He walked to the hearth and tossed both letters into the fire. They ignited, burning in a tall reach of bright orange. ‘But there is no place for a lady’s sensibility now that you are a Reclaimer. I have no doubt you are disgusted by his presence, but you must overcome your revulsion.’

Mr Hammond whirled around, a fist raised. ‘Stop, or I’ll …’

Pike stepped up to him. ‘You’ll what?’

‘Mr Hammond!’ Helen sprang up from her chair to stand between them.

‘He will not hit me; he is a molly,’ Pike sneered. ‘Don’t make me reconsider, Hammond. Your proclivities have made you useful. Be thankful for that.’

Helen saw Mr Hammond’s eyes bulge, his judgment gone in a blaze of fury. His fist tightened. He was going to hit Pike — she could see it in her mind’s eye, a possible projection of the next few seconds that could never be taken back.

Gathering all her authority, she thrust her face in front of his and yelled, ‘Mr Hammond, sit down!’

He met her eyes for a terrible moment, and she saw the anger and fear and humiliation coursing through him.

‘Please,’ she said more gently, ‘sit down.’ She touched his arm, directing him to the sofa.

He lowered his fist and sat, stiff and slow as an old man. ‘Lady Helen, you should not be burdened with my —’

‘I am not as delicate as some would have me, Mr Hammond. Do not be anxious on my account.’ She gave him a fleeting smile.

In truth, it was a strain to put aside her shock, but it was worth the effort: the dreadful fear and rage in his face had gone. Shame, however, still lingered in his eyes.

She took her own seat again. ‘What is it you want us to do?’ she asked Pike coldly. ‘I cannot see why Mr Hammond’s …’ She paused, searching for a way to spare the man more humiliation. ‘Why his nature has anything to do with spying upon Lord Carlston.’

‘I do not need you to spy upon his lordship,’ Pike said. ‘You two have an entirely different task.’

Helen glanced at Mr Hammond. Whatever surprise Pike was about to deliver, they must stand together. Mr Hammond gave a small nod.

Pike walked to the fireplace again. ‘I believe you have both met the man who was Mr Benchley’s Terrene.’

‘Lowry,’ Mr Hammond said grimly. ‘Bartholomew Lowry.’

‘Yes, that is the man.’

‘You saw him at Vauxhall Gardens, Lady Helen,’ Mr Hammond said.

Helen nodded. She clearly recalled the man at Samuel Benchley’s side: lank hair, oily brow and barely contained violence. A low man, Mr Hammond had said at the time. Even Benchley had remarked upon his Terrene’s ‘predilections’ with distaste. She glanced at Mr Hammond. Did he share the same proclivity as Lowry? Was that why Pike had said he would be useful?

‘Lowry claims he has Benchley’s journal and it contains a register of Deceivers that we do not know about,’ Pike said. ‘He is offering to sell it to us. You two will meet with him and strike the deal.’

Helen sat back. Why on earth would Pike choose her to deal with someone like Lowry? She opened her mouth to ask, but Mr Hammond was already on the attack.

‘Lowry is trying to gammon you,’ he told Pike. ‘Lord Carlston says Benchley did not leave any papers.’

‘Lowry has proved the journal’s existence and the usefulness of the information within it,’ Pike said flatly.

‘In what way?’ Helen asked.

‘In a way that has satisfied those who need to be satisfied.’

Alison Goodman's books