‘If you are going to tell her about it, Lady Helen, you should at least give her some context. Usually Deceivers do not band together, Miss Cransdon; they are territorial. It is why we are able to police them with so few Reclaimers. A Grand Deceiver, however, has the power to bring them together.’
‘Is bringing them together,’ Mr Hammond said grimly. ‘It is possible that Napoleon is one, and now we believe there is one in England too. It has been proven that some of the Deceivers are working together, and Lord Carlston is convinced it is a sign that a Grand Deceiver is amongst us.’ He gestured to Helen. ‘Another sign is the emergence of a Reclaimer who is a direct inheritor.’
‘My mother was a Reclaimer too,’ Helen explained to her friend. ‘It is not supposed to be an inherited gift, and yet here I am, with Reclaimer powers.’
Delia gaped at her. ‘You have powers?’
‘As a direct inheritor, she has more powers than a normal Reclaimer,’ Mr Hammond said.
‘That remains to be seen,’ Helen said.
She felt a sudden need to downplay her abilities. Everyone was expecting so much from her heritage. What if she could not even control the powers she had?
‘Lady Helen has uncanny speed, sharpened senses and near twice the strength of a normal man,’ Mr Hammond supplied. ‘Not to mention the ability to heal at a great rate — a boon that the Deceivers do not have.’
‘She will need all that, and more, if we are to find and defeat the Grand Deceiver,’ Lady Margaret said.
‘We will find him,’ Mr Hammond said firmly. ‘And Lord Carlston is convinced Lady Helen will exhibit more powers.’
‘You aim to defeat this creature, Helen?’ Delia shook her head as if trying to clear a way through so much wonder. ‘I cannot conceive of the kind of power that would do so. Will you show me?’
Helen hesitated. It was all well and good to talk of Reclaimers and Deceivers, but once Delia saw what she could do, she knew her friend would never look at her in the same way. She already felt like one of Sir Joseph Banks’s specimens under a magnifying glass. Yet Delia had to see the truth.
She rose from her chair and walked to the side bureau. It was small but made of heavy oak; at least eighty pounds or so in weight. Lifting it would probably suffice as a show of strength. She swung around to scan the rest of the furniture. Perhaps the striped silk armchair near the window would be a better demonstration. Not only heavy, but large as well.
Mr Hammond rose from his chair. ‘Why don’t you lift me?’
Lady Margaret placed her hand on his arm. ‘Do not be ridiculous, Michael.’
‘No, I cannot,’ Helen said, for once finding herself in agreement with her chaperone. ‘What if I were to harm you?’
‘I am sure you will take care. It will be good practice: if you are to fight the creatures, you must get used to such bodily contact. I insist. Come, let us move away from the table to be safe.’
He strode to the other end of the room and pushed one of the armchairs to one side.
Helen followed. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I am.’ He waved her closer. ‘Come, you cannot lift me from two feet away.’
She stepped in front of him, hands hovering, not quite sure exactly where to take hold.
He patted his chest. ‘Do take care with my cravat, it is one of my best efforts.’
She nodded earnestly, then saw the crinkles around his eyes. He was joking. With a smile, she grasped the front of his waistcoat and shirt. The action pulled him closer. As she gathered the layers of blue silk and snowy linen into one fist, he turned his head, his mouth almost against her ear, and murmured, ‘I found Lowry.’
Helen stiffened. So this was why he had wanted to go to the other side of the room: to deliver his message.
His voice dropped even lower, to a register that only a Reclaimer could hear. ‘We are to meet him two nights hence. In the Bear at Lewes.’
Lud, a meeting at night in another town. Nevertheless, she met his eyes and gave the slightest of nods. At least it would all be over by Tuesday.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked.
‘I am.’
She braced herself, and with a deep breath hauled him upward. She had expected to lift him a foot or so, but in one easy hoist she had him a good three feet off the floor.
He looked down at her, eyes slightly bulging, his cravat and shirt bunched around his chin. She was shocked as well. Mr Hammond was at least one hundred and fifty pounds and, although she was using only one hand, she was not straining at all. Holy star, her strength must have increased in the last few days. Was that normal? She almost laughed at the thought. What was normal about a young woman lifting a man so easily from the ground?
Delia stood and clapped. ‘Amazing! How wonderful to be so strong, and you did it with such ease.’ She peered up at Mr Hammond. ‘He seems to be rather red in the face.’
‘Oh!’ Helen lowered him abruptly back to his feet. ‘Forgive me, Mr Hammond. I was not expecting to lift you so high.’
He lurched back, coughing. ‘Quite all right,’ he gasped, pulling at his cravat.
Lady Margaret sprang from her chair and passed him a cup. ‘Here, Michael, take some tea.’
‘I do apologise,’ Helen said, hovering behind Lady Margaret.
He shook his head and took a spluttering mouthful.
Lady Margaret turned on Helen. ‘You have choked him! You are too careless.’
‘That is not fair, Margaret,’ Mr Hammond croaked. ‘Neither of us was expecting such …’ he cleared his throat, ‘such an increase in strength.’
‘Would you like some wine?’ Helen asked. ‘I shall call for some.’
Lady Margaret waved her away. ‘You have done enough.’
‘Helen,’ Delia said, taking her hands and drawing her back across the room, ‘let him have some air.’ She dropped her voice. ‘And let her do her fussing.’
‘I did not mean to choke him.’
‘Of course not,’ Delia said, squeezing her hands. ‘You were just trying to help me make my decision. Well, I have made it. I do not want another girl to ever experience what I did with Mr Trent.’ She gave a grimace of resignation. ‘And in the end, I have nowhere else to go.’
Helen looked into her friend’s face, searching for any kind of doubt. ‘Are you sure? It is not an easy life.’
Delia nodded. ‘I would be most honoured to serve as your aide.’
Helen smiled. She was, of course, glad to have Delia by her side. Very glad. Yet within that bright elation ran a darker streak of foreboding. She had just persuaded her friend to enter a world of extreme danger. Delia was now her responsibility, and she already felt the weight of her friend’s soul upon her own.
Delia cocked her head to one side. ‘Perhaps it is you who are not sure?’
‘No, I am very sure,’ Helen said quickly. She leaned forward and kissed Delia on one cheek and then the other, her friend’s fragrant white skin soft beneath her lips.
Dear God, she added silently, please help me keep her safe.
Chapter Six
MONDAY, 6 JULY 1812
Early next morning, Helen woke to hear murmuring in the adjoining dressing room. She rolled onto her back and concentrated on the soft voices. Darby of course, and Geoffrey the footman.
‘Lord Carlston is downstairs and waiting,’ Geoffrey whispered.