‘Could it be the power that he absorbed from the Deceiver at my ball? The power I shared with him?’ Helen asked, ignoring the memory of her body locked against his, the power thrumming between them. ‘We never released any of it into the earth. It seemed to dissipate, but perhaps it did not.’
‘Are you experiencing any such effects?’ Mr Hammond asked.
‘No, not at all.’
He shrugged. ‘Then I do not see how that could be the source. Besides, if it were, Mr Quinn’s grounding would have had some result.’
That was true.
‘There is another explanation,’ Mr Quinn said heavily. He glanced at Darby, who nodded encouragingly.
Helen knew what he meant, and, by the look upon Lady Margaret’s face, so did she. But it was Mr Hammond who voiced it.
‘You think it is the vestige darkness within him,’ he said flatly.
Quinn nodded. ‘I do, sir.’ He looked at Helen. ‘I know you saw how much is in him when he reclaimed the boy in London.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but I was under the impression he had years before it would have such a dire effect.’
‘I was too, my lady, and so was he.’
Darby took Mr Quinn’s hand, the sweetness of the gesture bringing an ache to Helen’s throat.
Mr Hammond stubbed the toe of his boot into the hearth grate, every line of his body denying the possibility.
‘What darkness in him?’ Delia asked, her voice small in the silence.
No one else seemed inclined to answer, so Helen said, ‘It is the accumulation of the vestige, the little spark of Deceiver energy that Reclaimers absorb when we reclaim the soul of one of their offspring and bring it back to full humanity. We cannot rid ourselves of it into the earth like the normal Deceiver energy. It stays within the body and builds up, creating a dark energy that sickens us. Usually we retire from reclaiming before it causes problems, but if we do not draw back in time …’ She stopped not wanting to give utterance to the inevitable outcome.
‘It sends the Reclaimer mad,’ Mr Hammond finished.
‘Is his lordship mad?’ Delia asked.
‘No!’ Lady Margaret said forcefully. ‘He is not.’
Delia looked around at them. ‘But he has stopped reclaiming, hasn’t he?’
Mr Hammond shook his head.
‘He will not, Miss Cransdon,’ Quinn said. ‘I’ve tried over and over to reason with him, but he won’t listen. He says he’s on this earth to save souls and, God damn it …’ He stopped, flushing. ‘I beg your pardon. He says he will save souls whatever the cost.’
‘Atonement,’ Helen muttered. He had been too late to save Lady Elise from whatever ghastly fate had occurred in that bedchamber.
Quinn looked at her oddly. ‘Yes, my lady.’
Delia leaned forward. ‘Atonement for what? His wife?’
Helen gave a small shake of her head. It was not the time for such an exchange.
Mr Hammond pushed himself from the mantel and paced across the room. ‘Maybe it is not the case, after all. Maybe there is another reason for this surge of power.’
‘And what would that be, Michael?’ Lady Margaret asked. ‘A head cold? However much we may dislike it, the obvious reason is probably the correct one. He is being overcome by the vestige.’
Mr Hammond crossed his arms. ‘You are jumping to conclusions. There could be another explanation that we do not have the experience or records to understand.’
‘None of us wants it to be true, Michael,’ she said, a little more gently, ‘but we have to protect his lordship and the Dark Days Club. We must insist that he stop reclaiming, and try to find some way to alleviate the damage already done. Although it pains me to say it, I think we may have to consult Pike on the matter. He has access to historical records and rare alchemical texts that we do not.’
‘No!’ Helen and Mr Hammond exclaimed at the same time.
Lady Margaret blinked at the united onslaught.
Mr Hammond glanced wildly at Helen: I will handle this.
‘I think it is obvious that Pike is looking for a reason to ruin his lordship,’ he said. ‘Mentioning this would be handing him the gun and the powder.’
‘Besides,’ Helen said, ignoring his directive, ‘there is no way to rid a Reclaimer of the darkness except by shifting it to another Reclaimer and destroying them. Benchley offered Lord Carlston that solution, a way to pass all of his darkness to me, and he refused it.’
‘Of course he refused it,’ Lady Margaret said. ‘So, if we are not to consult Pike, then what are we to do?’
They were all silent again.
‘We must stop him from reclaiming,’ Hammond said. ‘By force if necessary. Lady Helen, and you, Quinn, are the only two who can do that. Are you willing?’
‘I am,’ Helen said. ‘Quinn?’
He sighed. ‘Yes.’
A soft sound, the press of a hallway floorboard against another, caught at Helen’s Reclaimer hearing. She turned just as the door opened. His lordship leaned against the door jamb, face drained and eyes hooded. He wore Mr Hammond’s burgundy silk banyan over his shirt and breeches, the long quilted robe fitting close on his larger frame.
‘By force?’ he repeated, a sardonic glance taking in Helen and Quinn. ‘I doubt that would be possible or necessary. This sickness is not the vestige darkness.’
Lady Margaret rose from her chair. ‘William, what are you doing out of bed? You should be resting.’
Hammond crossed the room. ‘You look like death, my friend. Come, take my arm, sit down.’
The Earl waved him away. ‘I am not an invalid.’ He walked slowly into the room and leaned his hands heavily on the back of the sofa, fixing on Helen. ‘Are you truly unharmed?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ She studied his face. Anyone could see the fatigue in the drawn pallor around his eyes, but he still snapped with energy deep within. ‘You are not fully recovered.’
‘Well on the way.’
He smiled, and it held such an appeal for solidarity, such a heartfelt apology, that Helen found herself returning it.
Neither of them, it seemed, wanted to break the sweet accord. It was only Helen’s sudden awareness that they were being watched by Delia that made her drop her gaze. Carlston must have realised the same, for he stepped away.
‘If it is not the vestige darkness, your lordship,’ Delia asked, following him with that penetrating gaze, ‘what is it?’
‘I do not have the answer to that, Miss Cransdon.’ He swept a thoughtful glance around the gathering. ‘I do, however, know someone who may.’
‘Who?’ Hammond demanded. ‘We will consult them immediately.’
‘The Comte d’Antraigues.’
The name meant nothing to Helen, but it obviously meant something to Mr Hammond.
‘You jest, don’t you?’ he demanded. ‘The Comte is a Deceiver.’
‘I am well aware that he is a Deceiver. Nevertheless, he and I have had dealings before and he is open to negotiation. If anyone will know about this type of energy surge in a Reclaimer, it will be him. He has seen over a hundred English and French Reclaimers live and die.’
‘Some of them by his hand,’ Lady Margaret said curtly.
‘True. But then I have killed just as many of his kind,’ Carlston said. ‘Of course, if he does know, he will make us pay.’