Chapter Thirty-Five

“Captain Hawthorne! You will have to forgive my confusion. I am not certain if that was a proposal of marriage or an offer to open a surgery together. You spoke significantly more about our future medical practice than any fondness or familial feeling.” Elizabeth started pacing, her agitation clear in every step. She really had not been expecting the militia surgeon’s proposal.

They had been walking from the encampment, where several soldiers had been injured in a training accident. They had worked together to ensure that none of the injuries would have long lasting impact. As had increasing been the case whenever their duties or social functions had brought them into company, Captain Hawthorne had once again been extolling the benefits that could be found if they were to combine their gifts and skills. She could tell he was excited by the possibilities for fame and fortune such a medical partnership in Town might bring them. On this day, that had somehow evolved into his proposing marriage as the obvious first step towards this most desirable future.

“To be honest, I must say it was both.” Captain Hawthorne quipped lightheartedly. Elizabeth did not think he realized the full extent of her disquiet at the situation. “While it is true that I find you a most lovely, vivacious, and charming lady; it is your gift and your … pragmatic, shall we say … view of the world that makes me certain we would suit each other well. Your resolution to face the most horrific situations with aplomb and your ability to discern the requirement to forgo civility for violence when faced with the necessity are remarkable, almost … masculine.”

“I am certain you intended that as a compliment,” Elizabeth said. “But it is not. You have misunderstood my character completely. I am not pragmatic. Every sick child or wounded soldier that I treat tears at my heart. Every man I kill … kills me too.”

“If you had approached me with honeyed words or declarations of love, I would have felt some obligation to acknowledge the honor you do me and offer my gratitude for your gracious offer. Instead, I will simply provide a polite refusal that we may resume our … professional acquaintance.”

“But …”

“I believe it is time for me to patrol. I bid you a good day, Captain.” With that, Elizabeth stepped off the road, raced into the woods, and left the confused man far behind.

She cursed his foolishness. He had all but ruined an effective professional relationship with his greed and presumption. Men could be such mercurial creatures; moving from admiration to matrimony with no consideration of the indispensable steps in-between. From a practical perspective, the match was not wholly unsuitable. He was, at least, from a landed family, even if his family’s estate was smaller than Longbourn, and he was a third son. But to approach her with accolades for her practicality and manly deeds was unpardonable. As she neared her home, she realized the full import of her refusing an eligible proposal. If word spread, her reputation might suffer. Worse, if her mother heard, as she was certain to, for there could be no secrets in a small town, Elizabeth might never find a peaceful moment at home again.

When word finally did spread, a circumstance Elizabeth ascribed to Mr. Wickham’s scandalmongering, Mrs. Bennet’s reaction was worse than she had feared. For weeks, all she heard was how unnatural a daughter she was to refuse such an opportunity. Her relief was profound when her father summoned her to his sanctum, where her mother dared not intrude.

“Lizzy, please have a seat.” He looked at her, holding a missive in his hand, his spectacles perched precariously on his nose. “Do I understand correctly that you are able to detect the workings of the temporary gifts instilled in these ExtraOrdinaries?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you can trace the diminishment of these effects?”

“Again, correct.”

He sighed. “I have here,” he gestured with the letter, “a request from the Alien Office, from Old Whisky himself, that you travel to Town to assist his people in their investigations of the phenomenon.”

She immediately apprehended how a trip to London would remove her from her mother’s company and constant condemnation. It would also take her way from Captain Hawthorne’s heartbroken demeanor. She paid him the compliment of attributing his disconsolation to romantic disappointment rather than rapaciousness, though she could not feel certain in that assumption. Then she realized her father’s agitation. “You do not approve of the scheme?”

“Scheme is a most apropos choice of words, my dear. I have known William Wickham since we were striplings. While I have trusted him with my life, I am not sanguine about offering him the same faith with yours.”

“Father, you know I can …”

“Yes, yes … I do know you are both competent and resourceful. But this, to appropriate a maritime idiom, is an entirely different kettle of fish than that to which you are accustomed.”

“If my reading is correct, there are very few somatic manipulators of my capabilities.”

“That is true.”

“It is quite possible that I am one of only a handful of people in the kingdom that can detect and observe these false gift spheres.”

“Also true.”

“The French agent represents a significant threat to us, both to the nation and to our family. If I am able to use my talents to help either find a way to undo, or even better, to preclude his tampering with the natural order, I must, in all good conscience, do my part.”

“Daughter, you are far too rational for my own good.”

“Then I may go?”

“I do not know if our dear Superintendent is really giving us a choice. But, even if he is, your reasoning is flawless, as is your sense of duty.” He walked to her and kissed her forehead. “I will miss you. With both you and your elder sister gone, I will only have Mary to exchange rational words with, and those are far more likely to be political, or polemical, than I might prefer.”

“If she even has time to speak. She spends so much time at her correspondence these days I hardly ever see her away from the writing desk. She is even neglecting her music.”

“Is that so? I suppose I have not been my normal attentive self. I will be sure to make time to speak with her.”

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Three days later Elizabeth, and far more trunks than she felt strictly necessary, arrived at her Uncle’s Gracechurch Street residence. She was exceedingly fond of her London relations.

Mr. Edward Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly superior to his elder sister, both in nature and education. After their father’s death, when Mr. Gardiner was still in school, he left Meryton to be raised by his namesake, who was his paternal uncle. The elder Mr. Gardiner managed a shipping company that imported luxury items such as silks, gems, and rare spices from Asia and the East Indies. It was a very successful business and the Elizabeth’s uncle inherited it upon the death of his uncle. He had expanded the company’s trade routes and product lines, making astute choices and building numerous profitable relationships with other traders. Elizabeth was uncertain of her uncle’s income, but knew it exceeded Mr. Bingley’s on an annual basis.

Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman, and a great favorite with all her Longbourn nieces. Growing up, Jane and Elizabeth had frequently stayed with her in town. The Gardiners had their own growing family, with four young children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two younger boys. All the children were fond of Elizabeth, even if she was not Jane, their favorite whose steady sense and sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every way. Elizabeth seemed to find herself more interested in teaching and playing with them out of doors, pursuits involving nature and lots of exercise. Mrs. Gardiner was not averse to the effect this had on reducing their near endless supply of energy, ensuring their early and extended slumber after their adventures with Elizzabeth.

All the Gardiners welcomed her upon her arrival. Calls of “Lizzy!” rang out from the four youngest. The parents welcome was more reserved, but no less warm.

“We are so happy to have you with us.” Mr. Gardiner smiled.

“I hope it is to be an extended stay. The season will soon be upon us.” Mrs. Gardiner had a mischievous look in her eyes which Elizabeth thought reflected her anticipation of having a single woman of the right age to display in the marriage market. While Mrs. Gardiner was not nearly as determined as Elizabeth’s mother to see her wed; she was still intrigued by the social possibilities having a marriageable gentlewoman under her roof entailed. “Already we have several invitations, to which we are assured you are included. And we have our own regular artistic evenings, to which you will make a wonderful addition.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I must remind you, my time may not be my own. I have been called to the metropolis for a purpose.”

“Yes, yes. But surely the Alien Office cannot need you during the evenings.”

“We’ll see, Aunt. We shall see. Now I think the children want to show me something.” Indeed, they were barely holding back from dragging her to the nursery where they could have her all to themselves.

The next morning, Mr. Gardiner accompanied Elizabeth to the Crown Street headquarters of the Alien Office. “Miss Bennet?” asked a man just inside the front door.

“Yes, and this is my uncle Mr. Gardiner.” She was still not yet accustomed to her assumption of Jane’s title after her recent marriage.

“I’m Mr. Graves, Mr. Wickham’s clerk. He is currently occupied and has asked that I bring you to the laboratory. I’m afraid Mr. Gardiner will not be able to accompany you.” He turned to address her uncle. “We will arrange a carriage for to bring her home when she is done, sir.”

Elizabeth’s uncle looked at her uncertainly. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’ll see you when we are done here.”

“If you’re certain …” He looked hard at Mr. Graves, then squeezed Elizabeth’s hand before taking his leave.

The nondescript functionary led her deep into the bowels of the surprisingly large complex. “We have captured three of the XOs …”

“XOs?” Elizabeth interrupted.

“The temporarily powered attackers we have were carrying these cards,” he produced a cardboard plank with ‘XO’ printed on it. “Their preferred nom de guerre is too lengthy to use regularly. And we are trying to quash the whole New Mohock deception.”

“Perhaps you have some sort of precis of recent events and conclusions that I might read?”

“I will prepare something for you.”

“In truth, Miss Bennet, I would almost rather you did not read our current assumptions. We are rather hoping you may offer a fresh perspective and new insight on this case.” Elizabeth turned to find a handsome older gentleman approaching them. He looked somewhat familiar, but she knew they had never met. He stopped and took her hand. He bent over it and brushed his lips over her glove. “I am William Wickham. I first knew your father when he was younger than you are now. I must say, I can see no resemblance to him. You must get your beauty from your mother.”

Elizabeth blushed. His compliment struck her as somehow inappropriate. She was not there as a maiden, but as a researcher. “Mr. Wickham,” she acknowledged, removing her hand from his grasp. She realized he reminded her of his distant relation, the deceitful Lieutenant.

They made general conversation until they reached the cells holding the prisoners. The conditions were more agreeable than those at the militia encampment, but the function was the same. Elizabeth spent the next several hours in a trance-like state, examining the erstwhile gifts of the prisoners in great detail. She spoke her impressions and discoveries aloud, with Mr. Graves transcribing her words.

“The two most important questions are can you detect these ‘spheres’ and can you remove them?” The Superintendent queried when they met in his office for a recapitulation of her findings.

“Yes, I believe I can do both. In order to assess the first I should be shown a number of persons, unknown to me, whom I may examine. If some of these individuals are gifted, some not, and some with the temporary gifts and I can correctly determine which category each person falls into then we will know for certain. If I prove capable of such discrimination, then we can proceed to discover if I can teach other augers to do the same.”

“It would certainly be a boon to have more than one person capable of such a feat.”

“As for your second question, the only way to ascertain that ability is for me to make the attempt.”

“Are you willing to do so on the morrow? We will need to determine the appropriate subject for such an experiment.”

“I am. But I think it is best if I return to Gracechurch Street to rest in preparation for the attempt.”

“Very well, until tomorrow then,” He offered her his hand and she could not avoid complying without offering significant offence. Upon contact she was able to determine his gift, to compel truth. It was somewhat related to young Mr. Wickham’s gift. She was growing less comfortable with the similarities between the two men.

That evening Mrs. Gardiner held one of her regular artistic salons. She was an aspiring socialite that had, over the last year, managed to create a place in the social scene. She was patroness to several aspiring painters, poets, composers, and musicians. At each gathering she would showcase the talents of two or more of these artists. She opened her salons to both the gentry and the crème of the mercantile class. Because of her husband’s status, she attracted far more of the latter. But her careful selection of artists, and the general wealth of her other guests, attracted the most liberal, or financially interested, of the former.

Elizabeth, at her aunt’s insistence, had acquired a new evening gown for the event. She was well received by the guests, with three attendees paying her particular attention. Her aunt had planted certain rumors about the lady from Hertfordshire’s position, connections, and gifts which quickly circulated to various potentially interested parties. Elizabeth was accustomed to being seen as Jane’s less attractive younger sister, or as her father’s eccentric, if powerful, sheriff. At Gracechurch Street, she was treated as a prize worth pursuing by men of wealth, wit, and character, if not breeding or giftedness. To middle-class men looking to raise the status of their family and eventual children, she was quite the catch. It took some adjustment of her small town perspective.

She was not surprised to find that most guests at her Aunt’s salons were firm Ordinaries. She realized the movement was rapidly becoming the political cause of the rising mercantile class. As only landowners were allowed a vote on parliamentary representation, the merchants and bankers who controlled a growing portion of the Kingdom’s wealth found themselves resenting the system that deprived them of a voice in their own future because of the circumstance of their birth. Nations like France and America offered them an alternative model, and while there was no talk of sedition or revolution at these gatherings, Elizabeth became more cognizant of the widespread unrest that must eventually give rise to largescale change.

She just wished her sister Mary was there to discuss this new revelation.