Epilogue
It had been well past dawn when Charlotte and James returned to his cottage. The newlyweds were awake, dressed and worried sick.
“If you hadn’t arrived, we’d be on our way there,” said Devon as he heated up the big kettle in James’s kitchen. “We saw the smoke when it got light. Couldn’t have been more than half an hour ago.”
“You didn’t hear any explosions?”
Portia shook her head. “No, nothing.” She wrung her hands and then blushed. “We were…well, we were sound asleep. And we shouldn’t have been, knowing the Harburys as well as we do.”
“Hush now,” answered Charlotte. “There was nothing you could have done to prevent any of what transpired. Just give me a cup of tea, will you?” She had shed her soiled clothing and was wrapped up in one of James’s robes and a thick blanket. “I think I’m still a bit shaky and I probably stink of smoke.”
Portia busied herself with slicing bread as Devon filled the teapot and found milk.
“Inspector? Tea for you as well?”
James nodded. “Although my inclination is for a brandy.”
Portia brought plates over to the small table and sat. “Please…what happened?”
James looked at Charlotte. “You’ll be better than I at the telling. Go ahead. They need to know.”
He listened in silence as Charlotte took them through the evening, clearly, concisely, leaving nothing out. At the end of her recital, she looked at James. “At that point, I managed to get some women to help and we tended the injured as best we could. James, you should take over…” Her voice was level, but her hand shook slightly as she lifted her teacup from its saucer.
He nodded. “Very well. I have to applaud Commander Moreton and his crew. They were astounding in their speed and effectiveness. They had windows cleared and exits arranged within moments, and their alacrity in dealing with the flames was astonishing. It could have consumed Harbury Hall if it had time, but fortunately the fire was pretty much restricted to the ballroom. The thick stone walls of the original building helped, and Del’s men finished it off.”
“So the damage isn’t too severe?” Devon glanced at James over his tea.
“It’s going to be a bit of a mess, I think,” answered James. “But overall the building got off pretty well. Sadly,” he paused, hating what he had to say next. “Thirty-seven of the guests did not survive. Several more are probably in London hospitals by now, thanks to the airships, and close to a hundred have burns that will leave scars of this night with them for the rest of their lives.”
Portia looked at him. “And the Harburys? The Baron?”
He returned her look. “Not a sign of them.”
“Bollocks.” She clenched her fists. “It’s past time they paid for their crimes. And burning to death would have been a just punishment.”
“Don’t be too bloodthirsty, darling.” Devon reached out and covered one of her hands with his. “They may be dead…we don’t know at this point.”
“That’s true, Devon. Until we find out otherwise, let’s keep a positive perspective.”
“All right,” agreed Portia “I’m positive they burned to a crisp and we’ll find their ashes in neat piles very shortly.”
The other three could not restrain a chuckle or two.
James found it a relief, and smiled warmly at the irrepressible young woman. “You, young lady, are a wife now. Respectably married. May I suggest you temper your violent urges?”
“No,” she grinned back. “Devon knows what he’s getting and he doesn’t mind at all.”
Devon just grinned.
James reached for Charlotte’s hand. “We have family, love. The world continues to turn. The sun will be rising like it always does. And we will laugh again. Many times.”
She clutched his fingers, intertwining them with hers. “It takes something like this to remind me how special the ordinary moments are.”
“Agreed.”
There was silence for a few moments. Then a muffled knock sounded at the door.
“Oh dear. Who on earth can that be?”
Charlotte half-rose, but Portia stopped her. “I’ll see who it is. You two are exhausted.”
Devon stood up. “I’m coming with you. At this point, until we know more, we need to stay close.”
“No argument there, husband.” Portia smiled at him. “Come on. Let’s see who it is and what they want…”
The cottage was small, so Devon had to stay behind Portia as she opened the door. And cried out in distress.
“What?” Devon pushed her aside.
James rushed up, followed by Charlotte, all of them crowded into the doorway and staring down at the figure sprawled half on the doorstep.
“Bitte…hilfe…help…”
“It’s the Baron,” said Charlotte. “I can’t believe it.”
She stepped out and bent down, heedless of the robe parting to show her ankles and knees. “He’s badly hurt…” She helped him struggle to his knees.
“Oh dear God,” whispered Portia.
Von Landau was in a bad state. His face was slashed in several places and it looked as if one eye might be gone. His coat was matted in blood…and where there should have been two arms—there was only one.
“I could not know where else to…” His words were slurred. “I could not do it. He was…verstört…”
“I would imagine so,” said Devon.
“What does that word mean?” whispered Portia.
“I have no idea. But I don’t think it’s in any way a good thing, given what it resulted in,” answered Devon.
“Out of the way, children,” scolded James. “This man’s about to go into shock I think. We need to get him inside, although God only knows if we can help him at all.”
Carefully they managed to maneuver the barely conscious man into the cottage, and laid him on several blankets in front of the fire.
Getting his coat off was problematic until Portia solved the problem with a sharp knife. It fell away revealing the marks of a savage beating.
Charlotte cleaned his face as best she could, as Portia cut off the rest of his shirt. She sucked in a breath as the stump of his right arm was revealed.
“Dear God. I think it’s been cauterized,” she said, wincing at the blackened flesh.
They were all silent, as it became obvious he must have done that himself. Harbury would never have thought to help.
“I daren’t touch it for now,” said Charlotte. “A physician will know better how to deal with that.”
Amazingly, the Baron stirred, his good eye opening and fixing on Portia’s face.
“Ach, Mary Jones.” He gave a small sigh. “If only you’d come to the ball…”
“I don’t understand, Baron,” she said quietly.
“I know, dear girl. Perhaps it’s better you do not.”
“Sir,” said James. “What do you know of Lord Harbury? Did he survive?”
The Baron gave a weak nod. “He’s in the laboratories somewhere I think. I managed to crawl away. He realized I’d failed him.” A massive shudder shook his body. “So he c-c-cut off my arm…”
A cry of heart wrenching sorrow erupted from the Baron’s throat, and then he fell back, his eyes closing.
“Is he dead?” asked Portia.
“No,” said James, observing the pulse in the Baron’s throat. “But I think being unconscious for a while is probably the best thing for him.”
“Good,” growled Devon. “I’ll volunteer to bash him over the head if he shows signs of waking. Calling you dear girl.” He looked at his wife. “The nerve of the man.”
Portia, in spite of everything, grinned. Then stood on tiptoe and kissed her husband. “Thank you. I feel very protected now.”
Charlotte looked at James. “Well, my dear. This puts matters in a different light now.”
James nodded. “It does indeed.” He sighed. “Harbury lives.”
“So what do we do now?”
All eyes turned to the Inspector as the question hung in the air around them.
“It’s time we cornered the rat and killed it. But how?” He looked at the faces around him. “I haven’t a bloody clue.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Watch for the conclusion to the series:
Asylum for the Mechanically Insane - Book 5
ANNIHILATION
If by chance you missed any of the first three books in this series, here are their titles:
Book 1 – ILLUSION
Book 2 – DESTRUCTION
Book 3 – PERVERSION
Each volume is available at Amazon.com, and you can also read them for free with your Kindle Unlimited membership. It is recommended that they be read in order for the fullest enjoyment and understanding of this story, and the characters who return throughout the series.