Word of Honour

'It's on my list,' Aubrey said and immediately felt he'd started digging another hole for himself, but – helplessly – he kept on excavating. 'I've been having some trouble with the membership form.'

'Filling it in?'

'Finding it, then filling it in would be more precise.

I think I lost it.'

'You never asked me for it.'

'I didn't? I was sure I did. Didn't I, George?'

George blinked. 'Sorry, I missed that. What were you asking?'

'Never mind.' Aubrey took a deep breath. 'When can I get some membership forms from you, Caroline? Please?'

Lady Rose and Caroline looked at each other. 'I'm afraid, my dear,' Lady Rose said, 'this could be a longterm project.'

Coffee and chocolates revealed little new, which gave Aubrey some time to think as he was able to hold his end up by dropping in an observation every so often, nothing too taxing.

He was concerned for George, who appeared more and more distracted as the dinner went on, rallying gamely whenever he could to take part in the conversations that rolled around the table.

George's level of distraction worried Aubrey. His friend usually enjoyed the dinners at Maidstone, especially when Lady Rose was present.

And then there was Rokeby-Taylor's dangerous double game. Or was it a triple game? Money flowing in all directions around Count Brandt. Whose side was he actually on? And where were Maggie and her Crew?

And of course there was Dr Tremaine. The elusive Dr Tremaine. Where was he?

Too many questions, not enough information.

Aubrey needed something more than speculation and supposition.

He needed information – but where would he find it?

STUBBS WAS IDLING THE OAKLEIGH-NASH AT THE FRONT door. Aubrey and Caroline stood under the porticoed entrance. 'What's keeping George?' Aubrey said. 'He said he wanted to see you off.'

'He seemed thoughtful tonight,' Caroline said. She looked out at the night sky.

'Some trouble at home. Nothing serious, but it's on his mind.'

'Whose mind?' George said, bustling out of the door. He was smiling broadly. 'Sorry to interrupt, but I must tell you that Sir Darius has agreed to an interview about the suffrage issue. I just have to tee it up with his press secretary. Cedric Westerfold will be green with jealousy.'

'Cedric Westerfold?' Caroline asked Aubrey.

'George's journalistic nemesis. It's a long story.' He clasped his hands behind his back, sought for a witty remark and found that – for some reason – Caroline's bare shoulders were preventing him from thinking of one.

'It's been a pleasure,' he managed to say.

She arranged her shawl around her. 'I've enjoyed myself.'

She stepped into the motorcar. Stubbs closed the door behind her.

Aubrey stood there, hands behind his back, and hummed.

Caroline slid back the window. 'What are you thinking about?'

Aubrey blinked. 'Pardon?'

'You're humming. That means you're planning something.'

'It's nothing, really. I'm just thinking of a fact-finding outing, to help sort out things.'

'Now?'

Aubrey looked at George, who shrugged. 'Time is at a premium, so now seems most apt.'

'You're not going without me,' Caroline said.

'Sir?' Stubbs said from the driver's seat.

'Are you sure?' Aubrey asked Caroline.

'Perfectly.'

'Thank you, Stubbs. It looks as if Miss Hepworth won't be requiring the motorcar right now.'

Sixteen

'I SEE WHY YOU ASKED ME TO BRING THIS ALONG, OLD man.'

George hefted the pry bar. He slapped it in his palm while he studied the heavy boards over the entrance to the hydraulic railway.

Before they'd left for Little Pickling, Aubrey had time for some preparations. Not needing any magical apparatus, it was simple enough to find appropriate tools in a garden shed.

'You seem to have a knack for this sort of thing,' Aubrey said. He held up the oil lantern the better to see their task.

'For breaking and entering?'

'You know what I mean. I'm willing to learn, though. Let me have a go.'

George held the pry bar to his chest. 'Do I look like a fool? This is a dangerous implement. No knowing what it could do in the hands of an amateur.'

Aubrey grinned. 'Go to it, then. Be my guest.'

The nails groaned as George wrenched the boards off the entrance. Aubrey always felt that clandestine noise carried more weight than ordinary noise, so he was glad they were in a deserted part of town.

'Wait,' Caroline said once they'd climbed in through the splintered timber. 'Turn away.'

'What? Why?' Aubrey said.

'This dress may not be ideal for underground exploration.'

'Ah. Oh.'

It was a matter of seconds, but Aubrey and George contemplated the dusty concrete walls for what seemed like an eternity while, behind them, a complicated rustling went on.

'Very well,' Caroline said. 'You can turn around now.'

Aubrey had prepared himself, but he still swallowed hard. He held the lantern so he could see her more clearly and he hoped that she wouldn't notice his hand trembling. 'You wore your fighting suit on a visit to Maidstone for dinner?'

'Preparation is a very useful thing.'

Caroline's fighting suit was a loose black silk outfit, a version of those worn by the oriental teachers her father had organised. The jacket was tied at the waist and the trousers ended mid-calf. She was fitting black slippers to her feet. Her dress and evening shoes were bundled in a corner.

'Useful,' Aubrey repeated. 'You do look that.'

'It's practical, Aubrey, you should realise that by now. And what about you? How have you prepared for our excursion?'

'I've changed my footwear. Good hiking boots, these.'

'George?'

George held up the pry bar. 'A tool with many uses. Mostly destructive, I'll grant you.'

Aubrey rallied. 'I'll have to rely on my wits.'

'Wise. Always play to your strengths.'Caroline nodded. 'I hope we can come back here. I always liked that dress.'

Aubrey led, feeling remarkably vulnerable. For years, he'd had the fallback of spells at his fingertips. Quick thinking and magical power had extricated him from tricky situations again and again. Now here he was, deprived of the magical option by his own decision. He felt hobbled, lame, half a person.

He shrugged and the yellow pool of light bobbled ahead of them. Deep down, he ached to use magic. Just a little.

The tiled walls echoed with their footsteps, in a way that promised emptiness ahead. It was damp and dank, much different from the last time Aubrey had been down this way. The prickly-festering smell of mildew was omnipresent, thick and unappetising.