The Draugr (Midnight Gunn Book 3) Read online

  Alerted by the sound of light footsteps descending the basement stairs to his secret room, Midnight frowned and swung around in his leather captain’s chair to ask Giles the reason for the disturbance of his requested solitude. He was surprised to see a nervous-looking Laura emerge, carrying a silver tray with a bowl of something hot and steaming on it.

  She cleared her throat. “Beggin’ your pardon, Your Lordship, but Mrs Phillips insisted I bring you some chicken soup seeing as you ain’t eaten in a while.” She fixed him with a shy smile and bobbed a curtsey.

  “Thank you, but I am not hungry.”

  “Mmm. Mrs Phillips said you’d say that so she’s told me to tell you that—“ She paused, chewing her lip. “—that either you eat it or she’ll come down here and spoon feed you herself.” This made Midnight’s lip twitch, and Laura blushed.

  “Did she indeed? Well, then, I supposed you had better set it down on the desk here,” he said, moving his chair aside to allow her room to place the tray down and set the bowl of delicious-smelling broth before him.

  As she reached for the tray and turned to leave, Midnight stopped her. “How did you get in? I am sure only Giles and Mrs Phillips know of this place.”

  Laura’s cheeks turned even redder. “Mr Morgan let me in. He didn’t want to,” Laura said quickly. “Only Mrs Phillips said she would box his ears and starch his breeches with itching powder if he didn’t let me bring you the food.” Laura could not stifle her giggle. It was such a joyous, infectious sound that Midnight could not help but chuckle himself.

  “God forbid any of us ever cross dear Clementine.”

  “Indeed not, sir. She is scary sometimes.” Laura laughed, and Midnight felt the darkness leave his heart for one blissful moment. Laura curtseyed and turned to leave once again. And once again, he reached out impulsively to stop her, but she gasped and put her hand in her pocket. “Oh! I forgot to give you this. Mr Morgan said it came in the second post at one o’clock.” Laura handed him a letter.

  He did not recognise the handwriting on the front, and the postage mark was local. He opened it, his eyes scanning the page quickly and he smiled.

  “Good news, sir?”

  “I suppose it is. It will serve as a distraction from this mess, at least.”

  “You mean the inspector, don’t you?”

  “I do. I admit that I have been able to think of little else the last two days. Anyway…“ He held up the letter. “This is an invitation to see Miss Elldy Bird at the British Museum. She has embarked on some research for me, and it seems she has discovered something interesting.”

  “Sounds exciting, sir. I ain’t never been to the museum meself. Though I should like to, one day.”

  Midnight waved the letter at Laura. “The invite is for tomorrow. Why don’t you come?” he suggested.

  “Oh. That’s very kind of you, sir, but I… I can’t. I have my duties and besides, it… wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Oh. Indeed, yes. I understand, but I shall ask Mrs Phillips to relive you of your duties tomorrow, and you shall take Polly along with you. I was merely suggesting that I take you and my daughter, of course, in the carriage… seeing as I am to go there tomorrow.” Now, it was his turn to blush as he realised what Miss Carter had thought he had meant. Just like that, all of the shame he had felt regarding that night with Laura in Samoch Cottage when he had held her hand a moment too long returned. He had almost—

  “Then, I would love to. Thank you, Your Lordship. I’m sure Aggie—I mean, Miss Carmichael would enjoy an afternoon off.”

  “Good grief. Is my daughter really such a rapscallion that her governess needs relief?” he asked with a hint of humour.

  “I think we both know the answer to that.” Laura grinned.

  “Unfortunately, Miss Carter, I am inclined to agree.”

  13

  THE BRITISH MUSEUM

  JANUARY 15TH 1863

  Polly jumped down from the carriage as soon as the driver-come-footman, Charlie Fenwick, opened the door.

  Miss Carmichael had dressed her in her best town outfit, coat, hat, and boots and had declared that Polly looked like a proper little lady, even if she didn’t behave like one, and bade her a merry farewell. To Laura, she had wished her luck, and then, she had gone to her room to write yet another letter of enquiry, regarding her missing brother, to her father in New York.

  Midnight alighted from the carriage next and held out his hand to assist Laura.

  Dressed in her best woollen dress, grey woollen coat, a bonnet, and leather gloves borrowed from Miss Carmichael, Laura looked as pretty as he had ever seen her. Indeed, he had found it a struggle not to keep looking at her constantly throughout the journey. She was such a distraction that he had begun to wonder if inviting her along was a good idea. At least he had his meeting with Miss Bird to occupy his mind, and he knew that Polly relished Laura’s company, so the two of them would enjoy exploring the exhibits together.

  “Be off with you both and enjoy the exhibits,” he said to the excited pair. “I will come find you once my meeting is over.”

  Polly gave her father an exuberant hug then took the housemaid’s hand. “Oh! Ain’t this fun, Laura? What shall we see first?”

  Laura grinned, the expression lighting up her entire face in a blissful glow that always made Midnight’s stomach jolt. “Everything! Lead the way, Miss Polly.”

  Laura and the girl hurried off hand in hand, and Midnight realised that the sight of them together brought him such joy that he almost couldn’t stand it. He turned and, with a smile in his heart, went to find the museum’s curator.

  Midnight had made some discreet enquiries after his first meeting with Miss Bird. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he had discovered her to be a woman of quite some means. An only child of a wealthy family, she had inherited the family fortune when her parents both perished from influenza. She had then broken off her engagement to David Davenport, the son of another well-to-do family, and bought her way in to a place at Bedford College to study history. She became a patron of the museum and, subsequently, one of the museum’s main contributors, funding many overseas trips to negotiate the loan of interesting exhibits. Following that, she had lived happily as a single woman since.

  It was unheard of in polite society for a wealthy woman to seek gainful employment. Some ladies volunteered with meaningful foundations or charities. Some did nothing other than what was expected of them as wives or daughters of the well-to-do. Elldy Bird, it seemed, thrived on doing just the opposite. Of course, no one dared call her out on it, because she was old money; her family had been one of the wealthiest and oldest families in the country.

  Midnight waited in the corridor adjacent to the curator’s office right in front of exhibit number 151: a stuffed brown bear standing on its hind legs, with claws bared and teeth showing in a menacing snarl.

  “Now, he would have made quite the challenge,” he mused.

  “He would’ve probably had you for dinner,” a female voice behind him said.

  Midnight turned and smiled, having recognised the voice. “Miss Bird! Good day to you.” He held out his hand, and she took it, giving it a hearty shake.

  “Good day, Lord Gunn. I am glad that you could make today’s appointment. I have some rather interesting news to relate.”

  “Excellent. Shall we go into your office, then?”

  “Unchaperoned?” she said in mock indignation.

  “I hardly think that appropriate, sir. Do you?”

  “Probably not,” he agreed. “But then, some would say a lady of such position wearing pantaloons was hardly appropriate either. However, you don’t seem to mind.”

  “Touché, Lord Gunn. For your information—” She gestured at her attire. “—I’m wearing pantaloons because I rode my bicycle to work. Dresses have a habit of getting caught in the chain. Besides, they’re extremely comfortable. Why should men have all the luxury of comfort while we ladies are trussed up like a Christmas turkey?”

  The imagery elicited a burst of laughter from him and earned a questioning look from her.

  “I’m I’m glad I amuse you, sir. Most gentlemen are quite perturbed by my impropriety.”

  Midnight recognised the challenge in her eyes and met it. “I am not most men,” he replied, an air of suggestiveness in his voice. He held her gaze for a moment, hoping his eyes conveyed his mirth.

  The corner of her mouth tuned up slightly. “I can see that,” she said softly. “Shall we?”

  She led the way into her office and gestured for him to sit down. As it was in his last visit, the room was filled to bursting with ephemera and her desk was littered with piles of papers and books. One would not call her a tidy person—at least in her place of work, it seemed.

  Elldy reached down and opened one of the desk drawers, removing from it the package that Midnight had left in her care some weeks ago. Unwrapping it carefully, she placed it on the desk between them and eyed him curiously.

  “Before we begin, might I be blunt?”

  “Please, do,” Midnight said.

  “I’ve heard rumours about you, Lord Gunn, some of which do not put you in a favourable light. How do you plead?”

  “Well that would depend on the charge,” he replied, amused.

  “It is said that you do not behave quite like the rest of high society.”

  “One may say the same of you, Miss Bird.” He smiled.

  “Indeed, they do. However, you are known to shun it completely. You do not answer invitations, and you do not attend balls—nor do you entertain. Indeed, some of the city’s elite think you are a true man of mystery.”

  “Is that a crime?” he chuckled.

  “Some would say so,” she countered. “When I began research for you on this wo
nderful little object, I became curious as to how such a man might come to own it, for it is unlike anything I have ever seen. So, I confess that I did a little research of my own into your family.”

  “And… what did you find?” Midnight asked, a tad warily.

  “Not very much, as a matter of fact. I know that your father was successful in his business transactions but that he also kept mostly to himself, and that your mother—“

  “Died,” Midnight cut in. “My mother died. What is your point, Miss Bird?” He could hardly conceal the slightly irritated tone that crept into his voice.

  Unconventional as this woman might be, she was now bordering on rude. Elldy seemed to sense his discomfort, for she leaned forward and, in a placatory voice, pleaded her case.

  “Forgive me, Lord Gunn. I do not mean to interrogate you regarding your personal life. It is just that… what I have found out about this—” She picked up the cube and turned it over in her hands, a sudden look of desire in her eyes as if she coveted the artefact. “—makes me wonder just who you really are.”

  Midnight found Polly and Laura exploring one of the upper levels of the museum. They were gawping gleefully at a majestic polar bear in a mock-up of an Artic Circle scene.

  “Ursus maritimus,” he declared, making them both jump.

  “Papa!” Polly chastised. “I almost soiled me skivvies!” She put her hand on her chest and breathed in dramatically.

  “Polly, sweetheart, must you be so coarse?” Midnight frowned, but there was still a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

  “He’s a big one,” Laura said, changing tack and directing attention back to the stuffed white giant.

  “That he is. He happens to be one of my favourite exhibits. Bears are wildly misunderstood, I fear,” Midnight said.

  “How so?”

  “When people think of bears, this is all they see: a ferocious animal, all teeth and claws and brawn.”

  “And what do you see?” Laura asked.

  “The wilderness personified. Bears are independent, intelligent, solitary creatures that answer to no one. Should I be reincarnated, I should like to be a bear, free to roam wherever I choose and do whatever I please without fear of reproach. Life would be an adventure.” His eyes glowed brilliant blue as he smiled up at the bear wistfully.

  “I think you are more like the bear than you think, sir.” Laura’s beaming grin showed that his observation had pleased her greatly.

  More surprisingly, however, was his own reaction to having made her happy. It felt…good, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  They finished the rest of the museum tour in just over an hour. They had walked at a slow pace, and Midnight had relished being so close to Laura away from the conventions that her position in his household demanded. So close was she that he could almost taste the sweet scent of her, feel the heat from her beautiful skin. He longed touch her. The arc of her neck was irresistible; it begged to be kissed.

  Damn it all to Hell! he cursed internally. Why couldn’t she have been born a lady? Then, he could have perhaps courted her in the proper manner. He thought, then, of what Miss Bird had said about him shunning the usual trappings of his social status.

  She was correct, of course. He mostly kept to himself for fear of exposure, but he also could not stand the insular mindset of high society and their collective, misguided sense of entitlement and class superiority. He by far and away enjoyed the company of ordinary folk. Their lives and attitudes were hard but real. After what he had learned from Miss Bird this day, he would give a tonne of figs for an ounce of ordinary at that very moment.

  14

  BERKELEY SQUARE

  JANUARY 15TH 1863

  It was dark when the carriage pulled to a halt outside of Meriton House. Polly had not stopped chattering the entire journey home from the museum.

  “Did you see it, Laura? Imagine how strong you would ‘ave to be to lift that sword!”

  “I did see, and yes, you’d have to be a giant, I reckon.” Laura winked at the little mistress.

  “I am very glad to see you enjoyed the outing, Miss Peeps,” Midnight said. “And how about you, Miss Carter? What did you think of your first trip to the British Museum?” he asked, genuinely interested.

  “Oh, I just loved it, sir. I have never seen such wonders and mysterious things. Thank you for taking me—us. Much appreciated. I can’t wait to tell Charlie about it.”

  “I should think poor Charlie has heard more than he can stomach.” Midnight chuckled and exited the carriage. “Isn’t that right, Charlie?” he called up to the driver.

  “Every word, twice over.” Charlie grinned.

  Midnight helped his daughter and housemaid down from the carriage and closed the door.

  “Thank you, Charlie,” he said.

  “Sir,” Charlie replied, doffing his cap. The clopping of horses’ hooves rang out into the night as Charlie took the carriage round the back to the small stable yard, where he slept in a little wooden cabin next to his beloved horses.

  The three people left on the pavement turned to climb the steps that led the way to Meriton’s grand front door. Giles had left a lantern burning in the hallway, and its faint glow shone through the glass pane above the door. Laura took hold of Polly’s hand, and the two of them skipped merrily up the stone steps. Midnight pulled out his key, ready to unlock the door, when his senses stirred suddenly.

  Someone was behind him.

  He turned, and before he even had time to ponder why he had heard no footsteps approach, the entity was upon him.

  “Arthur! What are you do—?“ He did not finish his sentence before he felt the icy touch of death upon him, just as he had through the memories of the dead in the mortuary.

  The cold spread through him at a rapid pace, preventing him from calling out a warning to Laura and Polly. He heard them scream, heard them shouting his name and Gredge’s. He forced himself to focus and looked Gredge in the eye, trying to see what madness had taken over his friend. Something was very wrong. In the recess of his panicked mind, he wondered how the inspector had escaped from his prison cell. It did not make sense at all.

  He called upon the shadows for help, but they did not come. Desperately, he sought out a source of light to draw upon—anything would suffice. The tenuous glow of a nearby street lamp beckoned, and he reached for it with his mind, willing the light to enter his failing body. Midnight felt the warmth of the little trail of light seep into him. Grateful that at least one of his powers had not failed him, he concentrated on channelling it to his heart, to the place where his friend’s fingers appeared to have pierced flesh and bone to wrap themselves around his beating core in an attempt to end him.

  The healing light pushed hard at the cold, and Midnight was aware of something exploding out of him. He felt the last tendrils of energy he had disappear, along with the apparition of Arthur Gredge.

  As he fell to his knees, his body succumbing to the dark, he felt two pairs of arms around him, catching his fall, two frightened and distressed voices begging him to stay with them. And then, everything went black, and he knew of nothing more.

  15

  MERITON

  JANUARY 18TH 1863