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  A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences: Tale from the Archives

  Collection One

  A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences: Tale from the Archives

  Volume One

  Philippa Ballantine and Tee Morris

  Copyright ImagineThat! 2011

  Published by ImagineThat! at Smashwords

  The Evil that Befell Sampson

  By Philippa Ballantine

  “We all know you are the best person to deal with peculiar things,” Mrs. Kate Sheppard smiled at the younger woman standing before her, “And quite frankly what has been going on is most peculiar indeed.”

  Though she was asking for help from Eliza D Braun, Field Agent in the South Pacific Branch of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences her tone was warm and friendly. However, even though they had known each other for a long time, more than a quarter of Eliza’s life, she still did not feel entirely comfortable around the older woman. Hero worship would do that to pretty much anyone who entertained it. Even more so, when that very same heroine is was one that Eliza hoped could be her mother-in-law given time.

  So the younger woman had tried to shake it off many times, but it stubbornly clung to her psyche. Mrs. Sheppard was everything the Agent strove to be: brave, kind and gentile. The first Eliza had easily mastered, the second she managed on occasion, but the third often eluded her.

  Kate sat on a walnut parlour chair upholstered in emerald green in the sunshine, her fine white-blond hair fairly gleaming, and her hands folded on her lap. At her side, a small doily-covered table held a steaming teapot, two cups, and a selection of little biscuits. Mrs. Sheppard’s posture was erect and firm. She could have taught it in a finishing school.

  A more graceful example of Victorian womanhood could not have been found, and yet Eliza was aware that many in New Zealand thought of her as the most dangerous person in the country. She peddled radical ideas, would not be silenced, and encouraged others to rally around her. In other words, she was the pre-eminent suffragist in the nation.

  Eliza was both fascinated and terrified of her. Though she worked for the Ministry, she was still a suffragist, and proud to wear the white camellia.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m glad to be off assistance, Mrs. Sheppard. However I hope Douglas told you I am the most junior field agent in the Ministry. I should caution that I might find nothing at all.”

  The suffragist’s remarkable blue eyes fixed on the young woman, examining her with the intensity of a hawk. “You’ve shown a lot of promise, Eliza, and my son has nothing but good things to say about you—not to mention you are one of the few female agents in the Ministry. All that makes you rather special.”

  “I try, Mrs. Sheppard,” Eliza murmured, not quite sure what to do with this unexpected compliment.

  “Since we are to be working together you need to stop calling me that. I insist you call me Kate.” She turned and began to pour the tea from the blue and white pot. “Milk? Sugar?”

  “Both please.” Eliza was grateful of the moment this little ritual afforded her, since she was not quite sure how to broach the next subject. So she did what she always did, ploughed forward.

  As she took the cup from Kate, she ventured her real concern. “The trouble is that the Ministry has had no cases from Dunedin in the last six months. So I couldn’t really tell them what I am doing here. I had to make up some excuse about a sick aunt.”

  Kate’s lips twitched. “I am happy to play that role if it means you can help the movement.” She leaned forward. “You see, the reason is that it hasn’t been passed to the Ministry, is because all the men do not find it peculiar at all.”

  The tea really was a most excellent Darjeeling. Eliza took another long sip before replying. “Then I have an advantage over them. Please tell me what has been going on?”

  “The men call it women coming to their senses.” Kate stirred her second cup of tea, concentrating deeply on doing so; the annoyance her voice gave away was consequently slight. “I am sure you know we have had a tradition of many strong and stalwart supporters in this town. The women of Dunedin have in fact weathered many attacks by that cad Henry Smith Fish.”

  “I had heard he was starting his own petition against the female franchise.”

  “Yes, by herding up drunken men while they are in the public houses.” Kate’s smile was sharp. “Everyone saw right through that tactic though, and I am afraid the new names people invented for him were rather…cutting.”

  Eliza had heard that too, and smiled right along with her hero. “‘The talking fish’, ‘flapping fish head’ and ‘fish out of water’? It is all really too easy with his last name.”

  Kate tiled her head. “Yes, well despite all that humour, Mr. Fish is a dreadful opponent, and we were all keeping an eye on him. What we were not expecting was our own ladies to turn on us.”

  “Pardon?” Eliza froze in place. She was well acquainted with the ladies of the suffrage movement, and the idea that they would abandon that cause was unbelievable. She would have almost expected Mr. Fish to wear the white camellia before that would happen.

  “I am afraid so.” Kate stared down into her cup. “Our strongest supporters, those with the most influence and money, have begun wearing the red camellia.” She picked her own white flower from her buttonhole and glanced at it. “Even Miss Burgess, who is nearly seventy and has been committed to the cause her whole life. Even she has changed coat, and will no longer receive my calls.”

  It was impossible to know what to say, so instead Eliza got to her feet. “She will not however refuse a visit from a government official! I shall see to this at once.”

  The older woman rose too. “Thank you, Eliza. I am dreadfully busy with getting the petition to parliament, but this has been worrying me. I really can’t understand it at all.”

  The agent dipped her eyes away, her heart swelling with the opportunity to shine before Douglas and his mother. “Leave it with me,” she paused, “Kate.”

  The suffragist saw her to the front door. “Mabel is an old lady, Eliza. If you can find out why without using any of your more…extreme methods that would be best.”

  Eliza gave her a crooked smile. “I promise not to blow anything up, just to prove a point.”

  The suffragist laughed as she held the door open. “I know you will do your best—but I shall not expect miracles.”

  *****

  The house of Miss Mabel Burgess was far more impressive than that of Mrs. Sheppard. It towered on top of the hill, looking down the valley at less fortunate and deserving houses. Miss Burgess had apparently been born to money as well as the suffrage movement. Quite the potent combination!

  Eliza rang the doorbell, was admitted, and dropped her calling card onto the tray offered to her by a rather elderly maidservant.

  She was shown into the library while the card was delivered, and only had to wait a few moments before the maid returned at quite a lively pace. She was then ushered into the receiving parlour of Miss Burgess.

  Eliza had never had the honour of meeting such a prominent and wealthy member of the movement. For some reason it was as if they thought she couldn’t be trusted to behave around such ladies. On consideration, it probably because of an incident with the Mayoress of Palmerston North—but that woman was certainly no lady. However today was different. Today Eliza was on her best behaviour.

  Miss Burgess sat in a sea of lace and faded beauty on a rose coloured chaise longue. Her smile was so soft and kindly that it was hard to imagine she had any bitterness towards her lot in life. Money would do that—make up for a lot of difficulties. Yet, Eliza had heard the stories. She knew that in her time Miss Burgess had been a powerful and committed suffragist. She’d broken windows,
and even flown an ornithopter to the top of the Houses of Parliament in Westminster, to hang a gaily coloured pennant from the rooftops. It had proudly proclaimed, ‘Same life, same rights!’

  Now that she was supposedly in her dotage, she had been no less ardent in New Zealand—doing her bit and flummoxing men.

  Yet, three weeks ago she had withdrawn her considerable personal and financial support from the movement, stopped replying to missives from the Council and shut herself away. She rose to greet Eliza and smiled endearingly. “Miss Braun, is it? I hear you are working for the Ministry of Public Health…my goodness what a job for a lady!”

  Eliza could not have been more surprised if Miss Burgess had jumped up and done the can-can on her sideboard. Kate was right—there was something seriously wrong here.

  Still, she managed to not let any of her shock show on her face. Instead, she took the offered seat and tried to imagine herself into a role in which the prime danger was from paper-cuts. Flicking open her leather case, Eliza rummaged through it and pulled out a piece that she had only typed up this morning.

  “Miss Burgess,” she put on her most stern voice, borrowed from her mother, “I have come to enquire as to your contact with Mr. Henry Smith Fish.”

  “Pardon?” the old lady looked positively white at questioning before even one cup of tea had been drunk. “How did you—”

  “Find out you had entertained him?” Eliza smiled, glad that her hunch had paid off. In Dunedin if there was anything anti-suffragist going on, Mr. Fish was at the bottom of it. She fixed the lady of the house with a steely gaze, and quite wished she had found a pair of spectacles to peer over. “This is a small town you know, and people do talk?”

  “But why would the Ministry of Public Health be interested in…” Miss Burgess paused, and then clenched her fingers around the arm of her chair. “Oh my…” she breathed, and then shook her head. “No, I can’t possibly think that of Mr. Fish.” The elderly lady was being far too kind—Fish was known throughout the town as quite the reprobate.

  Eliza was smiling on the inside. She didn’t care a jot if Henry Smith Fish’s reputation was sullied—besides in its current state that was rather unlikely. “Well, I can’t really say, Miss Burgess—but I need to know the details of his visit. It puzzles me you see, since you used to be such an ardent suffragist that you would let him cross your threshold.”

  Her host folded her hands on her lap. “Yes, I used to be. I recall not being entirely happy when he turned up on my doorstep.” She frowned. “But I eventually called for tea and listened to him. He was quite pleasant talking about a purchase he had made for his wife.”

  “That was all you talked about?” Eliza frowned, her hands tightening on the fake piece of paper. “Not about your interest in the suffrage movement?”

  Miss Burgess’ head jerked upright. “Why on earth would we talk about that?” Her lip actually curled. “No, he had a tinker make this very strange, but rather beautiful bracelet for Edna.”

  That Henry Smith Fish, renowned cad and dilettante should have done any such thing, let alone made a point of showing it to Miss Burgess of all people, set Eliza’s instincts buzzing. “If you don’t mind me asking, what did this bracelet look like?”

  The old lady’s eyes seemed to cloud over. “It was quite lovely; all brass surrounding these stunning cobalt blue pieces of glass. It was quite strange, but Mr. Fish put it on his own wrist to show me better how it glowed. There was even this very strange noise…”

  Eliza swallowed hard. The Ministry had been wondering what happened to the circlet of Delilah. The pieces of the shattered enamelled diadem had been on loan to the British museum from the Ministry Archives simply because the circlet had been so broken that its manipulative powers had been ended. It seemed Mr Fish had found a way to use a bit of modern technology to get them back.

  Looking into the clouded eyes of Miss Burgess, Eliza knew what she had to do, and it involved slugging Mr Henry Smith Fish in the jaw before he could turn it on her. It was now of the utmost importance.

  *****

  “He wasn’t home?” Douglas, Kate’s son, and the love of Eliza’s life stood by the chugging loco-motor and stared down at her in bemusement. “Are you telling me, that my little pepperpot can’t find her man?” He grinned at her, and Eliza felt her ire rising.

  As much as she loved Douglas, sometimes he could be a little condescending—especially when it came to her work. “I didn’t just go to his house, Douglas—I scoured all of bloody Dunedin! For such a blowhard he’s lying very low.”

  “Well, we can’t be concerned about that little weasel now.” Kate Sheppard appeared on the doorstep, pulling on her driving gloves, and with a pair of goggles hanging from around her neck. She was dressed warmly, because even in Spring in an open topped vehicle would be chilly. “We have to get the petition to Wellington by Monday, before parliament is dismissed for the season. Mr. John Hall has to present it before they close the doors. If he does not then the next parliament is guaranteed to be only more toxic to the cause.”

  The chugging of the loco-motor hardly seemed reassuring. Eliza glanced at it. “Then why are you not taking an airship? You could be there tomorrow morning instead of all this fuss and bother…”

  Kate slipped her goggles over her eyes and adjusted them, “Because, my dear girl, both commercial fleets are owned by men unhappy with what we are trying to do. Simply put, they have informed all their offices not to sell tickets to us. We may even have a kind of wanted poster out. Very American. So it is this or Shanks’ pony.”

  The Agent did some quick calculations. With two nights in hand they should be able to reach Picton and the ferry on Saturday night, and the capital by Sunday.

  “And it’s just the two of you?” Eliza didn’t mean to sound dismissive, but Kate and Douglas Sheppard did not seem like a lot to protect the petition, which had taken nearly a year to assemble and would be impossible to replace in time should anything befall it.

  Douglas flicked open the lid of the trunk already strapped to the back of the loco. “Don’t worry, she’s in good hands.”

  Eliza peered in and got a real thrill to see the huge roll of paper tucked in the case. Thousands upon thousands of woman’s signatures were all in there, demanding the same rights as the men of the country for themselves. It was more than a year’s work, and the voice of an unheard majority.

  “I was up rather late last night pasting the final pages together,” Kate whispered over her shoulder, before stepping up into the driving seat of the loco-motor. “I think it will be far more impressive to have John unfurl it across the floor of the debating chamber.” Legions of women in all their different districts had worked long and hard to get these signatures, and then sent all the pages to Kate—Monday would see the culmination of their bravery and determination.

  The idea of it unfurling before all those flabbergasted men was quite monumental—yet Eliza knew in the pit of her stomach that Henry Smith Fish had not suddenly disappeared by coincidence. If this petition reached Wellington then he would have failed.

  Her mind was thus made up. She spun around. “I want to be there to see that, and I want to make sure it gets there.” The weight of her ponamu handled pistols in the small of her back, under her jacket made her feel a little more comfortable.

  Douglas took her hands in his. “I am not sure that is appropriate, Eliza, since we are not yet married—“

  “Stuff and nonsense,” Kate interrupted. “I can think of no better guardian of the petition than Miss Eliza D Braun—and I shall do my best to protect her innocence from you, Douglas.” She wagged her finger at him with a grin, before holding out her hand to Eliza. “Climb up my dear.”

  The Agent smiled right back at her, before taking her place behind the Sheppards. Kate took a deep breath, as though just about to fling herself off an extremely tall cliff, then shoved the levers forward, and they were off. Eliza could only hope that they were leaving Mr. Henry Smith Fish behind them in
a cloud of steam.

  *****

  They reached Oamaru late on the first day, having thankfully seen very little traffic on the road. Mind you, with the state of it, Eliza was not surprised. Most sensible people took airships these days—and for good reason. She felt as though all her teeth had been in danger of being shaken loose.

  At about ten o’clock in the evening they all climbed down, with sore muscles and aching ears, and entered the Valiant Hotel. Light beamed from every window, and a kindly landlady who had kept some bread and cheese for their supper waited on them.

  First though, Douglas took charge of the dragging the trunk upstairs to his mother’s room. Eliza had to order a room of her own, since she didn’t dare share one with Douglas in front of Kate. She was brave—but she wasn’t quite that brave.

  The journey had definitely exhausted all of them, and with promises of an early start, they headed to their separate accommodations to rest as best they could.

  Eliza took a bath in her room, soaking out the aches with a healthy dosing of Epson Salts in the water, but with her pistols nonetheless in close proximity. Loco-motors might be new, exciting and speedy, but one thing were not was comfortable. Damn those rich bastards preventing them taking an airship north.

  She dare not soak too long, and far too quickly she got out, dried herself off, and slipped into some clothes Kate had loaned her for the trip. They were of a similar size and height, so it wasn’t as inconvenient as it could have been.

  However getting dressed seemed to take the last of Eliza’s energy, and as she sat on her bed, and despite her best efforts, the warmth of the bath and the exhaustion of travel caught up with her. Eliza’s eyes drooped and for a brief moment she dreamed of derry doings, fire, and a man with hazel eyes.

  Luckily, she was a very light sleeper. One little bang on her door—more of a scrape than a knock—and Eliza was bolt upright her bed, her pistols in her hands. Carefully, she padded to the door and listened.