The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh Page 4

  “Well, this is a school for gifted children. It’s not like I have any particular skill I could bring to the classroom, and I am a little tall to pass for twelve-year-old.”

  Liam snapped his fingers. “You could be the coach for their school rugby team.”

  “No rugby there I am afraid.”

  Liam gasped. “What kind of school is this?!”

  “The Delancy Academy is devoted entirely to the education and training of the next generation of inventors, engineers, and clankertons.”

  Liam whispered, “But no rugby team?”

  “So I certainly can’t infiltrate the school where I can truly investigate without appearing conspicuous. While I might not be able to do this, you lot might have the ability to engage where I and the Ministry cannot. The academy is devoted to the betterment of children—especially talented children such as your fine selves.”

  Verity glanced around at her fellow urchins. Emma was grinning broadly while the boys looked entirely less certain. They heard the word ‘school’—one they did not appreciate.

  Thorne raised one eyebrow. “Come now, you lot, Miss Fitzroy here has told us all how her own mystery of her parents’ untimely demise is intertwined with this current Ministry case. Are you not the least bit curious?”

  Liam went to answer, but Colin punched him lightly in the arm.

  “And here I thought the Seven”—he stopped and counted the seven of them with a smile— “were all about taking care of each other.”

  “We are.” Henry’s voice was a fraction too loud in the parlour, but he rose to his feet like a defiant speaker in Hyde Park. “And if Verity needs answers, we’ll help her find them.”

  “Bloody well right,” Christopher muttered, always ready with the coarse language.

  Agent Thorne smiled at them all before turning back to the crate by the entrance. He flipped the small latch on the long box he arrived with and slowly opened its lid. “I think it is high time the Ministry Seven returned to the books, and broadened their minds so to speak. What say you?”

  Nested in a pad of fine crushed velvet were seven Ministry rings. Verity felt her broad smile falter ever so slightly as a faint tick-a-tick-tick-clickity-clickity-click echoed in her ears.

  “These are Ministry rings I specifically had R&D whip up for you. I will be able to track your location within the school at all times, from a distance. If you all get into a spot of trouble, give the gem in the ring a good whack and I will appear with a strike team.”

  “Won’t that tip your hand, Agent Thorne?” Verity asked, slipping the ring onto her finger. A tiny itch crept across the back of her brain as the ticking in her head grew.

  “Which is why you should only destroy the ring in case of an emergency, and it should be an emergency warranting the Ministry’s full attention.” He extended the box to Christopher but then jerked it back. “And no pawning of these rings! I am tracking you with them so I will know if they suddenly find themselves in Hallworth’s. I am trusting you all.”

  “Yessir,” the boys mumbled.

  He turned towards Jonathan and then tipped his head to one side. “Jonathan, are you putting on weight? You look fuller than usual.”

  The boy quickly shook his head while Verity grinned. Apparently it had been Jonathan who scampered off. Jeremy would have to consider skipping those sweets he’d been enjoying from Agent Thorne’s kitchen.

  “Once again, the game is afoot,” Agent Thorne announced as Emma took her own ring from the box. “It will be up to you lot to find out if our missing doctor is at the Delancy Academy. If you find him or irrefutable”—he cleared his throat and leaned into the direction of Liam—“that means ‘solid, unmistakable, and without question’ if you were wondering—irrefutable evidence of his fate, then you are to slip out and rendezvous with us at a location I will secure before we leave. So, Ministry Seven,” he asked, closing the now-empty box, “am I safe to assume we have an accord?”

  Verity didn’t hear the chorus of agreement. All she could see was Agent Harrison Thorne’s twinkling eyes, and all she felt was someone was finally on her side. It made her swell with warmth and pride that might have very little to do with solving the mystery of her parents.

  Chapter Four

  A Quick Ride to School

  It had been a very long time since Verity journeyed beyond London. As they rode the express airship to Cornwall she tried to contain her concerns about leaving the city, though the clenching of her hands on her bag was perhaps a giveaway. The landscape of England drifted by with only the drone of the engines to punctuate it. Verity knew nothing of Cornwall, but only a few moments slipping through the heavens over the countryside reminded her of why she preferred the confines of the city.

  The country made her think of her childhood home.

  Whenever her eyes drifted shut, the faint noise of the airship engines and the slight swaying against air currents lulled her to sleep. Once there she returned to the confusion of the child left next to the road by her father; a father disappearing in a house engulfed by flame to save his wife, only never to return. All those recollections devoured the good memories of their little house in the countryside, up until the point where even a glimpse from the air of rolling hills, hedgerows, and farmland made a knot of fear form in the pit of her stomach.

  Henry and Emma sat opposite her and did not make eye contact through any of the journey. They were supposed to be charity cases plucked from the filthy city, after all, and not know each other so they played along with it. They were all veterans of con games and pulling a swifty on adults, so this wasn’t a stretch. Henry had taken the alias of Talbot, Emma that of Lloyd, and Verity that of Simmons. Their first names however remained the same. These were bandied about so much Agent Thorne suggested they keep them to avoid being caught out not answering their fake one. They wore smart, but not overly fancy, fashions setting them apart as gifted children not born into money. The Delancy Academy scholarship not only selected the best and brightest from the poor, they provided the basics in clothes, allowances, and bare necessities. “Their success is left up to their nature,” the academy administrative told Agent Thorne and the three of them.

  Those clankertons at Ministry R&D and Agent Thorne collaborated to write up their histories, patterned off three other children selected for this opportunity. The original recipients of the Delancy scholarship were sent off to North America, working as lab assistants in an ambitious project involving Niagara Falls and the Westinghouse Electric & Manufacturing Company. Verity was more than happy to serve at the behest of the Queen, even if the Queen and Doctor Sound knew nothing of her existence, but a small part of her secretly wished it was her bound for Canada and not the Delancy Academy.

  The remaining Ministry children would not need any aliases as they were staying nearby at a farmhouse under the watchful eye of Mrs Penelope Summerson, a farmer’s wife. As there were only three scholarships, the remaining children were to hold a position in the neighbouring village. In case things really went pear-shaped, the others would serve as a contingency. Verity was glad not to be in Mrs Summerson’s shoes, since Christopher could be quite a handful, even more so than usual as he was Henry’s second when they needed to split up. Hopefully they would stay put in the farmhouse with someone to keep them there.

  Verity also whispered a quick prayer for the twins. Jeremy, it had been decided as he was putting on weight, would remain out in the open while Jonathan stowed away on the small truck taking them to St Austell.

  The airship banked slowly as it circled the aeroport serving Cornwall, and she scanned the horizon to see if she could catch sight of Delancy Academy. Unlike her compatriots, Verity reviewed the case file of where they would be headed. The motors grew quieter as their speed decreased, their altitude falling until finally a ground crew tethered them properly. As passengers disembarked from the walkway, Verity wormed her way through the throng to make sure their luggage arrived. While she stood by the doorway watching the portoport
ers being loaded, she felt nervous. They were able to bring things with them, but they were things that were precious to her: tools, projects completed, an idea still midway in its development.

  The strange clockwork device she had stolen from Uncle Octavius last year while in pursuit of Clayton, she left behind at their house. Wrapped in cotton, she stuffed it under a loose floorboard in the attic. It felt the best option, and much safer than bringing it to Cornwall.

  “All to your satisfaction?” Henry came up behind her and stood a few feet away. His ability to speak without moving his lips and throw his voice was exceptional, so anyone standing even a short distance away would not have been able to catch what he said.

  Verity knew her skills were not quite as well honed, but she did manage to mutter out of the corner of her mouth, “Just checking.”

  Henry’s shoulders tensed. “You confuse me, Verity Fitzroy.”

  “Simmons,” she whispered tersely.

  “Yeah, all right, Fitzsimmons,” he said with a scowl. “Here you are, like a good little poppet, so organised and diligent for Thorne, only to take such stupid risks by wandering away from us.” It was quite an admission from him, but she was annoyed nonetheless. Since what he recalled of his parents was nothing but unpleasant, Verity knew it was hard for Henry to understand her desire to make sense of her parents’ death. His own father had been a rotten drunk of an ex-soldier, prone to boxing his ears.

  Emma appeared just over Henry’s shoulder. “I saw our things from Onslow Square. Ship-shape and Bristol fashion, they are.”

  With a little snort to Henry, Verity turned back to the street where a carriage was scheduled to pick them up. In the distance was an awning sporting gold lettering:

  The Delancy Academy for Exceptionality

  Where Tomorrow Is Discovered Today.

  Student Pickup

  Verity motioned with her head towards the canopy, and quietly they joined the other children gathered there. An awkwardness crept through her, and on glancing at her fellow urchins, she knew it was a shared discomfort.

  They stood apart from five other children all saying goodbye to their families. There were two groups where the parents addressed their offspring as if they were work associates. The father spoke in monotone, the mother remained still, statuesque. The children nodded periodically.

  The remaining three families gushed emotion to a point of where it was obscene. Verity would have perhaps pined for her own lost parents in light of this, if these families’ outward affections not been so obnoxious. The children wore clothes that oozed privilege and indulgence. The accompanying emotion from their parents was merely a reflection of that.

  They totalled eight children disembarked from the airship on the final day of admittance. Once the parents said their goodbyes, the children, all over ten years old, huddled by their luggage under the awning. Henry, from the looks of things, was the oldest among them.

  A chaperone wearing more of a uniform than a dress appeared. The lady’s garments were immaculate, a deep forest green dress bearing a crest Verity concluded had to belong to the academy. Beneath the waistcoat she wore a stark white blouse, with a smart black ascot at her neck, accentuated by a gold pin.

  With the last of the airship passengers all departed, the children bound for Delancy remained the only living souls at the aeroport. A cold wind blowing in across the valley and through the grey streets cut through Verity’s cloak. No one else was foolish enough to be out in this, so it was a great relief to hear the rattle of wheels on the cobblestones. When a carriage turned the corner and came towards them Verity smiled. If this was any example of what awaited them at the school itself, then perhaps her hunt would not be as dire as she might have expected.

  The large carriage was a fine advertisement for Miss Delancy’s, that was certain. In this day and age there were carriages for those who enjoyed horses still, there were motorcars for those who wanted the newest and brightest inventions, and then somewhere in the middle stood this creation.

  The horse of brass was a thing of beauty which filled Verity’s head immediately with its whirring and prancing. The weak sun gleamed off the metal, and its hooves struck the ground with the precision no living, breathing horse could match. It would never be startled, need feeding, or make a mess. Verity’s green eyes were glued to it, even as she raised one hand to get its attention.

  The little gasps all around her said she was not the only one impressed by this display of the engineer’s art. The man who sat behind this magnificent creation of the sciences had his hands on each side of him, but did not appear to be driving.

  It was a regular route, Verity thought as initial delight wore off, so the driver was only there in case of accidents, to help load the luggage, and to provide a human face for children who might be scared.

  That was certainly an emotion none of those around her were feeling. When the polished, hunter green carriage pulled up before them, they all shared a look of delight.

  “Right then, children,” the chaperone spoke, shattering the awe-struck silence. “Climb aboard. Take your seats. We will sort your luggage appropriately.”

  Verity glanced across at Henry, and for a brief moment saw naked terror there. This might be exciting for her, who had at least some experience with the upper crust as a child. For a poor boy nearing manhood, all this was quite a leap. The arrival of the carriage might as well have been an æthercraft from the moon, sent to whisk him to places unknown.

  Under her cloak Verity reached out and squeezed his forearm, just a fraction. “It will be alright,” she whispered. “We’re in this together. You’re not alone.”

  When Henry glanced at her, it was not in anger or annoyance. It was with the tiniest of smiles.

  “Thanks, Fitzsimmons,” he whispered in a tone angled only for her ears.

  The children all climbed into the carriage without a word. Verity clutched her bag close to her chest. The academy representative at their acceptance meeting made it clear her first automaton class would require her to bring an example of her work so far. She only hoped what she selected was good enough.

  The driver and the porters soon secured the luggage to the roof of the carriage, and with a prolonged puff of steam from their mechanised horse, they set off. Verity claimed a window seat, and as they turned to go back the way the carriage had come, she got a most excellent view of the horse. The steam naturally vented from the nose of the beast, which showed the person who made it possessed an eye for detail as well as the theatrical. Verity appreciated it very much, and she took it as a good sign for this little endeavour for the Ministry.

  Everything was new and exciting, so Verity took little notice of her fellow passengers, riveted to the window and what it revealed. The town of St Austell was small, with low grey stone buildings, and several churches, much like any other rural town.

  At least until they reached the outskirts where two buildings sent a chill through her, all the way to her bones. Cornwall, and the quaint little hamlet within it, proved isolated enough to be ideal for an asylum and a prison. Passing by the wrought iron gates of the walled compound, the words “Quinne Asylum” popped out against the steel clouds overhead, the ticking in Verity’s head grew louder. Suddenly the joy and newness of their little caper faded, the possibility for trouble and strife made the shadows in their carriage grow darker somehow. They were far from London, many miles from the hiding places they knew so intimately.

  Her eyes jumped to the Ministry ring, its garnet duly winking back at her. If things did become dangerous, would there truly be time for a rescue from Thorne and his Ministry agents? If a knife were to fall or a barker fire, would anyone be there quickly enough to stop it? They were on their own in many more ways than she originally calculated.

  Verity shifted in her seat and tried to concentrate again on the view from the window. They had thankfully passed the asylum and prison, and were heading out through trees and the lonely, dark road.

  “I hear there is
a beast out there.” A girl with long curly red hair escaping from the hood of her cloak leaned forward. Her blue eyes gleamed with excitement and her voice held the soft burr of Scotland. “One that will eat you as soon as look at you. Wouldn’t that be marvellous to see?”

  It was an odd thing for a child of science to utter such nonsense masquerading as folklore, but Verity smiled nonetheless. Such superstitions could be charming.

  “I am sure Miss Delancy has things well in hand,” Henry replied with a warm smile. “This school has quite a reputation for excellence, as well as keeping its students safe from harm.”

  “Tosh,” snapped one of the other girls, white-blonde hair and pale skin popping against the lush interior of the carriage. She shot Henry such a look of dismissal, Verity wanted to kick her in the shins. “How would someone of your breeding know of Delancy’s reputation? Charity hardly rectifies an obscenity, so my father says.”

  Verity frowned. It had not been Henry’s accent which raised this stranger’s hackles, but the colour of his skin. Anglo-Indian children were once common in London—especially in the poorer families—but the army now frowned on any such mingling of bloods.

  Verity flung back her hood and pointed at Henry. “Now I remember where I’ve seen you!” All eyes in the carriage went to the older boy. “The Science Festival at Trafalgar Square! You were there with the ornithopter, yes?”

  Henry looked around and blushed. The red-haired girl’s smile was quite bright. “Umm…yes. That was how I received this invitation from Delancy.”

  “Bloody brilliant design! I hope we will see it in the classroom one day.” Verity placed a hand on her chest and chuckled softly. “I’m ever so sorry. I should have introduced myself. Verity Simmons.”

  Henry blinked. Was he having trouble remembering his own cover identity? They rehearsed their legends thoroughly. They stared at each other for far too long a time, but then he cleared his throat and took her hand.