Part 35 (1/2)

”Poppy?” Bucky looked up, his earlier manners pared down by grief.

She nodded to the maid, who left them. Poppy pushed the door as far closed as she could without technically being in a closed room with an unmarried man.

”What is it?” Bucky asked, looking suspicious and not in the mood for pranks.

”I need to tell you something,” she began, unsure how to proceed. ”I'm going to give you some bare facts and I swear these are absolutely true.”

”Very well,” Bucky said, frowning.

”Did you know the clock on the landing was made by Dr. Magnus?”

”Yes, Tobias told me that.”

She was starting to grow nervous, certain he wouldn't believe her. Bucky had a good imagination, but what she had to tell him was hardly credible, unless you knew everything. ”Do you also know that it prints cards in a cipher?”

”Y-e-e-e-s,” he said, drawing out the word. ”I've seen them many times. I used to all but live here during school holidays, if you remember.”

”Mr. Holmes gave me the key to the cipher,” she said, her words speeding up as she rushed to the end, ”and I worked out the message of the card the clock printed when you were in the study with Father.”

Bucky waited. When she didn't speak-her tongue was momentarily frozen-he made an impatient circle with his hand. ”What did it say?”

She fussed a moment with the corner of Imogen's blanket, then laid everything out across the foot of the bed. ”Here is the card, and Mr. Holmes's letter with the key, and his book, and the answer. Check my work if you must. I'm not making this up.”

Bucky rose slowly, leaving his hat behind on the chair. The room was silent but for Imogen's soft breathing and the distant bellow of Lord Bancroft calling Poppy to the table. She ignored her father. This was more important.

Bucky's hand went to his mouth as he read, and then he picked up the paper with Poppy's answer. As she had antic.i.p.ated, he looked utterly poleaxed. ”I don't understand.”

”It's all there. I can do a dance for you, try and convince you what I think, but you'll a.s.sume I'm just playing a game. Then you'll either grow angry or indulgent, and neither one of those helps us at all. So, you need to decide what this means for yourself.”

He walked closer to the head of the bed, his eyes on Imogen's face as he spoke to Poppy. ”Do you mind very much if I take the cipher and the card away and work through the message? Just to be sure?”

”No,” Poppy said. ”I expected you would.”

”Thank you.” He shot her a glance, his eyes kind. ”But tell me what you think this means. I promise not to judge what you say.”

She fidgeted, not wanting to choose the wrong words. For all the times Bucky had come to see Imogen, she'd never talked to him this way. She knew she was on delicate ground. ”How much do you know about the night of the air battle?”

He looked at Imogen's still face, and Poppy felt the full weight of his distress. His features barely s.h.i.+fted, but the set of his eyes and mouth were all at once a dozen years older. ”I was at the theater with Evelina and Holmes.”

”Did Tobias ever tell you what happened aboard the Helios?”

He nodded. ”Yes, and he told me her last words. Your brother believes she meant Anna.”

She couldn't tell from his voice what he thought of that. ”Do you think he's right?”

”Before the battle, Imogen was having very bad nightmares.” He looked down at his hands, as if not sure how much he should say.

”I remember,” Poppy said, not sure what to think. ”A lot of them were about the Whitechapel murders.”

It took him a while to reply, as if he was choosing his words with care. ”She thought there was something not quite normal going on. She thought she knew things about the cases she shouldn't have.”

Intriguing. ”Did you believe her?”

He sighed. ”Who am I to say? Just because I don't understand magic doesn't mean it's not there. Dr. Magnus was a sorcerer, for pity's sake.”

”Someone talented in that way paid a visit to look at Imogen,” she ventured.

”Who?” Bucky asked a little sharply. ”You know that could be dangerous. They might not be honest, or you might be caught. Then what would happen?”

”What this person said was that Imogen's soul was lost and couldn't get home. I think that's what happened when she fainted. Something pulled her soul away, and maybe it was Anna.”

Poppy heard the emotion in her own voice and made herself sit back and take a long breath. Nothing good would happen if she got so agitated she slipped back into the role of the strange little sister.

Bucky rose to stand by Imogen, his hand resting on the edge of the pillow. ”Dear G.o.d.”

To her horror, Poppy was starting to cry. Oh, no, this is going to make me sound hysterical! But she was already too far in to quit now, and there was only one more thing she had left to say. She took a ragged breath and finished. ”She's in trouble, Bucky. You fought a duel for her. You can do this.” Then Poppy tensed, waiting for him to stomp from the room as he called her a disturbed little girl.

Instead, he furrowed his brow. ”How would I even get to her?” His hands began to shake, and Poppy understood the conversation was finally penetrating his practiced calm. He was a man of logic-the type who could master dirigibles and weapons-but he was also a toy maker filled with imagination. He was starting to believe, and it was breaking him apart.

She swallowed hard, not sure if she was helping her sister or simply causing him pain. ”I don't know. Maybe it's not my role to know. The message wasn't for me, anyway.”

It read: Bucky help me Imogen.