Chapter 34

Saffron entered the kitchen warily the next morning, unsure what sort of mood Elizabeth would be in. A moment after Nick left, she'd let out a rage-filled shriek before stomping off to her bedroom and refusing to emerge, even after Saffron attempted to get her to talk by offering wine through the bedroom door. Elizabeth had opened the door just long enough to snatch the bottle before closing it again.

"Good morning," Saffron ventured, sitting in her customary seat at the kitchen table.

"Good morning," Elizabeth said. She slid a hot plate of eggs and roasted tomatoes onto the table before Saffron.

Unsure of what else to say, Saffron offered, "Jeffery Wells owed Alfie Tennison close to a thousand pounds. It was in a ledger in the back office."

Elizabeth took the topic in stride. "Based on Nick's not-so-subtle comments last night, Alfie seems be involved in shady politics." She sat down, poured herself a cup of coffee, and inhaled its steam rather forcefully. "But not the sort he suggested, necessarily. In the gaming room, I saw a woman from one of my more radical literary salons. She likes to get on her soapbox and is in favor of the ‘burn-it-all-down' approach rather than the ‘change-over-time' strategy, or the ‘complain-but-do-nothing' attitude that so many of my dear friends languish with." She took a sip of coffee, and her eyes took on a speculative gleam. "I got to thinking—what better way to destroy a government than to use their own discoveries against them? The radicals could get hold of some science experiment from the Path Lab, use it to a deadly end, reveal the government was the one to create it, then incite the people to overthrow the government."

Saffron reached for the coffeepot. "If we're going to speak about government coups, I need coffee first."

Elizabeth allowed Saffron silence to consume her breakfast and contemplate her idea. "A radical political group," she mused as she set her fork and knife on the empty plate. "I would like to think that it's all too far-fetched, but the actions of such a group were what started the war. Millions of people died because a handful of angry people did something about their anger."

"Precisely," Elizabeth said with a firm nod. "I'll be able to find out more soon enough. That particular literary salon dissolved some months ago, but I'll get a message to Jarl—you know, the Dane who makes the atrocious wine. He always knows who is meeting and where. I'll see what the rumors are and see if anything rings a bell."

Saffron knew better than to argue. Investigating radical political groups seemed like a far more dangerous prospect than infiltrating a plant pathology laboratory, but after last night, there was absolutely no way Saffron would try to put her off. She cleared her throat and began, "Nick was so very wrong, Eliza."

"He was," Elizabeth said, pouring herself more coffee. "But he was right about one thing. I believe he did get me my position."

"But of course he didn't!" Saffron declared. "No one deserves that job more than you."

"Nick might have gotten me the job," she said, "by putting a word into the right person's ear, but I kept it. I am a damned good receptionist. Lord Tremaine is lucky to have me, and if he felt otherwise, he would not have kept me on longer than most of his private secretaries."

Despite her proud words, a shadow of doubt passed over Elizabeth's features. Saffron reached for her hand. "You're right, Eliza. You are the best receptionist."

Elizabeth sighed, squeezing her hand back. "Thank you, darling."

It seemed the time had come to tell her what else she'd learned in Alfie Tennison's books. "Colin has debts with Alfie as well. Serious ones."

Elizabeth took in this news with pursed lips. After a moment, she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. She sighed again. "He seemed so wretchedly dull! He goes on and on about his family and their connections. He told that ridiculous story about his mother spending hundreds of pounds buying up every tonic she could get her hands on. That's the last time I step out with a dull man in hopes of a more settled relationship, mark my words."

"Do you suppose his family is in trouble? Or they cut him off?"

"Either is possible. He might also just be a poor gambler. Figures." She let out an abrupt groan, planting her forehead on the kitchen table. "Damn that Nick! He knew!" She glared at Saffron from between sandy waves of hair. "All those pithy comments about horse racing and Lady Fortune. He knew about Colin's gambling and never said a thing to me! The wretch."

Saffron had to agree. Shifting the conversation away from Nick before Elizabeth could get too far into her temper again, she asked, "You're going to toss Colin over, aren't you?"

Elizabeth scoffed. "I most certainly am! The way he speaks, you'd think he owns half of London rather than owing it. It's entirely dishonest. The only pity is that I'll have to see him 'round the office. He'll still ask me to pull dozens of files for him, and I won't even be rewarded for it." Her cheeks went a bit pink. "And for all his faults, Colin does know how to please a girl."

Saffron cleared her throat. "Well, then. I suppose I ought to be off. Even if I feel I'd rather sleep for weeks, I've got to go to the lab."

The telephone rang.

Elizabeth sighed. "Well, you get a wiggle on and get dressed." She left to answer the telephone, and Saffron rose to wash the dishes before dressing.

But a moment later, Elizabeth was calling from down the hall, "Do you want to take a call from the U?"

At this time in the morning, just after half past eight, it might be Alexander. She hurriedly dried her hands and made for the hall. The operator connected the call, and Saffron said, "Yes?"

"Mademoiselle Everleigh," said a soft, accented voice. "I beg pardon for interrupting your morning, but le chef wishes to see you immediately."

Saffron swallowed hard. "Thank you for letting me know, Monsieur Ferrand. I will be on campus shortly."

He rang off without mentioning why Dr. Aster wanted to see her, but Saffron feared she already knew.