All things considered-and she did mean all-the only sensible way forward was to find the needed proofs without delay. Then Crowley would no longer be a threat, and the countess could fade into the mists.
"Fangak. Lodwar. What was the other one?" Sitting at her desk, she drew a sheet of paper onto the blotter and reached for a pen. "Kafia-that was it."
She wrote the names down, then settled to list all the names and locations she could recall Crowley mentioning.
"Mary? Alice?" Alathea peeked into Mary's bedchamber, where her elder stepsisters often repaired when they were supposed to be resting. Sure enough, both were lolling on the bed wearing identical expressions of disgusted boredom. They both lifted their heads to look at her.
Alathea grinned. "I'm going to Hatchard's. Serena said you could come if you wished."
Mary sat bolt upright. "They have a lending library, don't they?"
Alice was already rolling from the bed. "I'll come."
Alathea watched them scramble into shoes, struggle into spencers, grab bonnets, casting only the most perfunctory of glances at their reflections. "There is a lending library, but before you go looking for Mrs. Radcliffe's latest, I want you to help me find some books."
"On what?" Alice asked as she joined her at the door.
"On Africa."
"That was boring." On a long-drawn yawn, Jeremy sank deeper into the seat of the hackney and leaned against Alathea's shoulder. "I thought they would have known about digging up gold. All they wanted to talk about was melting it."
"Hmm." Alathea grimaced. She'd thought the gentlemen at the Metallurgical Institute would have known about mining, too. Unfortunately, the academy, whose sign she'd glimpsed when walking with Mary and Alice, had proved to focus solely on refining metals and the subsequent workings. The good gentlemen had known less than she about gold mining in Central East Africa. Despite reading late into the night, she knew virtually nothing about the subject.
Alathea glanced at Augusta, snuggled on her other side with Rose propped on her lap. At least Augusta was happy, unconcerned with mining gold. "How's Rose?"
"Rose is good." Augusta looked at Rose's face, then turned her once more to the window. "She's seeing more of the city-it's crowded and noisy, but she feels safe in here with me and you."
Alathea smiled, closing her hand around the small fingers snuggled trustingly into hers. 'That's good. Rose is growing up-she'll be a big girl soon."
"But not yet." Augusta looked into her face. "Do you think Miss Helm will be all better when we get back?"
Miss Helm had developed the sniffles, which was why Alathea had Augusta with her. "I'm sure Miss Helm will be recovered by tomorrow, but you and Rose must be very good with her this evening."
"Oh, we will." Augusta turned Rose's face to hers. "We'll be specially good. We won't even say she has to read to us before bed."
"I'll come and read to you, poppet."
"But you have to go to the ball."
Alathea stroked Augusta's hair. "I'll come and read to you first-I can go on later in the other carriage."
"I say!" Jeremy jerked upright, staring out of the window. "Look at that!"
Alathea did-it took a moment before she realized what she was looking at. "It's a pedestrian curricle-at least, I suppose that's what it is."
She'd heard of the contraptions. Both she and Jeremy leaned close to the window, with Augusta pressing between; they all watched the gentleman in a natty checkered coat balanced precariously above the large wheel weave in and out of the traffic until he disappeared from view.
"Well!" Eyes alight, Jeremy sank back.
Alathea looked at his face. "No."
Her tone was absolute; Jeremy's face fell. "But, Allie-just think-"
"I am-I'm thinking of your mother."
"I wouldn't fall off-I'd be extra specially careful."
Alathea met his eye. "Just like you were extra specially careful when I allowed you to drive the gig?"