Free The Diamond Conspiracy: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel by Philippa Ballantine, Tee Morris Page B

once again.

T HREE

    In Which Our Amorous Duo Invade France
    T he landing in Cornwall, while utterly dreadful, had been most fortuitous for agents Books and Braun. As the area’s infamous Prussia Cove was a favourite haven for smugglers, it did not take them long, with what funds they had between them, to secure passage to Normandy. The journey—hosted by whom Wellington and Eliza discovered were the infamous Carcaise Family—was neither comfortable nor arduous; but with what uncertainty awaited Eliza at the agreed-upon emergency rendezvous point, this crossing of the English Channel might as well have been a slow boat bound for China.
    This particular stretch of beach, where Eliza and Wellington now stood, led to their final destination: a Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences safe house Eliza knew intimately. It was her familiarity with its location and security that made it a perfect hiding place for Alice and the Seven in light of a worst-case scenario, although looking at it would give one pause. On its best days, this structure had probably stood when Elizabeth sat on the throne of England. It was small and inglorious enough to be far from the tourist trails—so perfect for her needs.
    Eliza scanned the area one more time, wishing they hadhelped themselves to a pair of functional binoculars in their flight from the
Atlantic Angel
.
    As they made their way more inland, Wellington let out a relieved sigh as he brushed sand off his sadly battered bowler hat. “I can’t wait to have a proper cup of tea at the manor house, and get the smell of that smugglers’ boat out of my nostrils.”
    She glanced in the direction he was looking ever so hopefully. Off to the left, less than a mile from the Ministry’s tumbledown château, was the manor house Wellington anticipated as their final stop: a decidedly modern building with decidedly more chances of modern comforts.
    A smile flickered over her lips, even in this bleak situation. “I hate to be the carrier of bad news, Wellington, but we are not going there.” She turned and pointed to the far more ancient ruin above them on the hill.
    “Oh,” was the only reply he gave, but she could guess what he was thinking. Much as they might make their living in the bowels of the Ministry Archives, Wellington preferred the conveniences of the day: analytical engines to make his tea, cars to fly him where he needed to go, and intricate listening devices. Eliza liked those sorts of things too, but she also enjoyed safety and security. This safe house was just that.
    “How can you be absolutely sure that they are there?”
    Even though Wellington had seen her maid in the full throes of battle, he would persist in thinking of her as a simple servant. “Alice is not only resourceful, she is loyal to a fault,” Eliza replied with a frown. “I have utmost confidence in her.”
    “Very well then,” Wellington said, glancing her way. “We should proceed with caution, though. We still don’t know what caused Alice and the Seven to flee London.”
    Neither of them said the name of Lord Sussex or even his shadowy alter ego, the Maestro; nor did either of them dare utter that of Sophia del Morte.
    Eliza nodded. “Still, it wouldn’t do to get killed at this point. Especially after that rather sickening Channel voyage.”
    “Quite.” The archivist placed his hands on his hips as he looked around them. “Low scrub down here, right up to the front door, forest to the rear of the château. Sharpshooters could easily be settled in either area.”
    The tone of his voice reminded Eliza that many things hadchanged since she’d first been banished to the Archives of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences. Back then her impression of Wellington had been quite different. Now that “rather pompous stuffed shirt” was her partner and fellow field agent. Sometimes the inner workings of his mind—particularly the instincts of a coolheaded marksman—frightened her.
    However, spending this