The Blood Debt Chronicles:

The Case of the Missing Mummy

Chapter the first or How the Lady Adeline MacNeal Found the Drive to Move Forward in Life

The end of the Romance period and the Victorian Era were times of change and invention. There was so much ingenuity during these periods that much later, in 1899 after decades of thousands of patents being granted each year; Punch Magazine ran a comedy claiming that “everything that can be invented already has been invented”. This was, of course, not the case and many thousands of patents continued to be granted. The Empire of Great Britain had colonies all around the world and in spite of its loss of the United States of America, still retained a cordial relationship with the fledgling country.

The landscape of Britain had been changing rapidly. Coal mining had pillaged the once lush lands of the country and the coal shafts, along with able bodied men, were being sent deeper into the earth. Steam power was bringing invention to the common person and electricity, both direct and alternating, was hot on its heels.

The Crimean War became the first war to utilize these new inventions. Telegraphs meant that orders where able to be communicated quickly to the front lines and photographs were able to show the people of Britain just how incompetent their military leaders were. Which in turn butchered the populous’ willingness to support the war and helped bring an expedient resolution.

But not all invention seemed good for the people. In the past, a peasant could make a living in the country, but now machines were doing twice the work in half the time. Largely, people were leaving the country and moving to London or other large cities. Over crowding was rampant and business owners did not need to concern themselves with working conditions because if an employee died or was maimed, six more would arrive to replace them.

Good things had surfaced. Slavery had been made illegal throughout the entire Empire and during this age of enlightenment, America was fighting a bloody battle to discover if it would be declared illegal there as well.

Over a hundred years ago, Jonathan Swift had written the scathing satire, A Modest Proposal, illustrating the Empire’s total disregard and inhumane treatment of the Irish, something that had ultimately changed few people’s view on the Irish. The end of the potato famine had occurred only ten years ago, in 1852. A famine that had, luckily, impacted the Empire very little since Ireland was still producing copious amounts of other food stuffs including, but not limited to: calves, peas, salmon, honey and wheat. It had served to send many Irish to America, much to the British populous’ pleasure.

Between the influx of Irish, attempting to escape starvation, and British peasantry escaping their own poverty, the social landscape was shifting whether the nobility wanted it to or not. France’s independence from their king had been giving the lower classes ideas about what they could demand, and how they could demand it. The merchant classes were finding the influx of money gave them in some ways, more power than the nobility, who were constrained by Society and their own dwindling resources. The merchant class could, at times, get away with more corruption because their was no Society to police them.

It was in this tumultuous environment that the esteemed Lady MacNeal sat in her parlor drinking a cup of tea. The last few years had been turbulent for her as for the country. Her son, Edward the Younger, who had been the only child she succeeded in carrying to term, had died seven years ago. He had been in the country of his birth, India, when he had been murdered. The reports said that he had been killed by a rogue tribe who worshiped Shiva. He had been so badly tortured that they were only able to identify him by his signet ring and the engraved pocket watch Lord MacNeal had given him when he turned eighteen.

Whatever they had been told, Lord and Lady MacNeal had known that hadn’t been the truth. The region that he had been killed in was the region that Lord MacNeal had been stationed in. The people loved little Edward, the British child who had promised to learn all the languages and all the customs of his beloved people; the young man who had done just that. Lord MacNeal had set out for India to discover the truth and three years ago, he had met his demise in a steamer accident.

Lady Adeline MacNeal, widow, gazed out the window of her parlor. The curtains were drawn. She was uninterested in spying eyes seeing that she was wearing full mourning. People wouldn’t understand. It had been long enough after her husband’s death that she should be wearing day gowns, her mourning clothes put away.

She didn’t need the curtains pulled to know what lay beyond the clear glass panels of the London morning. Thick clouds of coal dust mixed with the natural fog that rose from the Thames in the morning; resulting in noxious vapors that hung in the air and clung to any casual passerby’s clothes, hair, and permeated invisibly their unsuspecting lungs. The lady believed that it was this harmful smog that had caused her to miscarry so many times.

When she had shared her fear with her elder brother, Dravan, he had some time later, though not in time to save her third pregnancy, come up with a spell that could shield an area from airborne poisons. As a respected academic from the Academy, his creation of a magic spell that prevented airborne toxins from entering an area spread like wildfire. Queen Victoria herself had bequeathed an estate to Dravan in thanks.

Though much of London suffered under the poisonous fog, certain sections found reprieve from the perilous clouds. Namely, the houses and grounds of the nobility who could afford to pay for a professional mage of the Academy to place, daily, weekly, or monthly shields up. How long the shield could last was dependant on the skill of the mage and how much blood they had been paid to spill.

A noble’s house that was wishing to save money might only have the front of the house and areas that were expected to see guests shielded. The truly affluent might extend their protections into the street a pace or send the shield higher into the air so that other nobles could see their ability to spend money shielding a sky that would never be used.

Lord and Lady MacNeal, owners of a sprawling estate even in the heart of London, fell somewhere in the middle of these extremes. They had hired Dravan to do the enchantments, not bothering to extend their clean air far above the top of the building. Their extravagance, unbeknownst to most, lay in the fact that they paid for all of the buildings they owned throughout London to receive the same treatment. Something only the most shockingly wealthy and the most altruistic could afford to do. All this meant that there were pockets of clear air even in the poorest areas of London.

Adeline was pulled from her musings by the sound of a sharp knock on the front door, followed by a gentle plop. It was the sound of mail coming through the slot in the door. According to the time piece on the mantle, it was as prompt as ever: eight o’clock. Had she not given the majority of her servants a week off, the hall boy would have been at the door to open it before the mail carrier could knock. The hall boy, John, would have then given any mail or cards to the butler or a footman and they in turn would bring it in on a silver platter for her to open. Customarily, this was to prevent a noble from touching something that a commoner had; the lady followed the practice because it would be a scandal not to.

She sighed. Determined to enjoy quite of the empty household. There were no servants to fret over her and ask if they could be of service, nor guests to entertain. She finally had the peace to be sad and miss the men who had been so influential in her life. Men she had loved, each after his own fashion, men she would never see again, or at the very least, not until the Divine took her home.

Since her husband had died three years ago on his way home from India on that steamer, Jeeves had been declining in health. Last week he had passed away. She knew that she needed to replace him, her acquaintances were beginning to send her recommendations, but she just couldn't find it in her heart to replace Jeeves so soon. So she had sent away most of her servants and was spending the week in mourning. No one would understand; mourning for a servant was absurd. Even for a servant that was an elf, incredibly long lived, and had been with the family for generations.

Most likely, the letter was and invitation to another soiree intended for men to see if her husband's money and title were worth her face and disposition. She had no intention of interrupting her tea for something so disagreeable. She took another sip. The tea was lovely. I’ll have to thank Josephine… where did she get it from…? Somewhere in the Orient no doubt. Most likely from a prospective suitor. Josephine was her late husband’s younger sister. She had been born in India and while her primary residence remained the country of her birth, she was truly a world traveler and had men of every nation tripping over themselves for her hand. Edward had never insisted that she marry.

There was another knock on the door, "Adeline, I'm coming in!" this comment was followed by some indistinct mussitation.

Adeline leaned to a creatively hidden speaking tube, adjusting a cleverly hidden lever to make sure her words went to the correct location, "Mary, could you bring up some tea for Anya." Silver runes glowed as she spoke, evoking an enchantment that allowed her words to be transmitted clearly to the kitchen.

The device was ingenious. It allowed her to speak to anyone as long as they were connected by the tube. Mundane versions had come about first, simple tubes of copper connecting one room to the kitchen so that there was no disagreeable shouting or prolonged waits for service, however the further the speaker was from the listener, the more difficult it could be to ascertain what was being said. Young Edward and his uncle had worked tirelessly together to develop the correct enchantments and then fix them to an inanimate object. Fixing spells to objects wasn’t something just any magician could do; Lady MacNeal’s family had been blessed with the talent and an abundance of users.

A faint but clear, "Yes, my lady." drifted back in reply, but Adeline had already closed the tube. She knew her request would be tended to.

A napiform[1], three foot tall woman with flamingly Irish hair and a serviceable and forgiving dress spoke while coming into the parlor with some letters tucked under her arm, "You really must get a new butler. You can't keep living like this. You're becoming a shut in." Anya waved the letters at Adeline, “And instill some discipline in that hall boy of yours. I could have slipped on these letters; he should have been there to retrieve them.”

Adeline smoothed her black dress with a gloved hand. It was the height of fashion and tailored from the most expensive cloth available to her while in mourning: cashmere and crape, purchased from Lyons as they made the best quality. Her cage crinoline allowed her skirt to maintain its bell shape beautifully, even at a large size. Her dress was not as expansive as it could be. Adeline sacrificed some of the girth of her dress for practicality; she didn’t care for dresses so large that a woman could not make her way through a door.

Adeline did not remind Anya that it had been very forward of her to have entered the estate without leave. In some ways, there was a certain charm to someone who did what they thought best without regard to social consequences, but it had been quite inappropriate. "I gave much of the staff a week of leave, he was one of them. It’s fine, he’ll be back in a day or two.” she paused, her lips pulling toward a frown, before continuing, “I'm hardly a shut in. My dear friend visits me nearly everyday."

This was the first time Anya had been to visit since Jeeves’ death. "This dear friend was not born into society and is Irish to boot. She is worse than no society." Anya plunked down into one of the delicate, high-backed chairs. She decided not to comment further on Lady MacNeal’s servants. It was terribly inappropriate to have mentioned them in the first place, but she did have a certain amount of freedom in how she addressed the older woman…

Adeline conceded the point. It was practically a scandal how close she was to Anya. It would have been a scandal except that Adeline was one of those "dear ladies" that worked with the poor: visiting orphans, building educational centers, providing safe places for abused women, maintaining orphanages, trying to get women off the streets and into maintained homes, feeding the starving, etc. Mostly, the poor didn't come to her home since it would be disgraceful if droves of filthy paupers came into the opulent houses of the peerage. Adeline made sure everyone who came to her house had business to be there. This generally satisfied her acquaintances. Generally.

"Do you really think Jeeves would approve of you shutting yourself off like this?" Anya put on a lugubrious, dower expression saying in her best man's voice, "It is hardly the behavior befitting of a lady." Anya’s eyes flicked to Adeline’s full mourning dress. Adeline had finally been about to complete her period of mourning for the deaths of her son and husband. It wouldn’t do for the older women to enter full mourning over a servant, even one who had been with the family since he had entered service.

A smile tugged at Adeline's face. Jeeves was - had been - a gloomily, stoic faced elven man. It was almost as if someone had told him the proper way to be a butler was to look like you were on your way to a funeral. It was a surprising contrast to the compassionate heart he carried within him. He was so supportive of her work with the poor.

Anya handed the correspondence she had carried over to Adeline. As she was passing the letters over she paused, a frown creeping over her face.

Anya’s smiles tended to look quite similar to frowns, but Adeline had known the Halfling woman long enough that she could usually tell the difference. "What is it Anya?"

"I came to see you about a strange letter I received, but I believe you have received a similar letter, perhaps in the same hand." Anya handed the mail over, pulling an identical letter from her pocket.

"Curious." Adeline compared the handwriting. This was of course redundant. If Anya said it was in the same hand, it was. Anya not only had an eidetic memory, she also was gifted with the ability to comprehend written language almost instantly. It was a talent that served her well as a research assistant among the mages of the Academy.

"We should go to this soiree."

"We should?" Adeline eyed her friend cautiously. Anya had an unhealthy obsession with puzzles. More than that… Anya cannot afford to dress in a presentable fashion and because she will be arriving with me, I will have to make certain that she looks presentable or it could reflect badly. Not that Lady Adeline cared what many people thought for herself, but If I am cast out of polite society then ladies and gentlemen who would not think to give to the poor on their own will not give at all. Since Adeline was able to collect more than a hundred times what she could give alone from the peerage, this was a significant threat. Anya’s new outfit was not a significant amount of money to her, but it would be a significant amount less food to the orphans.

"Yes!" Anya leaned forward, "This is perfect! You need to get out of the house, interact with some people, but if you go to one of those society parties you'll just mope."

Adeline's eyes narrowed, "I do not mope."

Anya's next comment dismissed Adeline thoroughly, "You'll mope. If you come to this party, you'll be on an adventure. You'll be focused on trying to discover what sort of danger is lurking instead of how you miss Lord MacNeal and now Jeeves."

Adeline knew Anya was right. Her husband would have wanted her to be happy. Jeeves would have wanted her to do the proper thing and be a part of society. Jeeves would be disappointed with how much time she had spent away from Society already. Inwardly, she made the conscious decision to move forward. She laughed, "It would be a jolly good time. It would be a regular Holmes adventure!"

Anya laughed, mentally calculating what kind of dress she would ask Adeline to provide her with for the party. Adeline couldn’t be seen with Anya if she wasn’t dressed appropriately. It would ruin the lady’s reputation. A reputation the lady needed to maintain if she was to continue to encourage other people from the peerage to help the poor. "Promise me you won't take up the pipe!"

Adeline grimaced, she hated the mundungus[2]stuff. "That, you shall have no fear of."

[1]Shaped like a turnip

[2]Bad-smelling tobacco