It was as if everything happened in slow motion. Jane was looking towards the house when the windows distended outwards. They were followed by an eruption of orange flames, and then the roof heaved skywards.
An invisible, concussive wall of force struck Jane, and she was lifted off her feet, as if being hit by a wave at the ocean. She felt herself enveloped by the blast, then carried away by it. She flew through the air and was aware of her body crashing into the ground. There was no pain—just a sensation of impact.
A crash of sounds followed an instant later. It was also like a wave, but not the gentle rush of water racing up the beach. They were a discordant confusion of falling timbers, cascading glass, crashing masonry, and screams. Endless screams.
Jane found herself lying sideways on the grass. She could not make sense of why the world was sideways. Then someone gripped her shoulders and lifted her upright.
'Jane?' Max said. 'Can you hear me?'
He had a jagged cut across his forehead from flying debris.
'I…am fine.' Everything had happened so suddenly that she was still trying to put it together. 'That fire…the blast…'
'Gunpowder,' Porter said, drawing near. Her cheek was bleeding, and her hair was in disarray. 'This was a trap.'
Jane gently released herself from Max and peered at the building. Fire poured from every window. It was even gushing out from what remained of the roof. It was like that treasonous gunpowder plot all over again, except this time it had been successful.
Men lay all about the grounds, but it was apparent that many had not survived the blast. A shape on the ground was ablaze. It took Jane a moment to realise it was a man. Eddy was helping one of the soldiers limp away from the building. Another lay on his back, screaming in pain; he was run through with a piece of wood. Somebody's severed hand lay on the footpath.
'Good God,' Jane breathed.
She lurched to her feet. Porter had already hurried over to administer whatever aid she could to the wounded men. Jane helped a soldier who was bleeding profusely from a wound in his neck. She did her best, but it only took a few minutes for him to succumb to the injury. Max, as well, did what he could to help the injured and dying soldiers.
By now, local townspeople were arriving to deliver aid. A few soldiers were taken to nearby homes. Another doctor arrived from the town and administered whatever aid he could before moving the victims to his house. An undertaker had arrived to attend to those who needed his care.
It was only now that Jane was beginning to realise how fortunate they'd been.
'Doctor Porter,' she said. 'We owe you our lives.'
The doctor had created a makeshift bandage for one of the men. It looked like the man had a good chance of surviving. She shook her head resolutely. 'Not at all. It was a trap—and we fell for it. We may not be so lucky next time.'
It only took an hour for the old house to burn to the ground. There was little left of it other than a pile of smouldering timbers and blackened stone. The injured men had been taken away for medical treatment. A lieutenant had taken on the role of commander; there was no sign of Captain Ruskin. He had perished in the blast.
Porter lingered over the body of the man who had been pulled from the house before the explosion. 'I need to take a closer look at this man,' she said to Eddy. 'I think I know his face, but I need to be certain. Help me prepare him for travel.'
The doctor said they needed to visit Cambridge, so the unfortunate man's body was wrapped in a sheet and tied to the top of the coach. They spent the remainder of the day on the road. By the time they reached the town, the sun had already set, but Porter insisted they pay a visit to the university.
'Really?' Jane said. 'Why there?'
'I believe they may know our unfortunate victim,' she said enigmatically.
They arrived at the grounds and roused a weary academic. Doctor Porter and Eddy carried the body inside. A few minutes later, they returned to the pavement wearing grim expressions.
'It is as I thought,' Porter said. 'The man is Lincoln Bradshaw.'
Jane frowned. She knew that name…
'The engineer?' Max said. 'But he died months ago.'
'He disappeared months ago,' Porter said. 'He has only been dead a few days.'
'But why would Dracula have kept a bridge builder?' Jane said. 'It doesn't make sense.'
'I think we'll need to eat and sleep on it.'
She arranged for the man's body to be transferred to the city morgue and scribbled a note by way of explanation for the local coroner. After that, they found a nearby tavern called The Rusty Door and ate a full meal. Jane realised she had not eaten since breakfast and was famished. When they finished, Porter made them drink her panacea again before arranging rooms for them at an inn—The Black Horse—across the street.
They were to have a room each, but only minutes had passed before Jane heard a knock at her door. She opened it to see Max standing there expectantly.
'If I'm too forward…' he started.
'You're not forward enough,' Jane breathed and pulled him into the room.
Later, they lay on the bed with the window open. A gentle salt-tinged breeze pushed at the curtain. Jane listened to the sounds of the darkened city. A dog barked. Someone sang a drunken song. A bottle broke.
She wondered at how far she had come in such a short time. Steventon seemed a lifetime ago. Gazing at Max's naked body, she thought about how she had changed.
There is love, she thought.
Although marriage could be part of love, it guaranteed nothing. Marriage was just an exchange of vows and property.
But this is love. It is endless and enduring. It does not die. It can never die.
She nodded to his truncated limb. 'What does it feel like? To lose your leg?'
'Not like anything at all,' Max said, after a moment. 'I received a bullet in the American War. The wound got infected, and the doctor had to take the leg off. Either that or I'd die.'
'I've heard that people sometimes feel the missing limb.'
He thought for a moment. 'It's not so much a feeling of a missing limb. It's more that something is missing: a part of you.'
Jane drifted a finger across Max's chest. 'And that trick with the coin,' she said. 'How is that done?'
Max laughed gently in the darkness. 'Now I must share all my secrets? We are getting intimate.'
'I've shared my secrets with you,' Jane said, shyly.
'You have, indeed.' He pulled her close. 'All right. It's about misdirection.'
'What does that mean?'
'People can only focus on one thing at a time.' He gently placed a hand on one of her breasts. 'If I touch you here, your attention turns to your breast.'
Jane's breath quickened. 'It does.'
He moved his hand down to her navel. 'If I touch here,' he said, 'then your attention switches to your belly.'
'Uh, yes.'
'And if I caress you here…'
'I think I understand. So, if I touch you here…'
Max spoke after a moment. 'Yes, I think you've got the idea.'