The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(139)
I raised my head from the carpet with as much dignity as I could muster, and managed to address her feet. “What the devil are you trying to say, Claire?”
Her voice floated down to me as gently as a feather. “That you are in the presence of your beloved Captain Shackleton.”
“W-what?” I stammered, completely bewildered.
My gaze moved slowly up the banker’s powerful legs, at the sides of which hung his enormous paws, over his waist and his broad chest, settling at last on his face, from which, unhindered by spectacles, his large, intense eyes were now flashing. For what seemed like an eternity, I contemplated with amazement the calm, indomitable countenance, which from below had the air of an Olympian god. Then, like a reflection in a steamed-up mirror, my memory of the brave Captain Shackleton, savior of the human race, was superimposed on the man who, moments before, I had sought to humiliate. No one had ever seen Shackleton’s face, because his helmet had covered all except his chin, but I had to confess Peachey’s chin had a similarly noble air. Could it be true, then? Was this spineless, timid banker really Captain Shackleton? Peachey stretched out the same hand with which moments before he had forced me to the ground and offered to help me up. I accepted, still unable to believe this was Shackleton, and he hauled me, half dazed, to my feet.
“You’re pulling my leg,” I said, still refusing to believe it. “You can’t be Captain Shackleton.”
“Of course he is, Charles.” Claire was adamant. Then she looked at me with a dreamy smile. “Derek and I met two years ago . . . although, strictly speaking, our first meeting hasn’t happened yet, because it took place in the year 2000. But the fact is, it all began during one of Murray’s Time Travel’s expeditions to the future, although he had to travel to our time for—”
“Hold on, Claire, hold on . . .” I tried to interrupt, completely flummoxed.
“Well, all that isn’t important now. I can explain another time,” she said, ignoring my protest. “The fact is, Charles, we fell in love. And Derek decided to leave everything and stay in the present with me, the woman he loved.”
“But . . . that’s impossible, Claire,” I said, incapable of reacting.
“No it isn’t, Charles. That’s what happened. Why would we lie to you?” she said, genuinely touched by my bewilderment. “My husband is Captain Derek Shackleton, the savior of the human race.”
I looked at Peachey, who smiled at me diffidently. Could he really be Captain Shackleton? I carried out a quick piece of mental arithmetic and calculated that Peachey had appeared from nowhere in London society exactly when Murray’s business closed down, which was certainly a strange coincidence. Moreover, even the most consummate gossips in London had been unable to dig up anything about his past, despite devoting many months of their leisure to the task. Was this the explanation? Did Peachey have no past simply because his past belonged to our future? Bemused, I looked at Claire, who stared back at me with such sincerity that any doubts I might still have harbored were swept away. This man was Captain Shackleton himself, hero of the year 2000. Incredible though it seemed, Shackleton was here in the present, standing before me. And he had come here out of love.
“My God . . . Forgive my rudeness, Captain, I . . . your disguise was so . . . ,” I stammered, breaking off to clear my throat, then giving a ridiculous bow before resuming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Shackleton. Allow me to thank you on behalf of the entire human race for saving our planet from the evil automatons.”
“Thank you, Mr. Winslow,” Shackleton said unassumingly. “But anyone in my place would have done the same.”
“Oh, you know that isn’t true.” I smiled, amused at his modesty. “I wouldn’t, for example.”
I contemplated him in awe for a few moments longer, while behind me there arose a growing murmur of confused voices. I think I even heard Andrew address me, but I didn’t pay him any attention because I remained focused on the captain. I still had difficulty believing he was Shackleton and that he’d been living among us in the present for two years, concealed behind the identity of an ordinary man, who every morning went to the trouble of hiding the fact that he was the savior of the human race, of pretending he hadn’t seen what awaited us in the future. He had traveled back from a time that for us had yet to happen, all thanks to his love for Claire Haggerty. But whatever his reason for coming, the important thing was that he was here now, I told myself suddenly, in a city facing an invasion that mustn’t have any consequences, an invasion someone had to bring to an end. And that someone could only be Shackleton. Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place so precisely and conclusively that I felt giddy with excitement.
“Then, the fact that you are here, in our time,” I said, filled with elation, “can only mean you are the one who will save us, who will stop the invasion. Yes, there can be no other possible explanation. This is why you are here.”
Peachey shook his head, amused by my pronouncement.
“No, Charles, Derek came here because of his love for me,” Claire interjected.
When a man has once loved a woman he will do anything for her except continue to love her, Oscar Wilde had written for posterity. This was something any man who had enjoyed his fair share of love affairs knew only too well. No, Shackleton hadn’t come here because of that fickle emotion, but because of something far more powerful. He was here because it was his destiny. Yes, Shackleton was the missing part of my equation, the hero we had all been waiting for. There was no question about it: he was renowned for his bravery and intelligence. Not for nothing had he already saved the planet once, even though chronologically speaking that hadn’t yet happened. He alone could defeat the Martians, just as he had already defeated the automatons.