The Midnight Charter

by David Whitley

  ‘That’s all in order, Snutworth,’ he said, before turning to Lily, who still stood, fuming, before him. ‘Lily… I didn’t want this to happen, but it’s just a coincidence that I had an argument with her. The receivers have the murderer, who must have sneaked out later that night.’

  Lily stared back at him, unspeaking, her brow furrowed as if she were making a decision.

  ‘Mark,’ she said at last, ‘would you let the receivers execute a man without knowing all the facts? Don’t you feel anything for him? He’s old enough to be your father…’

  Mark bridled.

  ‘My dad has nothing to do with this. Don’t try to blackmail me that way…’

  ‘But he might have children your age, can’t you think about them?’

  ‘Why should I? He’s probably sold them off already and even that didn’t stop him from becoming a debtor,’ Mark spat. ‘All children are orphans in this city, Lily, you should know that.’

  ‘You must forgive her, sir,’ Snutworth added, with a sad shake of the head. ‘Do try to see it from her point of view.’ He smiled patronizingly in Lily’s direction. ‘Thanks to her Almshouse, her friend Miss Gloria was placed in constant contact with the lowest of the low, forever in view of the disturbed and the desperate…’ Snutworth left the thought hanging in the air, before bowing his head. ‘Denial is part of mourning.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this,’ Lily shouted, turning back to Mark. ‘By all the heavens, can’t you see what’s happening? They want to brush this into the corner, just like we always do with something we don’t want to think about. But you have an opportunity to change this, Mark… to save an innocent man and make them look for the real killer… Why can’t you see? You have to, you owe her –’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything.’

  Mark glared back at Lily, Snutworth’s words ringing in his ears.

  ‘Snutworth’s right. It’s just as much your fault as mine. I don’t care how you dress it up, Lily, it’s your fault that she met this old murderer. I’m not going to ruin my reputation to make you feel better.’

  Silence. The last rays of the sun hung in the tower, illuminating two faces. Mark saw his own – defiant, resolved – reflected in Lily’s dark eyes. Then, in one sudden movement, she swept her hand across his desk. The wooden box crashed to the ground, the little phials of obsession bursting out and smashing on the floor.

  Nobody moved. Mark wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. Eventually, it was Snutworth who spoke.

  ‘Naturally, Mr Mark will expect a contract within the week offering items to trade for that.’

  Lily’s eyes never left Mark’s face. The flash of anger had left them hard and cold.

  ‘Congratulations, Mark,’ she said at last in a hollow voice. ‘You are a true son of Agora.’

  Lily bowed stiffly, as if she were a tradesman calling on business, and stepped away. She left without another word, the sound of her footsteps echoing all the way down the tower until the front door closed behind her.

  For a while, they stood in silence, then Snutworth looked down at the shattered box and prodded it with the end of his cane.

  ‘It will not stop here, sir,’ he said softly. ‘She is a crusader. She will find some way to get her story known.’

  Mark leaned forward on his desk, looking bleakly at the star charts spread out there. There was nothing in them to guide him. They seemed like meaningless patterns of dots.

  ‘What do you advise?’ he said finally.

  ‘A truth will emerge, that is inevitable,’ Snutworth mused. ‘But it cannot be one that damages you, sir. There is too much at stake. In a few years, you could be the greatest force in the city. She is merely the custodian of the debtors, but they will never go away. The receivers must understand how her Almshouse does nothing but cause chaos, and will do so again and again. May I suggest a word with the Lord Chief Justice? A letter expressing the concerns of an important businessman should be all the excuse he needs to take action – an answer to the protests of her patrons, to ensure that the receivers do not look biased. It will not be difficult, I gather that the Almshouse is already highly distrusted by the receivers and as Lord Ruthven happens to be their commander…’

  ‘If I do that,’ Mark said, thinking aloud, ‘they’ll close her down.’

  ‘That is entirely possible, sir.’

  Mark ran his hands through his hair, looking up and out through the windows of the Observatory. A few stars had appeared now the sun was sinking below the towers of the city.

  ‘There must be another way.’

  ‘Give and take, sir, her reputation for yours. Someone will have to be blamed. Which of you is going against everything that our great city holds dear?’

  More stars came out, emerging in the darkness.

  ‘I can’t. She’s my friend.’

  ‘A friend who is perfectly prepared to put the interests of her murderous debtors above your future,’ Snutworth replied quietly, reasonably. ‘She must think that you are worth very little.’

  Mark stared as the last of the twilight gave way to the night sky.

  ‘Snutworth…’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Find me Lord Ruthven’s address.’

  ‘No need, sir. I shall deliver your letter personally.’

  Mark sat down, dipped his quill in the ink and began to write. He felt empty, as if something had left him. He knew what he was doing as he formed the words, knew that he should be feeling something – remorse, anger, pain. But it was as if Gloria’s death, and Lily’s accusation, had left him hollow. All he could see was the scandal, his own fall, a return to that slum world where people were murdered – the world outside the tower. A world he never wanted to see again.

  It was too late for Gloria, and as for Lily…

  But he could not think about Lily. Her final stare was burned into his mind.

  After Snutworth had gone, bearing the letter laying out his concerns over the Almshouse and its part in causing violence, Mark sat for a long time at his desk. He didn’t light the lamps.

  ‘You or me, Lily,’ he said at last, to no one. ‘You or me.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE NIGHT

  When the Almshouse was a temple, the open roof had been used to hold midsummer services for its tiny congregation. The old priests would have been amazed to see how many it held most nights now, as people wrapped in fraying blankets slept in the late summer heat.

  Tonight, though, there was only Lily, leaning on the parapet, staring out across the twisting streets of the Sagittarius District. The Almshouse’s guiding light had been extinguished, so now it was just the waning moon that provided illumination. Occasionally, a rush of sparks would fly up from Miss Devine’s chimney as she worked at her glass-blowing furnace late into the night, tinting the shadows with crimson flame. Below, people moved back and forth as always, but tonight they seemed subdued. Sometimes, one of them glanced towards the Almshouse, before turning away with a shudder.

  Clasped in her hands, Lily still held the document that Inspector Greaves had handed her that evening. Officially, it claimed that the receivers were shutting her down only while they continued to investigate the life theft, but Lily could read between the lines. It had talked too much of the Almshouse’s role in causing ‘unrest’ and ‘dangerous tension’. Lily had heard those same sentiments only two days before, in the mouth of Mark’s assistant. But no mere servant would have been taken seriously by the Lord Chief Justice.

  Lily had read it through twice, unspeaking, and then looked up at the inspector, his face solemn and grave, and asked. She had asked if Mark had sent a letter. If he had used his influence to make this happen.

  Greaves had not lied to her. He had not answered.

  ‘Miss Lilith,’ he had said, ‘I am sorry that this had to happen.’

  ‘Did it?’ Lily had said, feeling the bitterness well up inside her.

  Greaves had put his hands on hers.

  �
��This was the inevitable result of mixing with debtors. I should have warned you, but –’ he had paused and given a sad smile – ‘sometimes I am too curious for my own good. It comes of being an inspector.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Lily had said, withdrawing her hands. ‘The Almshouse had nothing to do with Gloria’s death.’

  ‘Everything is connected, Miss Lilith. Everything.’ He had glanced at a pocket watch attached to his midnight-blue coat by a long silver chain. ‘If you will excuse me, duty calls.’

  She had not spoken after that. She had remained silent as the announcement was made by the receivers. She did not cry out as the debtors left, some having to be dragged, clinging and flailing. One had even attacked a receiver. The debtor had quickly been clubbed senseless, but the wounded receiver was still below, being tended by Theo. He was the only patient left in their sanctuary that night. She forced her lips closed, knowing how many of the receivers were waiting for her to protest, to raise her voice against them so that she too could be marched off to prison. When, at last, the Almshouse stood empty, she met Theo’s gaze.

  ‘Lily…’ he said, spreading his hands hopelessly.

  But Lily couldn’t reply. Not then. She held up one hand and, ever sensitive, he understood. He turned back to his work.

  Now, up on the roof, Lily had nothing but her thoughts for company. Thoughts that she desperately didn’t want to have. Thoughts that reminded her that she had invited Gloria to start working here. Thoughts that made her look at the crumbling stonework around her, at Theo’s practice, which was itself on the verge of destruction – no ordinary patient had visited for months. She still heard herself shouting at Mark, giving in to the terrible anger that came over her when she was so sure that she saw injustice, and that, like any fire, burned her as badly as anyone else. A better person would have persuaded, not accused, not made an enemy of her oldest friend, however wrong he was, would have had the courage to tell him about his father, even if it was certain to make things worse.

  And then, when she thought of her other friends, Lily let the Closing Order flutter to the ground, her hands slack. She had thought she had sacrificed everything to her vision, but this night all she had lost were a few dreams. But Theo had given his practice; Benedicta, her innocence; Gloria, her life. She had taken everything they had offered and barely noticed. And she was supposed to be the one who believed in helping others.

  She heard a step behind her. Theo, she thought. More than anything, she needed to talk to him now. She turned.

  Laud looked back at her.

  Lily froze, unable to speak. In the moonlight, he looked ghostly, his pale skin stark and his eyes shadowed. Only his hair, grown longer than usual, glowed red in the silvery light. For one dreadful moment, his resemblance to Gloria struck her and Lily had to turn away, unable to bear looking at him. He came forward and stood beside her, also staring out over the streets. He didn’t speak.

  ‘How is Benedicta?’ Lily said at last, feeling the silence weigh on her.

  ‘Better,’ Laud said, his voice tired. ‘She’s below, with the doctor. She wanted to return earlier, but there were… things to sort out.’

  ‘Of course,’ Lily said hurriedly. ‘You didn’t need to come back, you know. It must be hard…’

  ‘Ben will survive,’ Laud said, still looking out, not meeting her eye. ‘She’s stronger than I imagined.’

  Lily nodded, but did not reply. The two stood in silence for a little longer.

  ‘Did Theo tell you about the closing of the Almshouse?’ Lily asked. ‘Because I want you to know that I won’t ask you or Ben to fight for me. It’s my responsibility, mine alone,’ she rushed on, gabbling out her thoughts. ‘I’ll do what I can. If it doesn’t work, so be it, but I’m not letting anyone else…’

  ‘That’s not your decision, Lily.’

  Lily stared at Laud then. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, out into the distance, but now his hands gripped the balcony edge with greater force.

  ‘Decisions are a strange thing,’ he continued reflectively. ‘When our parents disappeared, it was just the three of us. We had to fight to keep Benedicta. She had just turned ten at the time. I was thirteen, a man in the eyes of the law, but I still looked up to Gloria. She was the big sister, she had seen sixteen summers, so she had to be mother. We all had to choose how to survive.’ Laud gave a low chuckle. ‘Benedicta could stay the child: she made herself laugh and smile until it became second nature. I built a shell of words: I used them as a weapon. But Gloria –’ he bit his lip – ‘Gloria was the one that carried us, who would put up with anything. That’s why she started to praise people for a living. That’s why I followed her.’ His smile vanished. ‘I was expecting our customers to be not worth our words and I was right. I never used to mean what I said. But for Gloria, sincerity was everything. She had to believe, had to force herself to admire our clients. In the end, even her enthusiasm wasn’t enough. But she couldn’t stop. We needed her too much.’ Laud cast down his eyes. ‘They say obsession is just concentrated enthusiasm. I wanted her to give it up, and so did Ben – she couldn’t keep it hidden from us. We both knew the signs: the nervousness, the unnaturally bright eyes. But neither of us knew how much she needed it. And all to keep praising those who never deserved it. Not as much as she did.’

  Lily looked away, her eyes hot and blurring, and felt Laud’s hand on her arm.

  ‘Then, over these last few months, I saw something I never thought I’d see again. There was a project that Gloria was working on so hard, almost running herself into the ground to promote. I thought she’d started taking a larger dose, but when I looked at her – it was her again. The Gloria I knew, before she had started to buy her emotions. I asked her what had changed and she told me.’

  Laud grasped Lily’s shoulders and turned her round to face him. His eyes shone fiercely in the moonlight.

  ‘She told me that she didn’t need the obsession when she was working for the Almshouse. She said she was planning to stop all other projects because this was the one that was worth something.’ Laud’s eyes darkened. ‘A few days later, it was over. But in those few days she was my sister again.’

  His grip on Lily’s shoulders tightened, while his voice sank to a whisper.

  ‘If you give up, Lily, you’ll be killing her all over again. I won’t let that happen.’

  For a moment, Lily stared back. And then she understood.

  ‘Thank you, Laud,’ she said simply, and Laud nodded.

  A tiny smile played on his face. Lily returned it. They didn’t speak.

  Then they heard a discreet cough. Both turned, Laud letting his hands drop to his sides. Theo had appeared at the top of the stairs, a quizzical expression on his thin face.

  ‘I think I may have found something interesting,’ he said.

  Lily and Laud followed him quickly back down the stairs into the main room of the temple. There, the wounded receiver slept in a wooden cot, his cuts freshly bandaged. Benedicta stood nearby, looking down at him.

  Lily rushed over and Benedicta turned to greet her. For a few seconds, they shared a wordless hug. Then, as Ben pulled away, Lily looked into her face. It was still the same Ben, but there was something new there – something hard and determined. Now was not the time for comforting.

  Benedicta held up a sheaf of papers.

  ‘Dr Theophilus found these in the receiver’s pockets,’ Benedicta began. ‘They seem to be a progress report on the investigation. I’ve been reading them.’

  ‘Doctor, I thought I left her in your care,’ hissed Laud.

  ‘I did not suggest it,’ Theo added, anxiously picking at his moustache, ‘but Miss Benedicta insisted. I thought it might be too distressing…’

  ‘I’ve had my time to mourn,’ Benedicta snapped, cutting him off. Seeing their surprise, she softened her expression. ‘I know what you’re doing, but you can’t shelter me any more. Maybe if Gloria had confided in me more often…’ A look of pain crossed her face, only to be swi
ftly banished. ‘Come on, listen to this.’

  She began to read:

  ‘As the recent arrest of Peter of the Pisces District has provided conclusive evidence, the search of this area will be halted. Reports will be provided on the following areas…

  ‘They think they’ve found the right person, so they’ve just stopped! They haven’t even looked properly around the place where they… found her…’

  Lily put a comforting hand on Benedicta’s shoulder, but her mind was already whirring as she looked down the list. Despite the tone of the report, everything seemed to have been done. There had been an extensive investigation. Except…

  ‘Ben,’ Lily said, ‘where exactly did they find her again?’

  Benedicta looked over at her brother. He frowned and pointed to a spot on the map at the end of the report.

  ‘Lock Street, on the corner,’ he muttered. ‘But give them some credit. They were competent enough to search the scene.’

  ‘Then why haven’t they searched the square at the other end of Lock Street?’ Lily said.

  Something about the pattern of alleyways, right up against the city walls, stirred something in her memory.

  ‘Lord Ruthven…’ she said, grasping at the memory.

  ‘He won’t help,’ Theo mused. ‘He has no love of charity…’

  ‘No, not help,’ Lily said, still thinking. And then it hit her. ‘Lock Street! That was where I followed Lord Ruthven, after Mark’s ball. That was where…’ She paused, suddenly realizing what she was saying. ‘That was where I bumped into Gloria. Near an old building by the city walls. And the receivers haven’t searched it. Look – there’s a cross on the map. They’ve been told not to go there.’

  Laud shook his head.

  ‘It’s a chance in a million. What’s to say that this one building is more significant than any other?’

  ‘Most slums don’t get visited by the Lord Chief Justice,’ Lily replied darkly, another memory stirring. ‘I think I heard him talking about it. He called it the Clockwork House.’