Jenny broke off in a sweat and sat down hard in the chair, feeling some satisfaction that she was beginning to understand how to control the force within her. Now she needed to discover the means to prevent it from causing accidents like the one at Davenport’s Distillery, or the one that had just occurred.
It did not seem to be a matter of tamping down her emotions completely, though that would certainly be a welcome talent when she and Matthew parted. She decided she should be able to recognize the early sensations—the burning and tingling in her chest—and the sense of energy flowing from a point just above her heart. Once she did that, she might be able to stop the silvery threads from rising of their own volition to cause damage to whatever they happened to encounter.
But no matter how much control she gained over the threads, she could not change the inevitable.
The Isle of Coruain, 981
With a suddenness that startled Ana, her breaths flowed from her lungs much more easily. The Odhar’s attacks against the protective swathe still continued, but Eilinora’s personal assault was gone. While the witch’s absence was a relief, ’twas also a worry.
“She’s gone,” Ana said, pushing up from her pallet. Though her legs were not yet fully healed and her limbs felt weak and depleted, at least she could breathe. Her heart could pump normally again.
“Eilinora?”
Ana nodded to the elders who remained beside her at Coruain House. “I can no longer sense her presence.”
“Then where has she…” Cianán gave a worried glance toward Liam. “Ainchis ua oirg, has she gone to find Merrick and Brogan?”
“Aye,” said Ana with a worried shudder.
“Your cousins are no fools, mo curadh,” said Liam. “The Mac Lochlainn know how to keep themselves concealed.”
“But our use of magic comes so naturally,” said Cianán. “If they slip up just once—”
“We can only hope that they do no’ slip up,” Liam retorted.
Cianán began to pace while Ana and the other elders returned their full attention to the protection of Coruain. She dearly hoped her beloved cousins managed to escape the Odhar’s notice, or Coruain would suffer a disaster unlike anything it had ever known. Merrick and Brogan were to have used assumed names so the Odhar would not inadvertently stumble upon Mac Lochlainns in Tuath, and they were to use no magic to draw an Odhar hunter to them.
But so many things could happen. If an Odhar seer had located the brìgha-stones, Eilinora’s path might very well cross those of Merrick and Brogan, for they would find themselves searching in the same territories. Or the witch might be able to recognize them through some other means, in some way they had not anticipated.
While Ana used the greater part of her powers to shield Coruain, she had not sufficient energy to try to see Brogan and Merrick. Even if she did, she could do naught to help them. Her cousins were entirely alone in their quest for the blood stones.
Carlisle, March 1826
The hotel clerk gave Merrick directions to the house of the magistrate, a prominent man named Albert Denison. He walked a few blocks through streets that were vastly different from the Lanes, to Denison’s house. After being admitted by a servant, he was led ceremoniously into a richly appointed study.
A well-dressed woman was coming out of the room at the same time, with the man of the house right behind her. Touching the small of her back, Denison gave her a kiss on the side of her neck. She gave a playful gasp, then a laugh, and went her way, leaving Merrick feeling as though he’d been coldcocked. The small gesture of playful affection between husband and wife was something he might have enjoyed with Jenny…but Sinann was a dignified member of the elder class who would have certain expectations of a noble husband.
He blew out a deep breath and faced Denison, a smiling gentleman with a thick dark beard, wearing a gray suit of clothes, similar to those Merrick wore. Merrick introduced himself, finally using the name he and Brogan had agreed on before they’d left Coruain. He shook hands with the magistrate and took the seat he indicated. “What brings you to Carlisle, Mr. Locke?”
“I’m looking for a man—a known thief.”
“Aren’t we all, then?” Denison replied. “Er, looking for them, I mean.”
Merrick gave a nod. “He has a sister by the name of Harriet Lambton. Beyond that, I know nothing of him.”
“What is your complaint?”
“’Tis actually the man’s sister who stole something of value from my…” How should he refer to Jenny? He slid his hands down his trews and told the same lie he’d used to take their rooms at the hotel. “…my sister.”
“And you think you might be able to get it back?”
“I’d hoped that by finding some trace of Lambton, we might locate the sister.”
“Lambton. You believe that’s the brother’s name as well?”
“As far as we know, the woman is unmarried, so I assume so.”
Denison opened a drawer of his desk and took out a blank sheaf of paper, on which he wrote one line. He dried the ink, then folded the paper. “Take this to the town hall and ask for Adam Phelps. He’s a clerk in the law office—quite an efficient man—who might be able to help you. As for myself, I have no particular recollection of any Lambton.”
Merrick thanked the magistrate and took his leave, again catching sight of Mrs. Denison in the foyer with two pretty young children. All three were putting on coats to go out. ’Twas no wonder Denison’s mood was one of smiling contentment with such a loving wife and comely children. Merrick would surely feel the same if only…
He closed off that line of thought and took another short walk, which brought him to the building where the town’s business was transacted. Asking for Phelps at the door, he handed the official the paper given him by Mr. Denison, and was ushered down a wide hall. A number of people loitered in the corridor, some sitting on chairs, waiting for appointments, others looking at newspapers or gazing absently out the windows.
At the back of the building was a stark office with Phelps’s name painted on the door. Merrick went inside, introduced himself, and restated his purpose. In a starkly businesslike manner, Phelps left the office for a few minutes, and soon returned with a stack of papers.
The clerk took a seat behind his desk, leaned forward in his chair, and started leafing through the pages. “We keep files, although they are not always complete. I make no promises here, Mr. Locke.”
’Twould be so easy for Merrick to use magic to search the city for Lambton, or even to sift through the clerk’s stack of papers. But he remained patient, and waited for Phelps to complete his search. He needed to focus his full attention on finding Lambton and his sister, and be scrupulous not to use any magic in doing so. He could not believe how careless he’d been before regaining his memory, using the magic that had come so naturally to him.
He was fortunate, so far, that Eilinora’s hunters had not located any magical sparks and confronted him. Surely, by now, the witch had discovered that one of the brìgha-stones was hidden somewhere near or in Carlisle, in this time period. And as she searched for it, she would be keeping watch for signs of any Druzai about. She would not want any interference.
Merrick’s use of magic had put Jenny at risk. He did not want to think what Eilinora might do to her while she wielded his father’s scepter. The chieftain’s staff was the most powerful talisman in all of Coruain. Used by Eilinora or by the entity that had freed her, it could only have devastating results. Merrick felt a renewed urgency to find Lambton and get the blood stone from his sister.
As Phelps paged through the stack of reports, the man picked out one particular sheaf and then another, setting them aside while he finished going through each and every page in the stack. He finally took the two papers he’d chosen and turned them on the desk to face Merrick.
“There are two named Lambton. The first is Jack, aged twenty-six, a stocky little fellow by his description, and a known burglar.”
Merrick looked at the not
es of the cases Jack Lambton had been accused of. Then he made a mental note of the location of the last house where he’d been known to stay. “You’ve tried to arrest him, obviously.”
“Oh aye. Had a number of complaints, but he seems a slippery one.” He pointed to an entry at the bottom of the page. “Here’s his wife. Says she doesn’t know where he is, either.”
“Do you believe her?”
Phelps shrugged. “Who knows? He might stop in every now and then. Long enough to get another bairn on her. She’s got four or five already.”
Merrick turned his attention to the other Lambton. Frank. The description was of a taller man with white-blond hair, a year older than Jack.
“This one is an arsonist, too?” he asked.
“Who knows? He’s a bad actor all the way ’round.” Phelps pointed to several other entries on the page. “Had some education by the looks of this report, but turned to murder, vandalism, inciting riots—”
“Like the one near here last night?”
The clerk raised an eyebrow. “You heard about that?”
“My…er, sister and I got caught in it.”
“Big, strapping Scotsman like you wouldn’t have been hurt. But best to keep your sister off the streets after dark. I suspect the fools will not be stupid enough to come out again tonight, not with the militia at the ready.”
Merrick studied the report on Frank Lambton. “No one’s seen him since this last accusation of murder?”
“No, or the constables would have brought him in. Could be he’s left town.”
Which would be disastrous for Merrick. Time was running out.
“I’ll send the constables ’round to the places where he’s known to hang about. Maybe—”
“We’d like to find his sister, just to ask her about the item she stole from us. Mayhap we’ll be able to recover it. Where are these houses?”
“Down in the Lanes. Trust me, you don’t want to go there. Let me look into it.” Merrick followed Phelps to the door. “Where can I find you if we uncover any information?”
“The Queen’s Hotel, but I would ask that you delay your inquiries. I’d like to surprise Lambton myself, if you catch my meaning.”
Phelps nodded. The two men shook hands once again, and Merrick went out toward the front of the building, encountering two tall men dressed in black. They were the same two constables who’d come ’round the Gypsy camp, looking for Jenny. The older man was with them, too, his features harsh and angular. Usher.
Merrick picked up a discarded newspaper and took a seat on one of the chairs.
“We’ll not get far here, posing as constables of the law,” said one of the men as they approached.
Usher ignored his cohort and kept walking, his stride purposeful, his expression arrogant. His greatcoat flapped behind him as he walked, and his suit was rumpled, clearly not having been changed in days. By the bits of straw on his waistcoat, Matthew figured he must have found some rather poor lodgings over the last few days. Still, he wore a stiffly starched collar, his black stock was neatly tied, and his watch chain and fob were securely fastened at his waist.
“Doubtful we’ll find her here, anyway,” said the second man as they walked past Merrick. He stood up and followed them.
“The farmer and his wife said the little whore had been on her way to Carlisle,” said Usher. “Obviously up to no good.”
“You know, all this is getting beyond my talents, Usher,” said one of the men. “I’ll take my money now, if you please.”
“I don’t like it, either. Even Mr. Ellis said she was not likely to steal—”
The headmaster made a harsh sound and tossed a few coins at the men, letting the money scatter all over the floor. Then he proceeded down the hall, his stride as regal as a high chieftain’s, and turned into an office not far from the one Merrick had just vacated.
Chapter 11
Jenny paced the short length of her small hotel room and decided to leave for Darbury now. No doubt she could learn the estate’s direction from the hotel clerk or someone else in town, and it was early enough to walk the few miles. It seemed the best course of action, to leave now, before Matthew returned and told her he could not find Harriet, and that it was time for them to separate.
Or worse, that he planned to take her to Darbury himself. She did not think she could bear it, not after all they’d been through together, after the intimacies they’d shared.
She knew by the change in his attitude that he remembered something. It could be that parts of his memory were still missing, but Jenny was certain he knew something about his past. And he did not want to tell her what it was.
She could guess.
Pressing a hand against the center of her chest to ease the ache, Jenny opened her travel bag and took out her Bible, searching through the pages until the letter from Darbury fell out. She unfolded the missive, checking the date she was to report for her new post. She’d been correct, and only needed to verify today’s date and the location of the estate. Her understanding was that it lay north of Carlisle, but only a few miles away. It should be an easy walk.
She repacked her bag and closed it securely, then looked in the drawer of the writing table for a pen and ink, for she could not go without at least leaving a note for Matthew. Sinking down into the chair, she realized she did not know what to write. She considered telling him to come to Darbury for her if he found he had no binding ties in Scotland.
Yet in all her years at Bresland, she’d never asked anyone for anything. She’d borne the cold, uncaring environment and all her punishments, aware that there was no one to help her. She would not beg Matthew to remember her once he returned to his life.
She took a deep, quivering breath. She was not a beggar, nor was she a coward. Much worse had happened to her than living through a difficult farewell.
She tossed the pen on the desk and pulled on her cloak. Her small room here was too similar to the one she would likely be given at Darbury. In spite of Matthew’s wishes, she left it and walked down to the street where they’d been caught up in the previous night’s disturbance. There were shops as well as open stalls, and she wandered through them, avoiding the tobacconist’s shop. She could not avoid thinking through all that had happened in the past few days and concluding that Matthew had recovered enough of his memory to know where he belonged. It seemed he was not in any great hurry to return there, else he would not be so determined to retrieve her pendant.
Jenny didn’t know why he bothered.
By late afternoon, a cold drizzle started to fall, enough to deter her walk to Darbury. She would just have to spend some of her money on a hackney coach to take her there later, after she made her farewell to Matthew in person.
She shrank into the warmth of her cloak and hood, and hurried back to the hotel. Loath to spend any more time in the cold and lonely room, she remained in the lobby, where servants had built up the fires in the grates.
Merrick bristled with anger as Usher disappeared behind the door of the office. There had to be some reason the headmaster was so intent upon finding Jenny and taking her back to Bresland, even hiring his own “constables” to do so. Bardo’s suggestion that Jenny knew something damaging about the man rang true, although whatever it was, Jenny seemed not to be aware of it. Mayhap Usher believed she’d heard something that he’d rather keep private.
Mayhap he was unaware of the damage he’d done to Jenny’s hearing.
Merrick did not like to think of the cold, bleak existence Jenny had known at Bresland, and swore viciously at the thought of the blow Usher must have given her to destroy her hearing. ’Twas all Merrick could do not to drag the man from the office where he’d gone, and show him a thing or two about discipline.
The two hired constables left the building, and Merrick kept an eye on them as they mounted their horses and rode away. Without the two cohorts, ’twould be so easy to isolate Usher and deal with him in the same manner he’d handled wee Jenny for so many years. But
a mere thrashing would be too lenient. The man deserved a much more far-reaching punishment. Merrick intended to give it due consideration.
He kept an eye on the office where Usher had his business and came to his feet when the door opened and the headmaster came out. Merrick could not resist confronting the man. He stepped into Usher’s path, his chest burning to wreak havoc on the man, there and then. He controlled the urge to use magic on him.
“Stand aside,” Usher said.
Merrick did not move. He looked into the man’s eyes and tried to gauge whether ’twas pure evil that drove him, or some kind of madness. He quickly saw that it was utter malice that dwelled in Usher’s heart, and decided to let the headmaster stew over the possibility that his secrets—whatever they were—were about to be exposed.
“Your reckoning will soon be upon you, man,” Merrick said.
The headmaster’s pale cheeks went bright red, and Merrick knew he’d hit upon a nerve. He wasted no further time with the man, but walked away, taking his leave of the town building and Usher, who stood fast.
Reassured by the knowledge that Jenny remained safely inside the hotel, Merrick gave no further thought to his plans for Usher. For now, he hoped the headmaster spent several uneasy hours wondering what was known about him.
He turned his attention to the search for Harriet Lambton, considering the addresses in Phelps’s reports. Whether they were actually valid had yet to be seen. Merrick intended to check for himself, but he could not do it dressed as he was, as a target for the kind of ruffians they’d clashed with earlier in the Lanes. He walked toward the shops in the center of town and encountered a rag-and-bone man. Pawing through his cart, he looked for a jumper and trews that he could wear, clothes that would not set him apart from every other man in the Lanes.
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