Spellbreaker

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  And yet she was unsettled.

  Ogden had taken them to Dulwich today. The church was small, but there was a spiritual aspector present regardless, one so young he had to be an intermediate magician, at best. He couldn’t even grow a beard yet, Elsie was sure. Then again, the baron in The Curse of the Ruby certainly didn’t have one.

  At least she needn’t worry about unwanted blessing spells.

  She shut her hymnal and set it on her knees. Ogden was tracing crooked stars on his leg. Emmeline looked ready to fall asleep, the quartz-tipped pin stuck through her collar.

  Elsie pinched her, causing her to choke on a little gasp, then handed her the hymnal. Usually, Elsie gushed about the story to Emmeline at night, once their hair was unpinned and their dresses put away, but she simply couldn’t concentrate this week. Poor Emmeline had been pining to know what happened next. She couldn’t read terribly well, but she could read well enough. When she looked down at the sneaky novel reader, she smiled and turned back to its first page.

  She’d gotten to page 7 by the time the sermon ended and the congregation filed out. There were a good deal of gentlemen and ladies present, wearing their ultrafine clothing, waving themselves with cloth fans, though it wasn’t even June yet. Ogden had found an old comrade or some such to chat with, and Emmeline remained perched on her seat, engrossed in the magazine, so Elsie pushed past all the well-to-dos, out into the early-afternoon sunlight.

  Stretching her arms overhead, she started down the street, wanting to stretch her legs before being sausaged back into the cab. She heard chatter around her about a recent ball, a hunting party, and a vote for something. Oddly enough, Elsie didn’t want to hear the gossip today. And so she strolled to the edge of the street, where it opened onto a small park. She circled the park, admiring the trees, before heading back. Most likely, neither Ogden nor Emmeline had noticed her absence yet.

  A plump woman on the other side of the road tripped on a raised cobblestone, spilling the stack of books, papers, and ledgers in her arms. Quickly crossing, Elsie hurried over to help.

  “Oh, thank you, dear,” the woman said as Elsie handed her a parchment scrawled with diagrams.

  Elsie paused. “Master Merton?”

  Master Lily Merton glanced up. “Oh! What are the chances, us running into each other again! Only this time I’m the one tripping.”

  Elsie handed her a ledger. “You should have a manservant with you to carry these things.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t stand the sound of people while I work, even bustling servants. Emma, would you hand me that?” She pointed to a fallen pencil.

  “Elsie,” Elsie gently corrected, snatching up the pencil.

  “Oh goodness, I knew that.” She stood, and Elsie helped her, ensuring nothing else tumbled off the stack. “Well, it’s still nice to run into a familiar face!”

  “Are you not from Dulwich?” Elsie asked.

  The older woman shook her head. “No, not at all.” She frowned. “Oh, my dear Miss . . . it was Camden, right?”

  Elsie nodded.

  Master Merton let out a breath that made her cheeks sag. “The atheneum just let go three of its acolytes. We’ve such a mess on our hands.” Leaning forward, she added, “And that is putting it mildly.”

  “The atheneum terminated their contracts?” Elsie asked, unable to quell her curiosity.

  “They’re with the bobbies now,” she said, using the nickname for the police force. Again lowering her voice, she added, “Suspected of having stolen or lost opuses. A few of them have been missing for some time. Now the rest of us, the elderly included, are having to step up and fill their spaces. I’ve been to two churches already today, and I have a paper I need to finish.” She jerked her chin toward her abundant research. “I feel it in my hips already and it isn’t even luncheon. Pah!”

  “I’m terribly sorry.” Elsie glanced at the ledgers. “The atheneum is missing opuses?” It was her understanding the spellbooks were kept locked away behind secret doors, so even the sneakiest thieves couldn’t find them.

  Master Merton shook her head, her short curls dancing around her ears. “Don’t repeat that, please.”

  “But there’s been a lot of activity with opuses lately.” Elsie matched the aspector’s volume. “I’ve heard of . . . murders.”

  Master Merton nodded, grim. “Oh yes. It’s not related, of course. A couple of our foolhardy acolytes decided to cause some trouble or tripped their way into it.” She clicked her tongue. “I don’t like reading or hearing the news, my dear. It’s too dreadful. How can a person be cheerful when bogged down with all of that?”

  Elsie’s stomach tightened. “Of course. Where are you headed? Let me help you.”

  “Oh no, I’m just down this way, really. I imagine you need to get back to your family.”

  A pang hit her chest. “I do.”

  The smile returned. Cheerfulness did suit Master Merton better than worry. “Thank you, dear. Pass my regards to the duke’s family for me.”

  I don’t think I’ll be seeing them again. But she nodded.

  When she returned to the church, Ogden and Emmeline were waiting outside for her, Ogden checking his silver pocket watch.

  “Sorry,” Elsie said upon reaching them, “I went for a stroll and had to gather a library’s worth of material for an acquaintance who’d dropped it.”

  Ogden nodded. “Fair enough. I’m eager for luncheon. Shall we?”

  He offered his arms to Emmeline and Elsie. Pinching a smile, Elsie took his left and let her employer lead them toward a cab for hire. Family, Master Merton had called them. They were, in a sense. But truth be told, were Emmeline to procure another position, or get married, she’d have no real reason to keep in touch—Emmeline had her own family. Three sisters and both parents. Even Ogden had relations. No children, and his parents were deceased, but he had a smattering of nieces and nephews he saw at Christmastime. Sometimes with Elsie in tow, sometimes without. Because while Ogden really was like a father to her, he wasn’t her father. He and his family had no true obligation to her.

  The ride home was uneventful, especially since Emmeline had now thoroughly engrossed herself in the novel reader and did not come up for air until they arrived in Brookley. Only once they were inside did Emmeline hand the story back and grab her apron.

  Elsie watched her, bemused. “What are you smiling about?”

  The maid giggled. “There’s kissing.”

  Elsie blinked and opened the magazine, trying to guess what page Emmeline had left off on. Kissing? How scandalous!

  Her ears heated, which was, of course, foolish. She’d been kissed before, though that had been some time ago.

  Horse hooves sounded outside, but Elsie didn’t pay them much mind. She tucked the novel reader away and grabbed a second apron. “Let me help you. I’m famished.” And need to occupy myself.

  “Just cold cuts and potatoes, I think.” Emmeline had a peeler in her hand. “Could you set water on the stove?”

  Elsie grabbed a pot and filled it at the pump sink, set it on the stove, and stoked the fire. “I might eat them raw at this point.”

  Emmeline snickered. “Won’t take too long, not if I cut them extra small.”

  A knock sounded on the front door.

  “Emmeline!” Ogden yelled from upstairs. He always went straight upstairs after church. He hated his formal attire.

  “I’ll get it.” Taking off her apron and wiping her hands on it, Elsie hurried to the studio. It was Sunday, so the front door was locked, but on occasion a visitor still popped by. Ogden might have invited someone for tea. Elsie stashed the apron under the counter before coming around to unbolt the door.

  Bacchus Kelsey stood on the other side.

  CHAPTER 14

  Elsie gawked at him a long moment. Then she shoved him from the doorway, followed him outside, and closed the door behind her.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked in a hard whisper. Her heart was beating too fast for it to b
e explained by the effort of pushing the door, and her blasted ears were heating again. She swept back a few curls in an attempt to hide the color.

  “I need your help.” His voice sounded wary. He was well groomed, but there was a tiredness about his eyes and a tightness to his features, as though he hadn’t relaxed in days. He was close enough for her to smell wood, citrus, and mushroom.

  She could faintly sense the spell beneath his clothes.

  Releasing the door handle, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing that was not wrong before.” He grasped his hands behind his back. “But I need to know what the second spell is. It’s driving me mad.”

  She nodded, slowly. It would drive her mad as well. “I might have to take off the temporal one first. They’re right on top of each other.”

  “I know.” He glanced toward the heavy carriage outside the house. That wouldn’t draw attention at all. “Which is why I need you to meet with the aspector who placed it, so he can replace it after we’ve sorted this out. I dare not let too much time pass without it.”

  Elsie opened her mouth. Closed it. Her stomach wound in knots. Jerking her head toward the back of the house, she tromped around the corner to wait for him. The moment Mr. Kelsey came into view, she said, “I can see two very large issues with that. First, the Temporal Atheneum is in Newcastle upon Tyne. That’s, what, eight, nine days away? I can’t just leave for a fortnight. Second, as previously discussed, I don’t have a ready chaperone.” And she wouldn’t get one. How much harder would it be to hide her spellbreaking abilities with an old matron following her every move?

  “I can pay you.”

  That perked her interest. “Well, that’s certainly a better offer than blackmail.”

  He looked satisfactorily mortified. “Elsie—”

  “Also, what am I to do, hide out in the brush with you to take off the spell? Then sit on my backside while you run in and get the spell replaced?”

  He let out a long breath. “Master Pierrelo will not ask to see your registration. No one will. It’s in bad taste.”

  Rolling her lips together, Elsie considered. “That does not move Newcastle upon Tyne closer to London.”

  “No, but he’s visiting family in Ipswich.” He said each word carefully, his green eyes locked on hers. Goodness, he had remarkable eyelashes.

  “Ipswich,” Elsie repeated, focusing. “That’s still a three-day journey.”

  “We can do it in two.”

  “I may not be gently bred, but I don’t think it’s a wise idea to be trapped in a carriage with a bachelor for two—no—four, days.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like a chore.”

  Folding her arms, she countered, “Not that your dry disposition isn’t pleasing, Almost-Master Kelsey, but I do have a reputation.”

  “We’ll take separate carriages.”

  Elsie paused. That might work if he could arrange it, but—

  “And how do I explain such a long absence to Mr. Ogden? No one in this house knows about me.”

  “Tell him you’re visiting fam—” He stopped himself, but not before the suggestion stabbed her already sore heart. Today was destined to be terrible, she could feel it. “Do you have any distant relatives, friends, something to use as cover?”

  “I used all my cover on Kent.”

  Mr. Kelsey rubbed his beard, considering. “I will make something work.”

  She dropped her arms. “And how will you do that?”

  “Trust me.”

  Two simple words, but they made Elsie pause. Trust me. Could she? Bacchus Kelsey had been a thorn in her side, but he had kept his word to her before. She owed him nothing now. He was pleading for help.

  She wanted to give it.

  She studied his face. The new lines of stress there. The nice set of his nose—

  Oh, stop it.

  “Very well.” The relief was notable on his features. “If you can make it happen, then I will go. But you’ll have to be very convincing. Now leave, before I have to explain why there’s a duke’s carriage outside the masonry shop.”

  “Thank you, Elsie. Thank you.”

  She waved a dismissive hand, and as directed, Mr. Kelsey departed. Elsie stayed behind the house until she heard the horses pull forward. Then she peeked around the corner and watched the carriage disappear down the road.

  Four days with Bacchus—two there, two back. She quite liked the way her Christian name sounded on his lips, though she’d rather hear it in his native dialect. She tried to imagine how it would sound. Elsie. El-sie.

  “Oh, hush,” she whispered to herself. Though there was no denying the pain in her chest had dissipated. Now it was time to wait and see what sort of plan an advanced physical aspector could hatch to steal her away.

  She certainly hoped he was successful.

  Ogden had a habit of making his shelves look like mayhem.

  He placed things haphazardly when he put them away, sometimes on the shelf easiest to reach, sometimes on the highest one. She would have understood the habit better had he simply put things away in the most convenient spot, but the highest shelves were quite high. One had to try to stow something there. It made no sense. Elsie occasionally tried to talk to Ogden about his organizational habits, and he always nodded as if he were listening, but her encouragement made no difference. He still put his paint away in three different places, chisels here and there, and sometimes his lunch pail would even find a place near the floor. It was no wonder he struggled to remember where his tools were.

  Retrieving a ladder, Elsie began her reorganization project by tackling the topmost shelves, pulling things down to sort them. It wouldn’t hurt to dust the entire wall; lint bits stuck under her fingernails.

  It was as she stretched on her toes to grab a book from the shelf that the culprit walked in. “Elsie, I’ve just gotten the most interesting letter.”

  She snatched the book and set it on a lower shelf, one she could reach from the ground. “And what is that?”

  “There’s a new women’s school in Ipswich—”

  Elsie tottered and grabbed the ladder to steady herself.

  “—for accounting and secretarial training. I’m surprised they even know who I am, but they’re offering a week-long course for my employees for a rather inexpensive sum.”

  Elsie cleared her throat of incredulity. “Really?” Clever, Bacchus. Dusting off her hands, she climbed down the ladder and crossed the room. Ogden handed her the letter.

  “Accounting. I already know my figures.” She looked over the smooth penmanship. Had he written this himself? How many confidantes did he have? “Oh, but it’s advanced . . . hmmm. That is inexpensive. I could pay for it myself.”

  Ogden stuck his hands on his hips the same way he did when a nice-looking man came around the studio. Always looking out for her, he was. “Are you interested?”

  Elsie considered how best to play this. She hated lying to Ogden, but it was for a good purpose. Not like she was going off on a tryst.

  “A week long?” She feigned consideration. If nothing else, the Cowls’ demands had taught her to be convincing. “But it would be useful, to help more with the books.”

  “You’re already quite helpful with the books.” He took the letter back, examining it.

  He was doubting, so Elsie added, “The squire’s work is done. If there were ever a time to go . . . perhaps I could see what it’s about, and if it’s good, we could send Emmeline for the next course.”

  “You’d have to leave tomorrow to make this class.” He spoke half under his breath.

  Elsie hesitated a moment before saying, “I . . . suppose I don’t need to go. I’ll stay. I have shelves to organize.”

  She saw the sliver of guilt form between Ogden’s eyebrows. Frowning, he glanced at the shelves. “I’ll pay for half.”

  Elsie smiled. “It’s settled, then.” She kissed Ogden on the cheek. “It will be an adventure.”

  And she’d make sur
e Bacchus paid her back.

  Elsie waited outside Brookley on a gray day for her ride. The sun had not quite come up, though even if it had, the gray-smeared sky would have hidden any of its cheeriness. It sprinkled ever so slightly, but not quite enough for an umbrella.

  Not a pleasant portent, as such things went.

  A large carriage drawn by four horses pulled up on the muddy road; Elsie stepped back to prevent mud from splashing her purple dress. It was one of her nicer dresses. Not that she had any particular reason for wearing it. The mud didn’t splash on anyone else, either, for Elsie had insisted on waiting on her own, using the weather as her excuse. Ogden had accepted it well enough, but she had the feeling Emmeline was eagerly peeking through the drapery upstairs.

  At the same time she noted there was no second carriage, Bacchus Kelsey kicked open the carriage door, his hair hanging loose. “I couldn’t convince the duke to give me two.”

  Her stomach erupted into moths that attacked her throat, seeking a way out. She supposed it wasn’t entirely improper—times were changing—but . . . well, what would she have to say about it, anyway? I’m sorry, I insist you ride on the roof for the sake of my reputation, which of course no one actually cares about.

  Besides, it would be nice not to sit here alone the entire time. Mr. Kelsey could be pleasant when he wanted to be.

  One of the servants—John, wasn’t it?—ran up to grab her valise. Picking up her skirts, she said, “I’ll be sure to keep the curtains drawn to prevent wagging tongues.”

  She hid a smile when he stepped into the rain to help her to her seat.

  They’d ridden for about ten minutes before Elsie’s thoughts needed voicing.

  “Is there a lot of crime in Barbados?” she asked.

  Bacchus, whose sun-kissed hair hung in tight waves over his shoulders, looked at her curiously. “Not much. Why?”