The Magicians and Mrs. Quent

by Galen Beckett

  As the month since his return to town progressed, there was much speculation among his acquaintances as to what had so energized their usually languid Mr. Rafferdy. Lord Baydon suggested it was a suddenly realized interest in business, and he pressed Rafferdy to tell him what sort of propositions and futures he was considering.

  That the young man’s thoughts were indeed consumed with future propositions, Lady Marsdel appeared convinced. She expressed concern that the dealings be equitable, resulting in no undue enrichment on the opposite side and no unwarranted impoverishment on Rafferdy’s own. Her niece, however, allayed her fears. Mrs. Baydon was certain Mr. Rafferdy’s new vitality stemmed from a meeting he had made recently and that it was a connection of the highest quality—one that could bring only great profit to both parties involved. When Lord Baydon asked who this respectable business partner was, Mrs. Baydon only smiled and deferred to Mr. Rafferdy, saying that such information was for him to divulge.

  Rafferdy never denied nor confirmed these various suppositions. He was content to let the others divert themselves. For his part, he knew that any change that had come upon him had nothing to do with a matter of business, nor, despite all of Mrs. Baydon’s intimations, with the matter of Lord Everaud’s daughter.

  Miss Everaud had written to him on several occasions since his return from Asterlane. He had responded to her twice to fulfill the obligation placed upon him by his father’s friendship with Lord Everaud, but that was all. As for business, Rafferdy neither had a head for such matters nor wished to develop one, as he often said, on the fear it might alter his hat size.

  Besides, Rafferdy was not convinced he had changed. For how could one be changed by feeling more one’s self? And he saw no need to discover any particular reason for such an occurrence. If he felt like rising earlier, walking farther, and laughing more often than usual, it was only because it amused him to do so at the moment, and when it ceased to do so, no doubt he would return to his usual ways.

  “It seems to me that people are too interested in seeking out causation,” Rafferdy announced one morning over breakfast at the Baydon house, after nearly a month of this sort of speculation.

  “What do you mean?” Mrs. Baydon asked over toast.

  Rafferdy stirred his coffee. “I mean that people seem determined to find the reason why things are as they are. What causes the stars to spin one way and not the other, why tall hats are fashionable and short hats are not, how there can be so many afflicted with poverty when the wealthy constantly want for novel ways to spend their fortunes. To me, it is all a great waste of effort that could better be spent looking in shops or going for a drive along the Promenade and noting how poorly dressed everyone is compared to oneself.”

  Mr. Baydon lowered his broadsheet. “But it is to be expected, even desired, that people wonder about such things, Rafferdy,” he said with a scowl. “You speak of the movements of the stars, and here in The Messenger today is a story of a new celestial body that has been glimpsed for the very first time by means of ocular lenses. What sort of object it might be is unknown, but you can be assured that, now it has been discovered, men of science will seek to learn all that can be learned about it. They will not rest in their examinations until there is not the slightest whit of mystery left to it and it becomes like the most familiar old thing we have known forever.”

  “I am no scientist,” Rafferdy said. “And I would dread to live in a world devoid of even one whit of mystery. However, it seems to me that sometimes—or perhaps, I might venture, most of the time—occurrences have no cause at all. New stars appear and old ones vanish. Short hats become popular again. Things are as they are, and do as they please, for absolutely no reason at all.”

  “Certainly you do as you please, Mr. Rafferdy,” Mrs. Baydon said with a laugh.

  “No,” he answered her, “I do what pleases me. And others would do well to follow suit. I am sure people would be far gladder if they simply stopped searching for all the causes of their unhappiness.” He rose from his seat. “Now, speaking of causes, you’ve caused me to be late, for I meant to leave a quarter hour ago. I must be off.”

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” said Lord Baydon. He had joined them for breakfast that morning, though he had participated little in their discussions, as he claimed he seldom had any idea what young people were talking about. “Is it some matter of business?”

  When Rafferdy said it was not, Mrs. Baydon said, “I can guess where he is off to. He is going to visit his new acquaintances. It turns out our Mr. Rafferdy has befriended three daughters of gentry.”

  “How curious!” exclaimed Lord Baydon.

  “To be sure,” Mrs. Baydon said. “I would have thought it quite out of character for the previous version of our friend. But the new Mr. Rafferdy shows evidence of a disinterested, even charitable nature.”

  “How curious!” Lord Baydon said once again. “And how did he meet these young ladies?”

  “They are the cousins of the lawyer who recently assisted my husband’s aunt. Their father, I gather, is an invalid, and Mr. Rafferdy has taken it upon himself to aid them in what small ways he can. It is said they are quite sweet and pretty, but the poor things are horribly disadvantaged, as you can imagine, living as they do in Gauldren’s Heights and having no society of any worth.”

  Rafferdy was about to say that he found the society of Miss Lockwell worth a good deal more than that of anyone he had ever encountered in Lady Marsdel’s parlor. However, before he could do so, Mrs. Baydon became suddenly animated and clapped her hands together.

  “Lady Marsdel is to have another party, on the eve of the next long night,” she said. “You should invite your new friend, Mr. Rafferdy. Not all three of them; that would never do. But the eldest one—I have gathered she presents herself well, for one of her class. You must tell her to come.”

  “I will do no such thing,” he said, and was going to add that he would not inflict such suffering upon an enemy, let alone someone whom he admired. However, Mrs. Baydon spoke more quickly.

  “But think of the benefit to her! Think of what connections she might make—connections far above any she could ever have hoped for. You would do her a great service, and by extension a service to her sisters.”

  Mr. Baydon cleared his throat. “It seems this new compulsion to be charitable is catching.”

  “You must bring her with you,” Mrs. Baydon said.

  “I hardly know if I am coming myself,” Rafferdy said. “In fact, I rather imagine I won’t.”

  “How unfortunate,” Lord Baydon said. “Mr. Bennick will be quite disappointed to miss you.” He tipped the sugar bowl into his coffee.

  Rafferdy was not certain he had heard correctly. “I’m sorry, Lord Baydon, but did you say Mr. Bennick would miss me?”

  “So I did!” Lord Baydon said, clearly happy to have something to speak about that was within his comprehension. “I encountered him the other day on Marmount Street. He inquired specifically about you, Mr. Rafferdy. He said he enjoyed meeting you and was looking forward to speaking with you again.”

  Rafferdy found this puzzling. Why would Mr. Bennick ask about him? “We did not even truly meet,” he said aloud without meaning to.

  “But of course you have met Mr. Bennick,” Lord Baydon said. “I know it for a fact, for I was there when it happened.”

  This made no sense. Rafferdy was certain he had not been in the same room with Mr. Bennick and Lord Baydon at Lady Marsdel’s party. He said as much, and to his astonishment Lord Baydon laughed.

  “It was not at the party but years ago,” Lord Baydon said. “I suppose it’s to be expected you don’t remember. You were very small at the time. I was smaller myself, back then!” He laid a hand on the expanse of his waistcoat. “Mr. Bennick and Lord Marsdel were acquaintances. I’m not sure how they met—Mr. Bennick was a good deal younger than Lord Marsdel—but he used to come around to the house on the Promenade often. Your mother and father used to visit often at that time
as well, and you with them. You would have met Mr. Bennick then. You must have made quite an impression on him for him to remember you all this time. It’s been many years since Mr. Bennick has made an appearance at my sister’s house.”

  This news astonished Rafferdy. That Mr. Bennick would remember meeting him as a child seemed incomprehensible. Rather, it had to be their encounter in the parlor that Mr. Bennick was referring to.

  “It’s settled then,” Mrs. Baydon said, a bit smugly. “You have no choice but to come, Mr. Rafferdy. And since you are coming, there can be no excuse for not bringing your new acquaintance with you.”

  “I must be off” was all he said, and with that he called for his hat and coat, gave his thanks for breakfast, and was away.

  Strange as Lord Baydon’s news had been, Rafferdy put it out of his head and directed his driver to proceed with haste through the city. The moon was at its full, and so it was a day for worship. The Baydons had the benefit of a clergyman who called at their parlor on Brightdays, and Rafferdy had the benefit of no piousness at all, but he knew that those folk who still observed such rituals did so in church.

  From certain overheard remarks, Rafferdy knew his object this morning made just such a habit. He directed his driver to Gauldren’s Heights, then left the cabriolet to walk along Whitward Street. He stayed as far from the door as he might and still observe it and before long witnessed the expected departure. They went on foot, and their mother did not accompany them.

  He followed them at a distance to a modest, even dour church a bit Uphill. Once they were inside, he located a ready boy such as could always be found on a street corner, gave him a message and a coin, and sent him scampering toward the Old City.

  An hour later—and none too soon—Eldyn Garritt arrived in a hack cab, looking red-cheeked and flustered.

  “What’s this all about?” he said after Rafferdy paid the cab. “I was in the midst of something when I got your message.”

  “So it seems,” Rafferdy said, observing his friend’s rumpled and ill-adjusted attire and the shadows beneath his eyes.

  Garritt’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade, and he adjusted his coat and shook out the cuffs. “I was up all night working on business.”

  “So you mean to say that coins were exchanged?”

  That his friend was so obviously not amused only delighted Rafferdy further. From what font sprang his friend’s inherent goodness, he did not know, but he doubted the nearby church contained a more pious or diffident soul than the one that dwelled in Eldyn Garritt’s breast. He often wondered why he and Garritt were friends at all. Though he supposed the good were always drawn to the wicked for wanting to save them, and the wicked in turn to the good—not in hopes of being saved or with desires of corrupting but rather like a moth in the dark, fascinated by a light it can never really know but might at least behold.

  “I would hardly have expected to find you in this part of the city,” Garritt said with a frown. “Indeed, I would hardly expect to see you awake on a middle lumenal before the sun’s over the Citadel. And what could be so urgent that you felt the need to summon me halfway across Invarel on a moment’s notice?”

  “If I am to run into her by chance while out for a stroll with a friend, there must be a friend in evidence,” Rafferdy said. “Otherwise the tale lacks a certain credibility, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Before Garritt could voice an answer to this, the doors of the church opened and dispensed its congregation onto the street. Rafferdy took his friend’s elbow and nudged him into motion, so that the two were just approaching the soot-streaked portico of the church as Miss Lockwell and her sisters descended the steps.

  Garritt just had time to murmur, “I should have known you’d devise yet another means of encountering her.” Then Lily had caught sight of them and was tugging on her eldest sister’s arm. Such was the look of astonishment and delight on Miss Lockwell’s face upon seeing them—an expression accompanied by a noticeable coloring of her cheeks, much to the benefit of her appearance—that Rafferdy felt immediately rewarded for the effort of coming here, and any qualms he might have suffered flew away like the pigeons that sprang from the cornices of the church into the morning sky.

  A few more steps on either side brought both parties into close proximity. Expressions of pleasure at the good fortune of this unlikely but welcome meeting were exchanged, and a plan was quickly proposed by Lily that they should all walk together back Downhill.

  “I am sure Mr. Garritt and Mr. Rafferdy have other matters to attend to rather than to accompany us,” Miss Lockwell said.

  “On the contrary,” Rafferdy said, “we have nothing to do that could be more important than to accompany you home. Isn’t that so, Mr. Garritt?”

  “I doubt we’ll hear you utter truer words today” was Garritt’s reply.

  After this, any polite resistance that remained was quickly dispensed with, and soon they made a cheerful party walking down the street. Lily had claimed a position on Garritt’s right arm, and he had offered Rose his left.

  “I fear, Miss Lockwell, that Mr. Garritt has but two arms,” Rafferdy said. “You shall have to make do with mine.”

  There was a hesitation on her part, but one that made it all the more appealing when she did accept his offer, for it showed there was no overzealous desire to attach herself to him but rather a natural affection tempered by a keen awareness of their disparate and unbridgeable situations. He was struck by the fact that the only woman who intrigued him was one who was perfectly aware she could in no way ever possess him. It was paradoxical; he could not contain his good humor.

  “May I ask what you find so amusing, Mr. Rafferdy?” she said as they walked.

  “Is it not obvious?”

  “Not in the least. Nor is this the first time I have observed you to laugh at a jest of which no one else is seemingly aware.”

  “Those are the most delightful kind.”

  “Is that so? Yet the humor of the situation cannot be lessened in the sharing of it. Indeed, I should think it must only multiply if it encountered additional subjects upon which to work its mirthful powers.”

  “You are right, of course. However, if you cannot already see the humor, which is quite plain to me, how can I possibly explain it to you? It would be like trying to describe the color blue to a man who has never seen it. You either know blue or you don’t.”

  “So you mean to say one can never know something unless one has experienced it directly?”

  “I do.”

  “Then I could not disagree with you more, Mr. Rafferdy.” Her green eyes brightened, and there was a firmness to the set of her fine chin. “For you see, I have gained many valuable experiences in books. Through their pages I have visited places and witnessed events I would otherwise have never known. I have stood on the field where ancient battles were waged. I have wandered through keeps fallen to ruin and have spoken with kings and queens who now lie entombed beneath marble and dust.”

  “But those experiences are nothing real!” he exclaimed, at once amused and taken aback.

  She inquired if he read very much, and he was forced to admit that he had, much to his discredit, read very little.

  “Then I forgive you for your statement, Mr. Rafferdy. All the same, you are in error. It is true that, in the strictest sense, I have not been to those places or conversed with those people. Yet the result of reading about them is every bit as affecting as if I had. For all these happenings have entered into my memories and reside there now as if they are mine. Indeed, they are my own. I can see in my mind’s eye all the legions of Tharos lined up on the field of Seramar. I can feel how the stones of Erenoch trembled just before they came tumbling down. I can hear the defiance in Queen Béanore’s voice as she announced her abdication.”

  Such was the light in her eyes and the look on her face that he believed she could see these things. He confessed his ignorance; he begged her forgiveness. It was granted at once, graciously.

  “I must
say,” Rafferdy went on, “you make books sound magickal in a way I had never considered.”

  “Indeed, it would certainly qualify as magick if you ever cracked the covers of one,” Garritt said from behind. He laughed, and Lily joined in.

  Rafferdy laughed too, though his cheeks felt warm, and after that he found he desired to speak of something other than books. He inquired of his companion how the church service had gone. She answered that it had gone well enough, though she felt the priest might have spoken the sermon with a bit more ardor in his voice and that his surplice might have been better kept, being rather stained, and also that the church was always very dark inside.

  “It seems every month,” she said, “there are fewer on the benches at St. Hadlan’s than the month before.”

  “Perhaps if the priest put on clean clothes and opened the windows, attendance might grow.”

  “You might be right, Mr. Rafferdy. Everything about St. Hadlan’s…” She appeared to think for a moment. “It feels weary somehow. That the service should be solemn, I grant you. But surely the windows might be scrubbed without removing any of their holy tincture. I fear if things continue as they are, my sisters and I will, some Brightday soon, find ourselves the only three in the pews.”

  “In which case they will yet be well graced,” he said, but her only answer was to shake her head. This bemused him; in his experience, young women were always pleased by idle compliments.

  “Where is Mrs. Lockwell today?” he asked, and learned that their mother found the walk Uphill intolerable. An offer of his barouche was made for Brightday next, that they all might attend service as a family. Miss Lockwell attempted to decline, but her sister was quicker at accepting.

  “A barouche!” Lily exclaimed. “Think of how elegant we will all look riding to church. Everyone will stare at us. It will be grand. You will ride with us, Mr. Garritt.”

  “A barouche seats but four, plus the driver,” he informed her.