The Courtship of Julian St. Albans

by Crook, Amy

  “I usually am,” said Alex easily. He was drinking from a low, wide blue cup that was twice as big as the others, and therefore provided the most room for both coffee and milk.

  “Is there a reason you’re using my mug?” asked Smedley, taking a sip of his own black brew.

  Alex chuckled. “It was the biggest,” he said, and then he couldn’t resist adding, “I do like a man of size.”

  “I’d heard that about you,” said Smedley, not even missing a beat. He went up another notch in Alex’s estimation. “The amulet lead fizzled out.”

  Alex took another big gulp of coffee, trying to figure out what Smedley wanted of him in this situation. Sympathy, insight, or smugness were the only possible reactions Alex could think of, but he had a feeling there was some other way that a normal person would take this conversation.

  “We found the person that switched it, it was a new maid, but no one could figure out why they’d hired her,” said Smedley.

  Alex chose insight. “Spell of confusion, probably, and maybe a geas on her. The regular staff would be protected against such things, so they had to lay it on her before she was hired.”

  Smedley nodded. “That’s what Armistead thought, too. He really can’t stand you, you know.”

  Alex smirked. “The feeling is entirely mutual,” he said. He’d found it went easier for him if he just admitted to loathing the man, since his own rudeness was rather infamous around the department.

  Smedley laughed. “So he assured me. I’m none too fond of him, myself, there’s just something off about him.”

  Alex cocked his head, replaying some of his early interactions with Armistead in his mind. “Perhaps, but there’s something off about me, too.”

  Smedley laughed again, clearly very amused by this pronouncement. “Yeah, but Armistead would never admit it about himself.”

  That fit in with what Alex knew of the man’s character, a cold arrogance that set Alex’s teeth on edge. Personally, he’d always felt the ego wasn’t really earned, despite the impeccable work he’d seen Armistead do on several cases.

  “So how was she hired?” asked Alex, steering the conversation back to the maid, a slightly safer topic.

  Smedley shrugged. “The usual way, I guess.”

  “She’d have had to have references,” said Alex. “Good ones, to get into a household like St. Albans.”

  Smedley got a pleased grin on his face. “Look at that, now I have another lead,” he said, downing another big gulp of coffee. “For that, I’ll forgive you for stealing my mug.”

  Alex couldn’t help but laugh.

  ~ ~ ~

  When Alex got back to his flat, he considered the one promise he’d allow Henry to wheedle out of him — that he write back to Julian St. Albans. It would be a disgrace to his upbringing to ignore the missive, especially after he’d been so gauche as to turn it in to the police as evidence.

  Not that he needed the original, anyway; the words were burned into his memory by now, and he sat with a pencil and some scratch paper to compose a suitable reply.

  Sadly, he couldn’t think of an appropriate book to steal from this time.

  Julian had called him “Dear Alex” in the greeting, but Alex wasn’t trying to encourage his misplaced or possibly charm-led affections, so he addressed it more formally. Still, he’d been asked a direct question and he had to answer it, so that’s where he started. He chewed on the end of his pencil, trying to think of anything else he could say while Julian was still a murder suspect at worst, and an involved party at best.

  In the end, he just didn’t say much at all.

  Mr. St. Albans,

  Of course I have thought about you, I’m working with the police to solve your late lover’s murder. I think of you every day.

  My brother Victor tells me you have invited our household to join in your Courtship, a very high honour indeed.

  With thanks,

  Alexander Benedict

  It was awkward, and mostly empty words, but after writing a dozen or more drafts it was about the best that Alex could do. Alex got out his personal stationery, a gift from Flora, and the matching pen set that had been Fauna’s gift two birthdays ago, an unsubtle message to write more often. The ink flowed smoothly and his handwriting, usually crabbed and nearly illegible, was clean and calligraphic, a skill he’d had forced into him at a young age.

  After one last read to make sure he wasn’t saying anything terribly offensive by accident, Alex sealed the monogrammed card into its matching envelope and addressed it, then called a courier to take it over to the St. Albans residence. He knew a stamp just wouldn’t do.

  ~ ~ ~

  After a bracing cup of tea, Alex got out his phone and stared balefully at it before doing something he’d been avoiding, but had to admit was necessary. He called his sister.

  “Alex,” she said by way of a greeting. “I haven’t heard your voice in far too long.”

  Alex nearly pointed out that she hadn’t heard it yet, but then she would have to hear it for him to say it, so he let the matter go. “Flora, dear, how have you been? Victor tells me you’re with child.”

  “It’s dreadful, all swollen ankles and morning sickness, but worth it to finally have a baby of my own,” she said, her voice full of self-pitying drama.

  Alex sighed, reminded already of the many reasons why his calls were rare. “That’s awful for you, Flora, but I’m sure you’ll manage. You always did.”

  “Oh, but this is worse!” said Flora, and then she began a long and plaintive list of every single thing that had plagued her since they last spoke. Alex made the appropriate noises in the appropriate places, but he knew he had to let her run herself down or he’d never get what he wanted out of her, for sulking.

  Flora was excellent at sulking.

  Eventually her litany wound to a close, just as Alex was pouring the last of the tea into his cup. “That’s terrible, dear, you put up with so much,” he said, juggling phone and pot for a moment before he got everything settled. “I bet you still keep up with the social news even after all that,” he said, as sly as he could manage with someone who’d grew up with him and knew all his tricks.

  “Calling for gossip?” said Flora, sounding pleased. “How unlike you, especially when you’re in the thick of it.”

  Alex chuckled. “Who else would I ask? You know I’m well out of it.”

  “Even when you were in it, you were terrible at it,” she said, but her voice was affectionate. “I’ll start with the St. Albans for you, but as payment I expect you to listen to all of it.”

  “All of it is important this time, Flora,” he said, knowing that would surprise her. “It’s all intertwined, so I can’t afford not to listen.”

  “You’ve gotten smarter,” she said approvingly.

  Alex laughed. “It had to happen sometime.”

  True to her word she started at the St. Albans household, but not with the murder as he expected. Instead she backtracked to the death of Julian’s parents, and gave him his first piece of real valuable information — it wasn’t Julian who ran the household after all. His widowed sister, Emmeline Fitzhugh, had taken over when he showed no signs of interest, and now kept the estate and all its responsibilities with an iron hand.

  That was very interesting indeed.

  Flora moved on after that, briefly touching on Julian and Mandeville, and the minor scandal that had occurred when Mandeville moved into the St. Albans manor house so soon into their relationship. After that she segued first into the Mandeville family’s fortune — or lack thereof — and started talking about all the families that were expected to put men in the Courtship.

  Alex took notes.

  By the time she was done, Alex had several pages of scribbles, and a much more detailed mental picture of the state of things. He found that, after years of police investigations, he better understood the ebb and flow of power that underlay the structure of the upper crust society, having seen it in miniature in everything fr
om offices to neighbourhoods. People fell into and out of favour, and it was never quite clear whose favour mattered the most.

  “You’re a godsend, Flora, dear,” said Alex, already drawing lines and making connections in his mind, and on the paper, between the various families and what they stood to gain from Julian’s misfortune.

  “I know that tone,” she said, amused. “I’ll let you go, but you must promise to let me tag along when Fauna drags you out shopping.”

  “Why would she do that?” asked Alex, pencil going still in his confusion.

  She laughed. “You’ll need new clothes for the Courtship, silly.”

  She hung up before he could begin to form a protest, and when he looked back down at his papers, he knew she was right.

  The only way to follow the sound of those subtle magics was to be in the thick of them.

  May the elements help him, Alex was going to have to Court Julian St. Albans.

  CHAPTER 4

  In Which We Endure Family Time, and Magic is Made

  For the next few days Alex managed to avoid Lapointe and the whole department by giving himself over to the bosom of his family. Flora and Fauna took him shopping to some very expensive stores to buy a whole new wardrobe. Victor set up a special trust for him at the bank to use for the Courtship, though Alex forced him to agree that it was for the family’s honour in accepting the invitation, rather than a personal debt incurred by Alex. Henry took Alex shopping in all the places one might buy Courtship gifts, and though Alex bought nothing there, he gathered up all the hints that were dropped by everyone around him in order to plan his own form of Courtship.

  After all, a man who went to all the usual places was not a man who would stand out in a group of thirteen equally well-heeled, well-bred suitors.

  By the time Lapointe figured out what he was up to, Alex would be firmly committed.

  One thing that did manage to find him during his many outings was a servant from the St. Albans estate, bearing another letter from the young man in question. “Is he allowed to write to the suitors before the Courtship?” Alex asked idly, trying to remember what was and wasn’t in vogue with the complex process at the moment. Over the years any number of things had been allowed or discouraged, from a requirement that the consort-to-be be untouched to an encouragement that the consort-to-be have a taste of all his suitors’ charms before he made his choice.

  At the moment, everything seemed to be near the middle ground, but he wanted to be sure.

  “Oh, yes,” said Fauna, who was with him at the jeweller’s. They’d raided the family’s heirlooms but found that, with two brothers already outfitted, there wasn’t the full assortment of items left that he’d need to look respectable. They were here getting what they did have cleaned and filling in the gaps — a good pocket watch with chain and fob, and a few extra sets of cufflinks and cravat pins. As much as Alex hated ties, cravats were infinitely worse. “It’s a sign of great favour, that he’s sending you these public love notes.”

  “They’re not love notes,” said Alex automatically, though he couldn’t have said what they actually were. He opened the one he was holding while she had the jeweller bring out a tray of ridiculously flashy watch fobs, biting his lip as he read the scrawling handwriting that was, after his analysis, so very familiar.

  Dear Alexander,

  Have I displeased you? I thought perhaps I had, but Emmeline tells me that you’ve accepted our invitation on behalf of the Benedicts, just as I hoped you would.

  Is it that you think, as many do, that a consort should be coy, a cold fish until it’s time for the hotter passions? I think you know that’s never been my way.

  I know we can’t meet until I’m meeting them all, but I’ll await your words, for they are all of you I can claim.

  Yours,

  Julian

  Fauna smirked, reading just enough upside-down to say, “It looks like a love note to me, Dear Alex.”

  Alex put the note away and resisted the urge to make a face at her. It would only get him reprimanded for his appalling lack of decorum. He needed no more reminders of his family’s underlying disdain for his basic personality this week than were completely unavoidable.

  “How about this one?” asked Fauna, and he sighed as she picked up the gaudiest fob on the tray.

  “I thought a suitor was supposed to be displaying his own personality?” asked Alex. “You know I’d never own or wear anything on that tray.”

  Fauna pretended to pout, a trait that had never endeared him to her, and then something else caught her eye. “Bring me those,” she said, pointing to the one set of baubles that were both more expensive than the bejewelled ones in front of her, and the one thing that would endear Alex to her. They were magic.

  “As you will, ma’am,” said the jeweller, putting away the first tray and bringing down the much sparser tray from its charmed cupboard. There were only five items on it, but one was a set of cufflinks and cravat pin in subdued black pearls, and there were two different watch fobs to choose from. The other two items were rings of power, and beyond even Victor’s generous allowance.

  “Tell me about the enchantments on these,” said Alex, pointing to the three things that piqued his interest.

  “The black pearls contain an enchantment of hope for the wounded heart, to bring love to one who was once loveless,” said the jeweller. “They would be considered quite appropriate for a Courtship, especially for a man famously known to be romantically unavailable.”

  “Am I so infamous, Fauna?” said Alex, making it into a tease though a part of him did wonder just how this jeweller knew so much of his plans.

  “He’ll take them,” said Fauna, ignoring Alex entirely. “You’re right, it’s too perfect.”

  “I’ll take them, but not for me,” said Alex, getting a look of annoyance from Fauna. “They’ll make a perfect gift, as I have no heartbreak to heal. I am merely irritating.”

  She laughed delightedly. “As he says, then, gift-wrapped and a secret.”

  “We are the souls of discretion,” assured the jeweller, motioning for, not an assistant, but the shop’s manager to take the set of pearls and gift-wrap them. “Are you still interested in the watch fobs?”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll need one regardless,” said Alex, amused.

  “Very good, sir,” said the jeweller. He lifted the first fob in his gloved hands, the surface showing a fascinating iridescence created by many layers of different metals. “This is a charm for finding what is lost.”

  “I’m familiar with the process, it’s very time-consuming,” said Alex. “May I?” At the jeweller’s nod, Alex took the piece, hearing the soft hum of magic as he handled it. It was an attractive idea, and a lovely piece aesthetically, formed into an elaborate knot of the design-chased metal that managed somehow not to confuse but clarify his thoughts. “Still, it seems a shame to buy something I could make, were I to feel like spending the time.”

  The jeweller nodded, but rather than being discouraged he looked smug as he lifted the final piece, a fire-scorched bit of rough crystal with a green-tinged metal curled around it almost like tentacles. “This piece enhances one’s magical senses, helping to attune the mind,” said the jeweller, handing the piece to Alex before he could be asked.

  Alex felt a tingle of real power in this one, and stared into the smoky crystal. “What’s it made of?” he asked. He felt as much as heard the songs of all the magic around him separate into individual threads, and he knew that this piece, he had to have, even if he had to pay for it himself.

  “Volcanic diamond and oceanic green gold,” said the jeweller. “Is it to your liking?”

  Alex chuckled. “It is, as you knew it would be. Can we afford it, Fauna?” he asked, making puppy eyes at her as he had when he was a boy and wanted part of her dessert as well as his own.

  She laughed. “I’ll make Victor agree,” she said, nodding to the jeweller. “It’s perfect for you, useful and a bit creepy, but priceless all the sam
e.”

  That made Alex laugh, and he even relented when she wanted him to buy a pair of ridiculous cufflinks and a cravat pin lightly spelled to make the gems glow with an eerie inner light. Though he still put his foot down at the awful gold-and-diamond ones she’d chosen earlier.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Are you sure?” said Flora for the fifth time, as Alex thumbed through the tailor’s fabrics.

  Alex chuckled. “I’m quite sure, now sit down before your husband comes to kill me. He only let you go out because I promised to make you take it easy.”

  Flora laughed, but she sat. “He’s just overprotective because it took so long for this first one.”

  The tailor emerged, and exchanged pained looks with Flora. “Your first suit is ready to be tried on,” he said, gesturing Alex into the dressing room.

  Alex smirked, but much like the gifts, he needed his clothing to make an impression. Julian was being rushed out of mourning and into marriage, though the Courtship itself would take months, and Alex wanted to acknowledge that.

  Besides, he liked black.

  He put on the clothes, fitted trousers and collarless undershirt, waistcoat and overcoat and finally the collar and cravat, using the set of ebony pins and cufflinks he’d acquired, until he was head to toe black, his shoes polished to the proper shine, his skin pale and hair a shock of black atop his head. He had to admit the tailor had done a good job; rather than trying to match everything, he had given the trousers a subtle black pinstripe that lengthened Alex’s already long legs, done the waistcoat in a black-on-black brocade, and the shirt was just slightly charcoal while the cravat was a deep, rich black. When Alex stepped out to show his sister, he stood tall.

  “Hm,” she said, the closest she’d come to admitting he’d been right. “You are very striking,” she said reluctantly.

  “As I need to be,” said Alex, turning so she could see the fashionable narrowness of his waist, shown off by the cut of his coat. “I approve, sir, you have taken my idea and improved it a thousandfold.”