by C. J. Archer
"Someone shot at you?"
"Most likely, considering our recent encounter with Lord Coyle's man. We're not entirely convinced that the gunman is connected to Coyle, however it does seem to be someone who wants us to stop investigating Dr. Hale's murder."
"I see the connection." He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, slowly shaking his head as if he couldn't quite believe it. "You are stopping now, aren't you?"
I nodded. "Matt insisted."
He cocked his head to the side, his handsome brow furrowed. "You don't seem as though you agree."
I felt Miss Glass's glare bore into the side of my head. I didn't dare turn to her and experience its full force. "I do agree," I said quickly. "But we were getting close. This attack proves how close. The problem is, we can't untangle our evidence. It’s a giant mess of leads and lies."
"Talk it through with me," he said. "It may help you sort it out."
The prospect of such grim discussion must have been too much for Miss Glass. She finally spoke up. "I'll leave you two to talk among yourselves," she said, rising. "Ah, here's Bristow with tea. I'll take mine in my rooms, Bristow. Goodbye, Mr. Barratt. It was a pleasure to meet you. Do come again. India speaks so fondly of you. Now I see why."
He looked utterly shocked. Perhaps as shocked as I felt. He managed to recover and bid her farewell. He didn't speak as Bristow poured tea for us then followed Miss Glass out with her cup. I was beginning to think it was Miss Glass's intention to leave me alone with Mr. Barratt all along, but only if he met with her approval first. Clearly, he'd passed whatever test she'd set for him.
Perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised. The best way to keep Matt and me apart was to find a suitor for me. She need not have bothered. I had enough willpower to resist Matt on my own, but Mr. Barratt was a welcome companion, nevertheless.
"Now that she's gone," I said, "we can discuss magic freely."
"She's not aware of yours?"
I shook my head. "Are you ready to hear everything we learned?"
"Most eagerly."
I told him about Mr. Oakshot's purchase of the remaining bottles of Dr. Hale's Cure-All as well as Mr. Clark's purchase of Hale's personal medicine collection. "The transaction was done without the hospital's knowledge, or that of Mr. Pitt, Hale's heir. It was quite illegal."
"You suspect Clark or Ritter of killing Hale?"
I sighed into my teacup. "Neither motive seems strong enough. If Mr. Clark wanted to study Dr. Hale's medicines for magic, he could have simply stolen them. Killing Hale so he could purchase the medicines is an extreme measure. And I think Dr. Ritter is merely taking advantage of Hale's death to profit."
"So Oakshot is your main suspect. He certainly seems to have hated Hale enough to commit murder."
"As does Dr. Wiley." I told him about Wiley's resentment of Hale, and how he blamed him for his ill luck.
He sat back and regarded me, a smile on his lips. It was not the response I expected in the midst of a discussion about murder. "You are remarkable, Miss Steele."
"I didn't come up with this on my own," I said. "Matt and I have worked together."
"Yes, but few women of my acquaintance would be so comfortable talking about murder, particularly when their own life is in danger. It's a shame you have to give it all up after getting so far. But I do agree that you must stop. Leave it to the police, now."
"We will."
Mr. Barratt cleared his throat then concentrated on his teacup as if he could see something of immense importance in there. "Miss Steele…"
"Yes?"
He set down the cup and fixed me with his pleasant blue eyes. "Miss Steele, I wonder if you'll do me the honor of attending the theater with me on Friday evening."
"What's showing?"
"I…I don't know." He picked up his cup again. "I probably should have found out before inviting you."
For some reason, I found his awkwardness amusing. I giggled then, a little ashamed, tried to smother it. I ended up making an unladylike noise through my nose.
He grinned and we both began to laugh.
The front door opened and I heard Bristow greet Matt, but not Matt's response. A moment later he strode in. He lifted his eyebrows at me and I instantly sobered. He looked tired and damp from the drizzling rain.
"Mr. Barratt," he intoned.
"Mr. Glass."
They exchanged nods but nothing more. One of those awful silences ensued where seconds felt like minutes. It was as if each man were waiting for the other to give in and break the silence first. I was not prepared to do it for them.
The clock in the entrance hall struck the hour, and finally Mr. Barratt spoke. "I'm glad to see you looking well after your ordeal yesterday." He nodded at me. "Miss Steele was just telling me about it. Nasty affair."
"It was." Matt accepted the teacup I handed to him and sat beside me on the sofa, rather closer than appropriate. If Mr. Barratt noticed, he gave no sign.
"The others aren't with you?" I asked Matt.
"They're at the Cross Keys."
"Have you spoken to Inspector Brockwell?" I asked.
Matt nodded. "I told him everything I could. He'll send some men out to question the neighbors, but if no one has come forward yet, it's unlikely the gunman was seen." He seemed to be waiting for someone to speak next, but when no one did, he added, "You came to see me, Mr. Barratt?"
"Not particularly," Mr. Barratt said. "I was concerned for Miss Steele after reading about the accident. I was concerned about you too, of course."
Matt grunted. "Of course."
"I'm relieved to see her looking as pretty and healthy as ever."
"She's not."
Mr. Barratt and I both stared at him.
"I mean, she does look as pretty as ever, but she's not altogether unharmed," Matt said.
Mr. Barratt's eyes narrowed as he studied me anew. "She mentioned bruising. Miss Steele, is there something you didn't tell me?"
"She's not your concern," Matt cut in before I could answer. "I'll see to her health and wellbeing."
"Matt!" I instantly regretted my outburst when he turned his glare onto me. Why was he in such a foul temper this morning?
He looked away and passed a hand over his eyes. "My apologies, Mr. Barratt. It was good of you to call on her. Yesterday was a trying day. I can't speak for Miss Steele, but I'm still recovering from the shock. It's too easy to imagine what might have happened."
The frankness of his admission set my heart racing. There was no doubting his sincerity. The rawness of his voice could not be faked. I stretched out my smallest finger on the sofa to touch his, either to thank him or reassure him, or…I didn't know why. I just wanted to connect with him.
But my finger didn't reach, and Mr. Barratt spoke. I tucked my fingers away.
"I must go," he said, checking the clock. "I have a meeting. Thank you for the tea. I'll be writing some articles about Hale's murder, so if you learn anything else, do pass it on to me."
"We won't learn anything more," Matt said. "Our involvement has ended."
We walked with him to the front door and I got the feeling from Mr. Barratt's hesitant goodbye that he wanted to say something more. Matt must have sensed it too.
"Is there anything else?" he pressed.
Mr. Barratt rocked on his feet and glanced through his lashes at me. "The theater, Miss Steele?"
"Oh," I said. "Yes, of course."
"Friday night, then."
Oh dear. I had only acknowledged the invitation, but he'd taken it as agreement and it seemed we were now off to the theater together. I felt Matt watching me and didn't dare glance his way.
"I'll send word about a time when I've looked at the program." Mr. Barratt said his farewells and exited.
I headed back to the drawing room but regretted my decision when Matt followed me. He did not resume his seat but remained in the doorway, filling it with his presence. I felt trapped.
"Is something wrong?" I asked, deciding to remain standing t
oo.
"You're going to the theater," he said. "With Barratt."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he asked me."
He folded his arms and regarded me down his nose. "Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go to the theater? I would have taken you."
"Because I didn't specifically want to go to the theater. He asked and I found myself accepting. There's nothing more to it."
"Nothing more to it?" He advanced into the room.
I stepped to the side, eyeing the door. I had the awful feeling this conversation was heading down a path I didn't want it to go. I wasn't prepared.
Fortunately a fierce rap on the front door distracted us both. I went to step around Matt, but he caught my elbow.
"We need to have this conversation, India," he said. "You can't run from it forever."
He let me go as his Aunt, Lady Rycroft, entered the drawing room, her three daughters in tow. I groaned, wishing I'd escaped faster. Perhaps I could plead soreness and retire.
I bobbed a curtsy but Lady Rycroft barely even looked at me. She wore a turban of bright turquoise that covered all her hair. Her striped jacket matched its color. It would have been a smart outfit if not for the alternating pink stripes. The bright colors made her complexion even more sallow.
"I have a bone to pick with you, Matthew." She swept past him and descended onto the sofa as if it were a throne and she had every right to sit on it. "Come, girls."
The girls followed her like puppets on strings, obediently doing her bidding. Only Hope rolled her eyes at Matt then winked as she passed him. He offered no smile in return.
"Is something the matter, Aunt?" he asked with thinly disguised patience.
"Something most certainly is the matter." She glared at the chair but he did not take the hint. "Sit down, Matthew. Looking up at you is giving my neck an ache."
A muscle in his jaw pulsed but he sat. "Tea?"
"This is not a social call."
"If it's about the accident, I want to reassure you that India and I are both fine."
"What accident?"
"There's been an accident?" Hope asked. Clearly they did not read the papers.
"Never mind," Matt muttered.
"I'm here to tell you to stop interrogating our pharmacist," Lady Rycroft said, her vowels plummier than ever. "He told me what you've been doing and I don't like it. You must cease immediately."
"And who is your pharmacist?"
"Mr. Pitt."
Matt frowned. "His business partner was murdered, and he is a suspect in the murder."
"Don't be ridiculous. Mr. Pitt is above suspicion."
"Why?"
"Because he is my pharmacist and the pharmacist to almost all of my friends. His medicines are highly sought after, but your presence at his shop is causing problems."
"Why?"
"Because no person of consequence wants to be seen coming and going from Pitt's shop if he is a suspect! Good lord, Matthew, do you not think about others before you go charging in, accusing him of this, that and the other? Have a little respect for the way things are done here in England."
"I have not accused Mr. Pitt of anything. I have merely questioned him." Matt didn't try to hide the steel in his voice. The only person who did not seem to notice it was his aunt. The two older Glass girls stared down at their laps, their shoulders tense. Hope tried to catch her mother's eye but failed.
"Then you will cease your questioning," Lady Rycroft demanded. "Understand me? That is an order."
Matt went still. A beat passed. Two. "An order?" His ominously quiet voice did not bode well. "And who are you to order me?"
She blinked rapidly at him, as if such a question had never occurred to her so she had never had to think of an answer. "I am your aunt! Your better! Your—"
"You are nobody to me. Do you understand? Get out. All of you."
"I beg your pardon!"
Matt looked as if he would manhandle her out of the drawing room.
"May I suggest a solution?" I said before he did anything he would regret later.
"Yes, please do, Miss Steele," Patience said quickly. Her mother did not turn my way. She looked as if she were rallying and preparing to take Matt to task again.
"Why not send your servants to Mr. Pitt's shop instead?" I asked. "Won't that be more discreet?"
"We already do," Hope said heavily.
Matt frowned. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. The storm cloud he'd brought in with him had dispersed somewhat, but some of the thunder lingered in his eyes. "Your maid…we saw her at Pitt's shop yesterday. I knew I recognized her."
"Sending her, or any other servant, won't solve the problem, though," Hope went on since her mother seemed far too angry to continue and her sisters too shy or stupid. "You see, if Mr. Pitt is found guilty—which I am sure he is not, but the police have been known to arrest innocent men before. But if he is, we will be without a pharmacist. And he really is the best in London. His special medicines work wonders on all sorts of ailments."
"Special medicines?" both Matt and I echoed. He looked at me at the same moment that I looked at him.
Did she mean special magical medicines? But Dr. Hale had told us he'd only cast spells on his own medicines not the Cure-Alls. If the medicines in Pitt's shop contained magic, he must have put it in the bottles himself.
He'd lied to us. He was a magician after all.
Chapter 16
"Mr. Pitt doesn't sell them to his regular customers," Hope went on. "Only to his favorites, like us. Only to the elite."
"Like Lord Coyle," I said to no one in particular.
"Matt, you ought to ask Mr. Pitt if he has something for you," Hope said. "Tell him you're our relation and that Mama sent you."
Matt stared at her but didn't seem to see her. His mind was probably trying to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together, as was mine.
"Your illness," Hope pressed, sounding bemused by his lack of response. "Perhaps he has something for your condition. Mr. Pitt says he can't cure disease, but he can alleviate the symptoms, at least for a while. Everyone in our circle swears by his special medicines."
"Tell me about these special medicines," Matt said.
"He keeps them under the counter or in the back room. They're not on display. They're far too precious, so Mr. Pitt says, and reserved for only his best customers."
That's why I didn't feel any warmth in any of the bottles on his shelves. The magic ones were kept elsewhere and sold only to his most exclusive customers, whom he no doubt charged an exorbitant price. If Pitt was an apothecary magician, then it had to be him who put the poison into Dr. Hale's personal bottle of Cure-All. The question was, why kill his business partner? They weren't rivals. Pitt may have inherited Hale's wealth, but he was already well off, and putting the poison into the Cure-All actually caused his business harm.
"You should visit Mr. Pitt yourself, Matt," Hope said again. "For medicine, I mean, not to question him. The medicine you take now doesn't seem to work all that well. You look more ill than ever today."
"I don't take medicine," Matt said, absently.
"The stuff that makes your skin glow purple."
Matt looked sharply at her.
"Don't be ridiculous," Lady Rycroft scoffed. "No medicine turns anyone purple. You're making things up again, Hope."
"Typical," Charity said with a click of her tongue. "Always so dramatic."
Hope clenched her jaw and waited for Matt to tell them she spoke the truth.
"Excuse me," he said, rising. "I have to go out."
He shepherded his aunt and cousins toward the front door where Bristow took over. Matt stalked off, much to Lady Rycroft's disgust. "Ill-bred American," she muttered. "I don't know why we come here."
"So one of us can catch his interest." Hope didn't even bother to speak quietly or hide the bitterness in her voice. "I'm afraid your plan is a resounding failure, Mama. Cousin Matthew barely even knows we exist. He's
much too preoccupied with another matter. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Steele?"
"Good day," I said, picking up my skirts and following Matt. I caught up to him on the landing between the first and second floor, but only after exerting myself more than my corset allowed. "Slow down, Matt," I puffed out.
He did, but did not stop.
"This is not the sort of information we can pass on to Brockwell," I said to his broad back.
"No."
"Then what do you plan on doing?"
"Confronting Pitt."
"Isn't that too dangerous?"
"That's why you're not going."
"I most certainly am if you are."
He finally stopped and rounded on me. "Stay here," he growled.
I straightened my spine. "If I hadn't been with you in the carriage, you would be dead. If you hadn't been in the carriage, I would be dead. It seems we make a good team. Teams should not split up or they become weaker."
He humphed, turned again and marched off to his room.
"Where are you going?" I called after him.
"To use my watch. Then we're going to see Pitt."
We? So he had relented. But dear lord, if his temper got any worse he'd explode. I just hoped he held it in check until we confronted Pitt. If not, the nearest person would be in his line of fire—me.
Without a coachman to drive us, we decided to catch a hackney to Pitt's shop. Yesterday's attack must have been as fresh in Matt's mind as mine because he bundled me into the cab with unceremonious haste. I only managed to stay upright because he caught me.
"I can't believe you talked me into bringing you," he said, pulling the curtains closed.
He seemed to be spoiling for an argument so I did not respond. He edged aside the curtain and peered through the gap. His fingers drummed on his knee and then his knee itself jiggled. The plodding horses weren't fast enough for him.
I couldn't stand it for more than a few seconds. "Calm down, Matt."
His icy gaze slid to me. "I am calm." His knee stopped jiggling, but only for a moment before it resumed.
I tried to ignore it. I tried looking out of my window but he growled at me to keep the curtain closed. Well! It was fine for him to peer through a gap but not me, it seemed. I checked my watch, and checked it again five minutes later. It felt like a very long drive.