by C. J. Archer
"It seems you also fail to grasp something, India." He tugged on his cuffs and straightened his tie. "A woman like you cannot afford to be without a man forever. Oh, I know you have a little money set aside thanks to the reward, but it won't keep you forever. You have no family and no means to support yourself. We both know you can't rely on Mr. Glass marrying you. A man like that can have any woman he desires—why would he have plain, plump India Steele? A little dalliance, yes, but marriage?" He snorted. "So I'd be careful of that sting, India, or you might find yourself cast out sooner than you think."
"Don't worry about me, Eddie," I said sweetly. "I only reserve my sting for the deserving. Speaking of which, it's time you tell me why you're here."
"Ah, yes, time. It always comes back to that with you. Well, let's see. Why am I here?" He glanced at the door. "I met with Abercrombie this morning. It was quite a long meeting, in fact, as he's taken to sharing the burdens of leadership with me since I joined the guild."
"You met with Abercrombie this morning?" Did he mean before or after Abercrombie came to the office of the Gazette?
"About an hour and a half ago," he said, checking the clock.
An hour and a half ago was the exact time Abercrombie came to Oscar's office. He left with the intention of providing Mr. Force with information for his article. Eddie could not have had a long meeting with the guild master then. Was he lying just so he could make himself look important? Pathetic.
He glanced at the door again. He must be afraid Matt would enter and interrupt us. So that was why he wanted to know where Matt was and whether he had time to talk to me alone.
"I'll ask again," I said. "What do you want, Eddie?"
He sat on the edge of the chair, not deep into it or with his legs crossed as he did before. It was as if he were preparing for another attack from me—preparing to flee. "Mr. Abercrombie has learned of your investigation into Dr. Millroy's death."
"How did he learn of it?" I asked, even though I was quite sure Mrs. Millroy was the culprit.
He merely smiled. "I'm sure you don't expect me to answer that."
I shrugged. "Our investigation is not a secret. The police have asked us to look into Dr. Millroy's murder."
"Why?"
"To find the killer, of course. We're proving to be quite good at detecting." I smiled.
He frowned. "But why now? It was twenty-seven years ago."
"You would have to ask Commissioner Munro for his reasons. I am not privy to them."
"Nonsense," he spat.
My smile widened. It was extremely satisfying to see him riled. "Why do you care about our investigation, Eddie?"
"We're not fools, India. Mr. Abercrombie knows your grandfather and Dr. Millroy experimented with combining their magic and subsequently killed a man when their experiment failed."
"That doesn't explain your reason for being interested. My grandfather is dead and cannot be brought to justice over it. It is not a Watchmaker's Guild matter, anymore."
He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and heaved in a breath. "Let me explain it to you. It's likely the murder of Dr. Millroy is linked to the murder of the man they experimented on. That makes it a matter for both guilds."
"Both men are dead! Anyway what makes you think the two events are linked?"
"Even you must be able to see that they are."
I wouldn't be baited into telling him what evidence we did and did not have. I wanted nothing more than to keep Abercrombie in the dark. Besides, I still couldn't fathom why it mattered so much to him.
"It's not murder if the victim knew the risks and agreed to be their subject," I said.
"How do you know he did agreed? Were you there? Has your grandfather's ghost told you?"
"Don't try to be funny, Eddie. You're not very good at jokes. I could ask you the same question—how do you know Mr. Wilson wasn't willing? Even Mrs. Millroy claims the man wanted to be involved and she briefly met him."
He blinked. "Mr. Wilson?"
"The vagrant's name."
"Is it? What's his first name?"
"I don't know. Are you finished now?"
He sat deeper into the chair, tipping his head back. His hands gripped both chair arms and his foot jiggled just enough to be annoying.
"Eddie?"
He suddenly stood and buttoned up his jacket. "You have been warned, India."
"Have I? Remind me, what are you warning me about specifically? To stop speaking with Oscar Barratt or stop our investigation?"
"Both."
"And if I don't?"
He strode to the door and jerked it open. Bristow stood there with Duke and Cyclops hovering nearby. Chronos was nowhere to be seen, thankfully.
"That's up to Mr. Abercrombie to decide," Eddie said.
I grunted a laugh. "You are a pathetic sycophant and coward. I'm sure Mr. Abercrombie is glad to have you shovel dirt for him."
Bristow's eyes widened ever so slightly. Cyclops and Duke moved forward as if to grab Eddie if he lunged at me, but Eddie was too busy spluttering in indignation.
"I'm an important member of the guild now." He tapped his chest and lowered his face so that it was near mine. His breath smelled of the fish he must have eaten at lunch. "You couldn't even get membership, despite your family connections."
"Thanks to the guild's prejudice against magicians and women. Don't pretend otherwise, Eddie, when you know that's the truth. Now go away. I don't like being threatened in my own house."
His hollow laugh bounced off the paneled walls and tiled floor. I bit my tongue, wishing I hadn't used those words and given him ammunition. "Your house? My, my, you are getting ahead of yourself. Be careful, India, it's a big fall from these heights. And believe me, you will fall when he finds himself a lady worthy of marrying."
"You are far too predictable, Eddie," I said with more poise than I felt. My body shook and my heart hammered, but I would not let him see how his words affected me. "Bristow, please see that Mr. Hardacre leaves. I'm sure Cyclops and Duke will help, if necessary."
Matt's sudden appearance at the top of the stairs caught Eddie's attention. He straightened, tugged on his hat brim and let himself out before Bristow could even step forward.
"India?" Matt called to me as he trotted down the stairs. "Was that Hardacre?"
I blew out a ragged breath and exchanged a glance with Cyclops. "Yes," I said.
"What the bloody hell did he want?"
The door to the library cracked open. "Is he gone?" Chronos asked.
"He's gone," I said. "He wanted us to stop investigating Dr. Millroy's murder and also to stop speaking to Oscar Barratt."
"Millroy's murder?" Matt said, placing a hand at my back. Somehow he'd guessed I needed his steadying presence. "Why?"
"Apparently Abercrombie asked him to come here. I think they're scared we'll blacken the guild's name if we delve too deeply into Dr. Millroy's experiment with Chronos."
"Which implies the guild is guilty of something."
"Like the murder of Dr. Millroy, perhaps."
Matt smiled. "Good work, India. Well managed." He rubbed my back and his smile faded. He touched my chin. "You look pale. Did he threaten you?"
"In a way, but not specifically."
"Come and sit down. Bristow, send for tea and see if Cook has something sweet for her. She likes confections."
I had to laugh at that. "Blame my maternal grandparents."
Matt's smile returned but it wasn't convincing.
He led me back into the drawing room, along with the others, and questioned me a little more. I repeated what Eddie had said, omitting the insults we'd both slung, and the slap. By the time I finished, Bristow returned with a tray of tea things and bonbons. Matt made sure I put two on my plate.
"How could you have agreed to marry that fellow?" Chronos asked, studying a bonbon from all angles. "He sounds like a sniveling little weed."
I sighed. "Believe me, I wonder the same thing."
"He wasn't always like t
hat," Matt told him.
"You met him when he and India were engaged?"
"No."
"Then how can you know?"
"Because India is no fool. He played a part when he met her, like an actor at the theater. A part he knew a woman like India would appreciate. He hid his true nature until later."
Chronos bit into his bonbon. "If he managed to do that for months," he said, his mouth full, "then he's cleverer than you all give him credit for."
I spent what remained of the afternoon with Miss Glass. While she didn't insist on my company, she did hint several times that she'd like to go for a walk and browse the shops on Piccadilly.
The sky was overcast but the clouds not too thick, and we risked leaving the house without umbrellas. We took the long way to Piccadilly, via Hyde Park. Miss Glass maintained a slow walking pace, which I matched, and a rapid pace of conversation. She moved from topic to topic at speed. Just when I was about to interject with an opinion, she moved on to the next. When it came to discussing her nieces, however, I was happy to remain silent.
"Hope will not be a suitable bride for Matthew," she declared. "My sister-in-law is backing the wrong horse if she thinks Patience's wedding will force them together. Beatrice thinks having Matthew staying at Rycroft House will make it easier to throw Hope into his path, but she is forgetting about me. I will not let that little nit wit get her claws into him. They'll try to trick him, you know. Hope and Beatrice. They'll put him in the bedroom nearest hers and somehow manipulate it so that she is caught in flagrante with him. With so many guests, word will quickly spread and Matthew will be forced to propose." She clicked her tongue. "But I'll stop it before it happens. Indeed, Matthew may already have a sweetheart by then. It's very likely, given how handsome and charming he is."
Not to mention his wealth and station. I sighed as I watched two children of about eight years old riding their ponies with a groom seated on a large gray between them. While the ponies looked docile, I eyed them closely in case something startled them. Neither child looked to be in complete control and the groom couldn't manage three horses if it came to it. "Perhaps Matt should stay elsewhere," I said, my mind only half on the conversation now as we drew closer to the riders.
"Nonsense! Rycroft is his house."
"Not yet."
"It will be. He has more of a right to be there than those girls."
I didn't agree with her logic but she'd made her mind up about it; there'd be no swaying her. The children rode by without any cause for alarm and I relaxed a little, until I heard one of them tell the other that magic exists. Her papa said so.
Two brisk walkers overtook us, their heads tilted toward the other so that their hat brims touched. "What a sensation it caused in my household when my son read out the Gazette's article over breakfast," the taller lady said to the other. "He thinks magic's real, but I told him he was being a fool." She laughed. "Can you imagine?"
"Don't be so quick to dismiss it, Frederica," the other woman said. "My George believes magic is not only possible but it explains why our set of crystal Baccarat sherry glasses didn't break when the delivery man dropped the box. Not a single one shattered. He declared it a miracle at the time, but now…"
"One of them did break last summer," the tall woman said. "I recall it quite clearly."
"True," the companion said thoughtfully.
Oscar had not written the fact that magic didn't last forever into his article. I wondered if the omission was deliberate.
Beside me, Miss Glass took my arm in hers. "What a lovely day," she said dreamily. No doubt she too had heard the exchange, but in her addled wisdom decided to pretend she hadn't.
It became harder and harder to ignore, however. Nearly half the people we passed were discussing the article with their friends. Many hadn't read it themselves, since they couldn't get a copy, but that didn't stop them speculating, sometimes wildly. I even overheard one woman say that she assumed the reporter who wrote the article had first hand knowledge of magic and was perhaps a magician himself.
Miss Glass's fingers tightened around my arm. "Do you require anything, India?" she asked.
Her question was quite unexpected and I took a moment to gather her meaning. "I have everything I need," I assured her.
"But I must buy you something."
We exited the park near Hyde Park Corner and waited for a break in traffic. "Please, Miss Glass, there's no need to buy me gifts."
"There is no need, but you've been working so hard lately and had an unfortunate run of luck that I'd like to buy you something you want."
"Is this why you insisted on coming to Piccadilly? I did wonder."
"What about a new hat?"
"I already have three perfectly good ones."
"One can never have enough hats or gloves. Shoes, too, and shawls."
"You bought me a shawl quite recently." I steered her across the road between carriages and carts. She did not look where she was going but at her feet to avoid stepping in muddy puddles.
A newspaper boy stood on the corner, announcing more copies of The Weekly Gazette becoming available. Five passersby stopped to buy a copy and another three backtracked to him.
"It's all nonsense!" shouted the burly shoemaker standing in the doorway to his shop. "The Gazette is making you look like fools." Some shoppers nodded in agreement but the pronouncement did not stop the newspaper boy from being swamped.
"People will believe anything if its in the papers," said a woman passing us.
"The Weekly Gazette's always been sensationalist," said her male companion. "This was orchestrated by its editor to sell more papers, mark my words."
"Gullible fools," muttered a butcher who'd come out of his shop to see what caused the flurry of activity.
"I wonder what a butcher magician's magic achieves." Miss Glass's statement, said quietly enough that only I could hear, had me suppressing a smile.
"I don't think there is any magic in butchery."
She pulled a face. "Probably not."
She picked up her pace and directed me to a haberdasher. "A new reticule! We'll purchase some beads and whatever else you like to make a new one. We'll design the pattern together." She paused before entering the shop. "Do you think it rude if we ask if he's a haberdashery magician?" she whispered.
"Yes!" I cried. "Do not mention the word magic inside the shop. Is that understood, Miss Glass?"
She sighed. "Spoilsport." It would seem she had come to accept the existence of magic in our world faster than I expected. Thank goodness. There was now one less reason for her to have a turn.
"Talk of it is everywhere," I told Matt when we arrived home with our purchases. Along with beads and ribbon, Miss Glass had bought a hat and hatpin for herself and ordered a new walking dress with three quarter sleeves that I overheard her telling the dressmaker was for me.
"I noticed it too," he said.
"You've been out?" We sat in the library alone. Rather, I sat and he stood by the sideboard, his hands clasped behind him, contemplating the decanter. I hoped talking would distract him from the lure of brandy.
"I also went shopping." He withdrew a paper bag from his inside jacket pocket. "I went out with Chronos, as a matter of fact, but he wanted to go his own way after a while."
"You didn't think he'd run off this time?"
"I trust he'll return."
"He does like it here."
He passed me the bag. "These are for you."
I looked inside and took out a sugar plum. "Thank you, but I'm going to get fat if you keep buying me sweets."
"What if I promise to buy them only on rare occasions?" He watched as I popped the sugar coated comfit into my mouth. "Like when I have something to apologize for."
Unable to speak with any dignity, I arched my brows at him instead.
He hiked up his trousers at the knees and sat on the winged chair by the fireplace. "I am aware of how overbearing I sounded in Barratt's office earlier today, when I ordered him to
stay away from you. I had no right to do so. You're free to see whomever you want to see, of course. I should have kept my mouth shut."
"Don't trouble yourself over that remark. It was said in the heat of the moment, and I don't blame you for it. I don't wish to see Oscar again right now, anyway."
"You may change your mind when all this settles down."
"Will it settle down?"
Someone knocked and opened the door without waiting for Matt's order. Peter stood there, looking panicked. "Mr. Glass, sir, there's a constable here. He wants to see you."
Matt and I exchanged glances. The presence of constables at number sixteen Park Street never resulted in anything good. "Is he alone?" Matt asked, rising.
"Yes, sir."
I followed Matt out and greeted the constable too.
"You'd better come with me, sir," the constable said gravely.
"What are you arresting him for?" I demanded. "Who has made an accusation against him this time?"
The constable frowned. "I'm not arresting anyone, ma'am. A patient at the London Hospital asked for him."
"Who?" Matt and I said at the same time.
"I took an injured man to the hospital not long ago. He wouldn't give me his name or the name of his assailant, but he said to come here and fetch Mr. Glass."
"What does he look like?" Matt asked. But I already knew the answer.
"Old, white hair and beard," the constable said.
Chronos.
"He's in a bad way, sir. You better come quick before it's too late."
Chapter 12
Matt seemed to think I needed comforting. He asked me several times if I was all right on the way to the hospital. "Of course I am," I said. "While I do hope Chronos isn't badly injured, I'm not going to be as upset over his death as I was over my father's or mother's. I hardly know him. And anyway, I'm sure he won't die now that he is receiving medical attention."
He looked down at our linked hands and said nothing. I realized a moment later that I'd been holding on tightly and forced my fingers to release him. We shouldn't be holding hands anyway. It was inappropriate; we'd both sworn to ourselves not to be intimate with the other, albeit for different reasons.