The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele Book 1)

by C. J. Archer

  The bobbies dragged Dorchester out of the doorway. He groaned and stirred. I breathed a sigh of relief and edged closer, taking a wide berth around him until I was at the opening of the doorway. My watch glinted in the shadows. I bent and scooped it up. It not longer felt warm, but like an ordinary silver watch.

  "What you got there, miss?" the inspector asked.

  "My watch." I showed it to him. "I dropped it in the scuffle."

  He nodded, satisfied. "How'd you overpower him?" he asked as the two constables lifted the dazed Dorchester between them.

  "I…I suppose it was a combination of luck and timing." I dropped my watch back in the reticule. "Excellent timing."

  "So what's this about him being the Dark Rider?"

  "It's a long story, and I must speak with your commissioner about it immediately. Is he in his office?"

  "The commissioner's busy, miss."

  "I don't care!" Good lord, the man was more inaccessible than the queen. "I have vital information about the Dark Rider to give him, and only him. Take me to him now. Please," I added, more demurely.

  He eyed me then the retreating backs of his constables carrying Dorchester. "You can tell me all about how you came to know that man is the Dark Rider while we walk up to the commissioner's office."

  I was so thankful, I clasped his hand. "Come on then!"

  I gave him my name and Matt's address as we walked, but told him I wanted to save the details about the Dark Rider for the commissioner's ears.

  It was dark inside the building, and the inspector commanded one of the constables on duty to hand him a lamp. It threw out enough light for us to see our way through the corridors of New Scotland Yard. The smell of fresh paint followed us. The brass doorknobs and hooks for coats gleamed in the lamplight. Unlike Vine Street Police Station, the windows were not covered by bars. I wondered where they'd taken Dorchester and if he had recovered.

  We entered an office on the second floor with furniture polished to a sheen and a portrait of the queen on the wall. It was empty, but appeared to be only an outer office that led to another. The inspector knocked, and I was relieved to hear a gruff voice order us to enter. The commissioner had not yet gone home.

  Commissioner Munro was a distinguished looking gentleman with white hair on the sides of his head and gray on top. His white moustache curled at the ends. He wore a uniform with impressively decorated epaulettes, and a cap hung on a hook beside another portrait of the queen. Shrewd eyes watched me, but with curiosity, not unkindness.

  He rose and we shook hands. The inspector made the introductions and gave him a brief account of our meeting. The commissioner invited me to sit and directed the inspector to make me some tea.

  "No, thank you," I said. "Tea isn't necessary." Anything that delayed the commissioner getting Matt out of jail wasn't necessary.

  "Miss Steele, why are you certain this fellow who attacked you is the Dark Rider?" the commissioner asked. "Perhaps he's simply an opportunist who saw a young woman walking alone at dusk."

  "Directly outside New Scotland Yard? It would take a brazen attacker to be so bold. No, Commissioner, he's the Dark Rider and admitted as much to me."

  He leaned back. The leather of his chair creaked. He rested his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his fingers. "The Dark Rider has already been caught. He's currently being held at—"

  "Vine Street Police Station. Yes, yes, I know all of that. But that man isn't the Dark Rider."

  Snowy eyebrows inched up his forehead. "You're doubting my very experienced inspector?"

  "Inspector Nunce may be experienced but he's a fool. He arrested the wrong man. I believe you know him, sir, and you can vouch for his innocence." I hoped I had that correct, and Matt's asking for the commissioner was an indication that this man could be trusted. Based on what Dorchester had told me, I was no longer sure who or what Matt was, but I did know he wasn't the Dark Rider. I also knew that he hoped the commissioner could help him. That was enough for me, for now.

  "I am intrigued," he said. "Who is it?"

  "Mr. Matthew Glass."

  The commissioner lowered his hands. "Thank you, Toohey, that will be all."

  The inspector, who'd remained standing behind me, left, shutting the door on his way out.

  "I require the entire story," the commissioner said in a calm voice edged with steel. "Now."

  I explained everything, where I had an explanation. I brushed over the use of my watch to escape from Dorchester and didn't speculate on how Matt might know the commissioner when he'd been in London only a week.

  The commissioner rose from his seat before I finished. He plucked his hat off the hook and placed it under his arm. "It seems I have to visit Vine Street before I head home. Hopefully Mrs. Munro won't be too upset at my tardiness tonight."

  He stopped in a downstairs office to speak with Inspector Toohey about keeping Dorchester well locked up, then commanded one of the constables to bring his carriage around. As we waited, Big Ben struck the hour. Its deep resonant gong thrummed through me. I breathed deeply, drawing the air into my lungs with what felt like my first proper breath since Dorchester's attack.

  It was a short ride back to Vine Street, in which the commissioner questioned me about my connections, my background, and finally, he asked for specifics on how I'd escaped from Dorchester.

  "I don't know," I said honestly. "I truly don't. One moment his knife was here," I touched the small cut above my collar, "and the next he was on the ground, convulsing."

  "Epilepsy," he said with certainty.

  I tucked my reticule closer to my body and pressed its soft sides until I felt the familiar shape of the watch. The familiar, comforting shape. That watch had saved me; I was certain of it. It had tried to warn me that Dorchester was near, with its strange chimes, but I'd not listened. Then it had leapt from my hand to his and emitted some kind of electrical current into him.

  But how could that be? What logical explanation was there for a watch to act and think on its own? It was ludicrous. I must have been losing my mind to even consider it. Yet there I was, considering it very seriously. If it had been just my watch, and just this one incident, I would have been a little more skeptical, but it wasn't the first time. The clock on the mantel at the gambling house had also saved my life. My aim wasn't that good.

  Perhaps all watches were magical and I'd never been in a dangerous situation to witness their power. But that didn't explain why people were murdered all the time when they carried watches on them, or were killed in the presence of clocks. The clock beneath Big Ben's belfry hadn't thrown itself upon my attacker, either. I smiled at the absurdity of it but it quickly vanished. I'd handled both the clock in the gambling house and the watch in my reticule. I'd opened them up and touched their mechanisms.

  I was the key that set their magic in motion.

  My fingers tightened around my reticule. The commissioner said something, and I had to ask him to repeat it. It wasn't until a constable opened the carriage door that I realized we'd arrived at Vine Street Police Station.

  Policemen gasped when they saw the commissioner then saluted with a click of their heels. The police station was quieter, and Constable Stanley stood at the front counter instead of his gruffer colleague. He smiled upon seeing me, only for it to dissolve into open-mouthed surprise when he realized who accompanied me.

  "This way, sir," he said, when Munro asked to see Matt. Not Detective Inspector Nunce, but Matt himself.

  I followed, only to be ordered to remain behind by the commissioner. I considered arguing with him then decided to sit and wait. There were probably things he and Matt needed to discuss alone before Munro ordered his release.

  If he ordered his release.

  If he did not, then my attempts had been for nought. There was nothing more I could do.

  It felt like an age before the door opened again, but according to the clock on the wall, only ten minutes had passed. Willie emerged. She caught sight of me and smiled. I grinne
d back, relief flooding me. I felt giddy with it.

  Duke followed her, then Cyclops, then finally Matt and the commissioner. Our gazes briefly connected before an enthusiastic Willie embraced me, almost knocking me off my feet. She clasped me tightly, laughing.

  "I knew you would rescue us!" she cried, giving me a gentle punch on the arm before letting me go.

  "Liar," Duke said before he elbowed her out of the way so he could hug me too. "I knew you'd rescue us. Never had a doubt."

  "Nor me," Cyclops said, folding me into his side and kissing the top of my head. "I see you brought him the watch too," he whispered, nodding at Matt. "Seems we need to thank you twice over."

  They had to sign some paperwork before they were fully released, but it didn't take long before Willie, Matt, Munro and I climbed into the commissioner's waiting carriage, while Cyclops joined the driver and Duke stood on the footman's platform at the back.

  Willie, sitting beside me, took my hand. She alternated between smiling at me and turning grim. I suspected there were things she wanted to say to me. Things that she felt awkward expressing. I squeezed her hand to let her know I forgave her.

  I looked at Matt, drinking in his appearance, checking every inch of his face. He seemed tired still, but not exhausted or ill, thank goodness. He smiled and his hand fluttered to his pocket where he'd slipped his watch.

  "Commissioner," he began, "I have to disagree with you."

  I arched my brows. Clearly this was the continuation of an earlier conversation I'd not been privy to.

  "It's unwise," the commissioner said, glancing at me. "The fewer people who know, the safer you are."

  "Miss Steele is the soul of discretion. She won't tell anyone. I think she's proven herself worthy, don't you?"

  The commissioner's lips flattened. I decided to make it a little easier for him. "Is this about you working for the American law enforcement to help them capture outlaws?"

  All three of them stared at me. "Dorchester told me a little," I admitted.

  Matt sucked in a breath. He stared at me, his body rigid. "What did he say?"

  That you murdered your own grandfather. I looked away, no longer able to face him. It took a certain type of man to kill, and quite another to kill his own family.

  "Do not believe everything that man told you, Miss Steele," Munro said. "Including his name. Scotland Yard will wire America for more information and send a sketch of that fellow we arrested for attacking you."

  "Attacking you!" Matt bellowed.

  Munro waved his hand. "She's perfectly all right, as you can see."

  Matt couldn't sit still for the rest of the journey to Park Street. His fingers tapped his knee, the wall, the door handle, the seat. No one else seemed to notice except me.

  "I think I might be able to help you with his name," I said. "He told me that Mr. Glass was involved in his younger brother's death."

  "Could be anyone," Willie muttered.

  Matt glared at her, and she shrugged before glancing at me and wincing.

  "His brother was a member of your grandfather's posse," I said.

  "So you know about him," Matt said flatly.

  "I do."

  He lowered his gaze and rubbed his forehead. After a moment, he turned to the commissioner. "Given that information, I suspect Dorchester is one Patrick McTierney. Have your men wire their sketch to the Lake Valley sheriff. He's a good man, and Patrick McTierney's family lives in his jurisdiction."

  "God damn it," Willie said on a breath. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and shook her head. "We always feared he'd come for you, sooner or later. Never thought it'd be here."

  "You never met the fellow?" Munro asked.

  "Not Patrick," Matt said. "It's true that his younger brother was part of our grandfather's posse." He spoke to me, not Munro. "My evidence got him arrested and he was hanged for his crimes."

  "They were supposed to go easy on him, on account of his age," Willie said heavily. "They didn't."

  There must be more to the story but I didn't ask questions, and Matt didn't offer answers. I may never get them. Never find out if he had killed his grandfather in cold blood, or how he felt about it. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

  The three of us climbed out of the carriage, but Munro held Matt back. "You may tell her as much as you think she needs to know. I agree with your assessment—she's proven her worth."

  Matt nodded. "Thank you, sir. I'll be in touch."

  "If you're staying in London, I have some work in mind for you." The commissioner touched the brim of his cap. "For now, enjoy your freedom."

  The front door opened and Miss Glass stood there, back straight, head high. "Finally! You're home! Now, what did you bring me, you naughty man?"

  Matt climbed the steps and drew her into a hug. She patted him gently on the back. "What do you mean, bring you?" he asked.

  "From your travels," she said. "Harry, do you mean to say you've been all over the world and haven't brought me back so much as a hairpin?"

  He hugged her again. "It's in my luggage, arriving tomorrow."

  She clapped her hands and grinned. "Ooh, I can't wait to see what it is."

  We all retired to our rooms to freshen up and change for dinner prepared by Polly. I didn't expect to see Matt at all, thinking he would go straight to bed to rest, but he was down before me, waiting by the dinner gong, alone.

  "I haven't had a chance to thank you yet," he said quietly.

  "There's no need."

  "There's every need." He took my hands in his and my heart skid to a halt. He leaned in. He smelled like lavender and spices, a scent uniquely his. "Thank you, India. You saved my life today, and I will never forget it." His lips pressed to my forehead and lingered for far longer than decency dictated.

  I didn't move. I was frozen to the spot. I clung onto his hands and felt his fingers squeeze mine. My heart lifted, but I quickly dampened it. This was real life, not a fairytale. He was grateful, yes, but that was all.

  "I owe you an explanation," he said, pulling away.

  I nodded, my heart still in my throat where it seemed to have moved permanently. "Do you work for that famous American detective agency? Pink something? I've heard about them."

  "Pinkertons. No, I'm my own agent, but you could say my role is similar to what the Pinkertons do. I specialize in apprehending outlaws of the western states and territories. Because of my family connections, I have knowledge the lawmen don't. My mother's family is somewhat notorious, and I became embroiled in that life after I returned to them upon my parents' deaths. I got out eventually, as did Willie."

  And now he was bringing them to justice. It was noble and yet sinister as well. They were his family, after all.

  "It makes family reunions awkward." He smiled tentatively, as if trying to gauge my reaction to his dark joke. I smiled back, but it lacked warmth. I wasn't sure how I felt about his work yet. "I have contacts with the local law enforcers, so when I told them I was coming to London, one of them gave my details to Commissioner Munro, suggesting my services could be of use to him. Infiltrating criminal gangs is my specialty, you see, and he thought I might be useful while I was here. Munro hadn't taken up the offer, however."

  "So the Dark Rider followed you to England, not the other way round."

  He nodded.

  "Was he the intruder too?"

  "I believe so now, though I didn't suspect him at the time. I have no proof, however. I don't know how he knew where to find me. Perhaps he haunted the gambling houses where poker is played and followed Willie home, one night. I've sensed that we were being followed for some days."

  "Hence your constant peering through windows." I'd just had a thought. Dorchester—McTierney—must have followed me too, after I came to work for Matt. It explained why he'd been outside the butcher's shop with an umbrella at precisely the same time as me. Ice chilled my veins and I shivered. "Why not just shoot you in the street?" I asked.

  "Because he doesn't want t
o swing for his crimes. Having me blamed for them was the perfect scenario for him. Up until now, his face hasn't been seen. I suspect he's been behind some attacks on me in recent years, but I had no proof. His methods have been sly, cowardly, never openly revealing himself to be behind them."

  "How awful. He truly did consider you responsible for his younger brother's death."

  "In a way, I am. I'm responsible for a lot of deaths."

  "Including your grandfather's," I said quietly.

  His eyes fluttered closed. Tiny dark blue veins webbed the lids. He nodded. "I shot him in self defense after he shot at me. Perhaps one day I'll show you the scar his bullet made."

  He'd been shot by his own grandfather! I searched his face. It was unmarked.

  His eyebrows twitched mischievously. "It's in an unmentionable location."

  My face flamed. He laughed, and I gave him a withering glare.

  He took my hands again. His thumb stroked mine and his features settled, once again serious. "I know you have questions about the watch." He patted his pocket. "And I can see now that you must be told. Can we speak tomorrow? It requires lengthy discussion, and I don't want Aunt Letitia to know."

  I also suspected he was too tired for such a discussion. I nodded.

  "Good." He smiled again. "I'm glad you've decided to stay on as her companion."

  "But—"

  "I think I hear her now. Let's tell her, shall we?" He thrust out his elbow to me.

  I hesitated then took it with a shake of my head. "You ought to be a politician. You have a knack for swaying people to your viewpoint."

  "You're too kind, particularly considering you rarely believe me when I am being sincere."

  I was about to protest again, but he gave me that crooked boyish smile and my insides melted a little. Besides, Miss Glass approached.

  Matt informed her he had employed me to be her companion. She was delighted, in a reserved, upper class way. She patted my cheek, then insisted her nephew escort her into the dining room instead since she was the most important female member of the household and he the most important male. He simply thrust out his other elbow, which she accepted with a smile in her eyes.