The Curious Case of Simon Todd

by Vanessa C. Hawkins

  Fae looked up, white, unkempt hair strangling her features. “He ain’t no drunkard, he’s your customer! Help us get ‘im up to his room.”

  Gino, obviously wary of the whole idea, looked to Mr. Darcy who had arranged for the four rooms initially. “Well,” he continued, watching as the gentleman bent to aid his companion. “I suppose if he’s already a patron.”

  Together, the three of them managed to get Simon Todd into bed. Jane, wiping his brow as Gino departed to watch over things downstairs, looked toward Fae who had knelt at the bedside to examine his pulse.

  “What happened to him?” Mr. Darcy asked, a bit annoyed at having to leave behind that extraordinary brooch.

  “I don’t rightly know. Only that Miss Baxter and some wizards were havin’ a row over in Piper’s Square and Simon got caught in the crossfire.” There was some sort of thread-like film covering the leg of Mr. Todd’s trousers. Fae began picking it off when they were interrupted yet again.

  Molly was at the door. “Your other companions have returned,” she said, looking rather irritated.

  Simon opened his eyes. His nose was feeling itchy and he was quite afraid he was going to sneeze. Digging into his coat pocket, he retrieved his handkerchief, plugging each nostril as he endeavored to sit up.

  “Seven hells, lay down!” Fae cried.

  Jane went over to Molly Stein. “Could you send them up here?” he asked, making pains to not regard the lovely brass ornament displayed on her blouse. Molly sighed. Jane smiled.

  “Fine,” she said curtly, turning on her heel to leave.

  Mr. Darcy felt his teeth grind together, listening as Miss Stein’s laced leather boots tick-tocked down the hall.

  “I won’t look bedridden when Miss Baxter sees me.” Simon was arguing, sneezing into his hanky. “It’s bad enough I look a fright.”

  “Well it’s all her fault! Who knows what else she’s done to ya ‘sides making ya into a spook!”

  Simon regarded Fae sternly enough to quiet the young lady. “Fae, take mind. I won’t have you saying anything untoward regarding Miss Baxter.”

  The young girl huffed, standing up and taking one loud stride to the chair beside the bed. Mr. Darcy ran a hand through his combed, yellow hair and readjusted his red-tinged, reading spectacles.

  “Are you going to be alright, Mr. Todd?” Jane said, noticing the young man’s eyes bulge frightfully as he sneezed into his kerchief. Simon was a moment responding as he took pains to ensure his allergies were taken care of. Eventually he looked up, balling the cloth into his pocket.

  “I’ll be fine. Just rather dazed.”

  Jane thought he saw a dark smear at the corner of his nose, but Simon had wiped it away a moment after.

  The fact was that Simon Todd wasn’t at all certain what had occurred. He recalled jumping in the way of Chip’s shadowmancy, having not expected Miss Baxter to counter. Something had occurred afterwards however that swept him off his feet. He faintly recalled having his legs pulled out from under him before Fae appeared to help him up, and he heard a sweet voice he had mistaken for Miss Baxter’s.

  “I took a rather large tumble.” He pressed his hand to his forehead. Most probably he was concussed. He ought not to sleep for the rest of the day despite Miss Hershal’s protest.

  When the company heard footfalls in the hall, Simon looked up. Mr. Darcy had moved aside in preparation to accommodate the remainder of their party.

  “Mr. Todd!”

  Miss Baxter looked as pretty as a picture, Simon thought. He was overcome with elation when she rushed into the room, falling on her knees before him to examine his face. Her hair was swept back from her shoulders, the lace on her bonnet slightly askew.

  “I’m so, so sorry about what happened! Are you alright?”

  From the chair, Fae frowned.

  “I’m alright, Miss Baxter,” Simon assured her, feeling overcome with emotion. “Just a blow to the head, is all. Nothing a hearty breakfast and good cup of tea won’t fix.”

  From the doorway Mr. Dashing smiled. “See? I told you he’d be alright. Men like Mr. Todd are made of tougher things than you ladies. Even if he doesn’t look it.”

  Fae’s expression seemed to grow more sour.

  Simon nodded despite the unintended slight on his behalf.

  “Right.” Miss Baxter looked beside herself. “It’s all my fault! I should have told you all sooner. I didn’t think Heironymous would be so upset as to send anyone to accost me.”

  Her hands were atop his own on his lap. Simon regarded her long, slender fingers, perfectly formed and dainty, ideal for playing an organ. He wondered how her hand would look with a ring adorning one finger, a gold one, with diamond center, as delicate as lace, hand-picked with love and affection from the Darlington jewelry shop.

  “Send anyone?” Fae straightened up from repose on the chair. “Why would Heironymous Grimguild be sending a lot of wizards to fetch you in the first place?”

  Miss Baxter inclined her head. It was Mr. Dashing who woke Simon from his reverie.

  “It’s awfully stuffy in this room,” he said, grabbing at the collar of his shirt. “I think it may be best if we leave Mr. Todd to change and reconvene this meeting down in one of the private rooms. Breakfast included.”

  Simon shook his head. “I think that would be best as well,” he said.

  “And look what I found in the road!” Dashing held up a rather scuffed up suitcase. “A little wear and tear but it’s intact. Wouldn’t want to lose your luggage on the first stop of the journey now, would you?”

  Despite his qualms with Mr. Dashing, Simon was quite relieved to see his case. Most of his personal effects were within, including Mr. Hershal’s ledger and the pouch of gold crowns he needed to fund his journey.

  “Thank you.” At least he could change his clothes.

  “Well, I shall go and order breakfast on your behalf,” Jane said, excusing himself.

  Dick grinned, stepping ahead to place a hand on Miss Baxter’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine!” His voice boomed. “Let’s leave him to clean up.”

  The young lady nodded, removing herself from Simon’s lap.

  Mr. Todd smiled as she left silently, waving a hand as Fae leapt up to join them.

  “You still owe me breakfast!” she said at the door. “Eggs. And bacon! Don’t think I’ve forgot.”

  Simon sighed. “See you downstairs Fae.”

  “Ya damned right ya will!”

  Simon sighed when she left, laying back against the mattress. The worse thing of all he thought, waving his now solid hand in front of him, wasn’t that he’d made of fool of himself yet again, but that all the eggs in the world didn’t make a lick of difference. Breakfast was absolute rubbish, trash, a wasted endeavor when you were a sad, sad ghost and couldn’t taste a pig’s snout in a broth of pea soup for the life of you.

  Simon sighed when suddenly a craving for a good cup of jasmine tea hit him like a ball of iron.

  Chapter 9

  Tea and Sympathy

  “Simon Todd! I ‘adn’t realized you were the gent staying in the room upstairs! If I ‘a known I would ‘ave given ya a nicer boudoir.” Gino De Vaunt was an added agitation to Simon’s ever growing repertoire of daily annoyances. Grasping his head, the young gentleman from Darlington was at least glad his fellow journeymen were already congregated in the Bush courtyard and so wouldn’t be likely to overhear the current conversation.

  “Mr. De Vaunt,” he said quietly, pressing thumb to pointer at the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid I’m with a few of my more…” he paused, looking up. “…sensitive companions at the moment. If you could perhaps pretend we haven’t met before?”

  Gino smiled, white teeth sticking out beneath his waxed moustache like milk over brown sugar. “Ah that little lady of yours, eh?”

  Simon hadn’t noticed the two gold teeth in the man’s face until now. Simon nodded. “Uh yes,” he replied, taking a step back towards the inner receiving room.

 
; The garishly decorated proprietor tapped his nose. “Aye, aye, Mr. Todd,” he said, a rather wayward crinkle at the corners of his eyes.

  Simon stopped, biting at his lip before moving closer to the man. Gino smelled like slightly sour milk over fresh pine needles. The scent was disarming.

  “If you could keep Molly from coming over as well, that would be best. Her sister Sally too, if you don’t mind.” Simon slipped a penny into the man’s hand. He may have been an old fop, but as an accountant Mr. Todd understood the power of money and numbers more than most.

  Once again Gino tipped his head. “No one’ll be botherin’ ya Mr. Todd.” He squeezed his fist closed, then in a small flourish, opened his now empty palm to roll the ends of his moustache between his fingers. “Sally’s been missing a fortnight anyway and Molly’s gone on an excursion of some sort.” The man bowed. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

  Simon felt his brows knot at the information, but left on cue in case his companions began to grow restless. Sally was gone? That was unfortunate. She was a delightful young girl, hair the color of roasted chestnut. Sally was the sprinkle of sweet cinnamon to Molly’s paprika. Both were delectable in their own dishes, but they were night and day in comparison. Where Sally fell short in physical appearance in relation to her elder sibling, she made up for it entirely in her charming disposition. At least, in Simon’s opinion.

  How curious. But then, weren’t a lot of things these days, he thought, making his way towards the private room. Two curtains layered atop one another made for a sequestered shard of space in an otherwise open room. His companions were already seated when Simon arrived, having ordered tea, biscuits and cream. Mr. Todd was feeling much more like his old self when he sat down. Having washed and changed into another set of clothes, the miasma that claimed his brain whilst sitting in his room was otherwise dissipated.

  “Mr. Todd.”

  He smiled at Miss Baxter when she rose to meet him, doubly flattered when she gave him a good once over to ensure he was alright.

  “Please, I’m fine.” He looked over at the party of folks occupying the table. Mr. Dashing had shook himself off, his duster laying across the back of the wooden chair with his blunderbuss in tow. Mr. Darcy with his curiously scarlet spectacles had a much more demure overcoat on now, with tweed bowtie and trousers, and Fae Hershal had a plate of bacon in front of her with a basket of boiled eggs near at hand.

  She smiled at him, just before stuffing a peeled egged into her mouth.

  “I’m sorry if I kept you all waiting.”

  Miss Baxter was wearing the same dress as earlier. Simon was amazed it didn’t seem to have a speck of dirt on it. Following her back to her seat with a few hushed promises of good health, Simon took his own chair with his back to the wall.

  “We ordered you steak and eggs,” Mr. Dashing said, spooning some cream onto a warmed biscuit. “You’ll need your protein for the walk ahead of us.”

  Simon only wished he’d be able to taste it as Jane leant over to pour him some tea.

  “I’ve already secured two horses and a tent. We’ll have to pick them up and pay before we leave. A man named Gerald is preparing it all for us.”

  Simon was impressed Jane had managed everything by himself in the span of one morning.

  “Very good.”

  “Simon’s in charge of the finances and whatnot.” Dick waved his spoon, absently tossing a dollop of cream on the tablecloth. “As the equerry he’ll have to manage all that.”

  Simon frowned. He certainly hadn’t forgotten his place in the group.

  “Are you really sure you’ll alright, Mr. Todd?”

  Simon looked up from the table, the scowl that had begun to claim his face destroyed when he regarded Miss Baxter. “I’m really alright.”

  “About that. What in the bastard’s arse happened? Who were those knuckledraggin’ wizard knobheads? They drug you through the mud an’ you ain’t got a single wonder as to why they were there?” Miss Hershal demanded.

  Simon gave Fae a harsh look, disapproving of her use of language.

  Miss Baxter nodded, wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I’m afraid I’m to blame for all of this.” The young lady sighed, holding her hands in her lap soberly.

  Meanwhile Fae stuffed another boiled egg into her gob.

  “Chip Ardale and Benedict Uovo are two high mages of Grimguild. A shadowmancer and elementalist respectfully. They are both very talented wizards.”

  Simon regarded the ivory crook resting against the corner behind her. A purple ribbon was wrapped and tied around it.

  “As you may know, Grimguild University has the infamous reputation of also housing the wizard mafia. Heironymous himself oversees a lot of illegal transactions,” she continued.

  “He owns a lot of the racket ‘ere in Piper’s Toss as well,” Fae piped in. “Those pointy-hat totin’ codgers are always running around tossin’ magic and rigged dice ’ere and there.”

  Dashing laughed. “Maybe you’re just unlucky, Miss Hershal.”

  “Or maybe they know I’m me father’s daughter and wanna rob me blind.”

  Dick gave her a wink. Fae received it with a grin.

  “Well, regardless, my last meeting with them went rather sour,” the young lady continued. “You see, after you graduate Grimguild, they have what’s called an initiation ceremony. It…” she hesitated, regarding the tablecloth in an attempt to find her words. “It’s really just an office of loyalty. Everyone who receives a diploma is sworn into the Council of Mages and is forced to give service to Heironymous, or the Chancellor, for an indefinite period of time.”

  Simon recalled the week Miss Baxter was away.

  “What if you don’t?” Mr. Darcy interjected.

  “Well, usually everyone always does. It’s a stipulation for admittance into the University.”

  Jane frowned. “I studied in their library for a great deal of time. I never had to swear any oath.”

  Miss Baxter smiled somewhat apologetically. “You must not have been entirely enrolled. Anyone who enrolls in Grimguild is sworn to the Council of Mages upon completion of their Arcane degree. That is legal and upheld by Frelish law in an attempt by the government to control the use of magic. However,” her voice was soft, “Grimguild has another oath wizards must attend. That is allegiance to the Chancellor. It’s from where the mob is nurtured.”

  Fae shifted in her chair, propping her knees up so her feet were on the seat. “Okay, so it’s a cult of pointy, magic arsehats who think they’re above the law.”

  Again, Miss Baxter offered an apologetic smile. “Something like that.”

  “And,” Fae continued, gesturing with a crisp piece of bacon. “You didn’t give your loyalty so they’ve come to collect you.”

  Simon was horrified. “What do they intend to do?” he asked.

  “Well,” Miss Baxter began, biting her lip. “They’ll make me abide by their rules or—”

  Simon’s mind was quick to fill in the blanks.

  “Wait.” Mr. Darcy held up his hand. His brows furrowed, his gaze flitted towards Mr. Todd before settling them on the young sorceress. “If this is all common knowledge to everyone, why in the blazes would you agree to join such an establishment?” The notion that Miss Baxter was nothing but a soft-hearted, young virgin was crumbling before his eyes. Was Mr. Todd really so naïve about this girl? Or was there more to the story? Jane was fascinated to learn more.

  “My mother attended the University before me,” she explained, looking into the lenses of Mr. Darcy’s red colored spectacles. “She was the one who thought I had a talent in the Arcane. I joined at a young age, before I really understood all the… politics.”

  Jane nodded. “So your mother’s to blame.”

  For the first time since Jane had met her, Miss Baxter looked angry. “No!” she cried. Her face softened a second after, recovering from the outburst immediately and with shame. “No. She just… she was misled.”

  Jane Darcy had read a go
od amount of stories to know that there were more elements thickening the plot, but he didn’t think it would be considered polite to linger on the topic. Miss Baxter already looked fraught enough, and the young dragon knew that every good tale always took a proportionate amount of time to unveil all its plot points.

  Simon, on the other hand, looked absolutely rife with worry. Half seated, Mr. Darcy wondered how badly he wished to go to her and sooth her worry. He was quite certain, if present company had been excluded, that Mr. Todd would have done just that.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Dashing had finished his biscuit and started on another.

  “Wait.” Fae started, smoothing back her hair with long, slender fingers. “So if they’re after you, they ain’t gonna stop right? You all told me last night ’ow you were going on some sort of adventure. Don’t ya think this is a bit more pressing? Maybe ya should do somethin’ about this ’fore goin’ off gallivanting?”

  Simon had to agree the problem of wizard mobsters seemed more pressing than a treasure hunt. Dick, for the first time this morning however, looked uneasy. Simon figured the man didn’t want to let Miss Hershal in on the plan to go looking for dragon gold.

  Miss Baxter looked sidelong at the rogue gunslinger, inhaling deeply. “Honestly, I didn’t want to worry any of you. Which is why I never told you any of this. I do hope you believe me, but…” the young lady pursed her lips together, “the entire reason for this treasure hunt and my involvement in it is to get enough to pay Heironymous to just, go away.”

  Simon swore she was speaking directly to him. He noticed Fae silently mouthed the words treasure with disbelief. Dashing, in turn pressed his lips into a thin line, obviously frustrated with the leak in information.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to Mr. Dashing a moment later. “But they’ve a right to know. The only thing the mafia wants more than loyalty is gold.”

  His gold, to be exact. Mr. Darcy nodded. That sounded far more plausible.

  Miss Baxter inclined her head. “All I want is for them to leave me alone so I may be with my father on my farm. I truly, deeply am sorry for not informing all of you. With sincerity, I did not think they would be able to find me so quickly.”