The Ink Master's Silence: Glass and Steele, #6

by C. J. Archer

  "They say you're powerful."

  "Who does?"

  She waved a hand to indicate the entire audience. "If you're so powerful, surely you can do more than simply make watches run on time."

  "Clocks too," I said.

  "We know that's not all."

  I didn't answer. Before the silence stretched too thin, Mrs. Delancey pointed to a pretty woman with a serious set to her brow. "You have a question for Miss Steele, Louisa?"

  "What do you think about Professor Nash's theories on the history of magic?" Louisa asked.

  "I don't know enough about magic's past to form an opinion," I said.

  "Surely you must be curious. Don't you think it a shame that all that power has disappeared? That all magicians are left with is a few useless parlor tricks?"

  "Louisa," Mrs. Delancey chided. "This is supposed to be a light-hearted evening where Miss Steele is celebrated, not derided. Parlor tricks, indeed!"

  "I don't mean to offend, and I certainly am not deriding Miss Steele. She's a fascinating subject. I merely want her opinion on the professor's theories."

  "It's all right," I told Mrs. Delancey. "I agree with her, as it happens. My magic is next to useless, particularly since I don't make or repair timepieces anymore. I don't find that a shame at all, however. On the contrary, I find it a comfort. The sort of power that Professor Nash describes is beyond comprehension. For a few magicians to hold such power would be worrying."

  Some nodded and others whispered to friends behind their hands.

  Louisa merely lifted a shoulder. "Or wondrous. Imagine the possibilities."

  I blinked hard. "What possibilities?"

  "Oh, you know." She waved a hand and gold rings flashed in the lamplight. "The beautiful things you could create, like flying carpets, or towers that reach to the clouds, or a train that could also float like a ship. And you, Miss Steele, could make that magic last into eternity with your extending spell." She sipped her Champagne and stared at me over the rim of her glass, a curious smile in her eyes.

  No one else in the room moved and the only sound came from the loud tick of one of the clocks in the adjoining room. I was about to remind her of the terrible things Professor Nash said that magic caused, like floods and plagues, but another woman spoke first.

  "If you're as powerful as they say, Miss Steele, wouldn't you be interested in learning if you have a part to play in the resurrection of such amazing feats?"

  "I… That is…" My mouth felt dry so I sipped my Champagne. I ended up drinking the remainder of the glass. It gave me time to think of an answer, and a little courage. "There is no evidence that my magic is that powerful. Even if there were, there are no magicians alive who know how to do what you describe. The knowledge is lost."

  "There may be no magicians, but that doesn't mean their teachings are gone," Louisa said, that curious smile still in play.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Perhaps there are spells, or pieces of spells, that a powerful magician can decipher and complete."

  "The language of magic is lost, madam."

  "Is it?" she asked lightly.

  I turned to Mrs. Delancey. "What is this? What do you know, or think you know?"

  Mrs. Delancey put up both her hands. "Nothing, I assure you. Louisa is merely speculating. She likes to stir things up." She glared at Louisa. "She's quite the insurgent."

  "I like to speculate," Louisa countered. "The possibilities of magic intrigue me. You intrigue me, Miss Steele."

  "I am quite ordinary." I set my glass down on a table. "Perhaps I ought to go."

  Mrs. Delancey caught my arm. "Don't run off." She leaned closer and whispered, "You promised."

  "I promised to come, and I have. You have not yet fulfilled your part in our bargain."

  "I will, I will. Come with me." She hooked her arm through mine. "Come and speak a spell into the clocks and watches my friends brought in for you."

  "I will work on them, but that's all," I told her as we made our way to the refreshment room. "It should be enough to make them all operate efficiently from now on."

  "See," Louisa said in a hushed voice from close behind us. "You're powerful. Other magicians need spells for their magic to work. You do not. You are special, Miss Steele. Never forget that." She peeled away to join her friends as they gathered to watch me.

  The next hour must have been quite dull for them, as I simply checked the inner workings of each device, removed parts and reassembled them. It was a task I'd performed my entire life, but it was far from dull for me. I'd not worked on many clocks or watches since Matt's return to full health, and the exercise calmed me in a way few other things did. It allowed me to empty my mind of my troubles, even thoughts of Matt and our future together, and simply drift away as peacefully as a boat on a lake.

  It wasn't until I closed the housing on the last clock that I once again became aware of the other guests as they applauded. I dipped my head to hide the flush spreading over my cheeks. It seemed silly to be celebrated for something so ordinary.

  Mrs. Delancey put a finger beneath my chin. "Don't be shy, India. You deserve this. You were wonderful."

  "I'm afraid there's nothing to see," I said, indicating the devices.

  "That's not important. What matters is that you are here and have been more than willing to share your magic with us. We are quite privileged."

  "Indeed," the woman named Louisa said. "Do have some more Champagne, Miss Steele."

  "Call me India."

  She smiled. "And you must call me Louisa." She extended a hand and I shook it. "I believe we will be friends."

  I gave her a polite smile before enduring more polite conversation with her and some of the other women. Mrs. Delancey supervised the removal of the timepieces to another room, and upon the arrival of sandwiches and cakes to replace them, she steered me away from the group to a quiet corner.

  "Now, your payment," she began. "You wished to know why Isaac Barratt was here."

  "You said he spoke with your husband about a business matter."

  "I don't know the particulars of that conversation, but I assume it's the same reason Mr. Hendry spoke to my husband privately, too."

  "Hendry!"

  She nodded. "I do know about that meeting. He asked my husband for a loan."

  "Why not go to the bank?"

  "Not a bank loan, a private one. Mr. Hendry has debts, you see, and his usual bank won't lend him any more to pay them off. It wasn't a problem until recently. You see, his debts are being called in."

  "All of them? All at once?"

  She nodded. "After Mr. Barratt's articles, the banks decided to stop lending money to known magicians. It's their way to ensure their businesses are hobbled in favor of the artless ones. Despite my husband's attempts to prevent this attitude, his own bank is also refusing to loan money to magicians."

  "So Mr. Hendry needs a sum of money now to pay off debts that have suddenly been called in, and he cannot get that money due to new loan constraints."

  "Precisely."

  "Poor Mr. Hendry, and Mr. Barratt too, if he was indeed here for the same reason. Did Mr. Delancey loan Mr. Hendry the money?"

  She nodded. "He is a friend to magicians. Both Mr. Hendry and Isaac Barratt will benefit from my husband's generosity."

  "Have any other magicians come calling on your husband at home?"

  She shook her head.

  "And what about your visit to Mr. Hendry? Why did you call on him?"

  "I wanted him to perform magic for me."

  "You mean speak a spell into the paper as he made it?"

  She crossed her arms and tapped her finger on her sleeve. It should have been a very simple answer to a very simple question, but she gave it deep consideration. "He can do more than speak a single spell to make strong paper," she finally said. "I've heard he can make paper fold itself to form lovely designs."

  I stared at her and didn't realize my jaw had dropped until I went to speak. That made three spells Mr.
Hendry knew—one to make quality paper, one to fling it as a weapon, and a third to fold it into beautiful shapes. "The paper folds without him touching it?"

  She nodded and glanced toward the group of ladies. Only Louisa noticed. "That's what I heard, but don't tell anyone. He wouldn't confirm it, so I wouldn't wish to spread the rumor if it's not true. The poor man seems to have enough on his plate at the moment, without this gaggle descending on him."

  "How did you learn that he could fold paper with a spell?"

  She hesitated, and I had to prompt her before she would answer. "I am not an eavesdropper, you understand. It is not something I make a habit of doing, but I was simply there at the right time when they were discussing Hendry."

  "Who?"

  "Lord Coyle and Sir Charles Whittaker. It was at a collector's meeting, a few evenings ago, and I'd retired to a sitting room with a headache. They came in and shut the door. Sir Charles told Coyle what he'd learned about Hendry. They didn't see me."

  "How did Sir Charles know about Hendry?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. This is our secret, India. Well, I did tell Mr. Delancey, of course. I'm not proud of my actions. I should have declared myself that night, but…" She shrugged again and looked away.

  "Neither man mentioned Hendry's abilities to the rest of the collectors?"

  She shook her head.

  "Is that odd?" I asked.

  "Yes, very. Mr. Delancey wasn't happy to be excluded, but he won't tell them what I overheard. The thing is, India, my husband thinks this is not the first time those two have discussed magical matters between themselves and not passed the information on to the rest of us."

  "Why would they do that?"

  "I don't know, but I do want you to be aware of it. Neither man can be trusted." She patted my arm. "Now, come and have some more Champagne."

  Matt was waiting up for me when I returned a few minutes before midnight. He opened the front door himself and asked me to join him in the library. I flopped into one of the deep, comfortable leather armchairs and tossed my reticule onto the side table.

  "You look happy," he said with a small smile.

  "Why wouldn't I be? I'm running away to be with the man I love. Also, I drank a little too much Champagne. It is rather delicious, though. Have you tried it?"

  "I have. Brandy?"

  A hiccup escaped at precisely that moment. "I think I'd better abstain."

  He put down the decanter and glass and crouched before me. "If I were a gentleman, I'd send you to bed and not take advantage of you." His gaze turned hooded and smoky. "But my intentions toward you are not at all gentlemanly."

  I hiccupped again and clapped a hand over my mouth.

  He laughed softly and drew my hands away. He kissed me lightly on the lips then settled in the chair opposite. "How did the evening go?"

  I shook my head. "You first. Did you go to the theater?"

  "We did. My aunt and I arrived home fifteen minutes ago. I sent her and the servants to bed. The others decided to continue with their evening." He glanced at the clock on the mantel. "Hopefully they're not getting into too much trouble."

  "Did you tell your aunt our plans?"

  "Only that we're leaving on Saturday. I decided not to tell her we want her to join us. Not yet. I'll do it on Friday, at the last possible moment. She'll want to visit her friends and tell them, and we can't risk it. She can write letters, and I'll ask Bristow to post them after we've left."

  "If she decides to come with us."

  His gaze slid away. "I think she will."

  "Matt?" I hedged. "What is it?"

  He drummed his fingers on the chair arm and for a moment, I thought he'd tell me nothing was wrong. Then he said, "She's upset about us leaving."

  "Then perhaps we should tell her she can come after all."

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "As upset as she is, I don't want to jeopardize our plans. If she tells someone…" He shook his head. "It's cruel but for the best, and it’s only for a few days. She'll be fine, once we tell her."

  "On Friday," I said hollowly. Poor Miss Steele. She must feel as though we were abandoning her. "I'll spend some time with her over the next few days between investigating."

  "Speaking of which, how did it go tonight? What did Mrs. Delancey want you to do?"

  "I worked on the timepieces her friends brought in. I didn't speak any spells," I assured him. "She simply wanted to show me off, I think. It was a little odd but quite harmless. Besides, I learned that Mr. Hendry went to see Mr. Delancey about a loan. Isaac Barratt probably did too."

  I told him what Mrs. Delancey had said about Hendry's business problems, as well as the conversation she'd overheard between Lord Coyle and Sir Charles Whittaker. That seemed to concern Matt more, if his frown was an indication, but he made no comment about it.

  "What I want to know is," I said, "who told Hendry's creditors and his bank that he was a magician?"

  Matt nodded slowly. "Someone must have. Sweeney, perhaps, or one of the other guild masters."

  "Abercrombie," I added. "It's precisely the sort of underhanded and cowardly tactic he'd employ. No bloodshed but an awful amount of trouble can be inflicted to Hendry's business this way."

  "And that of other magicians."

  "Thankfully Oscar didn't name any names aside from himself and my grandfather. I don't owe anyone money, nor do I need a loan, so I am quite safe. Isaac Barratt can't say the same. Mrs. Delancey suspects his financial problems are behind his visits to Mr. Delancey too."

  "It's yet another reason for him to be angry with his brother," Matt said.

  "As long as it's contained to just Isaac Barratt and Mr. Hendry, there's no reason for concern."

  "You have more faith in Abercrombie and his cronies than me. What's to stop them talking to the banks about men they merely suspect are magicians?"

  "Let's worry about that when it happens. Besides, we'll be far away from London and all these problems after Saturday. None of this will concern us anymore."

  He smiled that boyish smile. "You'll be far away, India. Safe."

  "Safe," I echoed. Yet I felt as though I was abandoning my fellow magicians at a time when they needed me the most.

  "India! India, wake up!" Matt's shout would have woken the entire household, not just me.

  I threw a shawl around my shoulders and opened the door. He stood there dressed only in trousers and a shirt that he had not yet tucked in. Stubble darkened his jaw and his hair was a tumbled mess.

  "What is it?" I asked, my heart in my throat.

  "Aunt Letitia has gone."

  "What do you mean? She can't have vanished."

  "She's not in the house, and Polly searched the vicinity before waking me." He scrubbed his hands down his face. "This is all my fault. I should have told her. I should have—"

  "Matt." I grabbed his hands and pulled them away. He blinked back at me with tired, worried eyes. "We'll find her. Rouse the others while I dress. She can't have got far. She's probably walking in Hyde Park."

  "If she wanted to go for a walk, she wouldn't have taken her case. Polly said some of my aunt's clothes are missing." A muscle in his jaw bunched. "And Peter saw a hansom pull away from the curb outside the house earlier. She's gone, India. She's run away."

  Chapter 13

  Trying to find an elderly lady in a city the size of London was more difficult than the proverbial needle in a haystack. After another check of the surrounding streets and Hyde Park, Matt sent word to Lord and Lady Rycroft, but they sent word back to say Miss Glass had not gone there. Matt's cousins, the three Miss Glasses, arrived with the response. They crowded into the entrance hall just as I was about to leave. Although Matt had asked me not to go out, in case Miss Glass returned, I couldn't stand being idle while he, Willie, Cyclops and Duke conducted a search. Unfortunately, his cousins caught me before I left.

  "She'll show up sooner or later," said Hope, the youngest,
prettiest and most precocious of the three.

  "She'll be calling on a friend," said Charity, glancing toward the staircase.

  "We sent messages to all her friends," I told her. "She's not with any of them."

  I tried to avoid looking at Patience but couldn't help myself. She, however, kept her gaze focused on the tiled floor.

  Hope cleared her throat. "This is rather awkward." Her smile would imply otherwise. Indeed, she seemed to enjoy our discomfort. "In truth, we thought you'd have moved out of Matt's house by now, India. It is, after all, only fair to my dear sister that you move on. It would be better for everyone."

  "Hope," Patience whined. "Don't make trouble."

  "I am merely looking out for you. You know how Matt feels about India, and having her here, constantly reminding him of what he's giving up, is too cruel for all involved, including you. Don't you think?"

  Patience's shoulders slumped further. Her sister was the cruel one, and I had a mind to tell her so, but I bit my tongue. Patience would get caught in the crossfire, and she had endured enough—and would endure more soon.

  "Bristow," I said to the butler who hovered in the shadows near the staircase, "please show the Miss Glasses out. Their business here is concluded."

  He opened the front door, but only Patience moved to leave. Charity plucked off her gloves and glanced up the stairs again. "Is Cyclops here?"

  "He's out looking for your aunt," I said.

  She pouted. "I don't see why he should. It's not as if she cares about him. She's only putting up with him because of Matt."

  "She does care," I shot back.

  She pulled a pencil from her reticule and wrote on the back of a card that she handed to Bristow. "Give this to Mr. Cyclops. Don't peek." She gave me a pointed look. "It's private."

  I refrained from rolling my eyes. Just.

  "Patience, you might as well wait here for your fiancé to return," Hope said to her sister. "I'm sure he'd like to see you."

  "I'd rather not," Patience mumbled.

  "Tosh." Hope thrust her nose into the air. "This will be your home, soon. You should get used to being here. Perhaps introduce yourself to the servants and make them aware of your wishes. They'll be taking orders from you soon enough."