“Really?” Miss Matthews’s wide eyes were fixed on Kim. “Was it so very bad?”
“It was certainly intended to be,” Mairelon said. His eyes, full of amusement, met Kim’s, and she felt lightheaded with relief. As long as he hadn’t taken her antics in bad part, she didn’t give a farthing for Mrs. Lowe.
Unexpectedly, Henry Fulton laughed. “Miss Merrill, I think we are both correct. I had not heard nearly enough about you, and what I did hear certainly did not do you justice.”
Kim blinked and said cautiously, “Well, that ain’t my lookout.”
“Kim!” Mrs. Lowe said. “Be still!”
“It is much too late for that,” Mrs. Hardcastle said acidly. “Really, Agatha, you might have told me.”
“Told you what?” Mairelon said. “That my ward was once a street thief? I didn’t think it was a secret.”
“A street thief?” Letitia wrinkled her nose and looked at Kim with disfavor. “How horrid.”
“I think it is the most romantic story I have ever heard,” Miss Matthews said with conviction.
Mr. Fulton gave her an approving look, which caused Miss Matthews to blush in confusion.
Kim shook her head. Abandoning cant language, she said soberly, “It may sound romantic, but living on the street isn’t very pleasant. Horrid describes it much better.”
“I do not believe that was what Miss Tarnower was referring to,” Mrs. Hardcastle said. She seemed even more upset by Kim’s reversion to standard English than she had been by the string of thieves’ cant.
Mrs. Lowe rose to her feet. “We must be going,” she said stiffly. “At once.”
“But you have only just arrived,” Letitia objected. “And I particularly wished to ask Mr. Merrill something, because he has been on the Continent.”
Kim had not thought it possible for Mrs. Lowe to get any stiffer, but she did. “Another time, perhaps.”
“Nonsense, Aunt,” Mairelon said, leaning back in his chair. “We can spare another few minutes to gratify the young lady’s curiosity.”
“Richard . . .”
“What was it you wanted to ask, Miss Tarnower?” Mairelon asked.
“Why, only if you had ever heard of a Prince Alexei Nicholaiovitch Durmontov,” Letitia said.
“Durmontov?” Mairelon said in a thoughtful tone. “No, I can’t say that I met anyone of that name while I was in France, though there were a number of respectable Russians there from time to time. Of course, most of the people I dealt with there were not respectable at all.”
“That appears to continue true.” Mrs. Hardcastle sniffed and looked pointedly in Kim’s direction.
“Well, it’s only to be expected,” Mairelon said consolingly. “London Society isn’t what it once was.”
Both Mr. Fulton and Miss Matthews experienced sudden fits of coughing. Kim found herself entirely in sympathy with them; she was having trouble choking back her own laughter at Mairelon’s deliberate outrageousness.
Mrs. Hardcastle, however, was neither amused nor misled. “I was speaking, sir, of your so-called ward.”
Mrs. Lowe bristled and began to say something, but Mairelon held up a restraining hand. “Were you, indeed?” he said in a deceptively gentle tone to Mrs. Hardcastle. “Then you will certainly not wish to attend her come-out ball. I must remember not to send you a card.”
Kim’s stomach did a sudden flip-flop. Come-out ball? He’s got windmills in his head. Doesn’t he?
“Richard!” Mrs. Lowe gasped.
“Ah, yes, you wanted to be going,” Mairelon said, ignoring the reddening Mrs. Hardcastle. “I find that for once I am in agreement with you, Aunt.” He rose and nodded to Mr. Fulton. “Give my regards to your brother. If you’ll send me his direction, I shall stop in to see him. Your servant, ladies.” He made an elegant bow that managed to include Miss Matthews and Miss Tarnower while excluding Mrs. Hardcastle, and ushered Kim and his thunderstruck aunt from the room.
5
They were hardly out of Mrs. Hardcastle’s house before Mrs. Lowe turned to Mairelon. “Richard, I fear that your unfortunate impulses have landed you in difficulties once again.”
Mairelon raised an eyebrow. “I do hope that you are not referring to my ward. I thought I was finished with that subject for today.”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Lowe said with a look at Kim that spoke volumes, none of them pleasant. “But that I intend to discuss with you privately, at a later time.” She climbed into the carriage and waited for Kim and Mairelon to find their own seats. Then, as the carriage began to move, she said, “No, I was referring to your invention of a come-out ball for Kim. While I fully understand your desire to give Mrs. Hardcastle a set-down, I must tell you that it will certainly have precisely the opposite effect, once she realizes that no such party is being planned.”
“I’m sure she feels just as you do,” Mairelon murmured. “But think of her chagrin when she discovers that it will, in fact, be held.”
“Richard, your flights of fancy take you too far,” Mrs. Lowe said severely. “You can’t possibly introduce a girl of dubious antecedents into Polite Society.” She gave Kim another look. “Particularly a girl whose behavior cannot be depended upon.”
“That’s three,” Mairelon said with apparent interest.
“Three what?” Mrs. Lowe asked, clearly at a loss.
“Three mistakes in one speech. First, Kim’s, er, antecedents aren’t dubious, they’re completely unknown. That is, if you’re referring to her parents. Second, her behavior is entirely dependable and shows a great deal of good sense.”
“If you call using vulgar cant phrases in Mrs. Hardcastle’s drawing room showing good sense—”
“And third,” Mairelon went on implacably, “I am quite capable of introducing my ward to Polite Society—though judging by this afternoon, I’d say the adjective is extremely ill-chosen.”
Kim found her voice at last. “Mairelon—”
“Kim, I have told you a dozen times: Refer to your guardian as Mr. Merrill, if you please,” Mrs. Lowe snapped.
“I don’t please,” Kim said. “And I’m no good at wrapping it up in clean linen, so there’s no use my trying. Mairelon—”
“You are being deliberately impudent and unmannerly,” Mrs. Lowe said crossly. “I don’t know which of you is worse.”
“Yes, it’s why Kim and I deal so well together,” Mairelon said.
Before Mrs. Lowe could respond to this provoking remark, the carriage came to a halt and the footman sprang to open the door, putting a stop to further conversation. As they descended, a ragged boy of nine or ten materialized next to the front stoop, and stood staring up at Mairelon. Automatically, Kim moved her reticule to her far hand and backed off a step.
The boy ignored her. “You that Merrill cove?” he demanded of Mairelon. “The frogmaker?”
“I’m a magician, and my name is Merrill.”
“Got something for you to give to a chap named Kim,” the boy said. “A bob cull up by Threadneedle told me you’d give me a bender for delivering it.”
Mairelon studied the boy for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. “There’s your sixpence. What have you got?”
“Here you go, governor.” The boy dropped something into Mairelon’s outstretched palm, snatched the sixpence from his other hand, and ran off down the street.
“Fascinating,” Mairelon murmured, looking after him. “Now, who do we know who would use such an . . . unusual method of communication? And what does it mean?”
Kim leaned over to see what Mairelon was holding. It was a cheap wooden button, scratched deeply from one side to the other. “It’s from Tom Correy,” she said. “He’s got a secondhand shop on Petticoat Lane, off Thread needle. This is how he always used to let me know he wanted to see me. How did he know to send it to you? I never told anyone where I was going.”
“I did,” Mairelon said, handing her the button. “In a general sort of way. I wonder what he wants? Somehow, I
doubt that the timing is coincidental.”
“Tom didn’t have nothing to do with that filching cove last night!”
“Kim!” Mrs. Lowe said. “Mind your language.”
“ ‘Anything to do with,’ ” Mairelon said calmly. “And I didn’t claim he had. If he’s heard something about the business, though, that might account for his summons.” He frowned suddenly. “Or our mysterious burglar may be hoping to hire you to complete his work.”
“As if I would!”
“Yes, well, he doesn’t know that, does he?”
“Need we discuss this in the street?” Mrs. Lowe said with a significant look in the direction of the interested footmen.
“A reasonable enough point,” Mairelon said, and they proceeded into the house.
Inside, Mrs. Lowe looked at Mairelon and said, “I wish to speak further with you about all this, Richard. I will expect you in the drawing room. Immediately.” Without waiting for an answer, she swept up the stairs, leaving Mairelon and Kim standing just inside the door.
“I have a few questions, too,” Kim said.
“Aunt Agatha got in before you, I’m afraid,” Mairelon said. “You’ll have to wait. Unless you want to join us?”
“No,” Kim said hastily. “I’ll talk to you after.”
“In the library. You can study your orisons and invocations while you wait,” Mairelon said, and disappeared down the back hall before Kim could say anything more.
Fuming, Kim went up to the library and flopped into a chair. Introduce me to Polite Society! He’s dicked in the nob. And anyway, the last thing I want is to spend more time having tea with widgeons like that Tarnower gentry-mort. She glared at the book of invocations, but didn’t bother picking it up. Even if she could calm down enough to puzzle out the letters, nothing she read while she was in this state would stick. And what in thunder does Tom Correy want? He can’t have a job for me; if he knows about Mairelon, he knows I don’t need to go on the sharping lay any more. And how am I going to sneak down to Petticoat Lane in skirts?
Tom wouldn’t have sent for her if it wasn’t urgent, but he didn’t know that Kim was a girl. She’d dressed and acted as a boy for all her years on the London streets, and only Mother Tibb had known the truth. The back alleys of London were dangerous places at the best of times, and doubly dangerous for girls. Petticoat Lane wasn’t quite as bad as the rookeries of St. Giles, or the stews around Vauxhall and Covent Gardens, but it was still far from safe.
If I go well after dark, in boy’s clothes, I might still be able to pass. But she had no idea what had become of her old garments, and even if she had, they wouldn’t fit her now. Mrs. Lowe would never countenance a shopping expedition for an appropriate jacket and breeches, let alone Kim’s actually wearing them anywhere. Mairelon . . . Mairelon wouldn’t mind the boy’s clothes, but Kim felt oddly reluctant to ask him for help in this. She owed Tom a lot, from the bad times before she’d met Mairelon, and the debt was one she had to pay herself.
When Mairelon arrived fifteen minutes later, Kim was no nearer a solution to her problem. She looked up as he came in, and with a particularly cheerful grin he said, “Well, that’s settled, more or less. Now, what was it you wanted to ask?”
All thoughts of Tom Correy fled from Kim’s mind at once. “Settled?” she croaked. “What’s settled?”
“The business of presenting you to Society,” Mairelon said. “Aunt Agatha doesn’t like it, of course, but it’s clear enough that she’ll agree to sponsor you eventually.”
“Eventually?” Kim grasped at the slim hope.
Mairelon’s grin widened even more. “Right now, she’s too furious with me to agree to anything, but she’ll come around as soon as I propose letting Renée D’Auber sponsor you instead. She’s far too conventional to let my ward be presented by someone who’s not a member of the family.”
“You enjoy annoying her,” Kim said in surprise.
“Nonsense. It’s much too easy—everything annoys Aunt Agatha. Now, you had some questions, I think?”
“Not exactly. It’s just that you forgot to ask me.”
Mairelon blinked, then looked a little sheepish. “I’m sorry about springing it on you, but I wanted it to be clear to Aunt Agatha that you hadn’t been scheming for a come-out all along. It worked, too.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Kim said. “That just explains why you didn’t tell me what you were planning. I’m talking about asking me whether I wanted to be launched into Society.”
“I didn’t think I had to,” Mairelon said. “It’s obvious that you haven’t been happy since we got back to London. I thought you wanted a change.”
So he did notice, Kim thought, but the knowledge only added to her growing annoyance with him. “Well, I haven’t been, and I did want a change, but that’s not the point. A year ago, I wanted to get off the streets, but I didn’t want it badly enough to go to the stews.”
“I should hope not,” Mairelon said, and for an instant he sounded exactly like his aunt. Then he gave her a worried look, and the resemblance vanished. “It’s not just a matter of presenting you, you know. I’m hoping that if we circulate a bit during the Season, we’ll run across our mysterious toff burglar.”
“That’s not the point,” Kim repeated. “A year ago, you asked me if I wanted to be your ward, when it was a lot plainer that I’d jump at the chance. But you didn’t ask me about coming out in Society, and you didn’t ask me about ‘circulating during the Season.’ You’re as bad as Mrs. Lowe.”
“What?” Mairelon looked startled, and for the first time, Kim felt as if she might have gotten through to him.
“Mrs. Lowe didn’t ask me whether I came to London to catch a husband, she just decided that’s what I wanted. Or that it would be best for me. And you didn’t ask about this. You both act like I’m some fog-headed mort who ain’t got sense enough to make up her own mind about anything.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry don’t fix it.”
“What would? Do you want me to tell Aunt Agatha you refuse to be presented?”
“Yes,” Kim said. “That’s exactly what I want.”
Mairelon looked startled. “Why? It’s not because of that Hardcastle woman’s remarks this afternoon, or the Tarnower girl’s attitude, is it? Their opinions really don’t matter in the slightest.”
“Not to you. But I ain’t been out with your poker-backed aunt every day for a week without noticing that the opinions of bubble-brains like those two matter a lot to some people. Your aunt, for one.”
Mairelon frowned. “And do they matter to you? Is that why you’re so . . . overset?”
“No.” Kim flung her hands up in exasperation. “Not the way you mean, not now. But if I was to get launched into Society, their opinions would have to matter, wouldn’t they? Because that’s what Society is, mostly.”
“What an unfortunately truthful observation,” Mairelon said. “I take your point. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you in front of them.”
“You shouldn’t of sprung it on me at all! You ought to of asked me about it first, and not just because you thought I’d give you a trimming if you didn’t.” Kim stopped and took a deep breath. Then she said quietly, “It’s my life. And I ain’t—I’m not a noodle.”
“No one said you were.”
“You act like it.” She shook her head. “Maybe it’s just how you toffs are, deciding what other people should do. But I wasn’t born and bred to it. I don’t like it. And I ain’t never going to get used to it.”
There was a brief silence. Then Mairelon shook his head. “Very well, if you really don’t wish to have a come-out, I’ll talk to Aunt Agatha again. Tomorrow, I think; that will give her time to calm down, and I can probably convince her that her excellent arguments persuaded us to reconsider, which might even put her in charity with both of us.”
“Good,” Kim said, trying to convince herself that she meant it. After all she’d never have thought of it herself
, the fairy-tale images of being presented at a real Society ball were hard to dismiss now that they’d been offered to her. Just like the ash-girl in the stories Red Sal used to tell. But it ain’t a story. Cut line, she told herself severely.
The library door opened, and Hunch came in. “ ’Ere’s that list of books you wanted.”
“The inventory? Excellent.” Mairelon took the papers that Hunch held out to him and scanned the first page. After a moment, he shuffled it to the bottom of the stack and began on the next. Kim watched, feeling an odd mixture of relief, curiosity, and regret. Halfway down the fourth page, Mairelon paused. His frown deepened momentarily; then he smiled. “Found it at last!”
“Found what?” Kim said. “That liver book Lord Kerring was talking about?”
“Livre de mémoire,” Mairelon corrected, “and yes, I have. Le Livre de Sept Sorciers: un livre de mémoire by Madame Marie de Cambriol. It was in this library, all right; now let’s find out whether it still is. According to this, it should be a smallish volume with a blue leather binding.”
Kim took a quick look at the page in Mairelon’s hand, to make sure she would recognize the title when she saw it, then started going through the shelves on one side of the room. Mairelon took the other side, and Hunch, muttering under his breath and chewing on his mustache, began on the cabinets under the windows.
Three-quarters of the way down the second set of shelves, Kim found it—a short, slim volume sandwiched between two much larger ones. “Is this it?” she called, holding it up.
Mairelon joined her. “It certainly is,” he said, scowling at it.
“What’s the matter?” Kim said. “I thought you’d be pleased that it hasn’t gone missing.”
“Oh, I am, I am,” Mairelon said. “But you must admit, this confuses things considerably.”
Hunch look up. “ ’Ow’s that, Master Richard?”
“Well, if it had been missing, we’d have had a good idea that this was what our burglar was after,” Mairelon replied. “Now, we can’t be sure, especially since that spell we used last night didn’t make it glow like the other books he’d pulled off the shelves.”
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