Wyrde and Wayward

by Charlotte E. English

  ‘And a watchman has lost his arm,’ said Great-Aunt Honoria, with relish.

  ‘No, was it taken quite off?’ said Gussie. ‘I thought it had only been savaged.’

  ‘Perhaps that was it,’ she allowed.

  Lord Maundevyle definitely disapproved of her now, for his eyes had gone wide, and when he caught her looking at him he looked quickly down at his plate.

  Then again, with a sister like Clarissa surely he was accustomed to worse?

  ‘By the landlord’s account, the injuries suffered by those two men are a match for the servants at Mrs. Daventry’s,’ said Mr. Ballantine. ‘Albeit more severe. And since those events took place on the same night, and not far from Mrs. Daventry’s house, I believe we can feel tolerably certain that the curse-book is responsible for both.’

  ‘In which case it was known to flee down Pelham Lane,’ said Gussie. ‘And then — where?’

  ‘I’ve heard nothing else,’ Mr. Ballantine admitted. ‘Wherever it went after that, it has left no trail that we may easily follow.’

  ‘Supposing it did go somewhere else?’ said Gussie.

  ‘Aye, what is on Pelham Lane?’ said Theo. ‘Perhaps it found something to its liking.’

  ‘Why would it break so spectacularly out of Mrs. Daventry’s book-room only to linger a street or two away?’ said Mr. Ballantine.

  ‘It’s of no use expecting sensible behaviour from a Book,’ said Theo.

  ‘Quite,’ said Mr. Ballantine. ‘I wonder that it didn’t occur to me to realise it before.’

  When the waiter came in soon afterwards, bearing a fresh jug of lemonade, Mr. Ballantine bade him pause. ‘Is there anything of note on Pelham Lane?’

  The waiter paled. ‘You don’t want to go near there, sir. The most terrible things have been happening!’

  ‘I know. I am here to look into it.’

  The waiter appeared to notice his red Runner’s waistcoat for the first time. ‘Oh!’ he said, but cast a doubtful eye over Mr. Ballantine’s company, unmistakeably gentry.

  ‘My associates,’ said Mr. Ballantine. ‘It makes more sense than it doesn’t.’

  The waiter set down the pottery jug with great care, and finally answered: ‘There isn’t much on Pelham, sir. There’s St. Mary’s church, of course, and Fletcher’s circulating library—’

  ‘A churchyard,’ said Mr. Ballantine, with emphasis.

  ‘A library,’ said Theo.

  Mr. Ballantine looked up. ‘You think it’s there?’

  Theo’s lips quirked in an acid smile. ‘Where else would it make any sense for a Book to go?’

  ‘I thought there was no expecting sensible behaviour from a Book?’

  ‘But you must allow, there’s nowhere else it could be so well hidden.’

  The waiter making fast for the door, Gussie raised her voice. ‘There haven’t been any reports of trouble at Fletcher’s, I suppose?’

  ‘Trouble, ma’am?’ said the waiter.

  ‘Deaths or injuries,’ she smiled.

  The poor boy visibly shuddered. ‘Not that I hear tell of, ma’am.’

  ‘How disappointing. Thank you.’

  The waiter shot her a horrified look, and fled.

  ‘Well,’ said Mr. Ballantine. ‘If there’s a man or woman left in this inn who won’t go to bed with nightmares, it won’t be for lack of trying.’

  Gussie applied herself to her salmagundy, and made no answer.

  Fletcher’s Circulating Library proved to be a cramped establishment, with a number of volumes and periodicals on display, and signs of a closed back room that interested Gussie very much.

  Thus much had to be determined by peeping through a window, for the place was shut.

  ‘Ought it not to be open?’ said Gussie doubtfully.

  ‘I am not much familiar with the practices of subscription libraries,’ Mr. Ballantine admitted.

  ‘Well, nor I, but I cannot suppose there is much custom to be had if one does not trouble to keep one’s establishment open.’

  Mr. Ballantine eyed the locked door with misgiving. ‘I hope it isn’t a sign of some of that trouble you spoke of,’ he said. ‘But in case it is, I’d be glad if you ladies would keep away.’

  ‘I daresay you would,’ said Gussie.

  ‘Gussie,’ said Theo. ‘I am sure it wasn’t your intention to come along only to put Mr. Ballantine into difficulties?’

  ‘Of course not, but—’

  ‘Then unless you are possessed of some method of self-preservation I’ve yet to witness in you, I suggest you do as Mr. Ballantine asks.’

  ‘I emerged unscathed from my last interview with the Book!’ she retorted. Then, remembering the welts upon her arms, amended this to, ‘Well, nearly so!’

  ‘Different book. As far as we know, the Book of Werth has yet to kill anybody.’

  ‘Untrue,’ said Lady Honoria, polishing a spot of window with her sleeve before peering into the library. ‘Or did you never wonder how your great-aunt Bertha came to die so young?’

  Theo, observed to turn whiter than usual, let this pass. ‘Gussie?’ he said, when she made so bold as to attempt the handle. ‘Please?’

  She turned, shocked. ‘Did you say please?’

  ‘I should prefer not to have to explain to my mother why you are brought back in pieces.’

  ‘That would be unpleasant,’ she allowed. ‘Though I do not see why Lord Maundevyle is to be permitted entry. He is not so very terrifying, either, save in his dragon form, and he can hardly take it on in the street.’ Having said thus much, she retired to the far side of the street with very ill grace.

  ‘Perfectly true,’ said Lord Maundevyle, and came to stand beside her. ‘You will permit me, I hope, to stand lookout over you instead.’

  She looked up at him, unimpressed. ‘I am only female, sir, not blind. I am able to perceive the rampant approach of a murderous Book just as well as you.’

  He was expressionless, as always, but it struck her that his eyes were smiling. ‘Pray humour me. My part in this adventure ended when I brought you all into Suffolk, and my pride will not bear having nothing of any use to do.’

  ‘In that case, I am decidedly in need of a guard.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it.’

  ‘After all, there is no saying what my cousin may do when he grows hungry.’

  ‘Surely he has been sufficiently sustained?’

  ‘Mrs. Baker’s comestibles were admirable, but not the sort to be of much use to Theo.’

  Lord Maundevyle digested that. ‘I had wondered,’ he said. ‘All those nightly perambulations.’

  ‘He imagines it to be a secret, beyond the family. Pray don’t disabuse him of the notion. He is like to become cantankerous.’

  ‘I shall be as silent as the grave,’ he promised.

  Lady Honoria gave an eloquent, and hellish, cackle.

  ‘I… hadn’t thought,’ said Lord Maundevyle in horror.

  Lady Honoria patted his arm, probably in an attempt to reassure, but since the gesture left a quantity of grave-dust smeared across his lordship’s sleeve, it was not much appreciated.

  Across the street, Lord Bedgberry and Mr. Ballantine had given up on forcing the front door, and slipped around to the side of the building instead. Gussie caught only occasional glimpses of their activities thereafter, but she did hear the faint but distinctive sounds of a window creaking open, and witnessed a pair of airborne feet disappearing through it shortly afterwards.

  ‘They are in!’ she crowed.

  ‘I wonder if we shall be taken up as loiterers?’ mused Lord Maundevyle. ‘I hope they do not expect to be very long.’

  ‘An ancient curse-book must surely stand out, even in a book-shop,’ Gussie said. ‘In fact—’

  She stopped, for the front door of the library swung open with a crash, and Mr. Ballantine came barrelling out with Theo close behind him.

  Gussie hurried across the street. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I believe we’ve found Mr. Fletcher
,’ he said grimly.

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘Let’s say that I hope so, shall we?’

  Gussie swallowed. ‘And what of—’

  The door slammed shut again, but now there was no sign of Theo.

  ‘He has not gone back in again?’ she gasped.

  Mr. Ballantine swung back around, and stared at the door in consternation. He tried the handle; locked.

  ‘Lord Bedgberry!’ he shouted, and pounded upon the unyielding wood.

  Somewhere behind the noise of Mr. Ballantine’s protests, Gussie could hear a familiar crash.

  ‘I daresay he will be all right,’ she said. ‘He has got his axe with him.’

  Mr. Ballantine stared, wild-eyed. ‘His axe? You imagine an axe will be sufficient defence against that book?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Gussie. ‘But an axe wielded by Lord Bedgberry? Very likely.’

  ‘The lot of you are out of your wits,’ said Mr. Ballantine savagely, and set off around to the side of the building again.

  But Gussie grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t! Why do you think Theo shut the door on you?’

  ‘This is no time to hesitate! Your cousin is in the gravest danger—’

  ‘Will you not listen? Five minutes ago you reminded me that my presence was like to be more of a liability than an advantage, and you must believe the same is now true for you. Theo knows what he is doing.’

  ‘This is my duty,’ said Mr. Ballantine. ‘I am a Bow Street Runner. It is my job to protect the lot of you, not stand back in safety while you’re injured or killed while doing my work for me.’ Half this sentence emerged somewhat strained, as he was at work upon the window again. This time, Gussie could not prevent him from hauling himself up onto the ledge, and vanishing back inside.

  Gussie sighed. ‘I did rather like him, you know,’ she said to her aunt.

  Great-Aunt Honoria nodded sympathetically. ‘A pity.’

  Gussie paused for half a minute more, wincing at the sounds emerging from Fletcher’s library. ‘There must be something we can do,’ she fretted. ‘Theo can take care of himself, but of Mr. Ballantine as well?’

  ‘I will find out what is passing,’ said Honoria, and in the blink of an eye she was reduced once more to a severed head. She experienced some small difficulty in fitting her high-stacked hair through the open window, but soon she, too, disappeared inside.

  Gussie was within half a minute of throwing caution to the winds and following them both, when she became aware of a presence nearby.

  She turned.

  It was not the Book, as she had briefly feared. It was Lord Maundevyle, a dragon again, and in danger of demolishing two or three houses if he should chance to move unwisely. His head rose higher than the rooftops.

  ‘Oh, for—! Lord Maundevyle! You cannot imagine this useful!’

  He ignored her, lowered his head, and bashed his face against the firmly locked door. It crumpled at once — the door, to her relief, not Lord Maundevyle’s face — and he proceeded to fit as much of himself through it as he could.

  This was not much, to be fair, but seemingly enough, for two minutes afterwards he withdrew his head again.

  Clamped between his teeth was a furiously writhing Book.

  Theo, dishevelled and bleeding, appeared at the ruined door. ‘Has he got it? He’s got it!’ He stared up and up at the towering dragon engaged in a grim battle with a betentacled Book bent on escape.

  ‘Can he hold it?’ Gussie gasped.

  For an agonising moment, it appeared as though the Book would slip through his teeth — or beat him into submission, as it strove to do — and career off down Pelham Lane, there to spread further disaster.

  But Lord Maundevyle braced himself, tensed his long, muscled neck, and with an audible crunch bit down hard upon the Book’s ancient covers.

  A tearing crack sounded, and a thin scream, and the curse-book went limp.

  Slowly, Lord Maundevyle lowered his head.

  ‘Take care!’ Gussie warned. ‘I am sure it is not above a little misdirection! It may yet escape.’

  But it did not. Once laid upon the cobbles of the street, Gussie saw that its covers were torn almost in two, and many of its pages severed from the spine.

  Theo sagged against the doorframe, breathing hard. ‘Good God,’ he said. ‘The thing is worse than ours.’

  Lord Maundevyle was so ungentlemanly as to spit, as though something foul-tasting filled his mouth. ‘What are they?’ he roared.

  ‘I did not until this week realise there was more than one,’ Gussie said. ‘I have no answer for you.’ Then, tearing her eyes from the grotesque sight of the fallen and savaged curse-book, she straightened with a start, said, ‘But Mr. Ballantine!’ and tore past Theo into the library.

  He lay prone near the back of the room, surrounded by a rain of fallen volumes and the sheets of torn newspapers. Gussie ran to him, her heart pounding, but by the time she reached him he was already struggling to sit up.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ she said, dropping to her knees beside him. ‘You are alive.’

  ‘I think so,’ he wheezed.

  ‘Are you very badly hurt, sir?’

  ‘Less so than I deserve to be,’ he said grimly, putting a hand to his bloodied face. ‘You were right, Miss Werth. I should have listened to you.’ He caught his breath upon a half-sob of pain, and let it out slowly. ‘I lasted twenty seconds, I think. It cannot have been more.’

  ‘You could have little notion what you were facing,’ she said charitably.

  ‘Having met the Book of Werth, I ought to have had.’ He rose slowly to his feet, and stood swaying slightly. Gussie hovered, wishful of assisting him, but unwilling to encroach so far. ‘I’ll have much to tell when I return to London. We are in no way equipped to deal with the likes of this.’

  Gussie supposed that “we” meant his fellow Runners, particularly those specialising in the Wyrde. ‘Then it will prove a profitable adventure, sir, and you had better stop berating yourself over it. It never does do any good, you know.’

  He nodded, and condescended so far as to accept the arm Gussie offered to him. ‘I take it the cursed thing has been subdued?’

  ‘By Lord Maundevyle,’ Gussie nodded. ‘Those teeth of his really are impressive.’

  Once outside, Mr. Ballantine stood looking down at the ruined book with some chagrin. ‘Mrs. Daventry won’t be pleased.’

  ‘I shall offer to buy it from her for a fabulous sum, and she will be very well satisfied,’ said Theo.

  ‘Buy it?’ Gussie repeated, dismayed. ‘Theo, you are not proposing to take the thing home?’

  ‘What else is to be done with it?’ he demanded. ‘I don’t see that anyone else can be relied upon to keep it contained, and we cannot have it whittling down the good citizens of Woodburgh any further.’

  ‘My uncle will not approve. Theo, I am persuaded no one at the Towers will approve.’

  ‘Do you have some other notion?’

  Gussie looked at Mr. Ballantine.

  ‘I can’t help you,’ he said. ‘As I may have mentioned, we are not equipped for such a charge.’

  Gussie gave a sigh. ‘I wonder what has become of Great-Aunt Honoria?’ she said, and wandered back into the library.

  ‘Miss Werth—’ began Mr. Ballantine.

  Gussie had already stopped, having perceived what she had been too distracted to notice before: the crumpled body of a man, presumably Mr. Fletcher, slumped against one wall. He appeared as though he had been thrown there, with sufficient force to break several of his bones — including his neck.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she sighed. ‘Aunt, he is too far gone. I don’t believe you will find it possible to speak to him.’

  Lady Honoria acknowledged the truth of this, and abandoned her station some three inches away from Mr. Fletcher’s grey and rigid face. ‘I always did envy your uncle his abilities, a little,’ she admitted. ‘I am quite unable to replicate them.’ By the time she reached the door she had once again donned her b
ody and limbs, and was restored to as much respectability as she was capable of achieving. ‘Are we for home, then?’ she said.

  ‘I presume so,’ Gussie said. ‘I’m afraid we are taking somebody back with us.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘Another book,’ said Lady Werth stonily. ‘You cannot mean… another Book?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, Aunt. Theo would have it so, and to be truthful I could think of few reasons to argue with him over it.’

  ‘Besides the incidental fact of my excessive dislike to the scheme?’

  ‘Yes! And yours, too, Uncle,’ Gussie said. ‘But he was unmoved. I could almost believe him to have taken a fancy to the Books.’

  Lord Maundevyle had restored Gussie, Great-Aunt Honoria and Lord Bedgberry to the Towers, leaving Mr. Ballantine to oversee the clean-up of Woodburgh, and subsequently to return to London to make his report to Bow Street. The hour being far advanced by the time of the dragon’s descent into the Park, Gussie had been famished, but too weary to think much of her dinner. She had gone directly to her cottage, choosing to break the news of the second Book to her aunt and uncle in the morning.

  If she had entertained hopes that Theo might have spared her that duty, she was destined to be disappointed. Having acquainted Miss Frostell with the previous day’s events, she walked up to the Towers straight after breakfast, and found Lord and Lady Werth still enjoying a state of blissful ignorance as to their return.

  Thankfully, there was no sign of the Reverend Cardwell, or of Miss Horne either.

  Determined to get the business over with as quickly as possible, Gussie had collected her victims into her aunt’s favourite parlour, and there undertaken the task of destroying their comfort.

  ‘What can he have been thinking?’ gasped Lady Werth.

  ‘The curse-book had been badly behaved,’ Gussie said. ‘I believe he thought it a little too much to leave a murderous Book on the loose in Woodburgh.’

  ‘Murderous?’

  ‘It is known to have dispatched a few unfortunates.’

  Lady Werth subsided into a horrified silence.

  ‘Could not Mr. Ballantine have taken it away?’ said Lord Werth, a little plaintively.

  ‘The Runners had never even heard of such Books before, Uncle. Mr. Ballantine denied having any notion how to contain one of them.’