Arcane Adversaries

by Jess Faraday

  “Did you even tell him about us, Simon?”

  “I—”

  “Of course, you didn’t.”

  His eyes were suddenly brimming, and he turned toward the window, pressing his fingers against his eyelids.

  “Theo….” Shame burned at the corners of my eyes, and I cast around for something to say that would make this right. “He moved on a long time ago. He’s slept with every man in Edinburgh by now, and probably a few of the women, too. In fact—”

  He whirled. “And I suppose he told you all about it?”

  “Yes, actually—”

  “That proves it.”

  “Proves what?”

  “That he’s not finished with you, not by a mile.”

  “But—” I began.

  He scoffed. “Do you know how many men try to mend a broken heart by sleeping with anything that moves? Of course, it’s even better that you let him rub your nose in it. I bet he loved that.”

  “That makes no sense!” I sputtered.

  He laughed. “Only because you’re the other sort.”

  “Oh? What sort is that?”

  “The kind that drinks, sulks, and runs away. I’m right. You know I am.”

  I said, “I...it certainly seems possible.”

  “It certainly seems possible,” he repeated in a snide but unsettlingly accurate imitation of me.

  I said, “At least I didn’t call you by another man’s name while you were dragging me from a burning building.”

  “No,” he said, his voice tense with hatred. “You saved that for the first time we made love.”

  We stared at each other, hearts thundering, breaths coming fast and ragged, as if our fight had been physical. How had it come to this? From his expression, he seemed to be wondering the same thing. A tear slid down the side of his face. He made no move to wipe it away.

  “I know you loved him,” he said when it seemed the silence would crush us both. “Did you ever love me?”

  “I did. I do.”

  That seemed to surprise him. Perhaps he expected me to waver or struggle for words. But I loved him as completely as I had ever loved Cal. The problem was, I suspected it wasn’t enough to keep me from going to London. And I suspected he knew that. He pressed his palms against his eyelids and took a deep, steadying breath. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, controlled, and resigned.

  “I love you too,” he said. “But I’m not ready to be in love again, and neither are you.”

  The simple truth of it hit like a fist. I’d thought I was building a new life on an unshakable foundation. But the mere thought of seeing Cal again had cracked that foundation. Was I ready to love someone else? Would I ever be? And Theo…had Tom Wallace been occupying his thoughts to the same degree all along? The thought made me want to…drink, sulk, and run away.

  “So, where does that leave us?” I said.

  He considered me. “I loved Tom. Whether he loved me or not, I’ll never know, but either way, he’s not coming back. But….” He blew out a heavy breath and pulled his hair back from his forehead. “Could you ever be happy, truly happy with me, if you thought there might still be a chance with…with….”

  “I could ignore the letter. Say it arrived too late. I’ll rip it up right now and pretend I never saw it. Is that what you want me to do?”

  The thought made my stomach lurch, but I’d do it if he asked me to.

  He laughed again, shaking his loose, dark curls. “If I had a brain in my head I’d say yes, because I know you mean it. But the thing about love is, Simon, you know it’s true when you want the other person’s happiness more than you want your own.”

  The last few words came out strangled and strained, and I felt my own throat tightening in response. Why was it that we could only be so honest when everything was crashing down? It would be ridiculous if it weren’t so tragic. Somehow I found myself behind the desk, pushing his chair aside, and taking him in my arms. He clung to me as if to life itself.

  “I love you so much,” I whispered as his shoulders began to shake.

  “I love you, too, but it’s not enough.”

  “It could be.”

  His face buried in the crook of my neck, he shook his head. “I don’t want to be a consolation prize—and neither should you.”

  There it was again. I wasn’t the only one whose heart was still longing for another. If only I could have gone back in time, to the day before, and ripped up that letter as I’d thought to do, letting the pieces blow away like snowflakes along the Bodmin Road. Mrs. Gilbert’s words came back to me. Your letters could land you in a bit of a pickle.

  “Oh, Theo,” I whispered.

  “I hate this. It’s all wrong.”

  “How can I make it right? Tell me what to do.”

  “You know what to do.” He drew another long breath, paused, then lifted his head and rested his forehead against mine. The afternoon light caught the drops at the tips of his long eyelashes. Blotches marred his cheeks and the end of his nose. He had never looked so strong, so beautiful, or so utterly beyond my reach. “Go to London. See if you can salvage things with him. Go with my blessing, go with my love, but Simon, if he rejects you, don’t turn up on my doorstep.”

  “You wouldn’t take me back?” I tried to joke, but it sounded desperate and sad.

  He pressed his lips to my forehead. “I would, and that’s the problem. I’d take you back so fast you’d forget you’d even left. But then I’d lose whatever shred of self-respect that might have remained.”

  There was nothing more to say after that, and we didn’t try. We simply held each other tightly, fiercely, knowing that when we let go, it would be for good.

  Late afternoon shadows were gathering when I arrived at the constabulary. The main office was bustling with end-of-the-day activity, and the air crackled with anticipation of the evening shift change. Trevelyan was seated at the clerk’s desk, having set aside his broom in favor of paperwork. We exchanged a nod as I made my way to the chief inspector’s office. Landry’s door was open, and I hung there in the doorway, halfway between asking to enter and turning tail. Sensing my presence, the chief inspector raised his head.

  “May I come in, sir?” I asked.

  “Of course. Shut the door, if you like. Take a seat.”

  I did shut the door, but remained standing. I held out my envelope across the desk.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “My resignation.”

  It seemed extreme. It was extreme. But the more I thought about it, the clearer it became that this was the only course of action. Cal wouldn’t come all the way to London if he didn’t think we could salvage things. But we couldn’t salvage them in Bodmin—not with Theo and Abby and, good God, Elizabeth hovering around. We couldn’t stay in London, either, with an indecency charge hanging over my head. Return to Edinburgh? Possibly. Probably. Probably? Was anything probable at this point?

  “Have you lost your mind?” Landry demanded. His nose crinkled. I’d written my resignation in a pub, and I hoped it didn’t smell of beer. “Has the department mistreated you in some way? Do you have a grievance?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then what the devil is possessing you?”

  “I have to go to London. Personal business.”

  His expression went livid, and he barked a cynical laugh. “They’re recalling you to the Met! I should have known. Whatever it was that you did, they’ve forgiven you, and….”

  My heart stopped. I hadn’t told Landry I’d worked with the Met, though it wouldn’t take much to connect the dots. In fact, I’d spent months living in fear that he would get around to making inquiries, and, indeed, find out what I did. Only at that moment did I realize that his failure to do so hadn’t been an oversight.

  What a betrayal it must have seemed.

  “Sir, that’s not—”

  “Then what?” He tossed the letter onto the desk.

  “I—”

  “Sergeant, when you wal
ked through that door looking for a job, we were desperately short-handed. I took a chance, and, I suspect, did you a favor.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “I thought we were both benefitting from the arrangement. What changed?”

  “Nothing…that is…” I sighed. “It’s personal. Not work related. To tell you the truth, this is the best job I’ve ever had.”

  “But you’re leaving it and not coming back?”

  “I—I’m not sure, sir,” I said. “I’d like to return, but I’ve no idea how long this will take, or even if returning will be possible once it’s over.”

  He shook his head, mouth open as if to speak, though silent, as if unable to find the words. Then he steepled his fingers beneath his chin, exhaled heavily, and met my eyes.

  “What about Penbreigh?” he said. “Those people depend on you.”

  “Actually,” I said, “Trevelyan would fit in well there. Chasing chickens would be good practice for him, and the people already know him.”

  “Trevelyan? How long has he been here? A week?”

  “More than a month, now, sir,” I said.

  “About as long as he’s been out of short trousers. Didn’t Tom Wallace escape on his watch?”

  “No, sir,” I said. “That was my fault.”

  He narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t believed me then, and he didn’t believe me now, but it was true. I’d relieved Trevelyan of his guard that night and deliberately let Tom Wallace—Theo’s Tom—escape into the storm. It was nothing to do with Theo; letting Wallace go was the most just act in a situation of compounded injustices. I’d not told Landry any of that, of course, but neither would I pin the escape on Trevelyan.

  He regarded me levelly. Sweat broke across my back, stinging the stitches and scrapes. After he’d let me squirm a bit, he said, “Let me tell you what I think. I think you’re running away from something. I don’t know what it is, and, frankly, I don’t care. But there are only so many bridges a man can burn before he finds himself with nowhere left to go.”

  From the moment I’d made the decision to leave, a voice in the back of my mind had whispered that it was a mistake. Now that voice took on Landry’s Cornish drawl, and it was speaking quite loudly.

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  He shook his head again. “What the devil are we going to do with you, Pearce? Right. Here’s what.” He opened a desk drawer, withdrew a form, and slapped it on the desk in front of me. “Take a leave of absence. Two weeks. You decide you want to stay in London, let me know. If not, you’ll have two weeks to settle your affairs and return. What do you think?”

  I thought it was dishonest to pretend I had any idea what would happen two weeks from now. I hoped Cal and I would reconcile. I also hoped we wouldn’t, and I could return to this comfortable life, and, perhaps even convince Theo to forgive me. But truth be told, I hadn’t a clue what even the next day held, and I’d thought that resigning would be the responsible—the considerate—thing to do.

  Or was this that same old self-destructive impulse in disguise?

  Either way, I found myself strangely grateful that Landry, despite his exasperation, was offering me a third way.

  “Thank you, sir. That’s a very sensible plan.”

  He nodded, watching me fill in the blanks on the form then sign and date it.

  “Well, that’s sorted. Now, do you want to tell Trevelyan about his exciting new assignment, or shall I?”

  •••

  Trevelyan was still hunched over a stack of old reports when I left Landry’s office. I remembered having learned this way as well. You can absorb a lot from reading about how experienced officers solved their cases—and a lot about how one might do things differently in a similar situation. He looked up when he felt me reading over his shoulder.

  “Sarge,” he said.

  “Studying?”

  He nodded. “Maybe they’ll let me go out on my own case one of these days.”

  “Maybe sooner than you think,” I said.

  “Eh?”

  “Did you enjoy our time in Penbreigh?” I asked.

  “Sure…well…except for sitting in front of that barn in the middle of a rainstorm.”

  I said, “Well, sometimes these things can’t be helped. How would you feel about going back there for a bit?”

  He cocked his head. “With you?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Then….”

  “I need to leave Bodmin for a few weeks, and Penbreigh needs a copper. I told Landry you were the man for the job. What would you think about running the shop for a bit?”

  “You told him…?”

  “You have excellent instincts, and you’re quick on your feet. Most importantly, the people of Penbreigh know you and trust you. A few weeks as the village plod will teach you a lot about human nature—and about the limits of the law. What do you say?”

  “You really think I’m up to it?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  A grin spread across his face. He stood and pumped my hand. “Thank you, Sarge! Thank you! But…you are coming back, aren’t you?”

  I hoped not, but that would depend on so many things.

  “We’ll see,” I said. “But I can’t leave unless I know Penbreigh will be in good hands.”

  “I promise,” Trevelyan said. And I believed him.

  I returned to Penbreigh that night, a rail ticket in one coat pocket and Cal’s letter in the other. My head was clear, my heart a bit lighter. It was finished with Theo, and that was a damned shame. But my career was intact, and, despite all odds, my goodwill with the Cornwall Constabulary was as well. I’d say my goodbyes then take the first train to London on New Year’s Eve.

  What would happen then?

  More likely than not, Cal and I would enjoy a chat and a meal in some quiet corner. Perhaps a chat would turn into a few nights together in London. But ultimately, he’d return to Edinburgh. And I? I’d grown weary of casting off the lives I’d been building to rush off into the unknown. In all likelihood I’d return to Cornwall, sad to be on my own again, but happy to have ended the Edinburgh chapter of my life soundly and amicably.

  Yes. That was what would happen.

  The lights were off at Treagove House, Eliza and Alice no doubt snug in their bed. I’d knock on their door tomorrow before leaving. It would only be a day, at most a few. Then I would come back to my room above the tavern, and things would slowly return to the way they were meant to be all along.

  FIRST FOOT

  December 31, 1887

  “Tell me again what you’re expecting to gain from this,” Elizabeth demanded as another gust of wind tore the words from her lips, nearly ripped her winter hat from her head, and pelted both of our faces with snow.

  I would never have asked her to drive me to Bodmin, no less to skip breakfast in order to do so. I’d intended to walk. But when I’d stopped by her house that morning to say goodbye, she’d taken one look at the sky and insisted. A good thing, too. A sudden storm had hit even before we’d reached the Bodmin road. If it kept up like this, the road would become impassable by midmorning. I was also glad for the company.

  “Gain?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re meeting at King’s Cross Station to talk,” I said.

  She scoffed.

  Two days ago I’d received a letter from Cal, asking me to meet him in London. It would have been nice to have had more than a day’s notice, but there was no accounting for the vagaries of the postal service. He’d not said it outright, but by reading between the lines, it had become clear that he’d been as miserable as I had this past year, and that his attempts to drive our relationship from his mind with an impressively long string of empty affairs had come to nothing. Very likely nothing would come from our meeting today, either, except the opportunity to say goodbye in person. Which was why I had to do it.

  Elizabeth’s horse slowed in the face of another gust. She whistled, flicked the reins, and continued. “You’re not coming back, you
know. I hope you told your station inspector in Bodmin.”

  “I took a short leave of absence,” I said. “And I am coming back. I just need to see him face to face.”

  “Why?” She turned toward me, her eyes as gray as the storm, and cocked an eyebrow.

  “To see if there’s anything left to say, I suppose.”

  That sounded thin. But I fully expected that once Cal and I spoke, we’d realize that our paths had diverged too far in the past year to ever be happy together again. Alternately, we might suddenly remember the conflicts, obstacles, and petty irritations that had driven us apart in the first place, and leave with a feeling of good riddance.

  On the other hand, we might also come together and realize that we never wanted to be apart again.

  And what then? Was I ready to pick up everything and follow Cal back to Edinburgh? He’d made it clear that his leaving the city was out of the question. He had his studies to finish, for one thing. And after that, Dr. Murray, his benefactor, was already clearing a path for him to enter Edinburgh’s medical establishment. His future, and his place in the world were assured.

  And mine?

  The path ahead of us was an impenetrable cloud of swirling white—a perfect metaphor. I felt terrible dragging Elizabeth out into it, and was a breath away from suggesting we turn back for her sake. But that would have left Cal waiting at King’s Cross for an entire day then taking my absence for an answer.

  “What about Theo?” she asked after a few minutes.

  Yes, I thought guiltily, there was that. One couldn’t have asked more from a lover. He was kind, brainy, gorgeous, and had been more patient with me than I deserved. But eventually he, too, had hit his limit.

  “This was his idea,” I said.

  Theo had found Cal’s letter and the resulting fight had ended with his telling me to go to London if I had to but not to darken his door again. Another great gust of wind blew across the countryside, and for a moment all sight and sound was lost in a howling mass of white. When it finally cleared, my pulse was pounding and her face had gone as pale as the snow.

  Enough.

  “Go back,” I said once the noise had died down. “This is ridiculous. I can’t put you at risk like this. Not for….” Not for something that might, ultimately turn out to be nothing. “I can walk from here.” I turned in my seat and made to reach for my satchel. Her hand clamped around my arm.