The Crimson Inkwell

by Kenneth A Baldwin

  After Bram’s deception, I did not believe I could ever give my heart to him, if he ever even wanted that. At the same time, was there any way I could hold a meaningful marriage if I maintained Bram as my magical guide? I couldn’t explain to another man that his attentions were platonic. I hadn’t even been able to convince myself of that. These interrogatories led me to a single conclusion, one that had taunted me for several years. Marriage was a game for women with less unique situations, like Anna.

  “Luella! What are you smiling about? You look years lighter than last night! What’s happened to you? And what about Byron? Before you were so concerned about your practical future.”

  “That is true, dear sister. Honestly, your welfare was no small piece of that anxiety. But, with this new writing partner, I’ve become a success. Last night, I think we hit our stride, and I’m not sure we will need to worry about finances again. I’m considering even dropping my pen name.”

  “You’re being so cryptic. Won’t you plainly explain it to me?”

  “I will in good time. I’m ready to make a big jump. I just have to wait and see how my latest story will perform.”

  “I was so convinced you had grown tired of me,” Anna said.

  “How could I grow tired of my muse?” I replied, touching her cheek gently before crossing to the counter to grab an iced bun. I was feeling better each passing minute, almost enough to convince myself that I had misinterpreted yesterday’s events. Magical illness humbug. After all, I hadn’t actually hurt anyone. Maybe these were all just mood swings. I felt fine now, and who knew how well last night’s story would perform in the papers? I felt so good as I wrote it that I was convinced it had to be stunning.

  I chose the stickiest bun I could find and was about to dive into it when I noticed a small parchment envelope on the counter, the seal unbroken.

  “What’s this?” I asked, scooping it up. A few small items rattled inside of it. “Medicine?”

  Anna jumped from her seat to grab it from me.

  “No, it’s nothing,” she said. “It’s just something for Jacob. A present.” She carefully placed the envelope in the cupboard. Poor Anna, reduced to desperate measures, buying little trinkets to earn Jacob’s affection. She said it was getting better. That was something at least.

  “You don’t need to do all that, you know,” I found myself telling her.

  “I have to do whatever I can. Whatever it takes,” she said solemnly. “I can’t be like you, dear sister. I’m not clever or industrious. I’m getting older. Without Jacob, what will become of me?”

  “I’ll take care of you,” I said. “I’ll always take care of you.”

  She smiled, and we both knew that might not be enough for her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Nothing As It Should Be

  IT FELT GOOD having restored my sisterly bond with Anna. At least, in some part of my life, I could feel some order. I noticed it raised her spirits almost immediately. With some coaxing, she divulged all the latest details between her and Jacob, and the way she told it, I was actually encouraged that it might be headed toward a course correction.

  She had managed to scrape from his mind the notion that she was expecting a proposal (which I considered ironic since that was exactly what she was expecting), leaving only her awkward objection to being anywhere around Byron. Until last night, Anna had viewed this as a great obstacle, finding it impossible to choose between the man she loved and her sister. Now her hopes were invested into my latest story as much as mine, though she did not know that I was planning to sacrifice domestic felicity for my writing. All writers must sacrifice. It was time I lived the principle I had considered a mere romantic turn of phrase.

  All these plans were still wrapped up in the papers I had brought home with me the night before. There was still work to be done. I had to head over to the police station to verify that the events I had penned had indeed transpired. Then I’d have to call on Rebecca again to deliver my story to Langley’s.

  “I don’t understand why you can’t go drop off the story first,” Anna complained. “I think I’ll die from all this waiting.”

  “I can’t face Byron after our argument last night,” I said. “Rebecca has acted faithfully as my courier.”

  “Why not just let me take it?” she pleaded.

  “You haven’t seen Byron since the dinner. Are you sure you’d be up for it?”

  “I’m not a child. I can put on a good face for a quarter of an hour. Besides, my heart has no room for rancor today. I’m filled with nerves and excitement. You really mean it? If this story is a success with your critics and the public, then you will break off your engagement? You don’t know what that would do for Jacob’s indecision.”

  I nodded. I shared more of her nerves than her excitement. I had never once written a story Brutus appreciated. Still, if he were ever to approve of my writing, it would be something like this: a financial scandal with reaching implications.

  I scoffed. To me, the implications had a shorter reach than this type of story’s readership. And if those men could reach their own toes, I’d be surprised.

  Having Anna run the story to Langley’s gave me pause for another reason, though. Having Rebecca deliver my stories served the dual purpose of verifying their accuracy before delivery. Usually, I would head to the station, casually hear the latest news, and once I heard my story had come true, Rebecca and I would go to lunch, and she would deliver the parcel right after. This also gave me an opportunity to furnish the story with the details I’d been missing when I wrote it the day before.

  If Anna ran the story over first, I’d run the risk of having Byron publish a false account. We’d have to publish a retraction. It’d be damaging to the publication’s credibility. Yet, had the magic ever failed me before? Surely, this was an over precaution.

  “Please, sister. I’ll die from sitting here idle,” she pleaded. We both laughed at her mock immaturity. It was time to include my sister more fully in my life.

  “Alright, but please don’t talk politics,” I said.

  “I promise.”

  We left the flat at the same time. She headed to Langley’s, I to the station.

  The weather had grown significantly colder now. We still waited for our first snow of the season, but the clouds above threatened a drift ominously above. I didn’t mind the cold. I was bundled up in a hood, and it felt fresh on my face. The cold had a salutary effect. It felt fresh and real, and I really felt I could use the rejuvenation.

  The station was abuzz when I arrived. The bobbies swarmed around like a hive of worker bees. I often felt its comfortable bustle, but a peculiar spirit permeated the police force today.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Rebecca when I finally arrived at her office.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, a large strand of hair dangling in front of her face.

  “It’s like a regular factory in here,” I said.

  “I guess you’re right,” she said. “I hadn’t noticed. My nose has been in the books all morning. Seems like yesterday we had an abundance of new cases run in and—wait a minute. Full stop! How was lunch with Detective Thomas? The last I saw you, you were all blushes on his arm. Hardly proper for an engaged woman.”

  “It was a business lunch,” I said.

  “Business lunch? For whose business?”

  “Not yours.”

  She smiled, knowingly, pausing from her type work. “Then, I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested to know that he was practically skipping by the time he got back to the station yesterday.”

  Yesterday. We had that wonderful, wonderful lunch only a day ago. I felt as though I had aged a year.

  “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting,” Rebecca said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “If I had lit up a man’s mood like you had, I’m sure I wouldn’t look so despondent about it.”

  “Of course,” I said, dodging an officer and his chained charge walking through t
he hallway. I ached inside. Rebecca looked like a character from a play, pen behind her ear, disheveled hair, gorgeous and witty. Her inquisitive eyebrow bored into me like it always did. I felt so lonely. I wish I had told her everything at our first lunch together instead of holding back my most sordid details. It was just me against the world, against Bram and Byron and a new magical malady I felt deep down inside of stomach.

  “Can I ask you something?” I said, pulling a chair next to her.

  “You look awfully serious. Did you do more than lunch with Edward yesterday?” She snickered but relented immediately when I didn’t reciprocate.

  “Do you remember the first story I wrote about the Steely-Eyed Detective?’

  “The Fog Man? Of course, I was petrified of the dark for a week after.”

  “Do you believe it really happened?”

  She laughed uneasily. She searched for something on her desk but did not find it. “Do you?”

  “I asked first.”

  “I don’t know,” she said at last. “It doesn’t seem that simple for some reason.”

  “Have you ever known Edward to lie about something like that?” I pressed.

  “That’s what makes it complicated, doesn’t it? He doesn’t lie. And, he doesn’t drink on the job. I don’t know why he would have invented a story like that. But, something inside of me says I can’t believe it. Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if I believed it, how could I ever walk home again? How could I trust anything?”

  She spoke the words of my own heart. I had wandered far into dark brambles, eerie dreams, and chilling language to pursue petty fame. Now, they had me tangled, strangled me, and I could not escape. If the magic was real, was I lost? I wasn’t an overly religious person, but the reality of supernatural powers was enough to make me consider the fate of my very soul.

  “Luella, you’re making me cross. Did you come here today just to unsettle me?”

  “I’m caught up in something very dark,” I said. Tears welled in my eyes. I could see her every faculty try to doubt me, but the intuition friends have for ferreting out lies took root in her. God bless woman’s ability to recognize true, earnest cries for help. She gaped at me, open-mouthed, slow panic creeping into her brow. Her posture bristled with the current of a threatening unknown.

  Before she could press further, the Steely-Eyed Detective strode into the room, himself a raincloud.

  “Ms. Turner, do you have those reports typed up from yesterday?” he asked curtly. I was startled to see him and even more startled by his demeanor. The two of us craned our heads at him, as if we were stepping out of a dark room into sunlight.

  “Oh, Lieutenant. Of course, they’re right here,” Rebecca said, handing him a folder.

  “Thank you,” he said with a formal nod. He took the folder and turned to go, with every intention of avoiding my eye contact or even acknowledging my presence. Rebecca turned to me with a helpless, open-mouthed expression. Edward had never behaved toward me this way before. His indifference could not be borne. For the final time in just twenty-four hours, I found myself gripping on to a precipice. It was too much.

  “Edward,” I loudly said. I stood. He could not ignore me now.

  He stopped with heavy slumping shoulders and turned around to me. I saw written in his rigid jawline every intention to extend to me the same businesslike, formal attitude he had shown Rebecca. But, it vanished at once when he looked into my face.

  “Luella! You’ve been crying. Is everything alright?”

  “I might ask the same of you. Were you about to leave without so much as a hello?”

  He looked trapped. How quickly men of integrity abandon their schemes. He searched for a reply but found only an embarrassed, boyish complexion.

  “I’m sorry. Could I speak with you?”

  “We are doing just that.”

  “Privately.” He motioned to Sergeant Cooper’s office.

  “You mean privately with the Sergeant?”

  “He’s not here. He won’t mind us using his office for a moment.”

  I wasn’t sure if the request itself was awkward or if my discomfort stemmed from his delivery. I looked to Rebecca for help, but she just shrugged her shoulders, confusion sharpening on her brow. Instead, I simply followed Edward into the office. He closed the door behind us.

  “Are you alright?” he asked. “Is there anything I can do?” He offered me his handkerchief to wipe my eyes.

  “I’ll be quite fine. You, on the other hand, look like you have a coal in your boot.”

  He smiled, sheepishly.

  “You have such a way with words. I just—well, I wanted to apologize.”

  “Apologize? For what?”

  “Yesterday, you came here looking for help with your stories.”

  “And you were very kind to assist me.”

  “Really? Which story did I provide you for your publication?”

  I had no response. With all of the excitement, I hadn’t even noticed that I failed to play my part in Cooper and Rebecca’s farce. We were so happy at that lunch yesterday.

  “You told me so many stories.”

  “You know as well I do that those were not the stories you were looking for. That’s just it. Yesterday, I allowed myself to behave ungentlemanly.”

  I thought about his raucous back and forth with Doug. It was so charming, so endearing.

  “I’m sure Doug could handle it. I don’t know if he’s used to treating with gentlemen.”

  “Must I come out and say it so plainly?” Edward asked, red in the face. His arms stretched out in exasperation. I could not help him. I didn’t know what he meant.

  “You are an engaged woman,” he continued. “And I took advantage of your request for help as a way to get closer to you. That was not a work lunch, at least not to me. I’m so sorry, Luella! I sincerely hope I haven’t interfered with your commitment. If I need to make it right, tell me how.”

  “You wanted to get closer to me?” My lungs were so full I felt they might burst through my chest. My heart pounded with youthful exuberance. We had used the same plan to get closer.

  “Hearing you say it burns my conscience. I’m at your service. I will make this right if any wrong has come on your promised betrothal. I’ll find a way.”

  My heart burst for him. I wanted him to sweep me up into his arms and stare deeply into my eyes fueled by the feelings for which he was so ashamed. As he stood there, I felt that he had bared his truest most vulnerable self to me. Even his guilt-ridden confession was an absolute treasure. I wanted to wipe away the guilt and the shame he felt, to validate these emotions with reciprocation.

  I wanted to spend every lunch with him for the rest of my life. I would have loved nothing more than to meet his parents, to wait at home for him after his work, to stay up worried at night while he was on assignment. Most surprising of all, I wanted a chance to abandon my writing and just devote myself to his happiness. I wanted it all.

  But, how could I?

  After everything I’d done, I was not worthy of his companionship. I was not worthy to speak his name. This was my greatest secret and greatest shame, that I was unrelentingly drawn to the man in front of me but completely unredeemable. And now, as if to prove my point, I was bonded to Bram like a patient to a doctor. I was sick with something I could never burden Edward with. It was the purest agony to love someone and know my love could not cover my deficit.

  He stood in front of me so nobly, defending the honor he believed I had.

  “Oh Edward,” I said, raising a hand to touch his cheek. “So often, I feel that you could save me if I’d only let you.”

  His face contorted into a puzzled expression, and he was about to speak when the door swung open.

  “I don’t remember granting you two leave to use my office as a personal hideaway,” Sergeant Cooper barked as he pushed through us toward his desk.

  “I apologize Sergeant,” said Edward. “The station is b
ustling today, and I could hardly hear the lady speak.”

  “We need to talk, Edward.” Cooper tossed his coat to the coat rack, missing it by a good two feet, and plopped down in his chair. He looked to be in a terrible humor, no sign of levity about him. “It’s urgent. Ms. Winthrop, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”

  I shook off my selfish concerns and thought to my task at hand. Anna would have arrived at Langley’s by now. “What’s the story?”

  “Nothing that I think might interest you, Ms. Winthrop.”

  “Well, perhaps I can turn it into something,” I suggested.

  “No need to turn her away, surely,” said Edward. Cooper eyed me with a queer expression. I’d never seen him in such a state of unease.

  “Are you alright, Sergeant Cooper?” I asked.

  “Perhaps it’s for the best,” he said, shifting his eyes between the two of us.

  Edward stood at attention. ‘’At your service, sir.”

  “It’s not pretty, I’m afraid,” Cooper said. “For heaven’s sake, sit down, man.”

  We both sat. I cautiously eyed Edward in a state of confusion. There seemed to be a great deal of anxiety about the simple financial scandal I wrote about.

  “One of the central bankers downtown has been discovered by his competitor to have been siphoning money from his clients’ accounts,” Cooper began. A small weight came off my shoulders. The pen had worked again. Anna’s delivery would contain an accurate reporting.

  “How much money?” Edward asked, his face beginning to twitch.

  “A significant amount. There wasn’t much hope for the man. His competitor has him pegged with proof, witnesses, everything. Edward, I’m sorry. It’s your father.”

  The sound of a lion erupted from Edward’s lungs, and he stood in a fury, knocking the chair behind him to the floor. “Damned man! Where do they have him? How could he have done this?”