Brother's Ruin

by Emma Newman

  “He’s tested here?” Father asked in surprise.

  “Yes, Mr Gunn. The magi will explain why, I’m sure.” Master Judicant paused at the sound of a voice on the other side of the door, followed by a smart rap upon it, made by a cane. “Ah, here they are.”

  Charlotte was nearest to the door and took it upon herself to open it. Her father seemed to be in mild shock, Ben was gripping the bannister and she felt any support he could gain from it should be maintained, and she didn’t trust Mother to greet them without causing offence. As she opened the door, she realised there was more than one person outside and that they were in the middle of a conversation. A man with a deep voice and a broad northern accent was in the middle of relating something.

  “. . . and I told him, if he can’t tell the difference between them, he should get back on that train and go back to where he bloody well came from. Prat.” The man was huge, barrel-chested and sported an impressive salt-and-pepper beard. He wore a stovepipe hat that was so tall she couldn’t see the top of it past the doorframe and a half-caped coat made of a boldly patterned green-and-brown tweed. His scowl didn’t lift at the sight of her. “Who are you, then? The maid?”

  Charlotte blushed. “My name is Charlotte Gunn. I live here.”

  “Gunn? I thought the Latent was a bloke.”

  “Get out of the way, Ledbetter,” came a female voice from behind him. A woman pushed her way past the huge man, almost knocking him off the step in the process. “Forgive my colleague’s poor manners,” she said, extending a gloved hand which Charlotte shook awkwardly. “He’s forgotten how to talk to people who aren’t magi or staff.” She had a softer northern accent, and a cold smile. Her auburn hair was swept back from her face and pinned rather eccentrically, reminding Charlotte of a portrait of Queen Elizabeth I she’d seen at a gallery. She wore a beautiful coat made of deep blue velvet with a high collar. “My name is Magus Lillian Ainsworth of the college of Thermaturgy. That rude oaf was Magus William Ledbetter, of the college of Dynamics. In you go, Ledbetter, make some room for us all, why don’t you?”

  Ledbetter? That was the same surname as the doctor who’d signed off the deaths at that awful house. Could they be related? Charlotte caught her thoughts and silently chided herself. It was a very common name. How could she be so fanciful as to think the two could be connected?

  Ledbetter squeezed past her, muttering to himself, and forced Charlotte to press herself against the wall to allow him into the house. Only when he was inside did Charlotte even notice the third person on the steps.

  “And this,” Magus Ainsworth said, waving a blue velvet hand over her shoulder, “is Magus Thomas Hopkins of the college of Fine Kinetics.” Satisfied that introductions had been made, Magus Ainsworth headed inside without further invitation, pausing only to whisper, “He’ll try to kiss your hand, just to warn you,” in Charlotte’s ear as she passed.

  The gentleman left outside was quite simply the most handsome man Charlotte had even seen. In fact, handsome seemed such an impoverished descriptor that she immediately discarded the word from her mind and settled upon beautiful instead. From the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips (that she ached to draw) to the chiselled jawline, she wouldn’t have been surprised if someone told her he was actually an artist’s sculpture made flesh as a result of some Faustian pact. He was wearing a burgundy coat with a black satin lapel and black leather gloves. He moved to the top step, smiling at her warmly, a few stray blond curls escaping from beneath the brim of his top hat. His eyes were so blue it was like they had a light of their own, the irises edged in a darker shade, as if God himself had made efforts to contain their colour. He was younger than the other two magi by several years, closer to her in age, yet he had the bearing of a man with supreme self-assuredness. He sported no moustache and had only the most discreet sideburns, but somehow it seemed right for him to be clean-shaven and his beauty to be admired unimpeded.

  “Miss Gunn, a pleasure,” he said. His voice was soft and deep and it seemed like she felt it rather than heard it. There was no hint of a regional accent; in fact, he was better spoken than most of the people she talked to every day. He scooped up her right hand, the leather of his glove warm, and pressed his lips to her skin. Her toes curled so quickly the leather of her shoes squeaked and she prayed he hadn’t heard it. His lips felt like silk worn against the body, softened and warmed by contact, and she felt the most alarming blush stretch up her throat and into her cheeks. “You must be the Latent’s sister?”

  She nodded, having lost the ability to speak. Surely he could see her pulse hammering the skin of her neck so violently?

  “There’s no need to be afraid,” he said, still holding her hand long after his lips had left it. “This could be the beginning of a marvellous new life for him, and for your family.”

  He was beautiful, but not beautiful enough to persuade her of that. He released her hand after staring into her eyes a little too long, and she felt like a blancmange just turned out of its mould. She managed to make way for him to enter and stole a moment to gather herself as she closed the front door.

  Master Judicant made sure that all the introductions were seen to as Charlotte concentrated on not staring at Magus Hopkins. She took their coats and worried that the stand would collapse under the weight of all the expensive fabric. She was glad when they all went into the living room and she had something other than Magus Hopkins to focus on. She volunteered to see to the tea, just so she could keep herself busy as everyone helped themselves to sandwiches. Making sure she didn’t make the hot water boil again was enough to ground her in something more laudable than simpering over the magus. When she passed a cup of tea to him, the cup rattled in the saucer and made her blush again, but he simply smiled sweetly at her. That didn’t help at all. Ben gave her a pointed look when she came over to sit next to him, and if he’d noticed the effect Magus Hopkins was having on her, there was every chance Mother had, too. A quick glance in her direction reassured her that Mother was suffering from a similar affliction.

  “So,” Magus Ledbetter said after devouring three sandwiches in as many bites. “Did Master Judicant tell you what’s what?”

  “Yes, sir,” Father replied.

  “And it were you that reported this lad?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So it’s your neck on the block if he’s not what you thought, then?”

  “Take no notice of ’im,” said Magus Ainsworth, throwing a glare in Ledbetter’s direction. “Tell us why you made the report, Mr Gunn. Your son’s older than the average Latent.”

  Her father told them the same as they’d told Master Judicant.

  “Do you have any questions? Or any concerns that we can allay?” Magus Hopkins asked when the story was finished. His voice was so soothing.

  “Will it be dangerous?” Mother asked, and he shook his head.

  “No, madam, I can assure you that your son will be perfectly safe throughout. We will each set him a test which employs a technique used within our specialisms. He’ll be shown how to do it first, and we will be nearby when he attempts it himself.”

  “You won’t be in the room with me?”

  “We need to be certain that it’s you, not us,” said Magus Ainsworth. “Master Judicant will be present for all of it, and he’ll make the observations during your tests. We’ll wait outside and be on hand if anything goes wrong—which it won’t, but that’s part of the rules.”

  “Has anything ever gone wrong?” Mother asked.

  “Only the once, since I started testin’,” said Magus Ledbetter. “It were the family’s fault, though. Waited as long as they could before reporting the child, then we had to test ’er when she was practically wild. Almost burnt the house down. Bloody palaver, that was.”

  Charlotte tried to work out if he was telling them as some sort of comment about Ben’s age. “I’m far from wild, sir,” Ben said, obviously thinking the same as her.

  “Glad to hear it,” Ledbetter said. “We don�
��t want you to hold back, mind you. The better you test, the more we pay, simple as that.”

  “Will we have a chance to say good-bye, before Ben leaves?” Father asked.

  “Of course!” Ainsworth said. “We’re not jailers, Mr Gunn. He’s not being taken off to the gallows, is he, now? But we do insist that the apprentice leaves within the hour, once the offer has been accepted. It’s important to start right away, and it’s best for the family, too. We test at home to give the Latent the best chance of performing well. We’ve found that being in a familiar environment acts as a sort of focus and helps with nerves, too. But the sooner the apprentice learns the correct way to manage their talent, the better. Especially in your case, young man. Late bloomer that you are.”

  “Nowt wrong with that,” Ledbetter said, grasping for another round of sandwiches from the table beside him. Charlotte had wondered why he’d headed straight for that particular chair. “I didn’t manifest anythin’ till I were nineteen years of age, and then it were only a trifle. I were workin’ too hard in’t pit to even notice. Four and twenty years later, I’m one of the wealthiest men in Lancashire and one of the best Dynamic practitioners you’ll ever get to meet. The mills I run with my esoteric arts are the most efficient in the Empire.”

  “There’s an inverse correlation between his power and his modesty,” Hopkins said. “Scholars have written papers on it.”

  “Less of that, you,” Ledbetter said through a mouthful of cucumber and crumbs. “If I ’ad a voice like yours, I’d keep me trap shut, lest anyone think the worst of me.”

  “Oh, give over, the both of you,” Ainsworth said. “Ledbetter, you know as well as I do that whilst Hopkins might sound like a toff, there isn’t a noble bone in his body.”

  “There’s no nobility in your blood, is there?” Ledbetter asked Ben, fixing his eyes on him.

  “Not as far as I know,” Ben said, looking to his parents.

  “My grandfather was a farmer,” said his father. “I don’t know much about the family before him, because it wasn’t very interesting. And my wife’s family were in service. Not a drop of noble blood on either side.”

  “You’re doing well for a farmer’s grandson,” Ledbetter commented, looking around the room.

  “My mother inherited money from the family she was in service to all her life, which she passed on to us in her will,” Charlotte’s mother said. “It improved our circumstances a great deal. And my husband is a very successful illustrator. We are quite comfortable.”

  Charlotte studied her hands, noting how her mother hadn’t mentioned the sewing she did every night by candlelight to bring in more money. She made out that they didn’t need any money at all.

  All three of the magi nodded, satisfied that their lower-middle-class lifestyle was due to good luck, rather than nobility fallen on hard times. Charlotte knew that none of the nobility had ever passed a test, and only a very small number of them had even been put forward in the early days of the Royal Society. It seemed that fate dictated that only one sort of privilege be bestowed upon an individual at birth: magic or nobility. She wondered what would happen if someone proved to have both.

  “Do you not have any concerns, Miss Gunn?”

  Charlotte jolted when Hopkins addressed her. “No,” she replied.

  “None at all?” he pressed, and Ben looked at her expectantly.

  “None, thank you,” she said, blushing again.

  “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m keen to get started,” Ledbetter said, and then belched loudly. “Thems were very nice sandwiches, by the way. Is there any cake?”

  Now it was Mother’s turn to blush. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t have time to bake one. There’s some sponge cake, but not enough for everyone.”

  “That’ll do nicely, love,” he said with a grin. “Bring it to me in t’other room—I take it you’ve got a dining room?”

  “I’ll move some chairs back in there,” Father said, not mentioning that it was also where he and Mother did their work.

  “Only three chairs needed,” Ledbetter said. “I’ll go first. I’ve got to be back at the Guildhall by six.” He made it to the door before turning to his fellow magi. “Oh, did you two have any more pressing appointments?” When both shook their heads, Ledbetter followed Father and Ben out of the room. Master Judicant finished his tea and thanked Charlotte when she took his cup and saucer. Her smile was rewarded by the crinkling around his eyes again, and she felt somewhat better that he was going to be present throughout. She would have hated the thought of Ben alone in a room with one of the magi. Then he left, and she realised she was alone with two of them.

  “I . . . I’ll just go and help my mother,” she said to Magus Ainsworth and hurried from the room.

  Chapter 7

  CHARLOTTE BUSIED HERSELF IN the kitchen, finding any excuse she could to avoid having to go back to the living room. Her mother took the last slice of cake to Magus Ledbetter and then came back to the kitchen looking so tired that Charlotte sent her up to bed to lie down. “It’s not like the magi want to talk to us, Mother,” she replied to her protestations. “They’ll be much happier waiting in the living room by themselves, without having to make small talk with the likes of us.”

  Soon afterwards, Father came to the door. “Is there any tea left in the pot?”

  “It’s rather stewed but good enough.” Charlotte poured them both a small cup and he took his gratefully. “Have you come to hide in here, too?” she asked and he smiled.

  “Would you think the worse of me if I did?”

  “Not at all.”

  He sat next to her, both with their backs to the stove, the little wooden stool making his long legs fold up at such an angle that he had to balance his tea cup on his knee. “What do you think of them?”

  Charlotte shrugged, not wanting to give all of her honest opinion. “They have very nice coats.”

  There was a pause. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first,” he said, quietly enough for her to hear the crackle of the coal in the stove behind her. “I should have. Clearly. But it all happened so quickly. I thought I’d have time to discuss with everyone, give you fair warning, but they said the consultation always happens right away.”

  “It didn’t occur to you to tell us what you planned to do before you reported Ben?”

  He stared down into his tea. “I should have. I wasn’t really thinking very carefully at the time.”

  Charlotte felt the pressure of things left unsaid building in her chest. She took a deep breath, keeping them inside as best she could. If he wanted to talk to her about the debt, it was up to him to raise the subject. If she did so, he would be humiliated.

  She sipped her tea and wondered how Ben was coping. She imagined George bent over a book in his office, his quill scratching across the page. She thought of the cage and the strange man standing there, just staring at it. No less than fourteen people have died . . . Probably one of those shady operations where they put the thumbscrews on . . .

  “Papa, I know about the debt!” She didn’t look at him, even though she could see his mouth drop open from the corner of her eye. “A horrible man was here this morning, delivering a letter and . . . oh, please forgive me, Papa, but I read it! He was such an awful man, I . . .”

  “Oh, Charlie. What must you think of me?”

  After setting her cup down on the table, Charlotte twisted round until she faced him. “How much did you borrow?”

  “I shouldn’t discuss such things with you! You’re my daughter!”

  “Papa, I know now. I won’t tell anyone, not even Mother if that’s what you wish, but please tell me the truth. I need to know all of it, otherwise I’ll just imagine far worse.”

  Her father looked down, unable to meet her eyes. “Twenty pounds. That’s what I borrowed. I couldn’t afford all of Ben’s fees. I thought I could pay it back with a commission that was being negotiated at the time, but the publisher chose another illustrator at the last minute and i
t all fell through. I couldn’t pay it back in time, so I negotiated paying it back in instalments. Then another commission fell through and I missed the last two payments. I . . . I just seem to be cursed.” He drew in a deep breath. “Now I owe forty pounds.”

  Charlotte’s stomach churned and she swallowed several times, hoping everything would stay where it should. “Forty pounds? Oh, Papa.” It would take so many commissions to earn that much money.

  He rested his head in his hands and for a dreadful moment Charlotte thought he was about to weep. He sucked in a breath and looked at her once more. “Ben will complete his test and our fortunes will change. I don’t want you to think the money was the only reason I reported him! I had to do it, as I’m sure you understand. It’s just that the debt collectors threatened me and I panicked and when I saw the timepiece had changed . . . I just didn’t think, Charlie. I just went and did it.”

  “But the letter said you need to pay by noon on Friday. Master Judicant said the family would be compensated within seven days but we don’t even know how much it will be!”

  “I’ll explain that to them.”

  “But Papa, people die at that place! You mustn’t go there.”

  “What people? Where?”

  Reluctantly, she told him what she’d discovered from George. For the sake of his nerves, she left out the part about actually going to the place in person.

  His face was ashen. “I shall write them a letter,” he said, standing up. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll write it now and post it right away. Surely they should understand that they’ll get the money and they won’t want to do anything to jeopardise that.”