by Emma Newman
Charlotte just rubbed the back of her head and tried to look too dazed to reply as she struggled to think of what to do. Should she make the lantern explode? No, she might burn that man, and odious as he was, she’d never be able to live with herself if she did.
The son fished the keys from his pocket.
“Son? Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“I can’t take the risk. The guvnor will kill me if she blabs to anyone.”
“She might ’ave already!” the father said.
“Then this is ’er comeuppance.” The magus sneered.
“But she’ll die!” the father said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I ’ent ever locked a lady in this cell. It don’t feel right, son. She ’ent done nothin’ wrong! It was her dad who—”
“Shut up,” the magus said to his father, and pushed a key into the lock.
Charlotte scrabbled to her feet, praying that she had remembered Magus Hopkins’s words correctly and that his suggested changes had actually disabled the device. “Please, I just want to go home!” she said to the father. Even though the cage hopefully wasn’t going to kill her now, she had no desire to spend a night in it, not at the mercy of this cruel magus.
“Son,” the man said, putting a hand on the magus’s shoulder as he turned the key in the lock.
It clicked, loudly, and through the metal beneath her, Charlotte could feel the mechanism clunking away, activated somehow by the locking of the cell. The magus grinned through the bars at her. “This’ll teach ya for working with that bastard Hopkins. Feel that? It’ll get worse. Soon you’ll feel like water goin’ down a plughole. And then . . .”
He stopped, his face draining of colour so rapidly it was frightening to watch. His father set the lantern down, grabbing one of the bars to steady himself, as the florid broken veins across his nose started to fade.
“I don’t under—” The magus croaked and then collapsed, falling against his father as he fell, too.
Charlotte watched their eyes, the brief panic and then the sudden, subtle shift as the life left their bodies. She clamped a hand over her mouth to trap the scream, realising what had happened as the clunking sounds of the mechanism below came to a stop. Hopkins had lied to her. She hadn’t rendered the mechanism harmless—she had just pushed the lethal effect outside the cage. She stared at the two dead bodies, noticed how a spider next to the lantern had also curled up, dead, and burst into tears.
Chapter 13
CHARLOTTE DIDN’T SLEEP THAT night, and feared that she would never sleep again. She’d sat in the cage until the tears and the shaking had stopped, then plucked the keys from the dead magus’s pocket and unlocked the cage door. It took some time for her to muster the courage to step outside of it, she was so fearful the effect would still be active. It seemed it was all over, though; the mechanism was silent once more and she suffered no ill effects when she left the cell.
She had wanted to flee as swiftly as she could, not just from that awful house, but London, too. She couldn’t abandon her family, though, nor George, and where would she go? Once the panic subsided, she decided that no one knew she was here or what had happened, and if Hopkins suspected her, there was no proof. Besides, she’d done what he suggested; he was hardly going to march her to the Peelers.
Then a strange calm descended over her and she went to the filing cabinet in the front office, using the debt collector’s lantern to guide her way. She found a file of “open debts” which included details of her father’s loan and five others. With the owner of the business dead, surely the other sons he mentioned would be tasked with going through his affairs? If they found this file, the threat to her father wouldn’t be ended, and she couldn’t bear the thought of the people in the file being put at the same risk as her father.
She flipped through the other folders in the cabinet, saw that the ones who’d paid had the word stamped at the top of the page. She found ink and the appropriate stamper in the desk and then she knew what to do.
Now she was lying in her bed, still shivering periodically, that file of “open debts” empty and the former contents all stamped with “PAID” across the top and filed appropriately. She knew enough to fear that once ledgers and accounts had been pored over, the discrepancies would be noticed, but perhaps it would be too late by then.
So she was a forger and a murderer now. Even though she’d made sure that all traces of her presence had been removed from the house—even down to the scrap of her skirt hem trapped in the window clasp—surely it was just a matter of time before the Peelers came for her. And if not them, the Enforcers. She knuckled her gritty eyes, unable to weep any more. She could only hope that she’d done enough to save her family before whatever punishment was meted out for her.
It was still dark when she heard Ben moving around in his bedroom. The poor lamb probably couldn’t sleep, either. When she heard him go downstairs, she dressed and followed him down.
She found him sitting in the dining room, the gas lamps newly lit. The broken dining table had been cleared to the side of the room and propped up against the wall until Father decided what to do with it. Ledbetter’s case and the cracked wooden box rested next to it. Ben was sitting in one of the chairs, elbows on knees, staring at the lid of the wooden box. Just the sight of the rectangular mark on it made Charlotte feel sick.
“Can’t sleep, dear heart?” he said, twisting to smile at her. His eyes widened and she realised she must look terrible. “Have you been crying?”
Charlotte nodded. She opened her mouth to confess it all, but then stopped herself. He didn’t need this burden. He had to focus on his own future. And besides, there was nothing to be done about it now. “Everything is going to change,” she finally said. It was truthful, at least.
“For the better, Charlie.” Ben smiled. “I think the offers are going to be high.” He lowered his voice. “You did such a splendid job. Perhaps a little too splendid towards the end.” He looked at the lid of the box again. “Magus Ledbetter seemed pleased, though, even though his box got broken.”
“Is that the mark of the Dynamics college?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s his personal mark. He told me a little about them in my interview. Desperately interesting stuff. It’s all to do with focus.”
“Could someone else put his mark on something and then . . . make it work without him knowing it?”
“I asked the very same question.” Ben grinned. “I couldn’t understand why he would have such a personal symbol in plain sight. He told me that anyone can look at it, but only he knows what all the different symbols mean. It’s also called a . . . sigil, I think he said. Knowing what the different parts are, why they overlap, why they are in the mark in the first place, that’s what focuses the power.”
Charlotte swallowed. “So another could put that mark on something, but it wouldn’t work unless they know what it means?”
Ben smiled. “I think so. Magus Ledbetter gave me the impression that it’s far more complicated than that, but I think that’s the essence of it.”
“I don’t think you should go into the college of Dynamics.”
“Why ever not?”
Charlotte looked at the mark on the broken lid. “I don’t trust Magus Ledbetter.”
Ben looked distinctly unimpressed. “You’ve barely spoken to him. You never liked loud men. Mother said they used to make you cry when you were a baby.”
“It’s nothing like that!”
The clock towers chimed six o’clock and Ben stretched. “We will all sleep better tonight, I wager.”
“I mean it, Ben, I don’t think you—”
There was the sound of letters being posted through the door and Ben shot out of the room faster than she’d ever seen him move. Charlotte went to the window and saw a courier from the Royal Society of Esoteric Arts jogging away.
To her surprise, Ben took the letters straight up to his room and closed the door. She folded her arms, frustrated, and then went to make some t
ea. She could hear her parents starting to move about; soon everyone would want breakfast. She might as well make herself useful.
A short time later, she and her parents were squashed around the kitchen table with bread and butter, bacon and poached eggs, none of which Charlotte could stomach. There was no conversation, all of them wondering what the offers would be and how their lives would be changed. Just as Father started to tackle the bacon, Ben came to the doorway.
“I’ve made my decision.”
“Aren’t you going to discuss it with us first?” Charlotte asked, irritated.
“Now, now, Charlie,” Father said, patting her hand. “It’s his choice to make.”
“It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be,” Ben said, pulling up the last stool and perching on it between Mother and Father. He held the three letters in his hand, pulled one out and rested it on the table. “Magus Hopkins, from the College of Fine Kinetics, offers one hundred and fifty pounds to the family upon my acceptance.”
Mother gasped as Father grinned. “Go on, son,” he said.
“He wrote a very nice letter,” Ben continued. “He said he was very surprised by how gifted I actually was and that I would be a fine addition to the Royal Society. He didn’t mention the broken clock at all.”
Charlotte buttered a slice of bread so vigorously in her anger that the knife tore a hole in the centre of it. “I still don’t trust him,” she muttered, but no one seemed to hear.
Ben put the second letter on the table. “Magus Ainsworth says that the College of Thermaturgy is willing to compensate the family with three hundred pounds upon my acceptance.”
“Pour me a cup of tea, Charlie,” Mother said in a wavering voice. “Three hundred pounds?”
Ben nodded, smiling. “She says in the letter that she’s never seen such a talented Latent and that I’ll have a fine future in the Royal Society.”
Charlotte watched him beam at their parents, as if the praise had genuinely been meant for him. Had he forgotten that it was her power that had impressed the magi? She pressed her lips together, unable to correct him in front of their parents.
“And lastly,” Ben said, laying down the third envelope, “Magus Ledbetter has offered our family one thousand pounds to compensate for my immediate acceptance into the College of Dynamics.”
Mother’s teacup slipped from her hand and smashed on the tiled floor. Father’s mouth hung open, slack, as Ben grinned.
“We could rent a furnished house in the West End,” Mother said, her voice high with excitement. “And your trousseau and wedding would be the best the family has ever seen!” she said to Charlotte. “You could marry right away! We could pay a deposit on a fine house for you and George and help with the rent until he’s promoted!”
“You could give up the sewing,” Father said to Mother, and she started to weep.
“You haven’t chosen Ledbetter, have you?” Charlotte asked.
“Of course I have! He said that he can make me one of the finest practitioners of Dynamics the Empire has ever seen. And the Dynamics magi are the most successful industrialists. He says in the letter he’ll tutor me personally, and show me how to design and run my own mill. I can combine it with engineering! It’s perfect!”
“But . . . but I don’t think he’s a good man, Ben,” Charlotte said as her parents embraced each other and started laughing and weeping together.
“You’ve made a rash judgement,” Ben said, cross with her reaction. “This is the best thing for our family.”
“Are you sure it’s a thousand?” Father said suddenly. “It must be a mistake! That’s a fortune!”
“He’s one of the wealthiest men in Britain,” Ben said. “Look at the letter. The offer is from the College, but he’s personally increased it with his own private money, he’s so keen for me to join.”
“Or to keep you out of the other colleges,” Charlotte said, thinking of the way the magus had spoken of Hopkins the night before.
“What does it matter?” Ben said. “I’m accepting it. I’ve already penned the letter and the courier will be here very soon to collect it.”
Charlotte slammed her butter knife down on the table. “May I speak with you in private?” she said to Ben, and went out into the hallway.
After a brief exchange with their parents, Ben followed her out to the bottom of the stairs. “Why are you so sour, Charlie? This is exactly what you wanted!”
“You were speaking as if they chose you for something you had done!”
He frowned. “How else am I to behave?”
“But it’s not real! You can’t possibly accept a thousand pounds under false pretences!”
He paused, looking down at his feet. “You yourself told me that they expect a drop in ability. How can you be so fickle? We work so hard for this and when it’s a resounding success, you’re upset? It makes no sense!” When she said nothing, he added, “Besides, doesn’t what happened yesterday make you question your decision to keep hidden? You heard what Magus Ledbetter said about turning wild. Is that why you’re so against him?”
“No, it is not,” Charlotte said, wishing she could explain the real reason for her distrust of Ledbetter, and Hopkins, too. “I think you should accept Magus Ainsworth’s offer. Thermaturgy is where your genuine talent lies.”
“No. It’s Dynamics for me, Charlie. I’ll work at it, I will, and I’ll become one of the great industrialists, too.” He held her shoulders. “Let me be a success, just for once, please? Didn’t you see the way Mother and Father looked at me? Like I was finally something to be proud of? And this fortune will change their lives, and yours!”
“I was always proud of you.”
His face softened and he pulled her into a fierce embrace. “I won’t let you down, Charlie Bean. You gave me this chance and I’m going to take it. I’ll be the magus Ledbetter thinks I can be and the brother you deserve and a son to be proud of.”
Charlotte held him tight, knowing she wasn’t going to dissuade him, no matter what she said. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too.”
There was a knock at the door and Ben released her to answer it. The courier Charlotte had seen earlier stood to attention. “Do you have a reply for the Royal Society, sir?”
Ben reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter. “I’ll pack right away,” he added and the courier nodded.
“There will be a carriage to collect you within the hour, sir. Good day to you. And congratulations!”
Chapter 14
CHARLOTTE HAD DONE HER best to comfort her mother, who hadn’t stopped crying since they’d waved Ben off, but there was nothing more to do or say. He was gone and all they could do was hope that he thrived there. After managing only half a cup of tea, Charlotte decided she had to get out of the house. She was exhausted but too distressed to rest. A long walk was the only thing she could face.
Her father came to her as she put on her coat. “Going to tell George the good news?”
“After a long walk,” she said, trying to hide how she felt.
“I think my letter worked,” he whispered to her, after checking Mother wasn’t nearby. “The debt collector didn’t come, and he was always very punctual.”
Charlotte weathered another wave of nausea. “Hopefully it will all be resolved amicably,” she said carefully. “I’ll see you later, Papa.”
“Charlie.” He caught her arm gently as she went to the door. “Thank you for being so good about the debt. I haven’t been able to give you everything I wanted to when you were growing up. That’s going to change now.”
She smiled sadly. “I don’t need anything, Papa. I just want you to be happy and safe.” She kissed him on the cheek and went out.
Charlotte didn’t have a destination in mind; she just needed to move. It was a brilliantly bright winter’s day, the sky blue and the wind cold. Without even thinking about it, she found herself in the same street as the bakery and bookshop. She took a breath to s
uggest to Ben that they get a currant bun and then remembered he wasn’t with her.
The bakery was closed “indefinitely” according to a notice on the door. A woman passing by said, “You’d better find another bakery, love. The baker topped ’erself.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Her boy was one of them magi. They tested him and he was and she was called to trial. They found her hanging in the back room before they could get her in the dock. Terrible business.”
The woman left her reeling. Charlotte looked inside; the dustpan of glass she’d swept up herself was where she’d left it, as was the chair where she’d sat the baker down. Would that woman have held on if Charlotte had come back to visit, as she’d promised? She covered her mouth, trying not to cry. No, she was just a stranger to that poor woman. How vain of her to think a visit could have made a difference.
She drifted across the street. Love, Death and Other Magicks was still being displayed in the bookshop window. She stared at the pictures, trying to match the person she had been when she drew them to the person she was now. Artist to criminal in just a few short weeks.
“They’re beautiful illustrations.”
The voice of Magus Hopkins made her yelp in surprise. She stepped away from him, keeping her back to him.
“That Charles Baker chap is very talented, isn’t he?” he pressed but she remained silent. “Such a keen eye for detail. And the expressions on the faces are exquisite. I’ve never seen—”
“I do not wish to speak to you, sir,” Charlotte said, walking away. She had to keep her anger in check.
“But I wish to speak to you,” the magus said, falling into step alongside her. “It’s most important that I do.”
The pavement was crowded with people, and she noticed how many of them were staring at him in his fine clothes. “My brother has made his choice and there is nothing to be discussed.” She didn’t want to talk about the machine or what had happened at number six, New Road, not here, not now.
