by Emma Newman
“But I have something to return to you.” He produced a horribly familiar sketchbook from behind his back, making her stop. It was the one usually hidden at the bottom of the wooden chest in her room. “You have a very distinctive style, Miss Gunn. Such a keen eye for detail. And the sketches of the timepiece in particular are most impressive.”
She couldn’t stop the fearsome blush from spreading across her cheeks. “How did you get that?”
“I stole it from your room. How else would I come by it?”
For a moment, all she could do was blink at his audacity. “You are one of the very worst examples of a man given too much privilege,” she finally said.
“You are one of the most dangerous young women in this city,” he replied calmly. “Now, may I suggest we continue this exchange of insults in the carriage over there, rather than on the street? I have a suspicion that you actually have a great deal to say to me, and privacy will be preferable.”
She folded her arms. “If you think I am going to get into a carriage alone with you, then you are, quite frankly, an idiot.”
He smiled. How could God have made such an odious man so beautiful? “If you think I am going to let you walk away without having this conversation with me, you are, too, Miss Gunn. Come now.” He held out his hand. “We can be perfectly civil to each other, surely?”
Perhaps he was the devil. Either way, it was clear he knew what she had done, now that he’d seen her sketches of the timepiece. And perhaps giving him her honest opinion of him would be quite a relief. She sighed, resigned, and marched towards the waiting carriage.
It was an impressive Clarence carriage, large enough to carry four people but empty inside. In contrast to the black exterior, the seats inside were a beautiful royal blue and the doors were inlaid with walnut. The driver was dressed in black and showed no interest in who the magus was inviting into his carriage. The four horses that pulled it were fine specimens, all dark brown and shining with health. She wondered why Hopkins wasn’t using esoteric means to travel about London, but then perhaps that would make it harder to do what he was doing without drawing attention.
As Charlotte climbed inside, she wondered if this was the last time she’d be seen alive on a London street. She paused, considering whether to just open the opposite door and climb straight out, but then Hopkins was seating himself down, having closed the door behind him. She took a step towards the other door just as he knocked on the roof and the carriage pulled away. She plopped into the seat across from him inelegantly, making him smile. She scowled back.
“So, you’re a Latent,” he said casually, as if it were the most humdrum thing in the world. “One who has just successfully conned the Royal Society into paying an extraordinary amount for a very average young man.” He stared at her as she sank into the seat. Then he started to clap. “Bravo, Miss Gunn, bravo.”
Confused, she kept her mouth shut, convinced that anything she said in response would damn her.
“How did it go at the house in New Road last night?”
The decision to stay quiet was instantly forgotten. “You are the most despicable man I have ever had the misfortune to meet! You said it would be rendered harmless!”
“Ah, so you changed the settings on the device?”
She took a breath to answer, but paused. It felt as if he were a cat poised to pounce, watching with amusement as she scurried back and forth like a mouse trapped between his paws. He was leaping from one topic to another, as if batting her with a paw to see which way she ran, just for his entertainment.
“You disgusting man,” she said, tears welling. “You think this is amusing? To trick a woman into killing because you were too cowardly to act? To damn her soul in the process? I’m bound for the fires of hell because—”
“Oh, don’t be so ridiculous.” He sighed. “All of that eternal damnation nonsense is really too tiresome for words. You acted innocently, if that is of such concern to you, and rid the world of two creatures who have inflicted far more suffering than I ever have.”
“You lied to me!”
“I did nothing of the sort. The changes to the settings did render it harmless. For anyone inside the cage.”
“I could have been killed!”
“I had no idea you would be put inside it by the very men I sought to outsmart! I was merely concerned with keeping your father alive—he was the next one destined to be its prisoner, not you!”
She sat back, considering what he’d said. How could he have known they would be there that night? Perhaps it wasn’t him using her to strike a blow against his enemies, as she’d thought. “Did you know Ledbetter is involved?”
“I suspected as much, given his mark was in your other sketchbook.”
“Then why didn’t you warn me?”
“To what end? What would you have done when he visited the house the next day to test your brother? Challenged him? Set fire to him?”
“I . . .”
“My dear Miss Gunn, there are times for open accusations, and this was definitely not one of them.”
“But my brother has chosen Ledbetter’s offer!”
“Of course he has,” Hopkins said, tugging at the fingers of a glove to take it off. “Ledbetter didn’t want me to gain such a talented apprentice, so he made an offer your brother couldn’t possibly refuse. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Wait. I killed two men because of you and that’s all you have to say about it? Won’t Ledbetter find out what I did? One of them was his apprentice. At least, I think he was.”
“He was,” Hopkins said confidently. “Why should Ledbetter find out that it was you?”
She reached for an answer but nothing came to mind. “Won’t the Peelers—”
“My dear young lady, the Peelers will not be involved with that case. As soon as the magus is identified, the Royal Society will handle the investigation.”
“That’s even worse!” she said. “Why do you look so happy about it?”
“It’s so refreshing, speaking to someone so innocent of how the world really works. My dear, nothing will come of it,” Hopkins said. “As soon as Ledbetter’s marks are identified, someone will ask him a couple of questions, he’ll deny all involvement and then it will be forgotten. He’ll make sure of it.”
Charlotte was horrified. “But people have died! And what about the people murdered in that cage?”
Hopkins shrugged. “Heart failure is a tragedy no one can prevent.”
Her fists balled tight. “But that’s so wrong! What’s to stop him recruiting others to use that cage?”
“What indeed,” Hopkins said, pulling off his second glove. He tilted his head, examining her. “You really are furious about this, aren’t you?”
The question confused her. “How can I not be, sir?”
He seemed to be delighted by her. “Indeed. Now, before I move on to more pressing matters, I want to reassure you that your father is no longer at risk.”
“I know, I—” She stopped herself, reddening again. How she wished she could stop herself doing that!
“You doctored the paperwork, yes, I know. A rather clumsy attempt, but impressive, considering what you had just experienced. I’ve tidied up the loose ends you left in the paper trail, and he will receive a letter by second post, informing him that the debt has been repaid by an anonymous benefactor. The others who owed money will receive the same letter.”
Charlotte had no idea how to feel. Grateful? Relieved? Happy? She should feel any and all of those, but all she felt was a growing suspicion that Hopkins knew far more about what she’d been doing over the past two nights than he was letting on. He had dropped hints, given her enough information to act but not see the whole picture, commented on her performance as if . . . “This was a test!”
His smile was divine and she had to consciously stop herself from reciprocating it. “At last, the Latent sees beyond the end of her own nose!”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why ever not? That’s what you are. As soon as Ainsworth told me about the candle, I suspected it. Your brother just wasn’t confident enough, and you . . .” He trailed off, looking deep into her eyes for a moment. “You were so clearly trying to hide the sun behind a paper fan.”
It felt like the tiniest bolt of lightning sparked through her breast.
“When I saw the way you peeped at the clock when that boy distracted everyone during Ben’s test, I knew I was right. I went upstairs, saw your room was above, poked around, found a loose floorboard above the ceiling rose and then”—he patted the sketchbook resting on the seat next to him—“this simply confirmed my suspicions. You made the first timepiece change, didn’t you? But your father assumed it was your brother and somehow you persuaded him to test instead of you. I can only assume he has some small ability—otherwise, it would have been madness to even try. That’s why you asked about a drop in ability after testing, that time in the kitchen. Your questions made so much more sense when I put it together.”
He seemed happy rather than accusatory, and her fear that he was about to expose her faded a little. But she still couldn’t bring herself to admit he was right.
Hopkins leaned forward, a bright excitement in his eyes that sent another thrill through her. “Miss Gunn, there’s no need to be afraid; you are exactly what I’ve been looking for all this time. Someone who has more than just a shred of decency, who actually cares about people.”
“Unlike you!” she said, trying to fight against the pull of his enthusiasm.
“On the contrary, Miss Gunn, I care a great deal about people. I simply choose to hide the fact to protect myself. Something you know all about, I fancy. How you have managed to hide your ability all this time astounds me. And not only that, but a career as an illustrator, too. It’s quite remarkable what people are able to overlook.”
Of course; some of her preliminary sketches for the poetry book were in the same sketchbook. He had discovered everything she had worked so hard to hide. She let her head flop back and covered her face. She was so tired and her head ached and she had felt so many emotions over the past twenty-four hours that she never wanted to feel anything ever again. “I don’t understand what you want from me, Magus Hopkins. It’s clear there is something you desire, but forgive me, I haven’t slept for two days and my mind is not at its sharpest. Are you planning to turn me over to the Enforcers? Is that where you’re taking me? Because at this moment, I am too tired and confused and heartsore to care.”
When she let her hands drop into her lap, he took one and held it gently between both of his. “No, Miss Gunn. I’m not going to report you and I’m not going to urge you to submit yourself, either. But soon you will turn wild and you will be a great danger to yourself and others, unless . . .” He held her hand more firmly, passionately, almost. “Unless you agree to let me help you. Without the knowledge of the Royal Society.”
Charlotte wanted to pull away as much as she wanted to kiss him, and neither seemed at all permissible. He was so much more forward than a gentleman had any right to be, and yet a part of her gloried at his touch, whilst another part berated her for her betrayal.
“You’re willing to help me to break the law? You’re a Fellow of the Royal Society!”
Hopkins nodded. “It’s clear you don’t want to lose what you have. You love a man and want to marry and, presumably, continue your career as an illustrator. Becoming a Fellow of the Royal Society would make both impossible, just as surely as it would teach you to control your power before it becomes too destructive.” He edged even closer to her, so their knees were almost touching. It felt wildly inappropriate but she simply couldn’t move. “Just as surely as it would harness you, like a yoke on an ox. The Royal Society offers knowledge and protection at the price of freedom. Miss Gunn, I want you to keep your freedom and learn control. I can give you both.”
“I suspect you aren’t offering this to me so I can be a happily married woman.”
“It isn’t entirely altruistic, I’ll grant you that. This business with the cage . . . it’s only one of many atrocities being committed by the Royal Society, and I am literally powerless to act, to even investigate many of them. I need someone whom I can trust, someone with esoteric knowledge and skill, but also the freedom to go places and speak to people I cannot. I will teach you how to focus, how to direct your power and keep control of it, without informing the Royal Society of your ability. In return, I want you to help me investigate the crimes I know are being committed, and bring those responsible to justice.”
She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the noise of his beauty so she could think. His hands were warm and soft, not those of a working man at all. He smelt of vanilla and something musky that made her want to close the gap between them so she could breathe it in more deeply.
In the darkness, rocked by the carriage, the sounds of London dull against the clatter of the horses’ hooves and the rumble of the wheels on the cobblestones, Charlotte could feel the shape of the choices ahead of her. She could say no, but what then? Would he keep her ability a secret if she was soon to turn wild and endanger others? Unlikely. But if she accepted, what dangers would he lead her into? Crimes committed by the Royal Society were never going to be safe to investigate. And she would see more of him, share a dangerous secret with him, and surely that would bring them closer together? How could she want that so badly and yet need to run from it as far as she could?
But if he was telling the truth, this was her chance to make a difference. Her chance to retain some sort of freedom, despite the power that grew within her, to forge a life of her own.
No. It wasn’t as simple as that.
Keeping her eyes closed, she said, “You speak of bringing those responsible to justice, but you didn’t act against Ledbetter.”
“It isn’t the right time. A man as powerful and as wealthy as him can’t be stopped easily.”
That made sense. But even if she let that go, there was something that he couldn’t deny. “You say that you’ll help me, teach me what I need to know and not tell the Royal Society.”
“If you agree to this, I will give you my word that I will never report you, and if it’s in my power to do so, I will stop others from doing the same.” His voice was so rich, so soft.
“But I wouldn’t be free, would I?” She opened her eyes, forcing herself to look into his. “I would be yours. So to speak.”
He said nothing for the longest moment, and she felt as if something were pulling her towards him that she had to actively resist. “Yes, Miss Gunn,” he finally said. “I suppose you would be mine. My student, that is. And my assistant. My eyes and ears, from time to time.”
“And it would be dangerous. From time to time?”
“I think the likelihood of that is rather high, Miss Gunn.” His eyes flicked to her lips and then back up again. “Frightfully so, if truth be told. But I have the suspicion that a young lady as bright and able as you might actually enjoy that.”
“I fear I have no choice but to accept, Magus Hopkins.”
His eyes sparkled. “Together, we will work wonders, Miss Gunn.” He glanced out of the window. “Ah, we’re almost there.”
“Where?”
“Your house, of course!” He laughed. “It was a very scenic route.”
She looked out at a suddenly familiar street. “When do we begin, Magus?”
“I will send word when I’ve made arrangements. For now, rest, spend time with your family and your fiancé. There’s a possibility you will need to travel soon and I need you to be ready for adventure.” He kissed her hand and gave her the sketchbook. “I will never steal from you again.”
“Then I will never curse your name and call you despicable again.”
He gave a nod, satisfied. “Good day to you, then, Miss Gunn. I will be in touch.”
Once she was out of the carriage at the end of the street, watching it speed off, Charlotte struggled to believe the conversation h
ad even happened. She looked down at the sketchbook and flipped through the pages until she came to her drawings of the timepiece. How strange to think that just these little drawings had done so much to change their lives. Then she noticed the slip of paper tucked into folds of the page.
Should you ever need me, for whatever reason, post a drawing of a clockface showing five past midnight through the letterbox of the clock tower closest to your house. I will come as soon as I am able.
It was from Magus Hopkins, it had to be. He put it there before the conversation in the carriage. Was it a sign of his arrogance that he was so certain he’d be able to recruit her, or simply the prediction that her choices were so limited that she was bound to say yes?
“Charlotte!”
The sound of George’s voice calling her name made her spin around. She had completely forgotten he was coming to take her out for the afternoon. He was striding towards her, his hair shining in the winter sunshine, a broad smile on his face at the sight of her. She slapped the sketchbook shut, crumpling the note in her fist as she ran over. He kissed her on the cheek, cupping her face with his hand, tenderly.
“Hello, darling,” he said. “Gosh, but you do look lovely today, Charlotte. What’s put such a glow in your cheeks?”
Charlotte slipped her arm through his and they fell into step easily. “Let me drop this off at home and I will tell you all about it,” she lied.
“What’s that you have there?”
Perhaps it was time to tell him about her illustrations, especially as there was so much she wouldn’t be able to share with him. “A sketchbook.”
“Oh, for your father. Splendid!”
Charlotte couldn’t find it in herself to correct him. She’d been hiding that part of herself for so long now, it felt false to speak of it. She slipped the note into the pocket of her coat as they walked, trying hard not to think about how Magus Hopkins had seen through all her deception to catch sight of who she really was. “I have so much to tell you, George,” she said, forcing her mind to her fiancé. “You simply wouldn’t believe everything that has happened since I last saw you!”
