by Emma Newman
He stared down at the body. His nose was bleeding from the blow and he was very pale, but he didn’t seem at all upset. “Did it work, do you think? Your plan, I mean?”
“Ben, you just killed a man!” she whispered.
“But did it work?”
Was he in shock? Yes, that had to be it. “I think so. It sucked the life from him, so it must have sucked in the excess spirits, too.” She stopped at the sound of a door opening on the other side of the mill.
“Paxton and Ledbetter!” Ben hissed. “Run, hide, before they see you! I’ll take care of this.”
Aching, Charlotte scrambled to her feet. She had just enough time to dive into the shadows against the far wall, before Ledbetter and Paxton arrived at the other end of the row.
“Gunn?” Ledbetter called. “What’s to do?” He was wearing white tie, which somehow didn’t suit him, and had a pale cream folder tucked under his arm.
“I’ve solved the mystery, Master Magus Ledbetter,” Ben said, bowing as the huge man headed towards him with Paxton in tow. “It was a Latent.”
“A girl, that’s what I was told,” Paxton said.
“Who’s that?” Ledbetter pointed at the body.
“He’s the one who came and told me somethin’ was goin’ on,” Paxton said, throwing a suspicious look at Ben.
“He lured a mill girl in here and threatened her,” Ben said. “I heard a commotion and came to investigate. He was smashing that loom. The poor girl was scared out of her wits. He was telling her he’d smash her skull against the wall if she didn’t say she was a saboteur working for Cartwright. I challenged him, there was a scuffle and he tried to kill me. I . . . fear I overreacted, Master Magus Ledbetter. I threw those buckets at him with my ability, and it killed him. I accept full responsibility.”
From her hiding place, Charlotte could see the triumphant gloating on Paxton’s face as Ledbetter approached the body.
The mage nudged the body with his shoe. “Old, for a Latent. Not unheard of, though. Paxton, go to the police station on Fairfield Street and ask for Chief Constable Jenkins to come right away. Tell ’im it’s me that wants ’im. Don’t tell ’im why. Just say it’s important.”
Paxton did not look pleased about this. “Should I not say there’s been a murder so that—”
Ledbetter cuffed him round the head. “No, you should bloody not! Do as I say, Paxton, else I’ll have another body to explain to Jenkins, d’you ’ear?”
“Yes, Master Magus Ledbetter,” Paxton mumbled resentfully and turned to go.
“Get a move on!” Ledbetter bellowed, and Paxton broke into a run.
Ledbetter moved back to look at Horcombe, then Ben. “Right, then, m’boy. Why don’t you tell me what really ’appened before the Peeler gets ‘ere?”
The lantern light picked out the sheen of sweat on Ben’s forehead. “He isn’t a Latent,” he said. “He thought the mill girl was one, and had been watching her. She was a witness to one of the incidents.” He pointed at the body. “That man assumed she was coming in here to sabotage the looms and ran off to get you without my knowledge. In fact, I had asked her to meet me here and describe exactly what she saw, without the foreman breathing down her neck.”
Ben paused, and Charlotte bit her lip. Please don’t tell him the truth, she silently begged him.
“Go on, son,” Ledbetter said. “Paxton’s not ’ere, you can be straight wi’me.”
“The girl described what she saw and I dismissed her. There was no way she was a Latent, and besides, I was already forming a theory about what was happening here. Talking to her made it all come together in my mind. I tested my theory.” He pointed at the broken loom. “I’m very sorry about the damage, Master Magus, I’ll reimburse you from my stipend. You see, the incidents haven’t been caused by saboteurs or a hidden Latent. The problem is esoteric in nature. It’s all to do with spiritual energy system, sir. It’s geared to take only a tiny part each day, but we haven’t considered what happens at the point of death. From the girl’s testimony, I discovered that pain in the vicinity of the loom is the trigger. My theory is that when a worker dies, some of their spiritual energy is absorbed into the system, but because of the gating mechanism, only a tiny part can be taken and the rest is left here. En masse, these remnants attack the machines. The attacks have been worsening as more workers have died, steadily worsening the problem.”
Charlotte’s face was hot with anger. Not only did Ben know about what the symbols on the looms did, he sounded like an expert! And now that he was explaining the cause of the problems, Ledbetter would be unstoppable!
But she couldn’t blame Ben for telling the truth; what else could he say? Besides, he needed to impress Ledbetter to save his own neck. She was more annoyed with herself. How would she explain this to Hopkins? It was exactly what he didn’t want to happen!
“I altered the gating mechanism on that loom,” Ben continued, pointing at the one next to the body, “and set it off, after striking my arm against it, just as I had with the previous one. I watched from a distance, and as you can see, no damage was done. The excess spiritual energy has been taken into the system. That loom hasn’t been reset, by the way.”
Ledbetter went over to the altered loom, inspecting it. “Go on,” he prompted.
“Well, this man came back in the middle of my test and assumed that I was in fact behind it all. He accused me of being one of Cartwright’s people. He was one of Paxton’s stooges, it seems, and delighted in telling me how Paxton would see to it that I was destroyed. I told the truth before, sir. He struck me, and whilst there was an element of self-defence, I was simply furious with him for saying such things. I used the buckets to knock him away, forgetting the loom alteration, and he landed here. His spiritual energy was sucked into the system before I could do anything. I feel absolutely dreadful.”
Charlotte watched Ledbetter as Ben confessed. He moved with the lantern, examining the cogs at the side and then inspecting the broken drive belt, his attention lingering over her alterations. He nodded to himself as her stomach cramped. She knew nothing about those symbols and could only pray that the ones Hopkins had given her were generic, not specialised to him.
Ben wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and then dabbed at the blood under his nose, wincing. Ledbetter set down the lantern next to the folder he’d brought in with him and went over to him.
“You didn’t say this in front of Paxton. Why?”
“Well, sir, if I may be so bold, I hoped that my solution would earn me my qualification, leaving him out in the cold. If I told you there was a problem of an esoteric nature, one that all your mills are vulnerable to, he could take that information elsewhere and profit from it at your expense. I decided to wait and tell you the truth when we were alone.”
Ledbetter grinned, the shadows cast by the lantern making him ghoulish. “Benjamin Gunn, you ’ave done sterlin’ work here, m’boy. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ve got an understandin’ with the constable, nowt will come of it.” When Ben didn’t look relieved, Ledbetter rested a hand on his shoulder. “He’s just a mill worker, son. No one’ll care. We’ll get this sorted. In the mornin’ you’re to come wi’me to the college to write up all y’said ’ere. I’ll see to it that they give you full qualification and a bonus to your stipend. I’ll personally fund your first mill. You’ve done me a great service, m’boy, a great service and I’ll see to it that you’ll want for nothin’.”
Ben blinked at him as Ledbetter took his hand and pumped it up and down, clapping him on the arm. “Thank you, Master Magus Ledbetter,” he stammered.
“I knew you’d come good. Knew you’d be sommat special, right from the day I tested yer. You’ve a bright future, young man. I can see the upper echelons of the college for you, one day. Just keep workin’ ’ard and thinkin’ sharp under pressure, and you’ll go far. Paxton ent good for anythin’ save workin’ the shafts. I’ll make sure he’s tucked away where his jealousy can’t touch you. A’right?”
Ben nodded, managing a smile now. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”
The sound of the door opening at the other end of the mill made Ledbetter step away. “That’ll be the Peeler. Let me do the talkin’ and leave some of that blood under y’nose so he can see it. C’mon.”
He started to steer Ben away, but then hurried back to pick up the folder, looking worried. After a moment’s deliberation, Ledbetter tucked it under one of the pristine looms across the way. He obviously didn’t want to be seen with it. What was in there?
Ben glanced back, and she could see his eyes scan the darkness, looking for her whilst Ledbetter was distracted. He surreptitiously pointed towards the door they’d come through before, signalling to her that she should leave that way, seeing as the policemen and Paxton were over at the worker’s entrance. No doubt Paxton had wanted to make sure that no one saw a Peeler enter through the posh doors.
Charlotte waited until he and Ledbetter were on their way before scurrying over to the place the folder was hidden. There was a sheaf of papers inside that looked formal, with the College of Dynamics coat of arms stamped at the top. Hearing the conversation come to an end at the far side of the mill and footsteps begin, she only dared look at the top page. The title Project 84 was in a large font with Progress report: Carnforth Hall typed in smaller text below. A TOP SECRET stamp in red ink was on the top right corner of the page. She closed the folder and tucked it back into its hiding place exactly as she’d found it before dashing off to the door. The group of men were at the top of the row as she reached it, but remembering the well-oiled hinges from when they came in before, Charlotte took the risk and opened it to slip out of the mill unseen.
She ran back to the cottage, thinking that Ben would come looking for her there as soon as he could get away. It wasn’t until she sat on the back step and caught her breath that the image of the man’s dead face returned to her. Huddled against the door in the darkness, Charlotte wept until exhaustion finally claimed her and she fell asleep.
Chapter 11
CHARLOTTE STARED AT THE sumptuous breakfast laid out on the crisp white linen. From the third-floor window of the hotel, she could look out over St Peter’s Field, the red-bricked mills over on the far side a mere backdrop to the peaceful scenery. She wondered if Ben had chosen this room in particular in an effort to put the mill far from her mind.
It wasn’t working.
She was hungry but strangely without appetite. She picked at the poached eggs, thinking of Mags and Dotty who would have already been at work for hours. They’d be wondering where she was. Mags had probably told them all of what she’d said about Betty. Maybe they all thought she was too scared of the ghost to go back. It was a decent enough explanation, given the circumstances.
Last night she had been so grateful that she didn’t have to go back to the lodging house. Ben had found her on the cottage back step and brought her to the hotel right away, even running the bath for her. Once she was clean and tucked up in the cloud-soft bed, they’d finally talked. It had felt like a strange reversal to have him sitting there, hale and hearty, as she’d felt half dead.
“Everything is going to be fine,” he’d said to her. “No charges will be pressed and I should be fully qualified by tomorrow evening.”
She’d kept her opinions on the corruption of the police to herself. She didn’t want him to get into trouble, but she didn’t like the way that Ledbetter could brush a death aside like that.
“You heard the conversation between us?” he’d asked.
“Yes. I suppose you want me to tell you about the changes I made to the symbols, for your report.”
“Please, Charlie. If you write them down for me, I’ll handle everything else.”
What else could she do? She wasn’t going to send him back to Ledbetter empty-handed. He’d fetched some of the hotel letter paper from the desk, torn off the design at the top so it was blank and handed it to her with a pencil.
Poised to draw them, she’d stopped and looked at him. “Ben . . . I’ll write these down but you have to understand . . . I can’t tell you how I know about this.”
He’d pursed his lips in disapproval. “No one outside of the Royal Society should know anything about them.”
“Things aren’t always the way they should be, are they? I’m certain that apprentices aren’t supposed to put their sisters to work in a mill to solve their problems, either.”
“I’ll turn a blind eye if you’ll forgive me,” he’d finally said with a sigh.
“Then I’ll write them down for you. But don’t forget your promise. I will be happy with George and I won’t ever use my abilities. Especially now I know the risks.”
They’d embraced, and it had felt like she was holding her brother again.
Now, pushing cold poached eggs around her plate, Charlotte worried about whether she’d done the right thing, whilst simultaneously failing to think of an alternative. Perhaps the only thing to do was just accept that Ledbetter was going to benefit from her efforts, but more important, that her brother’s safety was assured. She ignored the little voice at the back of her mind grumbling about how her brother always seemed to benefit more than she did. Silly voice. It knew nothing about the way things worked.
Tackling some toast, Charlotte focused on more positive things. As soon as she was home, she’d start writing up her experiences in the mill and sketch scenes from the memories that plagued her now. She’d make a chapbook and see if her agent could do something with it. It was a place to start. At the very least, if it was published, she’d send the proceeds to Dotty and Mags in the hope it would help them find a way out of that life. She had every intention to visit Ben’s mill once it was running to see if things were better there. If they weren’t, he’d have hell to pay. Still, she feared it would not be enough.
Ben couldn’t escort her to the train station, having such an important day ahead of him, but he’d made all the arrangements for her to get there and to be picked up at Euston. It was a relief to climb into her first-class compartment, the trials of the trip behind her. She was bruised and still so very tired, barely able to keep her eyes open. She just wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed.
The sound of the compartment door opening woke her, and a smartly dressed middle-aged lady was helped into the compartment by a young man. They exchanged polite smiles and Charlotte watched as the lady waved him off.
“My son,” she said. “He’s a good boy.”
The whistle blew, just at the moment Charlotte remembered that she was supposed to send a message to Hopkins at the Grand to assure him of her well-being. She silently cursed herself, but it was too late now. When they stopped at Crewe she’d send a telegraph to him.
The door opened a second time and a bag landed in the middle of the compartment, tossed inside from a hurrying passenger. In a swirl of burgundy and black satin, Hopkins clambered in and shut the door quick, receiving a glare from the station guard for his trouble.
“I do beg your pardon,” he said to the other lady, whose stern expression was enough to make Charlotte shrink further back into her seat out of sympathy for Hopkins. “May I share this compartment with you and your sister?”
The lady began to reappraise Hopkins. “This young lady is not my sister, sir. We happen to be sharing this compartment.” She looked at Charlotte. “Do you have any objection, dear?”
“Not at all,” Charlotte replied. “Are you both travelling as far as London?”
“I shall be alighting at Crewe,” the lady said and looked pointedly at Hopkins.
“Oh, I shall be travelling further than that,” he said. “But if it pleases you, miss, I shall move to another compartment when our companion leaves.”
The lady looked at him with obvious approval now. “Mrs Harper-Symthe,” she said, extending a gloved hand to Hopkins, who kissed it dutifully.
“Magus Hopkins, of the Royal Society of Esoteric Arts,” he said and the lady smiled in delight.
&
nbsp; “A magus! How thrilling!”
He stifled a yawn, somehow managing to look devastatingly handsome as he did so. “My apologies, Mrs Harper-Smythe. I had a terrible night’s sleep, worrying about a cheese delivery.”
Charlotte blushed, knowing that had been directed at her, but neither of them looked at her.
“Tell me,” Hopkins said to the lady. “Do you reside in Manchester?”
They talked without pause from Manchester to Crewe and Charlotte watched in fascinated silence as Hopkins worked a different sort of magic. By the time he helped Mrs Harper-Smythe out at Crewe, she was clearly infatuated with him and looked like she might abandon her plans, just to stay a moment longer with him. He helped her to find a porter and kissed her hand again, making the poor lady titter like a bird. When Hopkins got back into the compartment, he looked as if he’d spent the better part of the last hour in quiet contemplation, rather than waging a charm offensive.
“My apologies, Miss Gunn,” he said once he was settled into his seat. “I barely had the opportunity to think, let alone draw you into the conversation.”
“Indeed, you were far too busy ensuring that Mrs Harper-Smythe fell in love with you.”
He fought a smile as the guard’s whistle blew. Once the train was leaving the station, he relaxed. “I accept your apology for failing to reassure me of your well-being.”
She blushed again. “I am sorry. I didn’t have the opportunity last night and I confess it slipped my mind this morning. I do feel terrible about it.”
With a little wave, he dismissed the topic. “Tell me everything.”
And she did, ending it with another apology. “Now Ledbetter’s mills will be the most successful in the country and it’s my fault.”
“But your brother is safe, and whilst the workers won’t see much improvement in conditions, they won’t be terrorised by anything supernatural at least.”
“You’re not angry?”
He shuffled along the seats until he was sat opposite her. “Miss Gunn, you have acted with honour and bravery. Yes, a man died, but he was blackmailing you.”
