Druid's Daughter

by Jean Hart Stewart

  “He’s quite intelligent. This Latin primer shows he’s grasping the rudiments. I imagine he’s slated for Eton or Harrow.”

  “I trust not,” said Dellafield. “I’m urging Winchester as an alternative.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. Why volunteer this particular bit of information? A statement saying much more about him than the boy. Dellafield had doubtless been entered at Eton before he’d even been born.

  She would definitely like to keep the Chief Inspector talking.

  “Oh? But you went to Eton and Oxford, I think. I’m sure the Commissioner mentioned you did.”

  “Let us say there are boys from the top of the peerage at Eton and Harrow who take advantage of their rank. Jamie is a rather small and gentle boy. Nor is the Commissioner titled. I would not have Jamie treated like some boys at Eton.”

  He turned from her when he finished talking. Did he know what a revealing statement he’d just made? Yes, his mouth set in grim lines as soon as he spoke. Did she discern a tinge of regret in his voice? But he was both well-titled and without doubt had been a large youngster.

  She started to say something then stopped. She doubted if demons from his private vision of hell could force Lord Lance to say another illuminating word. He set his jaw as she went one more time to the youngster’s bed.

  Finally she gave the stuffed dog on the bed a hug and a pat and spoke some soft words to the toy. Then she turned to Dellafield.

  “I’m through here. I feel I know the boy. His aura has dark streaks and he is quite terrified.” Her low voice revealed her deep concern. “If only I keep him deeply in my mind perhaps I can get a feeling for where he might be.”

  “His terror is what haunts us all.” The Chief Inspector pitched his voice almost too low to hear. “May an authentic vision come to you, Miss McAfee.”

  She stared at him in utter surprise. He couldn’t mean to imply he believed such a thing possible. He volunteered nothing more, but put his hand on her elbow and gravely escorted her from the house. They were both silent during the drive to her house. When they reached her doorway, he nodded in response to her thanks for his arranging access to Jamie’s room. He offered nothing more than a curt goodbye as her butler opened the door. Dellafield doubtless regretted his slight inference she might be able to help. He’d made it plain he placed little credibility in visions and less in auras. A reaction to which she’d become quite accustomed.

  If she possessed witching powers, one thing she’d do would be to apply them to understanding the thought processes of this complicated man. She didn’t think him as unfeeling as when they first met. She’d seen his face in Jamie’s room and she’d never again consider him totally insensitive. He cared deeply about the boy.

  Dellafield reminded her of a dormant volcano. Or a boiling tea kettle. Cover on tight yet steam capable of blowing the lid off. She knew he was unmarried and had supported several beautiful mistresses over the years. Could he unleash his strong emotions in such an ordinary way? Somehow she didn’t think he’d waste his passions on a transient affair.

  Against her wishes he intrigued her. In a strictly analytical way. They were too far apart to ever interact except in aversion. She’d always felt most members of the aristocracy were regrettable.

  But Jamie, a young boy she now felt she knew, gripped her mind and her heart. Even if he were safe, he’d now been three days away from all he loved. He was desperate, frightened and bewildered.

  Goddess of us all, how she wished she could call up her visions at will. She’d seldom longed quite so much to be able to summon her powers. She was very much afraid she might be Jamie’s main hope.

  She climbed the stairs to her room more slowly than usual. Would she be able to help? Really help?

  Equally important, would the arrogant Dellafield allow her to do so? Or did he feel he’d done his part by taking her to Jamie’s room?

  She could feel Jamie clamoring to get in her mind. Unpinning her hat, she threw it on the bed and then lay back.

  Would Dellafield believe her if a vision came to her? At least enough to take action? Action in time to help?

  Chapter Two

  Morgan awoke with a start the next morning and jolted up in her bed. Danger, terrible danger, permeated Jamie’s aura. She wrapped her arms around her body as a chilling awareness shivered through her. In her mind, she could hear a childish voice calling to her. An immediate need for action hammered through her frightened body, speeding her to her feet.

  She dressed as quickly as possible and asked her butler to summon a hackney. Although she loved horses and riding, neither she nor her mother kept a team in the city. Morgan and her mother spent as little time as possible in London. They both disliked the frantic pace and refused to make their occasional stays easier by keeping their own horses.

  She gave the address of Scotland Yard to the hansom driver and sat back, trying to control her mounting impatience. Something had gone badly wrong. Chief Inspector Lord Laniston would just have to tell her what had happened. Pray to the Goddess he was in his office and not out on some other duty.

  At the doorway to his office his sergeant regarded her with disdain and implacably crossed arms.

  “You’re not on his visiting list, ma’am. I cannot admit you.”

  Even his “ma’am” showed his contempt for an unaccompanied female who’d dare to brave the Chief Inspector’s office alone. Evidently it was acceptable for his chief to call on her, but not the other way around.

  “Then will you please tell him Miss McAfee is most desirous of seeing him? You admitted me yesterday, if you remember.”

  “He’s very busy right now, miss. Suppose you try again later.”

  Before he could even turn aside the sergeant was suddenly confronted with the oversized black Labrador baring his teeth and growling in the startled man’s face.

  “Where’d you come from?” gasped the sergeant.

  Dellafield threw open the door.

  “What in Hades is going on? Oh, it’s you, Miss McAfee. Do come in.”

  Ambrose bared his teeth at the Chief Inspector. Morgan again gave him credit. He didn’t flinch, just held still.

  “Give him a moment, Chief Inspector. He’s upset and he’s very protective. I think he’ll soon be satisfied you pose no danger to me.”

  Dellafield did as she said, although disapproval marked his grim face as Ambrose sniffed every inch of him he could reach. The dog rounded him one more time and then paced to lie at Morgan’s feet. Putting his nose on his paws, he looked gravely up at the startled Chief Inspector.

  Dellafield tried to catch some revealing expression on Morgan’s lovely face, but all he could see was amusement. He was not used to, nor did he enjoy, being laughed at.

  “Does Ambrose often appear this suddenly?”

  He deliberately made his tone mocking, as he’d seldom felt so unsettled. He did not like it at all that her face when laughing seemed even more beautiful.

  “Ambrose is my mother’s dog, but charged with protecting me. Shall we leave my mother and Ambrose out of this, my lord?” Her voice plainly showed her controlled disdain at more delay. “They don’t apply at this time, nor are you truly interested. I know you’ve received some word of Jamie. Will you tell me what it is?”

  Dellafield shrugged his shoulders and gave up. He was desperate for any help he could get. He had nothing to lose by confiding in this outlandish girl.

  “The Commissioner received a ransom note late yesterday. The note demanded ten thousand pounds.” He grimaced at Morgan’s gasp. “A large sum indeed. We were directed to deposit the money behind a certain tree in Hyde Park. The note promised Jamie would be released at the same tree one half hour later.”

  Morgan raised anguished eyes to his.

  “The huge sum was left and no Jamie appeared.” She shrugged her acknowledgement of the fact.

  Dellafield hoped he did not look as devastated as he felt.

  “How did you know? I’m sure no word es
caped this office.”

  Morgan got up and began to circle the room.

  “I would not feel this cold sense of utter desolation if there’d been a favorable outcome. What’s being done now?”

  “Nothing,” Dellafield groaned. “Until we hear from this villain again we are powerless.”

  Morgan twisted a strand of her curls around one finger.

  “We will not be powerless. I can’t call up my visions, but I can pray to the Goddess of the Druids. Jamie is quite, quite frightened. Good day, Chief Inspector. Come, Ambrose.” She turned back at the door. “Oh and you might advise your Sergeant to admit me next time I want to see you. It would save both of us a lot of trouble.”

  With her skirts swirling around her long legs she walked out, a picture of graceful femininity. The big dog followed her after delivering what Dellafield swore was a mocking glance.

  As the Chief Inspector watched her leave, he thought her beauty and sense of innate honesty grew more impressive each time he saw her. He could not figure her out in the slightest. He would desperately like to understand her.

  He must be losing his mind. There was nothing to understand. She was a self-proclaimed psychic and the daughter of a self-proclaimed witch, or at least a practicing Druid. He couldn’t believe even slightly in her claim to clairvoyant power. Even so, her scent still perfumed the air, evoking her provocative presence, lingering in his reluctant mind.

  Could there be any more disastrous relationship for a Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard to even contemplate?

  Yet he wanted to know her much better. His impulse to pull her to him and kiss those luscious lips was too ridiculous to even contemplate.

  He must be insane! He’d barely met the girl.

  He buried his face in his hands. Just when he needed every mental faculty he possessed, a semi-witch distracted him to the point of imbecility. If he closed his eyes this minute he knew he could see every feature of her lovely face. Her chestnut hair with its reddish highlights framing her proudly held head. Emerald green eyes smiling at him, even as she refused to surrender to his politely bullying tactics.

  He had lost his mind. Yet no warning seemed about to change the fact he kept seeing the face of a beautiful, intriguing, thoroughly disturbing Druid. To make everything worse, in his visualization she seemed to be laughing at him.

  He groaned and pulled some papers toward him.

  * * * * *

  Early the next morning the Chief Inspector sent his sergeant and carriage to request Miss McAfee join him as soon as convenient. Shriver was instructed to wait at her home and bring her to the office as soon as she could possibly come.

  Morgan quickly set out with a now respectful Shriver as her escort. As the sergeant knocked and then opened the door for her, she rushed into the Chief Inspector’s office. She’d not taken time to do anything but stick a hat on tawny hair waving halfway down her back. A hastily slung-on cape covered her blue serge skirt and pleated white blouse.

  “Tell me what’s happened. I know something has for you to send for me.”

  She started talking even as she walked through the door. She stopped in front of the Chief Inspector’s desk, not even noticing he’d not risen to his feet. At first he kept his head down and then the cobalt eyes raised to hers were bleak with despair.

  “We gambled and lost. The Commissioner received a second note requesting another five thousand pounds. One of Jamie’s curls was enclosed. The note instructed us to leave the money at the same specified tree in Hyde Park. The time frame was more appealing. After the scoundrel picked up the package and verified the contents, Jamie’s release would follow in only ten minutes.”

  Morgan leaned over the desk, resting on her hands and said nothing. She knew the Commissioner and his Chief Inspector must have considered every possibility and yet made a deliberate choice to take the chance.

  “Of course you posted men to observe.”

  Dellafield gave a short bark of a laugh.

  “We posted ourselves. We’re the best, aren’t we? We’d planned to grab the messenger as soon as he made the pickup. Unfortunately our nearest cover was too far away. The blackguard who picked up the money wore a mask.”

  Dellafield got up and began pacing the room, staring at the floor as he strode.

  “He didn’t stop to count the bills, just slipped into the bushes so fast we got only the impression of a middle-sized man. He wore a big, concealing cap pulled down over his features, although he appeared clean-shaven.”

  Dellafield sat down at his desk, his intense eyes fixed bleakly on her. “I’m a powerful runner and I tore after him but he’d gotten too large a start. We’re worse off than before. Now the villain knows we won’t pay up so easily a third time.”

  Morgan twisted her hands in her lap, her heart aching at the thought of the young boy in such evil hands.

  “I called you in to see if you’ve had even a glimpse of something possibly helpful to us.”

  He didn’t try to hide a supplication that almost cracked Morgan’s heart. She’d already surmised this man wasn’t quite the unfeeling and cold-blooded aristocrat he appeared. His suffering eyes betrayed him to be a caring and passionate person. A confirmation she cherished. She’d think later about why this was important to her.

  “You’re dreadfully worried about something you haven’t told me that made you call me. What has you so fearful?” she asked.

  Dellafield snorted. “You certainly seem to be able to read me more easily than anyone except my mother. All right. I’ll tell you exactly what I fear, although it’s not the usual subject for a young lady’s ears. Our villain may think it too dangerous to exploit the Commissioner again. I fear Jamie might be sold to an overseas slave market. He’s a most appealing child.”

  “Dear Goddess of us all,” murmured Morgan. “I never imagined such wickedness. I’d already determined to see you today. Although I don’t know if what I have to tell you will help.”

  She chewed on a knuckle before she continued.

  “A startling picture appeared to me during the night. I’m not at all sure this has anything to do with Jamie, but I knew I should tell you.” She took a deep, reinvigorating breath. “As clearly as I can see you, I saw a bar in a tavern. The bar itself was a dark polished wood and was semi-rounded, a kind of half circle, which must be unusual. No people appeared in the picture. A door on each side of the bar was painted a bright blue.” Her voice slowed down as she continued. “That’s all, I’m afraid, but I could see every detail clearly. I could even see the white painted door handles.”

  Dellafield said nothing and she lowered her head in disappointed rejection.

  “I don’t think that’s much help.”

  “We’ve nothing else to go on.” The Chief Inspector showed no emotion in his graven face. “Nothing at all. We must try to make some sense of this. Let me call in my sergeant.”

  Sergeant Shriver snorted an uncomplimentary sort of grunt when his Chief Inspector described the tavern just as Morgan described it to him.

  “Sure and I know the place well, Chief. It’s down on the docks, a really disreputable hole. Called The Blue Doors of course. Before I came to you my division kept trying to pin smuggling on the dive, but they were always too slippery for us to catch. That it’s a den of villains, I’m positive.”

  The Chief Inspector looked up with more hope on his handsome features than Morgan had seen since she entered the room. He stood up abruptly and placed both hands on the desk.

  “We’re going to surprise them, sergeant. Maybe we can pin something even worse than smuggling on them. Gather twenty men. I want to be well covered. Nothing must go wrong. I’ll go in first and the rest of you can stand by to support me.”

  Sergeant Shriver had at first looked pleased and now looked doubtful.

  “Begging your pardon, Sir, if you go in just the sight of you will sound an alarm. Every crook in town knows Lucky Lance. They’ll scatter and we’ll find nothing. There’s no way to disguise who
you are. Let me rough myself up a bit and go in first.”

  Chief Inspector Lord Laniston Dellafield sighed. A deep, disgusted sigh.

  “Of course you’re right. But I want nobody to open those blue doors after we enter. Nobody. This is of the utmost importance, sergeant. No matter what you have to do after you enter, prevent anyone from going through either of the blue doors.”

  Morgan smiled inwardly. The man evidently didn’t have the slightest idea how impressive he was, his muscled heft coupled with undeniably aristocratic face and bearing—a most unusual and alluring combination. He would be remembered by anyone who’d ever seen him. The sergeant was right. Someone who could masquerade as a worker off the docks should enter first.

  Morgan looked up, her expression impressed but skeptical.

  “Are you admitting, my lord, that my psychic powers might produce visions convincing to an incredulous officer of Scotland Yard? I find this hard to believe.”

  The Chief Inspector loomed over her as he rose to his feet, his voice at its most distant as he answered.

  “Of course I don’t believe in your so-called powers, Miss McAfee. However, in this case we will at worst round up some villainous types. At best I will be proven wrong about you and we’ll find something to help Jamie. Or some other child about to be shanghaied to a slave vessel.”

  He paused and let a little of his anxiety show in his voice.

  “I’m desperate for a clue. I’ve no qualms in ordering such a raid, even if it doesn’t directly help us in our search for Jamie.”

  His face set and grim and his blue eyes clouded by inner storms, he raised his glance just for a moment to Morgan’s. Morgan’s certainty grew. He was the most compelling man she’d ever seen. What a shame they would probably never agree on anything—he, not capable of even conceiving of the world of magic and she, a daughter of the Druids desperately wanting to be more than her poor powers allowed her to be.