by C. J. Archer
Hope giggled, only to smother it with her hand when her sister jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow.
"Your mother's family is irrelevant," Lady Rycroft snipped.
They hadn't been a mere week ago.
"Don't let Willie hear you say that," Matt said.
"I think it's time we left." Lady Rycroft stood and instructed her girls to rise with a lift of her hand. "We look forward to seeing you again, Matthew. Please call upon us at your earliest convenience. Perhaps I'll host a dinner in your honor."
Matt bowed. Each of the girls curtsied as they filed past.
Hope, however, didn't immediately follow her mother out. "She hasn't given up." She grinned, changing her face from pretty to remarkable. "You must remain on your guard at all times, Cousin."
"Hope!" Lady Rycroft screeched.
"Coming, Mama." She winked at Matt. "Until next time, Cousin. It was lovely to meet you. Oh, and you too, Miss Steele. You were so quiet throughout that exchange. I feel as if we hardly got to know you."
"That was the point, wasn't it?" I said, hating the strain in my voice and the way my heart wouldn't stop pounding. It was just a silly conversation, after all. "For me to sit quietly by and listen without interrupting?"
Matt frowned at me.
Hope's smile wilted. "Well. It would seem you have a sting, after all." She followed her mother.
Matt went to see them out, and I remained in the drawing room with Miss Glass. I wanted the chair to swallow me up. Why had I snapped at Hope like that?
I knew why. And I didn't like it. Not one little bit.
"Horrible girls, all of them," Miss Glass said with a wrinkle of her nose. "So like their mother. Don't be fooled by Hope's friendliness. She's clever, that one. Too clever, if you ask me."
I sighed. "A clever girl can't possibly be a good thing, can it?"
"I'm not referring to you, my dear." She got up and offered me her hand. "You're a sweet girl. Your cleverness is an entirely different sort to Hope's."
I took her hand. I couldn't blame her for her earlier coolness toward me. After all, she must be worried that I was a distraction for her nephew. I ought to reassure her that I was not a player in the game and never had been. "I have no idea what you mean, Miss Glass, but I appreciate the sentiment nevertheless."
Matt strode in and took in our linked hands. "India? What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"It's not nothing. You seem upset. Don't let it affect you. They're not important."
I withdrew my hand and smoothed down my skirts. I couldn't meet his gaze. He saw too much when he looked at me with that intensity. It was far too unnerving, and I already felt unnerved enough after the exchange with Hope. "Are we going out again before lunch?" I asked.
"No."
"Then I'm going for a walk."
A stroll through Hyde Park cleared my head and settled my nerves. By the time I returned to the house, a lunch of cold meats and salads was spread out on the dining room table.
"I can get used to having servants," Duke said, helping himself to the sliced beef.
"Did you see DuPont?" Matt asked.
Duke shook his head. "Worthey was furious, too. Says you can't trust a Frenchman's word, and if the man dares show his face, he'll find himself without a job. Willie's going to stay the rest of the afternoon, in case."
Miss Glass walked in and took her seat. "We'll do our best to avoid them, but it may not always be possible, particularly if you receive a dinner invitation."
We all stared at her. "Pardon?" Matt asked.
"Your Glass cousins." She looked at him as if he were slow.
"What about them?" Duke asked.
"They were here with their mother," Matt told him. "The intention is for me to choose one of them to marry."
Duke grinned. "Willie'll be sorry she missed that conversation. Did you pick one?"
"No!"
Miss Glass shuddered. "Thank goodness you have good sense, Matthew."
Duke chuckled. "Did you warn them that the lucky bride will have to live in California?"
"He did no such thing," Miss Glass said with a sniff, "since he's not leaving England."
"I told them I'm not looking for a wife." Matt sipped his wine and went to return his glass to the table, but changed his mind and drank the lot.
"When can I expect you to be home, Matthew?" Miss Glass asked. "I must invite callers, but there's no point if you're not here."
Matt eyed her over the rim of his glass. "You're not giving up, are you?"
"I only have your best interests at heart. A gentleman ought to marry or he becomes selfish and idle. And he ought to marry well, not for love. Love matches never work out after the first bloom withers and dies. I wouldn't want you to make a mistake that you'll regret later."
"My parents married for love and that turned out rather well."
She stuffed a large piece of chicken into her mouth and didn't meet his gaze.
Matt looked as if he would argue the point, then he suddenly turned to me. "Ready, India? I find myself in rather a hurry all of a sudden."
"I'm sorry for the way my cousins and aunts treated you," Matt said in the carriage as we headed for Daniel's house.
"You don't need to apologize."
"They'll get used to you."
I tightened my grip on my reticule but remained silent. I was in no mood to discuss his cousins, aunts, or his future wife. It would seem that he was, however.
"The thing is, I can't tell them why I cannot consider marriage at present. But you understand, don't you? I can't consider marriage until my health improves. It would be unfair on my bride if I were to die soon after the wedding."
"I understand."
He tapped his fingers on the window sill. "Good."
"But until they're told, your aunts will continue with this…game."
He groaned. "I'm not sure I have the patience for being an English gentleman of means. I prefer being a poor American with criminals for relatives. It's more liberating."
"Then the sooner you return home, the better. I will miss you. All of you," I added, in case he thought I was flirting with him.
The coach lurched to a stop and I suddenly found Matt sitting beside me. "That wasn't fair of me," he said quietly. "It was thoughtless and selfish. I'm a fortunate man, and I shouldn't whine like a petulant child."
"You're out of sorts today. I understand."
"Stop being so understanding!" He dragged his hand over his face, down his chin. When it came away, I was shocked by the tiredness tugging at the corners of his eyes. Had he not slept before lunch? "Tell me I'm being a turd."
"A gently-bred Englishwoman doesn't use that word."
One side of his mouth flicked up, as I hoped it would.
"But you're, right," I went on. "You're being a turd. But since you apologized, I forgive you."
"One of these days I'm going to say something to really upset you. Something unforgiveable."
I doubted it.
We arrived at Daniel's home in Hammersmith and introduced ourselves to the maid who opened the door. We'd decided not to play roles with Daniel's family. We would get more direct answers to our questions if they knew we were searching for him.
The maid took us through to the sitting room where a woman sat. Matt repeated the introductions. "Commissioner Munro sent us," he finished.
The woman bristled. Her light blue eyes widened ever so briefly. She was in her mid forties, and well dressed in a neat waistcoat over a black and green striped dress. She would have been beautiful in her youth, with her heart shaped face, high cheeks and lovely figure. Even now, she was lovely, despite evidence of recently-shed tears.
"Are you Miss Gibbons?" I asked.
She hesitated then nodded. "Mary, fetch Mr. Gibbons and bring in tea." To us, she said, "My father will want to meet you."
"And we want to meet him," Matt said.
"Are you a detective?" she asked, her gaze sliding to me before returning to Matt
.
"A private inquiry agent. Commissioner Munro came to us after his men failed to make progress. He's very keen to find Daniel."
"Did he inform you of his…relationship to my son?"
Matt nodded.
She bowed her head and clasped her hands in her lap, the picture of a demure, sensible woman. She wasn't at all how I pictured her to be. I thought she'd be vibrant and genial, the sort of woman to have liaisons with gentlemen out of wedlock. It was wrong of me to judge her without knowing the situation, and I felt bad for it now.
A man marched in and I was immediately struck by the similarity between him and the commissioner. Both tall, robust men of a similar age, he had a direct gaze that immediately took in the situation and made an assessment. I'd wager he prided himself on control and order within his domain. Discovering his daughter was having a child to a married man must have come as quite a shock; particularly as that daughter seemed obedient and docile, not wayward and flirtatious.
Matt repeated the introductions. At the mention of Munro's name, Mr. Gibbons' nostrils flared.
"It's about time he did something," he growled.
"He has been trying, Papa," Miss Gibbons said quietly yet earnestly. "You know he has."
"Yet he has failed at every turn."
She lowered her head once more.
"Munro informed us of the burglaries here," Matt said. "We believe they're related to Daniel's disappearance."
Gibbons grunted. "If that's all you've discovered then you're wasting Munro's money and my time."
Matt remained remarkably calm. He was far less ruffled by Gibbons' abruptness than his aunts' matchmaking. Questioning suspects and witnesses, and playing a role to sniff out criminals, came naturally to him. Sipping tea in drawing rooms with ladies did not.
"It's not all we've discovered," Matt went on. "Indeed, we learned something remarkable about Daniel. Something he inherited."
Miss Gibbons sucked in a sharp breath. The maid took that moment to enter with a tray. Miss Gibbons dismissed her and poured the tea herself. She handed a cup to me. "What did you discover?" she asked in a whisper.
"Judith," her father snapped.
She pressed her trembling lips together.
"We don't know what you're referring to," Mr. Gibbons said.
"Of course you do." Matt ignored him and turned to Miss Gibbons. "Don't be afraid. We're not here to persecute you. We simply wish to find your son. It's looking more and more likely that his disappearance is related to his magic and a particular magical map he made for a customer."
Mr. Gibbons met his daughter's gaze. He no longer appeared confident; rather, he seemed like a man out of his depth. Clearly he wasn't used to discussing magic with strangers. Considering how the guilds treated those with magical ability, it wasn't surprising. As a mapmaker himself, he would have kept his own magic a secret for years to avoid notice.
"We know Daniel inherited his magical gift from you," I said.
Mr. Gibbons shook his head at his daughter, warning her not to speak.
"Papa, we can talk to them. If we don't…" She swallowed. "If we don't, we may never find Daniel."
Mr. Gibbons looked as if he would snap at her to be quiet, but then the hard lines of his face softened. He nodded.
"It's not a gift." Miss Gibbons dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. "It's a curse. And he didn't inherit it from me."
"He got it from me," Mr. Gibbons said. "My daughter isn't magical."
"It skipped a generation?" I blurted out.
Mr. Gibbons inclined his head. "What do you know of magic?"
"Very little."
"As do I. But I do know that while it is an inherited trait, it's common to miss a generation or two before it reappears."
"You keep your magic a secret from the outside world," Matt said. "Who knows about it?"
"No one. My father warned me, from an early age, to keep it a secret. He was magical too, and he knew first-hand what happened to magicians if guild members learned of their ability. A friend of his had his membership to the guild revoked. Without membership, he had to give up his shop. He'd been a mapmaker all his life and couldn't find other work in the city. He lost friends, and his children starved, became ill and died. He appealed the decision, over and over, claiming he'd done nothing wrong. Six months later, he was found dead."
I gasped.
"How did he die?" Matt asked.
"Officially, he cut his own throat." Mr. Gibbons shook his head. "But my father couldn't understand why a left handed man held the knife in his right if he was intent on taking his own life."
Oh God.
Miss Gibbons burst into tears. Her father glanced at her and flattened his lips. I moved to sit beside her and placed my arm around her shoulders. It was difficult to comfort her when all I could think about was the magical mapmaker being murdered, perhaps by his own guild.
"Surely that sort of thing wouldn't happen nowadays," I said, appealing to Matt.
He nodded and gave me a small smile, which didn't reassure me in the least.
"If you think so, then you're very naive, Miss Steele," Mr. Gibbons said. "The guild is a nest of vipers, just waiting to strike at those better than them. They want to maintain their positions, their customers and reputation, and to do that, they must eradicate all the magicians. After all, who would go to a plain mapmaker when they can go to a magician who'll create a responsive map?"
"Responsive?" Matt echoed.
"A magical map reveals places or routes, but only for the man who commissioned it and the magician who instilled the magic in it, and only for a brief time."
"Did anyone at the guild know that Daniel was magical?"
"I never told them, nor could he have done so. He didn't know that he was."
"You should have," his mother spluttered, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. "You should have warned him, as your father warned you. This is your fault."
Mr. Gibbons' face turned ashen. "I only wanted to protect the boy. I thought it would be safer for him to go into a different trade, perhaps join the police, as his father wanted. When I discovered that he had inherited my magic, I kept all maps and mapmaking tools away from him. I expected him to simply develop other skills." He lowered his head. "But he didn't, and I didn't learn that he'd been making maps in secret until it was too late. When he said he wanted to be apprenticed to a mapmaker in the guild, I refused. His father, however, insisted." His lips twisted into a sneer. "Munro is a fool."
"He didn't know the dangers because you never told him about Daniel's magic," Miss Gibbons wailed. "Or yours."
"He wouldn't have believed me. Men like Munro don't believe. They deny and ignore, even when the evidence is presented to them. Telling Munro would have achieved nothing but derision and ridicule. This family has endured enough of that at his hands. No more, Judith. No more."
"It might have saved Daniel," she said weakly.
"I doubt it," I said. "Daniel clearly loved creating maps. It was in his blood. His skill would have been discovered by the guild members sooner or later."
"You think they did this, don't you? You think they've taken my son?" She pressed her handkerchief to her nose as sobs racked her.
"We don't know."
"Did the guild know that you were magical?" Matt asked Mr. Gibbons.
"I kept it from them," he said, "as my father told me to. I've never used my magic to create a map. Never. If I had, I could have created the most beautiful pieces, like Daniel. But I didn't dare risk it."
"Tell us about the magic maps only working for a brief time," I said, intrigued that time featured in a map's magic. I caught Matt looking at me and turned away. He knew why I asked and I didn't want to see disapproval in his eyes. He didn't want me to discuss my magic with anyone.
Mr. Gibbons shrugged. "There's nothing to tell. My father told me that magic is fleeting. The maps come to life to show a hidden route or location, but only for hours or perhaps a few days. Af
ter that, it never happens again."
Unless a watchmaker's magic was infused with it, perhaps. Matt's watch possessed both Chronos's magic and that of the doctor who'd saved his life. The time magic extended the life of the doctor's magic. It might work that way for any type of magic combined with that of a watchmaker's.
"Do you know any other magicians?" Matt asked.
Both Mr. and Miss Gibbons shook their heads.
"May I look in his room?"
"If you must." Mr. Gibbons led us up the stairs to Daniel's room. "The police have already searched it, as have we. You won't find anything."
It wasn't a large house, but it was comfortable enough and I suspected better than a mere mapmaker could afford. It was certainly better than the home my father and I had, above our shop. Perhaps Commissioner Munro saw to their wellbeing to enable his son to have a good home.
The bedroom was tucked away into the roofline. Matt had to duck to enter. We checked under the bed, in cupboards, drawers, beneath the mattress and rug, the undersides of chairs and desks. We found nothing suspicious or of interest.
"Did he mention anything about the customer, McArdle, who commissioned a special map from him?" Matt asked as we returned downstairs.
They both shook their heads. "Do you mean he was commissioned directly?" Mr. Gibbons asked. "Or through his master?"
"Directly."
Father and daughter glanced at one another. "How did he find out about Daniel's magic?" Miss Gibbons asked, pressing her fingers to her trembling lips.
"A bloody good question," Mr. Gibbons said. "And another question…how did Daniel learn to make magic maps? He didn't learn from me."
"It may have been Mr. McArdle himself," I said. "Or someone he knows."
"Have you questioned him?
"We're about to," Matt said.
Miss Gibbons clasped Matt's arm with one hand, and held the handkerchief to her cheek with the other. "Find my son, sir. Please. I beg you."
"We'll do our best, Miss Gibbons."
We headed outside to the waiting carriage and Bryce drove us to the address in Chelsea not far away.
"It was a mistake not to tell Daniel about his magic," I said. "He ought to have known so he could protect himself."
Matt merely watched me carefully from beneath half-lowered lashes webbed with red spidery lines.
