The Mapmaker's Apprentice (Glass and Steele Book 2)

by C. J. Archer

My fingers found the chain at his waistcoat. I tugged the watch out of the pocket and pressed it into his hand. The magical glow crept along his fingers, across his hand and up into his cuff. It emerged seconds later at his throat and finally spread over his face and disappeared into his hair. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

  I returned to the sofa and watched, as fascinated as I was afraid. Afraid for him. What if the magic stopped working one day?

  A moment later he opened his eyes and pocketed the watch. Neither of us spoke for almost an entire minute, and nor did he meet my gaze. I couldn't begin to know the direction of his thoughts. Most likely it was on the matter of Payne, and not me, as was only right for a man with so many responsibilities as well as problems.

  "He came here to rattle you," I finally said. "I think he wants you to be aware that he knows where you live."

  "I think you're right. It's precisely the sort of thing he'd do. He's too clever to attempt to have me arrested in an unfamiliar city where I have influential family."

  "You say clever, I say cowardly."

  "He came here, right under my nose, knowing I would show up sooner or later. He's not a coward, India. He's as brazen as they come."

  "Perhaps."

  He gave me a sideways glance. "Thank you for stopping me when you did. If you hadn't…"

  "It was your aunt's influence, not mine. I might have let you strangle the man if she hadn’t been present."

  He gave a half-hearted smile. "You don't even know him."

  "You've painted a picture of a cruel, corrupt man. That's enough for me."

  "Considering you hardly know me, you're surprisingly loyal."

  I felt somewhat put out. I thought I did know him—quite well, as it happened. "You are my employer," I said snippily.

  He blinked, as if my barb hit its mark. "Friends," he corrected. "We're friends, India."

  "Even though I hardly know you?"

  His smile turned genuine. "Consider me chastised." He gave a deep nod then stifled a yawn.

  "Have a rest, Matt. You need it." At his protest, I added, "Payne won't came back, not today. You said so yourself. He made his point. Stop worrying and rest."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Oh, and one more thing," I said as he stood. "What's a wag-tail?"

  "Pardon?"

  "Payne called me a wag-tail. At least, I think he was referring to me."

  His gaze shifted from my face to my shoulder. "It's a type of bird."

  "Yes, but is that all?"

  "As far as I am aware." He yawned and stretched. "I really need to rest now."

  I watched him go, now quite sure that wag-tail meant something other than a type of bird.

  Cyclops, Duke and Willie all returned to the house for dinner. Miss Glass ate in her rooms, and Matt dismissed Bristow after he carried the dishes into the dining room. I braced myself for their reactions as he told them Payne had visited.

  "What!" Willie exploded, pushing to her feet so hard the cutlery rattled. "That low-down mudsill. Where's he staying? I'll gut him like the dirty hog he is."

  "Willie," Duke snapped. "Sit down. You ain't helping."

  "I don't know where he is," Matt assured her. "And if I did, it would do no good. There's nothing we can do until he commits a crime."

  "He has committed crimes!"

  "None of which we can pin on him."

  She swore liberally and kicked her chair, then kicked it again until it tipped backward. Without even a pause for breath, her colorful tirade continued as she stomped from one end of the dining room to the other.

  "Willie!" Matt barked. "Unless you want my aunt coming in here in a panic, I suggest you calm down."

  She stopped in front of the sideboard, fists at her sides, body heaving with her breaths. "I hate him," she snarled.

  "We all do," Duke said. "But we don't—"

  Matt put up his hand and shook his head. Duke dutifully left his sentence unfinished. "The only thing we can do is remain vigilant," Matt told her. "He'll show his hand sooner or later."

  She spun round to face us. "It'll be too late by then. We shouldn't be sitting here, waiting for him to make the first move. It'll be too late by the time he lets us know what he's up to. Mark my words, Matt, you'll regret doing nothing."

  Matt lowered his gaze to the table. It was Cyclops who spoke in his soothing, resonant voice. "We're stretched too thin as it is. In two days’ time, Matt has to be at the bank to see if he recognizes Mirth. In the meantime, you and Duke are watching Worthey's factory, and Matt, India and I are looking for Daniel."

  "Forget Daniel," she muttered, all the bluster gone from her sails. She picked up her chair and sat heavily. "I don't think finding him will lead us to Chronos after all."

  "We can't forget him," Matt said. "Don't suggest it again. Understand?"

  She stabbed the slice of roast beef with her fork and shoved it in her mouth. She nodded but negated it with a defiant look.

  "Did you learn anything today?" Cyclops asked Matt.

  We told them about our visits to the museum and the Bucklersbury dig, and our new theory about McArdle possibly being a goldsmith magician on the hunt for a hoard of Roman coins. "The button he left behind in his rented rooms is indeed a coin," Matt said. "It holds some magic."

  "We think he commissioned Daniel to make a map of a Roman coin hoard, hidden somewhere in London," I said.

  "But if Daniel made the map showing the location based on McArdle's information, doesn't that mean McArdle knows where the hoard is?" Duke asked.

  "We're not sure why he commissioned the map."

  "I wonder if all the coins in the hoard are magical," Cyclops said. "Or just the one."

  "What does a magical goldsmith do?" Willie asked. She seemed to have calmed down again, thank goodness. "What's the point of magic gold unless it multiplies itself? Now that would be worth kidnapping someone for." At everyone's admonishing looks, she merely shrugged. "It were a joke."

  "We won't know until we speak to McArdle," I said. "Or Daniel."

  "The problem now is what do we do next?" Matt said to no one in particular. "We seem to have come to a dead end."

  "I have news about Onslow that might answer that," Cyclops announced as he helped himself to more beef.

  "Has he been going somewhere?" Willie asked. "Somewhere that he might be keeping Daniel?"

  Cyclops shook his head. "Onslow hasn't been anywhere I wouldn't expect him to go. If he's hiding Daniel then someone else is taking supplies to him. Onslow's been home, to his shop, and the guild hall, but that's it."

  "Have you looked around inside the house and shop?" Matt asked.

  "How would he get inside?" I asked. When no one answered, I looked to Cyclops. "Well?"

  Cyclops shifted his weight. "The housekeeper let me in, thinking I were the gas inspector."

  "There are no such things as gas inspectors."

  "Good thing not everyone's as bright as you, India, or we'd never achieve anything."

  Matt chuckled. "And? What did you see?"

  "Nothing," Cyclops said. "No hidden doors, false walls, nothing. If Onslow kidnapped Daniel, he's not keeping him in the house or shop."

  "So you learned nothing today," Willie said, pushing her plate away and folding her arms.

  "I haven't finished," Cyclops told her. "I found out that Onslow is meeting the secretive fellow again tomorrow at the guild. His name is Hallam, and he's someone's man of business. I don't know whose," he added when Willie opened her mouth. "Want me to listen in during their meeting?"

  "I'll do it," Matt said. "I've nothing better to do at the moment."

  "How?" I asked. "Onslow knows you as Prescott."

  "Then I'll be Prescott, a somewhat bumbling fool who'll happen to walk in on Onslow and Hallam talking."

  "And then?"

  "And then I'll think of something."

  I narrowed my gaze at him. "Your plan contains a few flaws."

  Matt stood and lifted the lid on the silve
r platter in the center of the table. His face brightened. "Flummery! One of my favorite English desserts."

  "You're deliberately changing the subject."

  He scooped up some flummery with a spoon and handed it to me in a bowl. "Very astute, India. Anyone else for flummery?"

  Duke held out an empty bowl. "Duffield was at the hall today too. I didn't speak to him but his new apprentice were talkative."

  "Ronald Hogarth?" Matt spooned a generous amount of yellow flummery into the bowl. "Did he say anything of importance?"

  "Not really. He told us servants how he's glad to be working for Duffield now. He liked Onslow, but the man wasn't going anywhere, and he wanted an employer who could teach him how to become master of the guild one day."

  "That's rather cold of him," I said, "considering it took Daniel's disappearance to make the position available. Did he mention Daniel at all?"

  "Aye. Called him precocious and avaricious."

  "Them's big words for an apprentice," Duke said.

  "For you too," Willie spat.

  "Hogarth's whip smart," Cyclops said. "I'll wager he'll make it to guild master, one day."

  "So he doesn't like Daniel," Matt said thoughtfully, pushing the flummery around his bowl with a spoon. "Perhaps he wanted him removed so he could take his place as Duffield's apprentice."

  "Maybe," Cyclops said. "But he's not the only one who didn't like Daniel. None of the servants thought much of him. He lorded it over them, they said, like he was someone special."

  "He was," Matt said. "Is. He's a magician."

  "Ain't no reason to think himself better than the rest of us," Duke said. "India ain't like that."

  "Perhaps I would be if I were a nineteen year-old lad who knew how to wield his magic," I said. "Something he clearly did, if McArdle commissioned a map from him. Yet Daniel's family didn't teach him."

  Cyclops finished his flummery and inspected the remainder on the platter. "According to one of the guild's footmen, Daniel didn't get along with anyone, including his own master. He used to tell Duffield he was a fool, and claimed he was a better mapmaker than him and all the rest of them."

  "That wouldn't go down well," Duke said. "Not a wise move either, considering magicians are feared."

  "It's likely he didn't understand the implications of his boasts," I said with a shake of my head. "If only his grandfather had explained about the dangers of being openly magical. Instead, someone like McArdle breaks the news to Daniel then uses him to create a magical map, without warning him about the consequences."

  Cyclops shook his head as he tucked into his second helping of dessert. "Daniel's boasts came before he met McArdle. He was boastful from the beginning of his apprenticeship, but he only met McArdle a few weeks ago."

  "So he's a little turd," Willie said on a sigh. "Do we really want to—" She clamped her mouth shut upon a glare from Matt.

  "Did Hogarth say anything else of importance?" I asked.

  "Not much," Cyclops said. "I asked him what he'll do when Daniel gets back. He reckons he'll wait and see. Maybe Daniel won't want to be Duffield's apprentice again, he said."

  We finished dinner and withdrew to the sitting room, the smaller and cozier of the two reception rooms. Matt summoned Polly and asked after his aunt. Polly said she was sitting up in bed, too tired to join us but not yet asleep.

  "I'll spend a few minutes with her." He retrieved two decks of cards from the drawer in the card table and tossed one to Duke and held onto the other.

  After he left, I sat at the card table with Duke and Cyclops. Willie refused to join us and closed her eyes in the chair by the fire.

  "You'd rather sleep than play?" Duke asked her, shuffling the deck.

  "I ain't playing for matches," she shot back without opening her eyes. "I got my dignity."

  Duke dealt, and I looked at my hand. I had two picture cards but nothing to make up a good poker hand. I threw in my cards.

  "You giving in already?" Cyclops asked.

  "I have a question," I said, eyeing the door. "What's a wag-tail?"

  "A bird," Cyclops said.

  "Does it have another meaning in America?"

  Willie chuckled quietly in her chair. "Go on. Tell her."

  Cyclops studied his hand hard. "I can't remember."

  I looked at Duke, but he too took great interest in his cards.

  "Willie?" I asked. "I know you'll tell me."

  She opened her eyes and plucked her glass of brandy off the table beside her. "Why d'you want to know?"

  "Sheriff Payne called me Matt's wag-tail."

  Duke's face flamed but he didn't look up from his cards.

  "You can't figure it out?" Willie asked, taking a sip.

  I held her gaze. "Payne thinks I'm Matt's mistress, doesn't he?"

  "That's the polite word. Telling you the un-polite ones would make a straight-laced Englishwoman like you blush."

  "Impolite," Duke corrected.

  "I am not straight-laced," I said, feeling my spine stiffen without intending it to.

  Willie's smirk widened. "You're as slab-sided as a preacher's daughter."

  "Speaking of Payne," Duke cut in before I could think of anything witty to throw back at her. "Willie, don't do anything about him."

  Her face hardened and her brows crashed. She looked like she would throw her glass at him. "Meaning?"

  "Matt has enough to worry about without you haring off after Payne."

  "I'm aware of Matt's problems, so you can shut your big bazoo, Duke."

  Matt strolled in and headed straight for the sideboard. "I leave for one moment and you start bickering." He tossed the deck of cards down and poured himself a brandy. "Aunt Letitia is asleep, and I'm not ready to retire. Who's up for a game of poker? Or would you two rather kiss and make up?"

  Willie turned away and drained her glass. Duke held his cards low, almost under the table. The angle meant he had to press his chin to his chest so he could see them. Neither Willie nor Duke managed to hide their blushes.

  Matt wanted me to join him at the Mapmakers' Guild hall to spy on Onslow and Hallam's meeting. I thought it odd, at first. Wouldn't I just be in the way? But he explained that two people acting a role was more believable, particularly when one was a woman.

  "Gentlemen believe ladies," he said. "They don't expect them to lie to their faces. Some men are gullible when it comes to gently-bred women. They believe them all to be pure and innocent."

  "Are you gullible with regard to gently-bred women?" I asked as I pulled on my gloves in the entrance hall.

  "Very," he said with that lopsided smile I liked immensely. "It's my greatest weakness."

  "I'd wager it's your greatest asset; as far as the ladies are concerned, I mean."

  His smile turned devilish.

  Bristow opened the front door just as a man approached along the pavement. He paused, one foot on the lowest step. He dressed like a gentleman, albeit without a hat, but sported an untrimmed beard and scraggly hair.

  "Good morning, sir, madam," he said.

  "Good morning," Matt said. "May I help you?"

  "That depends." The man glanced to the road where Bryce waited with the brougham, then to Bristow standing behind us in the doorway. Finally, his gaze settled on me. Or, rather, my reticule. He smiled. I didn't trust it.

  Matt drew me behind him. "State your name and business."

  "I don't know whether you are Mr. Glass and Miss Steel or Mr. and Mrs. Prescott, and I don't really care. All I want is what's mine."

  "I have nothing of yours."

  "Yes, sir, you do. Mrs. Dawson told me she gave my button to Mr. and Mrs. Prescott, and Rosemont said two people by the name of Glass and Steele brought a button made from a Roman coin to him."

  I gasped.

  "McArdle." Matt sounded as stunned as I felt. "We've been looking for you."

  Chapter 12

  "My coin, please," McArdle said.

  Matt stepped down the first step, but McArdle put up h
is hand to stay him. Behind him, the horse moved, rattling the bridle and rocking the carriage. Bryce watched on, curious.

  "Come no further." McArdle pointed at me. "I want her to hand it over to me. Slowly."

  "You have nothing to fear from us," Matt said. "We'll give you back your coin, but we need some answers first."

  I stepped forward and opened the drawstring of my reticule but didn't remove the coin. Now that I was closer, I could see the creases in McArdle's clothing and smell his unwashed scent. His greasy blond hair hung in clumps and grime rimmed his limp collar. He'd been sleeping rough, perhaps, but why?

  "I'm not answering your questions," he said.

  "Why not?" Matt asked with genuine affront. "We're simply looking for Daniel Gibbons."

  McArdle showed no surprise. "What do you want with him?"

  "His family asked me to find him. They're extremely worried about him. You don't know where he is?"

  "No."

  Matt inched forward, but McArdle put up his hand again. "No further. Just her."

  Matt drew in a frustrated breath. "If we work together, we can find him. I know we can. Tell us about the map Daniel made for you."

  "It's just a map," McArdle said, watching Matt carefully. "I paid for it, and it's mine. Do you know where it is?"

  "No," Matt lied. He glanced over his shoulder. "That will be all, Bristow."

  "Very good, sir." The butler retreated inside along with the footman and closed the door.

  "Hand over my bloody coin," McArdle snarled. "Don't test me. It's been a trying few days looking for you two, and my patience is stretched thin. If I hadn't given up and decided to spend some time in the Roman room at the museum, I wouldn't have spoken to Rosemont and learned that I should be looking for an American named Glass and not an American named Prescott."

  "I understand your frustration." Matt's own frustration seemed to have vanished, replaced with a calmly soothing tone that I'd heard Cyclops use with the horses. "And we're sorry for any problems we've caused you, but I must insist that we speak to you about Daniel before we hand the coin over. He's just nineteen. We have to find him."

  "Don't have any sympathy for the little blighter. He might be only nineteen, but he's as crooked as a swindler twice his age. He made me a map then wouldn't give it to me. I spent years looking for someone who could produce that map. Years! And when I finally do find him, he refuses to give it to me then disappears. When I find him, I'll kill him." Two spots of color appeared on his cheeks and his eyes flashed.