by C. J. Archer
"Oh. She didn't buy it. I purchased it myself." Her face fell, and I admit I enjoyed seeing her eyes spark with shock instead of wickedness. "I chose the fabric but Madam Lisle created it." It had arrived early in the afternoon, and I'd paid the amount owing. The exorbitant price had given me pause—it cost as much as the silvered dial mahogany long case clock in my father's shop—but Miss Glass convinced me that I wouldn't regret spending the money. Besides, it had been too late to change my mind, and I had the reward money at my disposal anyway. Basking in Hope's shock, I didn't regret the expense even a little bit.
Hope didn't speak to me for the rest of the evening, and I managed to enjoy what was left of the opera after I noticed Matt's gaze stray to my décolletage, barely covered by the thin chiffon attached to my gown's bodice. The gown had certainly proved to be an excellent purchase. I felt quite elegant in it. Only those who knew me would know I was a mere watchmaker's daughter—and the people they told. I suspected Lady Rycroft and her daughters informed quite a few of their friends who entered our box.
After the performance, Miss Glass and I collected our cloaks and rejoined Matt in the foyer beneath the glittering central chandelier. We'd already said our goodbyes to Lady Rycroft and the Misses Glass, and I was eager to get away before bumping into another acquaintance. We'd already stopped to talk to no less than three parties in the foyer.
Matt offered me one arm and his aunt the other, and we sought out our carriage among the river of vehicles flowing slowly past the theater entrance.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Matt asked me as his aunt fell into conversation with yet another acquaintance, a woman of advanced years wearing a tiara. Before this evening I thought only queens and princesses wore tiaras, but it would seem half the ladies attending the opera saw fit to sport them. They made the string of pearlescent beads threaded through my hair seem rather simple by comparison. Not that I minded; I had a lovely gown.
"I did," I said, surprising myself. "Yes, I did. I see you had an enjoyable time, too." Although for different reasons. He'd hardly even glanced at the stage.
He laughed softly. "Not particularly."
"Nonsense. You loved every moment of the attention."
"What attention?"
I rolled my eyes. "Don't pretend with me, Matt. I can see right through your act."
"I don't act when I'm with you, India." He leaned his head closer to mine. I sneezed. "Bless you. I didn't think I needed to."
"Oh? So all that simpering laughter and eyelash fluttering was an act?"
He handed me his handkerchief, but it reeked of all the perfumes used on the calling cards and I sneezed again. "Bless you. I do not simper, nor do I flutter my eyelashes. I was, however, putting on an act for my aunt's sake. She wants me to be polite to her friends, so I'll be polite." He half-turned his head to his aunt and greeted her friend. The woman smiled and dipped her head, as if to hide a blush. If she did blush, it was too dark to tell, despite the streetlights nearby. "I think it's working," Matt continued to whisper to me. "Her friends have all come out tonight. Even Beatrice seemed jealous of the friends greeting Aunt Letitia first."
I felt silly for thinking he'd wallowed in the attention now. He'd been agreeable for his aunt's sake, not because he enjoyed being the object of stares, whispers and simpering smiles. By the time we arrived home, I felt even worse for thinking so poorly of him. The tiny lines at the corners of his eyes had multiplied with the sudden onset of exhaustion. Being out so late didn't agree with him.
We reached the house, and he touched his chest where he kept his watch in his inside pocket. He caught me watching and dropped his hand.
Bristow greeted us and informed Miss Glass that Polly was waiting in her rooms to assist her. "Mr. Duke, Mr. Cyclops and Miss Johnson have all gone out for the evening, sir."
Matt paused. "Did they say where?"
"No, sir."
Matt must be worried that Willie was gambling again. I wanted to reassure him that the other two would keep her in line but refrained in the presence of Bristow.
"I'll see you to your rooms, Aunt," Matt said, accepting a candelabra from Bristow.
"Thank you, Matthew." Miss Glass clutched his arm. "Goodness, I am tired."
Bristow handed me another candlestick. "Mrs. Bristow has offered her services as ladies' maid, Miss Steele."
"That's kind of her, but I can manage. I do hope she and the others have already retired." I glanced at the clock. "It's almost midnight."
"They retired some time ago, but Mrs. Bristow was keen to offer her assistance."
"Please thank her for me."
He bowed his head. "I'll lock up, sir. Mr. Cyclops took a key to the servants' door in anticipation of a late evening."
Matt led his aunt upstairs, and I followed with my candle until they peeled away to Miss Glass's rooms and I to mine.
I opened my bedchamber door and stopped dead. Gasped. Someone rummaged through my dresser drawers. He whipped around, but the hood of his cloak covered the upper half of his face.
I opened my mouth to scream, but he was too fast. He slapped his hand over my mouth so hard that I staggered beneath the force. The leather scent of his glove filled my nostrils. I pushed back against him, but he was too solid.
"Where is it, Miss Steele?" I recognized the voice, but it was much harsher, more desperate. Desperate men sometimes did desperate things to get what they wanted. Dangerous things. "Where's the map?"
Chapter 14
I shoved again, but Mr. Gibbons didn't move. I felt weak, pathetic. Vulnerable.
"If I release you," Daniel's grandfather said, "will you scream?"
My watch chimed. It wasn't designed to, but the magic in it must recognize danger. My magic. I tried to reach my reticule, hanging from my wrist by a ribbon, but Mr. Gibbons was too close to me, and I couldn't maneuver my hands. My watch chimed again, louder.
I shook my head as best as I could.
Slowly, slowly, Mr. Gibbons released me. "I won't harm you," he said. "Not if you tell me where Daniel's map is."
"What map?"
"Don't play games, Miss Steele. Munro told me he gave it to your employer. I've searched Glass's rooms and it's not in there."
"I don't have it." It was true. Matt held it. Usually he kept it in his inside jacket pocket, along with his watch, but I wasn't sure if he'd taken it to the opera tonight.
"You must know where it is."
"If you want to see the map, you only had to ask Mr. Glass. There was no need to sneak about and frighten me witless. How did you get in past the servants, anyway?"
He sank onto the bed and tipped his hood back, all the fight drained out of him. He looked like a harmless old man. "The servants' entrance was open, and there was only a woman in the kitchen, her back to the passageway. She didn't see me."
"And Bristow was elsewhere, I suppose." I plucked the fingertips of my long glove and slipped it off. My hands shook a little, but not too much. I placed my gloves on the dresser and blushed as I realized Mr. Gibbons had been rifling through my unmentionables.
"My apologies," he mumbled, not sounding sorry at all. "I haven't taken anything."
"Even so."
"Yes. Even so." He cleared this throat. "It appears we are at an impasse, Miss Steele. I want the map and you seem not to have it."
"Why do you want it?"
The door crashed back on its hinges, causing my nerves to shatter all over again. Matt barreled into the room. "India!" He stopped short upon seeing me at the dresser. His gaze flicked from me to Mr. Gibbons. The worry in his eyes turned to fury. "What are you doing here?"
Mr. Gibbons got to his feet, but Matt squared up to him and forced him to sit again. While Mr. Gibbons wasn't a small man, Matt was taller, broader and younger. All signs of exhaustion on his face had vanished, or perhaps the light from Mr. Gibbons's lantern wasn't strong enough to reveal them. The older man swallowed heavily. I felt sorry for him. Almost. He had, after all, frightened the stuffing out of me moments earlier.
"You broke into my house—into my friend's room, no less—for a map! I should thrash you."
Mr. Gibbons's eyes widened, and he leaned back, although Matt did not raise his hand. He folded his arms, gripping them so hard that his knuckles turned white. Holding himself back, perhaps?
"Mr. Gibbons didn't harm me," I said to dampen the crackling tension in the room.
"That is beside the point." Matt lowered his arms and came to my side. "Are you sure you're all right, India?"
"I am now. It was something of a shock finding a man in my room, however."
Matt shot Mr. Gibbons a flinty glare. "I imagine so. I just came from my study where some of the papers on my desk had been moved. Bristow knows not to touch anything in there. I worried that the intruder might still be inside so came here directly…" He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly.
"I wouldn't have hurt anyone," Mr. Gibbons grumbled.
"Don't try to diminish the severity of the crime you have committed," Matt growled.
"Mr. Gibbons was about to tell me why he wanted the map so much," I said quickly. "Go on, Mr. Gibbons." Matt and I leaned back against the dresser to hear the tale.
"I hoped it would lead me to Daniel," Mr. Gibbons said.
"How?" Matt asked.
"Through magic?" I suggested.
Mr. Gibbons wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and jaw. "I have a theory that Daniel is hiding within the vicinity of the map's area."
"Hiding?" Matt asked, the anger replaced by curiosity. "Not kidnapped?"
"Hiding, afraid to show himself. After revealing his magic, he must have come to realize that he's in danger, so he hid. He kept within the map's limits as a clue."
"I don't follow," I said, looking to Matt. He shook his head.
"Daniel suspected something that I have also come to suspect," Mr. Gibbons said. "That another map magician can use Daniel's map to seek out his location. The magic would reveal where he is."
"It's only a theory?" Matt pressed.
Mr. Gibbons shrugged. "I haven't used my magic much over the years. I've never experimented with it like this."
It sounded like a wild theory to me, one thought up by a desperately worried grandfather. "If he wanted you to protect him," I said, "why not come to you in the first place? Why hide from you and his mother?"
Mr. Gibbons shook his head sadly. I sat beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"There's another flaw in your theory," Matt said. "Daniel gave the map to his father, Munro, for safekeeping. Munro is not magical. He couldn't use the map to find Daniel."
Mr. Gibbons suddenly stood. "I have to try."
"Do you have it?" I asked Matt.
Matt looked as if he would protest, then reached into his inside jacket pocket. He handed the folded map to Gibbons, who spread it out on the bed. Matt brought the lantern closer.
"If you haven't used magic much," I said, "how do you know what to do?"
Mr. Gibbons removed his gloves and smoothed his hands over the map. "I can feel its heat, its magic. Perhaps something will be revealed to me."
I still sat on the bed, near the map. I watched as Mr. Gibbons skimmed his hands from one corner to the other. He traced streets with his fingers, and touched the raised buildings and street names. He murmured words that I'd never heard before. I looked to Matt to see if he recognized the language, but his attention was focused on the map.
And then I felt it too. Warmth. Not searing heat, but certainly something. It was like a lantern with the gas turned higher. It emanated from the map, warming my right side.
Then it throbbed.
Mr. Gibbons withdrew his hands and stumbled back. I leaned away. Matt picked up the map and inspected it.
"Nothing," he said after a moment. "Can you see anything Gibbons? India?" He returned it to the bed and I inspected it.
"No," I said. "It looks the same to me. Mr. Gibbons?"
But Daniel's grandfather didn't look at the map. His wide eyes stared at me. "You…you're…magic."
"No," Matt said, quickly. "She's not. You're mistaken." He snatched up the map and folded it. "It's time for you to leave."
"Miss Steele? I felt another magic combine with mine. Strong magic." His breathing quickened, his eyes lit up. "It must be strong… You didn't say any words. You didn't need to. My magic simply…fed off your presence. Perhaps. I don't know…but—"
"I told you, she's not magical." Matt grabbed Gibbons's arm and marched him to the door.
I sprang to my feet. "Matt, stop. Let him go." I needed to talk to Gibbons, needed answers to the questions dancing through my head.
"No, India," Matt warned.
I ignored him. I knew he was worried, but I couldn't waylay his fears. The excitement of finally learning more about myself invigorated me. Answers were so close, I couldn't waste a single moment on anything else. "What do you mean you felt my magic?"
Mr. Gibbons shook his arm free, or Matt simply let him go. "Just that. It was like a pulse emanating from you. An invisible wave, if you like, rising as quickly as it fell. It strengthened my own magic, or…" He searched my face as if he could find the right word in it. "Or meshed with mine." He spread the fingers of both hands then linked them together. "How did you do that without speaking any words?"
"I don't know. I know nothing about my magic. It's all very new to me."
Matt dragged his hands through his hair, clumping some in his fist before letting it go.
"What sort of magician are you?" Mr. Gibbons asked.
"Time pieces."
"And no one explained your magic to you? Your family?"
"No. I don't think my parents were magical."
"Pity."
"Yes," Matt snapped. "One's relatives ought to explain about magic if and when they can. Otherwise, how will the young magician know the dangers of exposing herself? Or himself?"
Mr. Gibbons seemed to deflate beneath Matt's accusation. "I thought I was doing the right thing for Daniel. I know now that I was wrong, and I regret my silence."
"What can you tell me about my magic, Mr. Gibbons?" I asked. "Are the words you speak to infuse a map with magic the same for me and watches? Could I learn them from you? Could I fix another magician's watch, do you think, or does he need to fix it?"
He lifted one stooped shoulder. "I'm afraid I can't help you, Miss Steele. All magical disciplines developed separately, and as such, use different spells. The words are entirely different, I believe, although I've never heard any other kind of magic spoken."
Spells. It seemed so childish and ridiculous that I almost giggled. "Do you know of any watch or clock magicians?"
"I'm afraid not. I wish I could help you. I wish we could help each other." He glanced at the map in Matt's hand with such sorrow that I almost wanted to give it to him as a sentimental reminder of Daniel. "It seems we cannot."
"No," I said heavily.
"Come with me." Matt handed the lantern and gloves to Mr. Gibbons then tucked the map back into his jacket. "I'll keep this, for now. If you break in here again, you will have two options open to you. One, I will thrash you, or two, I'll hand you over to the police. Your connection to Munro might save you from arrest, or it might not."
"Matt," I chided, but I swallowed the rest of my sentence. I'd been about to tell him his threats were heavy-handed, but the look on his face stopped me. He was still worried and angry that someone had got into the house in the first place. Overriding both of those emotions was exhaustion, gripping him in its claws.
I removed the string of beads from my hair and unpinned the tresses while I waited for Matt to return. I knew he'd return, even though he'd not promised to. The soft knock came a mere three minutes later.
I opened the door to see him leaning against the wall opposite, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He'd removed his tailcoat and gloves. "You need to go to bed," I told him.
/>
He opened his eyes. "I need to talk to you. May I?"
I checked up and down the corridor before allowing him in. It was utterly scandalous to have a gentleman in my bedroom, and I didn't want any of the servants seeing and gossiping. If they told servants from other households that Matt came into my bedroom during the night, our reputations would be ruined. At my age, my reputation was no longer important, but Matt didn't deserve to be known as a philanderer who preyed on the women in his household.
He closed the door behind him. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, thank you. Finding Gibbons in here gave me a fright, but he didn't harm me."
He indicated I should sit on the chair by the dressing table. I did and he looked around for another seat. Finding none, he sat on the bed. He sat awkwardly, as if he knew he was in the wrong place and really ought to leave, but wanted to say his piece.
I got in before him. "Don't speak for me, please."
He bristled. "I didn't want him knowing about your magic."
"I know why you did it, but I'm asking you not to do it again. I'm capable of thinking through the consequences of my answers and deciding how much to reveal about myself."
He scooted up the bed and rested against the pillows, his feet dangling off the edge. He lifted his chin and undid his tie. "I know you are, and I'm sorry. It was just that…" He sighed. "I have no justification for it. Forgive me?"
"Of course."
He placed the tie on the bedside table and undid the top button of his shirt. "If it had been anyone else, I'd think you answered him because you were mad at me and were doing the exact opposite of what I wanted. But you're not like that."
I turned away, because he looked so at home on my bed, and so desirable with his finger-combed hair and his evening clothes partially shed. My nerves hadn't yet recovered from the meeting with Mr. Gibbons, they didn't need the extra strain. "I'm glad you understand."
"Of course I understand. Indeed, I should have known better. If I'd answered for Willie, she'd have boxed my ears." His sentence faded into a yawn. "Fortunately, you're a kitten, where she's a bobcat."
I studied my reflection in the mirror, not sure I saw a kitten there, but certainly not a bobcat. "Poor Mr. Gibbons. He only wants to find Daniel."
