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

by C. J. Archer

  "Hmmm."

  "I liked his theory about using Daniel's map to find him. It's a shame it didn't work." I plucked pins out of my hair. "I wonder if that was because Mr. Gibbons didn't know the right magic words—spell—or whether Daniel isn't in the map's area." If Mr. Gibbons didn't know the right spell, who did? It begged the question—if magicians were afraid to reveal themselves and even talk about their magic with one another, would the spells die out? Would they be forgotten? And would magic itself be forgotten and become nothing more than tales parents told their children. "It's strange to use the word ‘spell.’ It makes it feel so much more…fantastical. Don't you think?" When he didn't answer me, I turned around.

  He lay on the bed, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with his deep, even breaths. He was asleep.

  I set the last pin down and approached the bed. I wanted to sit on the edge, and stroke the lines of exhaustion away, but remained standing and kept my hands to myself. A sensible woman would wake him and order him to return to his own room.

  But I wasn't feeling sensible. Perhaps it was the lingering effects from the glamor of the opera, or the madness of finding Mr. Gibbons in my room, or of learning that I was a strong magician, but I didn't want Matt to be anywhere else except precisely where he was. I watched him a few minutes more, taking in the way his mouth curved in his sleep and marveling at how the worry lines completely disappeared. Spidery red veins webbed his eyelids, but a good rest should see them vanish too. I intended for him to have an excellent rest.

  I folded the bedcover over him, holding my breath when he took the edge and wrapped it tighter around himself. But he didn't wake. I pulled a blanket out of the trunk by the window, settled into the chair, and blew out the candle.

  The rustling bedcover woke me. I stretched my legs, toes, arms and fingers, but the knot in my neck remained. I'd stayed awake for hours, partly because the chair was uncomfortable, and partly because I couldn't stop thinking about what Mr. Gibbons had said. But mostly because I was very aware of the man sleeping on my bed.

  "India?" Matt murmured. "What time is it?"

  I glanced at the clock, but it was too dark. Pale light rimmed the curtains but it wasn't enough to see properly. "I'm not sure. Dawn, I think."

  "Christ." I could just make out his silhouette flinging the bedcover off and standing.

  "What's wrong?"

  "What's wrong?" He sounded cross. "The servants will be up soon, if they aren't already. If they see me in here your reputation will be ruined. I cannot believe I was so weak as to fall asleep. On your bed, no less."

  I couldn't help but laugh, somewhat in relief that he was cross with himself, not me. "It's all right, Matt. My reputation isn't worth worrying about."

  He paused. "Don't say that."

  "It's true." Not only was I past the age where rumors of my dalliances would stop a man from courting me, there was no man interested in courting me to begin with. "But I appreciate your gentlemanly concern."

  "Hardly gentlemanly. A gentleman doesn't lose his tie on his assistant's bed, and he certainly shouldn't have slept in it."

  "Your tie is on the table."

  He turned his attention to the table, only to knock the photograph of my parents on their wedding day. He swore under his breath, but caught it before it fell.

  Why was he so rattled? The usually unflappable Matthew Glass seemed wound up tighter than a mainspring. Perhaps he was worried about his own reputation. That made more sense; I worried too. "Matt? Is something wrong?"

  "I must go."

  "Did you find your tie?"

  His silhouette held up a scrap of fabric. "I think so."

  "I'll have another look in daylight, just in case," I said.

  "Before the maid comes in. God, imagine if she found it and told the other servants, and they told servants from other households… I'd never forgive myself if your new friends thought you were…you know."

  He truly was worried about my reputation, not his own. "Before the maid comes in," I repeated, unable to stop smiling.

  He must have heard it in my voice, because he said, "It's not funny, India."

  It was a little bit, but he clearly wasn't in the mood to see the humor. "Goodnight, Matt." I held open the door. "Or is it good morning?"

  "There is very little that is good about this situation at all. If anyone sees me leave, they'll think I've taken advantage of you."

  "Or that I've taken advantage of you."

  "Again, not amusing, India."

  He peeked out the door, glanced left then right, and tiptoed away. I watched him all the way to his own door where he paused, turned, and lifted a hand to wave. At least, I thought it was a wave. It could have been a shooing motion.

  Breakfast was an unusually quiet affair. Willie and Duke slept in and missed it, Cyclops had already left to spy on Onslow, and Miss Glass had a tray sent to her room. It was just the two of us, and Matt was unusually contemplative.

  "Are you thinking about last night?" I asked, since we were alone. Bristow had left to refill the teapot.

  "The opera, yes," he said with a hard edge and a glance at the door. "And this afternoon."

  "Of course. The bank." Today was the day that Mirth drew money from his bank account. Today, we'd discover if Mirth was Chronos. "Do you want me to come with you?"

  "There's no need, but I'd welcome your company. If you'd rather stay home with Aunt Letitia…"

  "I'll come."

  Bristow re-entered carrying the teapot.

  "Any letters yet?" Matt asked him.

  "Nothing, sir."

  "Damn," Matt muttered. "There's nothing to do this morning, India. I'd hoped to hear from my lawyer about Lord Coyle, but it would seem we have to wait."

  Matt wasn't very good at waiting. He paced his study, the drawing room, the sitting room, the entrance hall, and that was all within the first hour after breakfast. I gave up trying to calm him and retreated to the sitting room with a book.

  Duke joined me. With nothing better to do, he'd decided to watch Worthey's factory with Willie, although our hope that DuPont would reappear at his place of employment had almost entirely vanished. Willie, however, had not woken by ten, so he left without her. At eleven, I grew worried and knocked on her door. There was no answer.

  According to Duke, Willie had drunk quite a few whiskeys at the tavern, so her sleep-in came as no surprise. But what if she was ill? I'd seen Willie down glass after glass of whiskey before, and aside from slurring her words, she endured no ill effects the following day, and she had certainly never slept this late.

  I opened the door and knew immediately that the room was empty without having to wait for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. Even so, I checked the bed. It had been slept in but was cold.

  "Willie?" It was silly to call her name since there was no dressing room off this bedroom. "Willie?" I called, louder.

  No answer. I suddenly realized where she'd gone.

  I ran out of the room and down the stairs, my slippered feet thumping loudly. There was no sign of Bristow or any of the other servants, and I didn't want to summon them with the bell. It would take too long. I ran to the back of the house then down the service stairs.

  I met Mrs. Bristow coming out of the kitchen. She gasped upon seeing me, but whether I'd shocked her by appearing in the service area or with the wild gleam in my eye, I didn't know.

  "Mrs. Bristow, have you seen Willie this morning?"

  "She left early, madam, not long after I rose myself."

  "Thank you," I tossed over my shoulder as I ran off again.

  I retraced my steps, all the way to Matt's study. I banged on the door then barged in without waiting for him to open it.

  He pushed up from the chair at his desk. "India? What—"

  "Willie's gone," I gasped out between my heaving breaths. "She left very early. I think she went to meet the author of that blackmail note."

  His face paled. "And she hasn't come back." It wasn't a questio
n. He patted his waistcoat watch pocket and strode past me. "Bristow!" he shouted from the corridor. "Bristow, have the carriage brought around now!"

  I pressed a hand to my thundering heart and followed him. "Is it wise to go after her? What if I'm wrong? What if she went to Worthey's ahead of Duke?"

  "You're not wrong." He didn't run, yet his long, purposeful strides meant I had the devil of a time catching up to him, even though I trotted. "Bristow!" he shouted again. "The carriage."

  "Yes, sir," the butler called up from somewhere down below.

  Miss Glass emerged from her room as I passed. "Matthew? What's all this noise?"

  "I have to go out," he told her without pausing. "India will keep you company until my return."

  That seemed to satisfy her, and she retreated to her room.

  "Matt," I said, trailing several steps behind. "What if it's a trap? What if—"

  "I have to go," was all he said. "You know I do."

  Damn Willie. Damn her impetuousness. "You also have to go to the bank soon. I can't go in your stead. I don't know what Chronos looks like."

  "I'll go to Lemon Street then directly to the bank."

  "And what if you're held up? What if you can't find her?"

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and plucked his hat off the hat stand. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

  Or, more likely, miss Mirth altogether. We both knew he wouldn't leave Lemon Street until he found some clue as to Willie's whereabouts. I prayed she was still there, waiting, or had gone on to Worthey's if the blackmailer didn't reveal himself to her.

  I waited an hour for word from Matt, but none came. All the clocks in the house tormented me, particularly the chiming ones. I swear I could hear every tick and tock of every clock, and number sixteen Park Street had more than a dozen. It was an excruciating hour. By midday, every part of me felt so tight with worry that I could no longer sit by and do nothing.

  "I'm going out," I told Miss Glass, sitting in the sunlight by the window. "I have to go the bank." That should be enough of a clue for Matt if he returned.

  But I didn't think he would return. If he'd found Willie, either at Lemon Street or Worthey's, he would have sent word to me before going on to the bank. He had not. Dread settled into my bones.

  It was already midday. While I would dearly have liked to fetch Duke or Cyclops, since they'd seen Chronos and knew what he looked like, I didn't want to waste time finding them. I collected the ten pounds I kept in the house for emergencies and asked Bristow to find a hansom. While I waited, I clasped my watch in my fist. Its familiar shape and warmth helped settle my racing heart and gather my thoughts.

  But one thought was clear above all else. What if Matt had fallen into the blackmailer's trap? What if going to the bank wasted valuable time that could be spent rescuing him?

  And what if he could not be rescued at all?

  Chapter 15

  An overly cautious nature had led me to wear a wide-brimmed hat with a half-veil, and to ask the driver to stop in Princes Street, around the corner from the Bank of England. Even so, my heart still leapt into my throat when I saw Abercrombie standing by one of the columns at the entrance. My step faltered and I paused by the iron fence. If Abercrombie was here loitering, then it was likely he was also waiting for Mirth—perhaps even for Matt.

  Abercrombie had told me that Mirth collected his allowance every week from the Bank of England. Had he realized too late that he'd given away a vital clue to help us find Mirth? Perhaps that was why he now waited like a predatory cat beneath the vast shadow cast by the bank.

  He stood toward the center of the steps, and there was no way to avoid him completely. His gaze swept the vicinity, constantly moving, taking note of everyone who climbed the steps. My veil and hat would not be enough to hide me completely.

  Should I let him see me? He couldn't stop me from entering, but he might stop me from bribing the bank clerk. I had to pass him without being noticed. What I needed was a distraction in the other direction, something to take his attention away from me.

  And then I saw a gentleman crossing the road and got a better idea. "Excuse me, sir," I said to the enormous man heading toward the bank with an unhurried gait.

  He paused, looked over his shoulder as if surprised that I would address him, then smiled at me. "Yes, ma'am? May I help you?" He wasn't particularly tall but his frame was so broad that the width of my skirt at the hem would be about the same as his middle.

  "I'm feeling a little faint, but I'm determined to make it to the bank. Would you mind escorting me?"

  Again, he glanced over his shoulder, as if surprised that I would address him. When he realized I was, his smile turned shy and his cheeks, already quite pink, flamed. "Of course. Can't have a lady fainting out here, now, can we?" He held out his right arm, which would put me on the side closest to Abercrombie.

  I skirted him and with a nervous chuckle, he offered me his other arm. "Thank you, this is very kind."

  "Not at all," he said as we walked steadily but slowly toward the bank steps and Abercrombie. "I do hope it's nothing serious."

  "I just need to get out of the sun for a few minutes." I introduced myself and we chatted quietly. With the veil over my eyes, my face wasn't immediately recognizable, but Abercrombie would notice if he looked.

  Yet he did not look. Not properly. He didn't recognize the man whose arm supported me, so he didn't check the woman behind the veil. My ruse had worked.

  "I'm sure I can manage from here," I said once we were inside the bank.

  "Would you like to sit? Do you need water?"

  "You're very gallant, sir, but I'm already feeling better. Thank you for your assistance."

  He touched the brim of his hat. "My pleasure."

  None of the clerks were the fellow from last week, so I went up to the first available one, a young man with a kind face. "My name is Miss Jane Markham " I said, assuming the identity I'd used the week before. "I am the granddaughter of Mr. Oliver Warwick Mirth. He comes in every Wednesday afternoon to collect his allowance. Do you know if he's been in yet today?"

  The young man gave me an apologetic smile. "I am sorry, Miss Markham, but that's confidential information."

  I pulled out a sovereign from my reticule. "It's important that I find out. My grandfather is a little soft in the head, and it has come to our attention that we need to keep an eye on him."

  The clerk pushed his glasses up his nose. They made his eyes appear even rounder. "I…er…" He glanced to the teller on his left, an older man with a sharp chin and nose.

  I pulled out another sovereign and placed my hand over both coins to hide them. I revealed them only to the young clerk. He nodded quickly, and I slid the coins across the polished wooden counter.

  "Wait here a moment." He wrote down some instructions on a piece of paper and passed it to another lad lingering behind. The lad exited through a door and reemerged moments later with a file.

  "According to this," the clerk said, tapping his finger against the last page in the file, "your grandfather hasn't been in yet." He snapped the file closed and passed it back to the lad who once again disappeared into the filing room. The clerk glanced at the man beside him then jerked his head at me to leave.

  I thanked him and sat on one of the chairs set out along the wall. Other ladies waited for their husbands to finish their business before leaving together. I kept my gaze on the entrance, unsure why I waited. I didn't know what Mirth or Chronos looked like, but I waited anyway in case Matt arrived.

  An hour passed, and I was stifling a yawn when Abercrombie strode in. I touched the brim of my hat to cover my face, but Abercrombie didn't look my way. He focused on a stooped man with white hair and a limp who'd entered a moment before. The man limped up to a clerk while Abercrombie hung back. A few minutes later, the man tipped his new coins into his pocket and limped away. He passed Abercrombie without either man acknowledging the other. Indeed, Abercrombie turned his back momentarily. He did not
want the fellow to see him.

  It must be Mirth.

  Mirth exited into the sunshine, and Abercrombie followed. I followed him. The clicks of my heels on the tiled floor might as well have announced my presence to the world, but Abercrombie didn't turn around. He must have decided that none of Matt's friends had passed him by as he waited outside, so one on the inside was an impossibility.

  I hadn't a clue what to do next. I couldn't confront the elderly man without being noticed by Abercrombie. All I knew was that I had to bide my time; I had to do whatever I could to help Matt. So I simply followed them down the steps to the pavement. Mirth limped off to the right, his gait interminably slow, his head bowed as if he were inspecting the pavement for dropped coins.

  A carriage rattled past, and Mirth looked up. Suddenly animated, he signaled to an omnibus approaching at a treacherous pace. The passenger riding the garden seat up the top clutched the iron rails with both hands as the omnibus swerved to the curb. The conductor assisted Mirth up the step and inside.

  Damnation! I would lose him.

  If I wanted to get on the omnibus too, I had to shout to alert the driver to wait for me as I caught up. My shout would also alert Abercrombie who remained on the pavement, watching.

  The omnibus drove off, and my heart sank. At least I could give a good description of the man to Matt. Hopefully it would be enough.

  Abercrombie hurried across the road, his attention no longer on the omnibus—the omnibus that had not quite disappeared from site yet.

  A hansom cab passed me, its pace slowing. It pulled over behind me and deposited a gentleman at the bank's entrance. I picked up my skirts and ran. The gentleman noticed and asked the driver to wait.

  I thanked him as he assisted me up to the seat and closed the door. "Do you see the omnibus turning the corner back there?" I asked the driver through the hatch in the roof. "Follow it. Quickly, man." I handed him what I hoped would be enough money for the journey. "When it stops, I'd like to get on it."