The Curious Case of Simon Todd

by Vanessa C. Hawkins

  “Mr. Todd?” he called, cocking a brow.

  The sombre gentleman looked up, straightening his back and removing his hands from his pockets. “Mr. Darcy?” he replied, looking behind him as though expecting something else to appear out of nowhere.

  “I was wandering back from the library and got lost. I certainly didn’t expect to run into you at this hour.”

  The accountant smiled, nodding but looking a bit lost in thought. Jane strode up next to him, continuing to walk in the same direction as before.

  “You know, I haven’t really gotten a good chance to talk to you about finances and banking since we met in Darlington,” Jane continued, waiting for Simon to follow him. “Do you mind?”

  Simon shook his head, though Mr. Darcy noticed that the topic of numbers didn’t seem to rouse him as it had before. Was he doing something wrong?

  “Can anyone own a bank account?” Jane asked, flicking away a petal from one of the flowering saplings when it landed on his brow.

  “Yes,” Simon stuttered, as though recently joining the conversation. “Anyone from Freland.”

  Jane pursed his lips, nodding again. “Now what is so good about a bank, Mr. Todd, that would convince regular people to give all their money away to be held in one building out of their reach?” That was the one thing about banks that Mr. Darcy considered the most perplexing. Were people so indolent these days that they didn’t even want to take responsibility for their own precious commodities?

  “Well,” Simon inhaled, “there is interest and insurance, to name two.”

  Jane regarded him. Mr. Todd took that as a sign to continue. “If you put your money in the bank, well, there is greater security. Storing money at home can result in you being burglarized, but at the bank there is a greater degree of protection.”

  “Really? What if someone robs the bank?”

  Simon scratched his head. “Well, certainly it’s not a regular happenstance. Hershal bank prides itself on its security.”

  Mr. Darcy wasn’t convinced. “And interest? What is that?”

  Simon laughed. “Only certain accounts have interest, but essentially it’s the amount of money you accrue for having a balance of money deposited in the bank.”

  Jane swerved. “Wait, so I would receive gold for merely storing my gold in such an establishment?”

  Simon had to chuckle, thinking it rather odd that such a refine young gent like Mr. Darcy knew nothing of financials. “Well for certain accounts, yes. Granted, it isn’t a lot, only a small percentage of what you deposit, but I suppose you’ve got the general way of it.”

  Mr. Darcy would have to rethink the management of his hoard, he thought. Gold and diamonds begetting more gold and diamonds? All by sitting idly in a secure bank? The idea was too good to be true. He wanted to enquire more, but by the manner in Simon’s slouched frame, Mr. Darcy could tell there was something rattling about in the poor Frelander’s brain.

  “Are you alright, Mr. Todd?” He leaned forward a bit, trying to garner more of the young man’s attention. “What brings you out at this time of night?”

  Simon’s currently overactive mind slowed as he observed Mr. Darcy trying to peer into his thoughts.

  With a sigh he folded his hands behind him, staring ahead at the cobbles with cluttered yellow dust between the grooves of stone. “A lot, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “Since Grimguild, I feel like I’ve been bombarded with a lot of things.”

  “Is that so?” Jane looked away, fingering the ribbed spine of his stolen book.

  “I’ve discovered a few too many things the past few weeks and I’m not sure I’ve time or a mind to sort them all quite in the manner I’d like.” He took a moment to look at Jane sidewise. “If that makes sense at all.”

  Mr. Darcy nodded, trying to understand. Sorting thoughts, he wondered if it was much akin to sorting sapphires. “Well Mr. Todd, you’ll have all the time in the world to sort your considerations once we’ve completed our task.”

  “Yes.” That was true at least, Simon thought. “Though, if it’s not a manic thing to say that is, I don’t really fancy having a large share of the gold.”

  Jane was bewildered. “Why not?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Mr. Todd shrugged. “I don’t really want it,” he explained, kicking at a loose stone in the road. “I like my life in Darlington. I don’t need riches or finery to make it better.” He smiled. “Something nice for my mum, enough to get home or maybe a trinket to remember it all. That’s all I need.”

  Jane furrowed his brow, flabbergasted that someone like Simon Todd could say honestly that he didn’t desire treasure.

  “I suppose,” Mr. Todd continued. “I’d just give the rest of my share to Miss Baxter. She’s the one who wants to do something worthwhile with it all.” Simon removed his pocket watch from his inner coat pocket and stared at it aimlessly. “I only went along for her sake anyway.”

  Jane watched as his breath poured like vapor into the cool night air. The temperature had seemingly dropped all of a sudden, he noticed. In the distance, just over a small hill, Mr. Darcy saw a large, three story house with six chimneys billowing out smoke like lit cigars.

  “Well if that’s all that’s bothering you…”

  “No, not entirely.” He felt bad for burdening Jane with all his problems.

  “Then what?” the scholar replied.

  “Just a bit of bad news.” Simon thought of Cosette, of what she had told him when they had arrived and settled at Barnaby’s. He felt bad for getting angry at her and denying it. Though Simon hadn’t known the girl for very long, he didn’t feel she was malicious. There was nothing to gain on her part by relaying such a thing. At least, nothing Mr. Todd could fathom. Simon only wished he could ascertain whether it was true beyond a doubt, and the only way to do that was to approach the matter himself.

  “I’m sorry.” Jane Darcy narrowed his eyes as he watched a large house come into view over the crest of the hill toward them. It had a rather vibrant red front door.

  Why wasn’t he just coming out with it? Jane thought. Mr. Darcy had been under the impression humans craved this sort of unloading of burdens, as it were. Why mention that there was bad news unless he was going to share it? As it was however, it appeared Mr. Todd just wanted to be left to his own devices. Jane felt like he should oblige him, despite his own curiosities.

  “Well if you wish to talk later, Mr. Todd, I don’t mind being your confident.” Simon paused when they arrived at the house on the hill with the red door.

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” he said. “I think tomorrow at breakfast I’d like to meet the others at Mr. Dashing’s home to discuss something. A discovery of sorts.” He seemed to have trouble finding the correct words.

  Jane wondered if this had anything to do with his so-called bad news.

  “What time?” he asked.

  “Around nine, I think.” Again Simon removed his pocket watch, this time to ponder an appropriate meeting time. “Ten maybe, since we ought to consider the train.”

  “Very well.” Jane smiled. “I’ll be sure to inform the others.”

  “I never thought.” Simon looked up from his watch, face illuminated by a bright lantern glowing by the door of the house. “How will you get back? Maybe you should stay at Barnaby’s with us.”

  Jane shook his head. “I’m a bit of an insomniac. A quiet walk back will do me good.”

  Mr. Todd looked unconvinced.

  “Besides,” Jane continued, holding up his recent theft from the library, “I’ve a book that needs reading.”

  Simon smiled at that. Jane and his books, he thought before saying goodnight.

  Mr. Darcy watched as the dour gentleman ambled up the stairs back into Barnaby’s Inn, noting the use of the word ‘us’ in Mr. Todd’s statement as he left. Opening his book, starting at page one, Jane abandoned his questions and interests as he began with the first sentence.

  “It is a truth universally acknowledged,” he began, r
eading aloud, “that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Jane chuckled to himself. “Good thing I’m not a man.”

  Chapter 36

  A Friendly Frelish Breakfast

  Simon woke up that morning with a terrible headache. He often found the world was most unfair in such circumstances. Though he was dead, a soul with half a body, or perhaps a body with half a soul, despite his tumultuous hold on the world he could still suffer from arbitrary inconveniences like allergies and migraines. He wondered as he got up, straightened his hair and shaved his face, things he still had to do but needed to anchor himself physically to accomplish, whether he could purchase some manner of pharmaceutical to help. Though Mr. Todd hadn’t really had any desire to eat these last few weeks since Grimguild, he could consume things, albeit without experiencing any sense of taste.

  I’ll be fine, he later resolved, looking into the mirror overtop the small porcelain basin included in his room. It was all on account of nerves. Mr. Todd would feel right as rain as soon as he was able to talk to his companions and tell them all that had occurred. Miss Baxter would be able to set everything straight. Simon only needed to wait until after breakfast when he had a chance to converse with her separately about Cosette’s accusations.

  “Mr. Todd?” Simon turned. Though his room had been quite small with a plain bed fit for one, a basin and small wardrobe, Mr. Todd had slept on the floor due to the symptoms of his ghostliness. Therefore, as Simon went to answer the quiet knock, his room was still almost in the same shape that it had been when he’d entered it alone the night before.

  “Yes, Cosette?” Simon smiled, wanting to avoid her eyes but realizing it might be rude to do so. Regarding the girl still dressed in the same clothes as the night before, Simon swallowed down his fear, telling himself she was much more a girl than she was a spider.

  Mr. Todd stepped back for her to enter, noticing her trepidation in addressing him. He felt bad for being ornery last night, and despite his immediate apology afterward, felt it necessary to do it again.

  “It’s alright, really. Come in. I’m sorry for becoming irate with you.”

  Her features softened, four of her five eyes narrowing in what he deemed to be cheerfulness. “Thank you, Mr. Todd.”

  Simon sighed, turning about on his heel and heading towards his briefcase. “You can call me Simon, you know. If we are half the same person, you can feel obliged to call me by my first name.” The young Frelish accountant still didn’t know what he should think of it all. “Besides,” he continued, “you don’t have a last name. It wouldn’t be fair for you to uphold formalities when I don’t have to.”

  Cosette looked to the side as Simon picked up his case, noticing a web in the corner. “I don’t think I shall come to breakfast with you this morning,” she said.

  “No?” Simon couldn’t help but feel a tad relieved. He had been uncertain of how his friends would react, if they’d accuse her of being a liar, or some kind of delinquent.

  “I’m feeling a bit shy at the moment,” she said.

  Simon took a step forward, leaving his briefcase on the floor as he went. Tentatively patting her on the arm, he considered her a moment before a thought found him.

  “I’ve an idea!” he announced, swerving about to fetch a few silver coins from his case. “When I was at the bank I removed a bit of money from my savings in case we got stranded. Can’t be too careful.” He stood up. “Why don’t you go and purchase a few more dresses for your wardrobe while I’m out?” Simon smiled. “Certainly you can’t have just one. Ivory lace is bound to get filthy in Ebonguard.”

  Cosette held out her hand as he offered her the few coins. Simon realized right away that although he was normally incorporeal, Cosette was not. Damned Mortimer Grim!

  “Are you certain?” she asked.

  Simon nodded. “That amount should buy you a few more, though maybe not as extravagant as the one you’ve got on.” He picked up his briefcase. “But it will do.”

  Cosette held the coins to her chest, and Simon inclined his head as a flush of red swept over her cheeks. “A-Anyway,” he said, moving past her to the door, “I’ll meet you by Hamilton Tower around noon.”

  “Wait.”

  He stopped, eyebrows raising to his hairline. “Yes?”

  Cosette walked forward and Simon peered down at her as she began to remove her gloves. The color of her arms was dark brown with black at the ends, differing from the lighter hue of her face. Running down each limb from the sleeves of her dress and beyond, two diamond-like threads coiled about her wrists.

  “I made you something,” she said, producing from her sleeve a rather intricate weave of cloth. “I made it myself this morning. I think it should help you.”

  “Is it sticky?” Simon regretted the face he knew he was making. She was a spider lady, of course she had webbing. But where did it come from? Somewhere beneath her clothing? He could see the threads disappearing into her sleeves. Most spiders produced web from their… Simon blanched.

  “It’s not. I mean… it can be but this isn’t.” Moving forward she took his briefcase from him, wrapping the doily-looking cloth around the handle. “I thought maybe you would be able to use this to carry things around without getting so tired.”

  Simon blinked, the idea intriguing and thankfully distracting. Relaxing, he took hold of his case, feeling quite elated when he realized he was able to grasp it.

  “This is marvelous,” he exclaimed, testing his grip as he raised and lowered the briefcase. The case went through him, but the webbing could not. Simon figured it must have been for the same reasons he could hold Cosette’s arm, or ride upon Salvador. They were both connected to him, or Death, somehow.

  “Thank you, Cosette,” he said, genuinely touched.

  She folded her arms in front of her and giggled. “It’s no worry, Simon. Thank you for the shopping trip.”

  Mr. Todd laughed, shaking his head. “Alright then. I’ll see you at Hamilton Tower soon.”

  “Okay.” Her expression sobered a bit. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

  “Will do,” he said.

  She followed his departure as he left the room and wandered down the hall. Barnaby was up this morning, sitting at the small desk in the front hall that greeted visitors. The thin man with a very pointed chin nodded hello as Simon went to the door, bidding good day as Mr. Todd walked out onto the street.

  The day was much brighter than it had been yesterday. Though still slightly faded from the smoke of the Ebonguard factories, the sun seemed resolved to shine through a bit of the smog today. Lady Heart trees fluttered in the breeze as Simon walked down toward the Gray Train Station. Purple petals whirled across the cobbles in the wake of sputtering automobiles with roaring engines.

  He was to meet the others at ten. It was already half past eight. Simon hoped the train wouldn’t be unexpectedly late today.

  As usual, and on time, the steam locomotive barrelled down the rails at three quarters past the hour. It was much larger than the train at Steam Station, since it was expected to tote around a great deal more passengers on a day to day basis, but being outside the grand central area of Ebonguard meant that when Mr. Todd boarded with pass in hand, there were few people yet seated inside.

  He resolved therefore, to have a seat. Unwinding the small piece of fabric Cosette had given him from his briefcase, Simon was exceptionally pleased when he placed it upon his allocated seat and sat down and found he could do so without difficulty.

  Perhaps I’ll have to commission a quilt or blanket of some kind so that I may sleep upon a bed once more.

  The thought brought a smile to his lips as he stared out the window and watched as the pointed houses of Ebonguard’s suburban residents transformed into the ornate skyscrapers of downtown.

  He arrived at Mr. Dashing’s apartment about ten minutes early. With a few moments to spare, Mr. Todd took a second to look about the area and pondered the man’s living space. It wasn’t an ext
raordinary neighborhood. A bit outside the downtown hustle and bustle, his apartment was an illuminated window amongst many dark ones. Red bricked buildings with ornate awnings decorating chocolate shops and the like at their bases were a hive of indiscernible rooms for the citizens of Ebonguard. Lanterns and sewer grates and steaming pipes all crowded the small inner streets of the city, while everything about the buildings were meant to draw the eye downward. The boutiques, meat shops and clean stained glass of the posh clothing outlets, were all wonderfully set upon the ground floor, while the boring, faded apartments above remained dark just out of reach of the lamp light.

  “Room three-oh-three, if I recall,” Simon muttered as he walked towards the brightly lit That’s Mint candy shop. Chuckling at the name as he meandered down the alley between buildings, Mr. Todd found the entrance to the apartment stairwell and climbed to the third floor, leaving slight footprints in the dust.

  He could hear voices from within as he paused in front of a rather plain looking, but sturdy, wooden door with an eyehole in the middle.

  “Hello?” he called after a moment, tapping the door with the edge of his briefcase. The piece of cloth Cosette had given him had been appropriately wrapped back around its handle as soon as Mr. Todd left the train. Again, Simon smiled at how handy it had already proven to be when the door was promptly opened.

  “’Ello?” A rather old-looking woman squinted at him. She was swimming inside the puffed sleeves of a ruffled blouse and long purple skirt, and the grey mop of hair on her head was pulled up, flopping down around her round face much akin to a deflated muffin top.

  “Uh,” Simon started, looking back and around to ensure he had knocked on the right door.

  She was staring at him through the small lenses of a set of bronzed goggles, extended to full length like a spyglass. Small gadgets, a compass, targeting apparatus and focusing levers, all hung off the sides clumsily.

  “We’re not looking to buy anything today,” she said after giving him a good look up and down.