The Ink Master's Silence

by C. J. Archer

  "Women shouldn't take care of horses," Matt said. "Particularly ladies." He shrugged an apology at Patience.

  She looked down at her uneaten jelly. "Of course."

  Lord Cox watched the exchange over the rim of his wine glass but did not offer an opinion.

  "You must forgive my nephew," Miss Glass said to Lord Cox. "He's quite set in his ways, particularly where women are concerned."

  I bit my lip. That last part was laying it on a little thick. Surely Lord Cox would see through her act.

  "I expected an American to be more enlightened," Lord Cox said, setting down the glass.

  "My father was upper class English," Matt said with a laugh and a shrug. "Make of that what you will."

  Lord Cox merely grunted and finished his pastry.

  Matt continued to manipulate the conversation throughout the meal, being effortlessly charming yet not all that subtle. Just when I thought Lord Cox realized what was happening, Matt steered the discussion to financial matters. Patience could no longer contribute. After a mere minute, Miss Glass suggested it was time for the gentlemen and ladies to separate.

  I rushed off and hid in the shadows. Neither Miss Glass nor Patience saw me as they passed by, but I suspected Matt knew I was there. He stared for long seconds in my direction until Lord Cox struck up a conversation.

  I followed them to the smoking room. Matt made sure to leave the door ajar, and I took up a position where I could both see and hear. I thought perhaps the men wouldn't stay long, but they chatted for ten minutes before Lord Cox suddenly asked something I was not expecting.

  "Why don't you want to marry her?"

  Matt was rendered speechless, something which happened only on rare occasions.

  "Come now, Glass, I can see what you're trying to do. You want me to take her off your hands."

  "I care about my cousin's wellbeing and happiness," Matt said.

  "But you don't want to marry her."

  Matt sighed. "Patience is a sweet, good natured girl. She deserves to be happy and to marry a man who loves her, or who will at least learn to appreciate her many qualities. I am not that man."

  Lord Cox swirled the liquid in his glass as he considered this. "Why not?"

  "I am in love with someone else."

  His lordship stopped swirling and regarded Matt with some sympathy. "I see. And why aren't you marrying her instead?"

  "It's complicated."

  "I have time."

  Matt scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "My uncle and aunt want their eldest daughter to marry."

  "For obvious reasons," Cox said darkly.

  "I am the only candidate they could manipulate, given the short timeframe."

  Lord Cox's gaze sharpened. He nodded slowly. I suspected he knew exactly what Matt was trying to say. "I'm sorry to hear it," he said. "For your sake as well as Patience's. I don't think she'll be happy with you."

  "How sorry?"

  "Not that sorry."

  Matt shifted his weight in the chair. "She would be happier with you than with me. You're very suited to one another."

  Lord Cox grunted into his glass. "Being suited is not a reason to marry someone."

  "It is where I come from."

  Lord Cox spread his arms wide. "Welcome to England." I suspected he was a little drunk and more than a little annoyed. Whether with Matt or Patience I couldn't say.

  Matt took both glasses and refilled them. He offered Lord Cox one of Willie's cigars but was refused. Matt inspected the box, perhaps considering taking up the habit. In the end, he simply filled both glasses higher than the regulatory two fingers.

  Matt handed him the glass but didn't let go. "I'm asking you as a gentleman to reconsider."

  "I can't. I have thought about it, but…" Lord Cox squeezed the bridge of his nose. "It's impossible. Her reputation is in tatters."

  "That will be forgotten, in time."

  He jerked his head up. "And what of my reputation?" he snapped. "I cannot afford to marry someone with a tainted past."

  Matt paused. "Patience made one mistake—"

  "It only requires one."

  "And she wasn't married at the time."

  Lord Cox set down the tumbler. "I like you, Glass, and I like her, so please do not ask me again. I won't change my mind. I'm sorry but if you need to get out of this arrangement, you'll have to find someone else to take her off your hands."

  "There isn't time!"

  I heard footsteps on the stairs, and I quickly moved away from the door. Patience appeared at the top of the staircase, a little out of breath.

  "India! There you are." She glanced at the door to the smoking room. Only a fool wouldn't realize what I was doing. She had the good grace not to mention it, however. "I've been looking for you. I thought you'd gone out."

  I wished I had now. I felt utterly stupid standing there. My guilt must be written all over my face. I couldn't even look at her.

  "I need to speak to you," she said, glancing back down the stairs.

  "Where's Miss Glass?"

  "Drawing room." She took my arm and pulled me into the shadows. "I know what you and Matt are trying to do tonight." Again, she glanced toward the smoking room. "I also know it won't work. Lord Cox is a very proud man. He wouldn't stoop to being with someone like me." Her face twisted as she fought, and won, to hold back the tears.

  The poor girl. She was in turmoil over this too. It was easy for Matt and I to forget that at the heart of this saga was someone who just wanted to settle down and marry a good man. I couldn't blame her for agreeing to her parents' scheme.

  I took her hands in mine. "There is nothing wrong with you, Patience. Never think that. You are a fine, lovely girl."

  "I'm plain and simple."

  "You're nothing of the sort." While she was no beauty, I thought her prettier than her two sisters. Perhaps that was more to do with their ugly character than their faces. "Lord Cox ought to be pleased to have you as his wife."

  "But he's not pleased. Is he?" She pulled away from me. "I heard about you and Matt kissing in front of everyone."

  I sighed. "Not everyone."

  "It doesn't matter. India, this marriage is going to take place. No one is more sorry than me that it has to be this way."

  "I doubt that," I said, my voice hard.

  She stiffened. "The situation cannot be reversed. Lord Cox won't change his mind, and my life will be ruined if I don't marry someone. My sisters' lives too."

  I folded my arms against the chill racing across my skin.

  "I know Matt can't get out of it," she added, quieter. "I know my father has found a way to convince him to go through with this, despite what Matt feels for you." Her eyes welled with tears and her lip wobbled. Even if she didn't love Matt, it must be hard to know that the man she was about to marry loved another. "You have to leave, India. You can't live here anymore. You're ruining everything."

  My throat closed as my heart swelled. I looked away, no longer able to face her.

  "This situation cannot go on like this," she spluttered through her tears. "It simply cannot."

  I nodded. She was right. It couldn't.

  Chapter 10

  Matt visited my room briefly after the guests left but he had nothing to report that I had not already heard. "We have two weeks," he said. "I'll speak with the others and see who wants to leave with us. Then I'll book our passage to France." He gave me a sad smile as he stroked my cheek with his knuckles. "We'll save the goodbyes until the last possible moment."

  "What about Miss Glass?"

  He blew out a measured breath. "She'll live here, of course. I'll ask her if she has a new companion in mind. If not, I'll place an advertisement. I'd like to see that settled before we leave." He kissed my forehead and bade me goodnight.

  The following morning, he repeated what had transpired for Willie, Cyclops and Duke's sakes. Miss Glass did not join us for breakfast, but that wasn't unusual. The trio greeted Matt's account with silence. Cyclops pushed his plate away
, having only eaten half his breakfast. He'd never done that before.

  "Someone say something," I said. "What do the three of you plan to do? Come with us or stay?"

  "Ain't nothing for me here no more," Willie said. "I'll come with you. Duke?"

  "Aye." But Duke didn't sound entirely convinced.

  We all turned to Cyclops. "It's for the best," he mumbled.

  "Not necessarily," I said. "Catherine—"

  "Don't, India. Please. Just…don't." He got up and left.

  I closed my eyes until I felt Matt's hand cover mine. I opened them to see him smiling sympathetically at me.

  "Want me to book passage for five?" Duke asked. "Or will your aunt be coming with us?"

  "Course she will," Willie said. "She can't stay here on her own. Her brother and sister-in-law'll give her no peace."

  Matt studied his plate. "She's too old to leave. Her mind…" He shook his head. "Book passage for five, leaving next Saturday. A week before the wedding should give them enough time to inform the guests."

  "Including today, that's only five full days to complete our investigation," I said. "What if we haven't solved the murder by then?"

  "We'll leave it in Brockwell's capable hands."

  "Speaking of which," Willie said. "Hendry and Sweeney met last night."

  "How do you know?"

  "The chop house closed early so we had nothing to do. We wandered about until I decided we should watch Hendry and Sweeney again. We split up, only to come together at Sweeney's house when Hendry called on him."

  I sat up straighter. "What happened?"

  "They argued."

  "Made a ruckus," Duke chimed in.

  "Punches were thrown?" I asked.

  "More like slaps." Duke chuckled. "Sweeney ended up on his ass. Hendry felt bad and tried to help him up but Sweeney weren't having none of it. Hendry stormed out after that."

  "What did they argue about?" Matt asked.

  "Couldn't hear," Willie said. "Sweeney's staff didn't, either. Most had gone to bed."

  I looked at Matt. "Shall we visit Sweeney or Hendry?"

  "Hendry," he said. "If he was angry enough to go to Sweeney's home to confront him, perhaps he's angry enough to talk."

  I checked on Miss Glass before Matt and I headed out for the day. She was still in bed, pleading an aching head. "I'll ask Polly to bring you a tonic," I said. "Do you require anything else?"

  "Your company, India."

  "I'm going out with Matt. We have some new information in the murder investigation."

  She touched her handkerchief to her forehead and whimpered. "Is that more important than me?"

  "You'll be fine, Miss Glass, and you'll have Polly for company."

  She sniffed.

  I sat on the bed and adjusted the pillows at her back to make her more comfortable. "Matt will speak with you later today about finding a new companion. If you have some time, perhaps you can make a list of suitable women of your acquaintance. You must know someone in need of employment. Someone you can get along with."

  "I already do. You."

  I sighed. "The situation has come to a head. Lord Cox made it clear last night that he would not give in."

  She turned her face away and closed her eyes.

  "I spoke with Patience," I went on. "She also made it clear that she will not set Matt free."

  "Then you're leaving me," she whispered into her handkerchief. "All of you will be leaving."

  My heart pinched. I tried to think of something to say but only lies would ease her distress and I couldn't lie to her about something so important. I touched her shoulder. "Think of an acquaintance who'd make a suitable companion."

  I went in search of Polly then informed Matt that I was ready. It was somewhat of a relief to leave the house. The air had become oppressive. Even the servants seemed to sense something was amiss, judging by their long faces. I hoped they hadn't guessed that we would leave. Not yet. We couldn't afford for Lord Rycroft to hear of our plans. At least there would be a place for all the servants here when we were gone, serving Miss Glass and her new companion. It would be awful to have to let them go too.

  Mr. Hendry wasn't happy to see us at his shop, but nothing short of physically throwing us out would make us leave. He wasn't such a fool as to try.

  "We only want answers to our questions," Matt said.

  "Honest answers," I added. "You were seen arguing with Mr. Sweeney last night at his house."

  Mr. Hendry's face fell. "How…how do you know that?"

  "What did you argue about?"

  Mr. Hendry rested a hand on the stack of paper on the end of the counter.

  "Leave the paper," Matt growled.

  His fingers recoiled. "I wasn't going to use it against you." He tucked his hands behind his back. "Why must you persist with these bloody questions? I am innocent. I've done nothing wrong. I can't help it if my paper was used to send malicious letters to that journalist."

  "Tell us who bought the paper and we'll leave you alone," Matt said.

  "I told you, I don't know."

  "We don't believe you."

  Mr. Hendry swallowed and looked away.

  "If you won't tell us that, tell us what you and Sweeney argued about."

  Mr. Hendry shook his head.

  Matt slammed his fist on the counter, and both Mr. Hendry and I jumped. "There isn't time for these damned games! Tell us!"

  "It was a personal matter," Mr. Hendry spat. "Forgive me, but I don't see the need to splash my private affairs about. They are none of your business."

  "If it relates to the investigation, it is very much our business." All of Matt's pent-up frustration came out clear as day in his razor sharp tone. Mr. Hendry probably assumed it was directed at him. I felt no need to tell him otherwise.

  "Here." Mr. Hendry swiveled the ledger around and stabbed a finger at the open page. "Look at my records. If you can link any of these sales to the paper that was used to send the letters, then go and arrest the customer. It would be a miracle if you can."

  "We don't need a miracle," I said, glancing over the page. "We just need a name we recognize." I flipped back through the pages to the previous week. Each entry listed the customer's name, address, and details of the order, followed by the quantity and price.

  "The paper could have been bought some time ago," Mr. Hendry said.

  "This ledger is for the current month," Matt said. "What about last month?"

  Mr. Hendry muttered something under his breath then rounded the counter. He pulled out a ledger from the low shelf on the back wall, only to frown at it. "These are out of order." He pulled out a second one then went very still.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  Mr. Hendry spun round and clutched the ledger to his chest. "Nothing. Everything's as it should be. Here." He held out the ledger.

  Matt rounded the counter and ignored the book. "Step aside."

  Mr. Hendry shook his head.

  Matt nudged him and the much slighter Hendry stumbled. Matt bent and reached into the gap left by the removal of the ledgers. He pulled out a gun.

  I gasped. Mr. Hendry's shoulders slumped.

  "Is this yours?" Matt asked.

  Mr. Hendry nibbled his lower lip.

  "Is it yours?" Matt demanded. "If it is, it won't look good for you if this turns out to be the murder weapon."

  Mr. Hendry's eyes widened. "It's not mine. Please, sir, you must believe me. I've never seen that gun in my life. I don't own anything like it. I wouldn't even know how to use it."

  "If it isn't yours, why did you try to hide it from us?" I asked.

  "Because I knew you'd jump to the obvious conclusion—that I used it to kill that editor. I was afraid you'd tell the police." He put down the ledgers and grasped Matt's arm. "I didn't hurt anyone. I swear to you. I don't know how that gun came to be here."

  "Someone must have left it," Matt said. "Who else has been behind this counter since the murder?"

  "Only me."


  "You are often in your workshop. You might not see or hear anyone out here." Matt checked the gun's cylinder. Finding it empty of bullets, he pocketed it in his inside jacket pocket.

  Mr. Hendry stared at Matt's jacket as if he could see through it to the weapon. He shook his head slowly, over and over. "Who would do such a thing?" he murmured.

  "Someone who knows your paper was used to send those threatening letters to Barratt," I said.

  "Someone who wants you to take the blame," Matt added. "Could it be Sweeney?"

  Mr. Hendry blinked rapidly. "No," he said quite firmly. "He's my friend. Despite everything, he wouldn't do this."

  "Are you sure?" I asked gently. "You've had a falling out. You've argued, quite violently."

  He barked a brittle laugh. "Miss Steele, if you had seen our fight, you wouldn't call it violent. Neither of us is capable of really hurting the other. Trust me. This is not Patrick Sweeney's doing."

  "That isn't for you to decide," Matt said. He patted his jacket. "I'll take this to Scotland Yard. Detective Inspector Brockwell will be able to tell if it's the same type of weapon that was used to shoot Baggley."

  "Don't tell him where you found it. Please, sir, I beg you."

  "I have to tell him. I'll also tell him everything else we know, including the argument you were overheard having last night with Sweeney. We'll let the police decide if it's relevant or not."

  Mr. Hendry clutched Matt's sleeves. "He'll jump to the wrong conclusion! I don't want Patrick to endure this sort of questioning. He's got enough on his plate."

  "Why do you still care what happens to him?" Matt asked.

  "Because we'll be friends again when everything settles down, once he sees that I won't use my magic against him, or he won't lose anything from the magic of others."

  "He must know that already," I said. "He runs a publishing company, not a paper manufacturing business, or ink. I don't see how his business will suffer from magicians."

  Mr. Hendry merely lifted a shoulder. He looked somewhat lost and very much out of his depth. Finding that gun had rattled him. I believed him when he said it wasn't his.

  I came around the counter and inspected the shelf. I moved the ledgers aside and searched for anything else behind them. Nothing. "It must have been placed here in the last few days, since the murder. Think about the people you've seen in your shop, Mr. Hendry. People who didn't buy anything. Perhaps they acted oddly or were nervous."