The Perfect Poison

by Quick, Amanda

  “We are reasonably certain that Jones is, as yet, unaware of the existence of the Seventh Circle. We intend to see to it that remains the case. Steps will be taken.”

  “Uh, what sort of steps?” Hulsey asked, more nervous than ever. His talent was of great use to the Seventh Circle but the one thing that had been impressed upon him during his short association with the Third Circle was that the Order of the Emerald Tablet did not tolerate failure or serious mistakes.

  “That is none of your affair,” Norcross said. “But bear in mind that you are responsible for the problem of Caleb Jones. I have been sent here today to inform you that the leader of the Circle is extremely displeased by your careless actions. Do you understand me, Hulsey?”

  “H-how can you blame me for the fact that Jones has paid a call on Miss Bromley?” Hulsey asked, bewildered.

  “You’re the one who stole that damned fern from her conservatory.”

  “What in blazes does that have to do with Jones? I took that fern a month ago. I doubt that Miss Bromley even noticed it was missing. She certainly didn’t call in Mr. Jones to investigate at that time.”

  “We do not yet know precisely why Jones has become associated with Bromley now, but the leader suspects that it has something to do with that bloody fern. It is the only connection.”

  Hulsey glanced uneasily at the fern. It sat in a pot on a workbench, its delicate fronds spilling forth in a fountain of vibrant green. It was a magnificent and most unusual specimen with a number of intriguing psychical properties. His experiments thus far had convinced him that it held the potential to take him to the next level of his dream research. To have left it in Bromley’s conservatory would have been an intolerable waste.

  “I really don’t see how my removing the fern could have anything to do with this,” he said soothingly. “Perhaps Jones’s interest in Bromley is of a personal nature.”

  “He’s a Jones. A man of his rank and status would have no reason to pay a personal call upon the daughter of a notorious poisoner, a woman who is rumored to have followed in her father’s footsteps. As far as we have been able to discern, no one of note in the social world calls upon Miss Bromley. The only people she sees are her relations and a few brave botanists.”

  “Per-perhaps Jones wanted to tour her conservatory,” Hulsey said hopefully. “Everyone in the Society is aware that he is a man of wide-ranging intellectual and scientific interests.”

  “If it transpires that Caleb Jones decided to call upon Lucinda Bromley for reasons of scientific curiosity, it would be the most astonishing of coincidences. You know how those of us with talent feel about coincidences.”

  “That conservatory is crammed with specimens. In the unlikely event that Miss Bromley did discover that the fern was gone, it is ridiculous on the face of it to think that she would go so far as to employ a private inquiry agent to look for it. And even more ludicrous to think that Jones would actually take such a silly case. It is just a plant, after all, not a diamond necklace.”

  Norcross moved forward through the alternating shadow-and-glare cast by the gas lamps. “For your sake, you had better be right. Because that fern is a direct link to you, and you are linked to us.”

  Hulsey shivered. “I assure you, there is no way Jones could ever make the connection. I used a different name when I called upon Miss Bromley. She has no way of knowing who I am.”

  Norcross’s mouth twisted in disgust. “You are an idiot, Hulsey. Go back to your experiments and your rats. I will take care of the problem you have caused.”

  Anger surfaced in Hulsey, momentarily suppressing his fear. He drew himself up to his full height. “I resent your remarks, sir. There is no other man alive in England today who can even begin to compare to me when it comes to the study of the chemistry of the paranormal. No one. Why, it would require another Newton to compete with me.”

  “Yes, I know, Hulsey. And that is all that is saving you at this moment. Trust me when I tell you that if there was another Newton available, hell, if there was anyone else who possessed your skills and talents, the leader would have ordered your execution in a heartbeat.”

  Hulsey stared at him, appalled.

  Norcross withdrew a gold snuffbox from his pocket, flipped open the hinged lid with a graceful motion and took a pinch of the contents. He inhaled the powder with a sharp, practiced snort. Then he smiled his slow, terrifying smile.

  “Do you understand me, Hulsey?” he asked very softly.

  The strong currents of energy struck Hulsey with the force of a blow, shattering his already shaky nerves. He was no longer merely frightened, he was paralyzed with terror. Under the onslaught of Norcross’s talent, his pulse began to beat so quickly and so erratically that he thought he might faint. He gasped for breath but all the oxygen seemed to have been pumped out of the room.

  It was as if he confronted some dread monster of the night, a creature out of a nightmare. The logical side of his nature assured him that this was no vampire or supernatural phantom standing in front of him. It was just Norcross employing his bizarre talent to induce a sense of mindless panic. But that knowledge did nothing to assuage the sensation.

  Unable to support himself any longer, Hulsey collapsed to his knees and began to rock back and forth. He heard a high, keening shriek and realized it was coming from his own throat.

  “I asked you a question, Hulsey.”

  Hulsey knew he must answer but he could not. When he opened his mouth the only noise that emerged was an incomprehensible stutter.

  “Y-y-yessss,” he managed.

  Evidently satisfied with the reaction, Norcross gave him another razor-sharp smile. Hulsey was vaguely amazed that fangs did not appear. He realized the mind-numbing fear was receding. He discovered that he could breathe again.

  “Excellent,” Norcross said. He pocketed the snuffbox. “I do believe that you comprehend me very well, indeed. Get up, fool.”

  Hulsey grabbed the edge of the workbench and hauled himself erect. It was not easy. He had to maintain his grip in order to keep himself from collapsing a second time.

  Norcross went out the door, closing it in a calm, controlled manner that was, in its own way, just as unnerving as the wild, predatory excitement that had burned in his eyes a moment ago.

  Hulsey waited until his pulse had slowed somewhat. Then he sank down onto the stool.

  “It is all right,” he said aloud. “You can come out now. He is gone.”

  A door cracked open. Bertram came cautiously into the room. He was clearly shaken.

  “Norcross is mad,” Bertram whispered.

  “Yes, I know.” Hulsey massaged his aching head.

  “What do you think he meant when he said steps would be taken to make sure Jones does not connect the fern to you?”

  Hulsey looked at his son. Bertram was a mirror image of himself at twenty-three and a brilliant talent in his own right. His psychical abilities and, hence, his interests were a little different—no two talents were ever identical—but they complemented each other very well in the laboratory. Bertram made the ideal research assistant. Someday, Hulsey thought with a touch of paternal pride, his son would make bold inroads into the mysteries of the paranormal.

  “I don’t know what he meant,” Hulsey said. “The important thing is that whatever the steps are, they don’t affect us.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because if they did, we’d both be dead by now.”

  Wearily, Hulsey got up from the stool and went back to the cage. The rats watched him intently. They were new, replacements for the six that had died last week. He picked up the flask and emptied the rest of the contents into the water dish. The thirsty rats rushed forward to drink.

  “Are all patrons so unreasonable?” Bertram asked.

  “In my experience, the answer is yes. They’re all cracked.”

  THIRTEEN

  VICTORIA, LADY MILDEN, MANAGED TO APPEAR AT ONCE austere and very fashionable. Her silver-gray hair was dr
essed in an elegant chignon. She wore an expensive, beautifully draped gown of dove gray.

  It was evident from the outset that she approached her role as a matchmaker not only with enthusiasm, but with a brisk determination that would have been appropriate for a field marshal. She received Lucinda and Patricia in the cozy study of her new town house.

  “I am impressed with your list of requirements,” she said to Patricia. “In my experience, few young people approach marriage with such a degree of logic.”

  “Thank you,” Patricia said. “Lucy was my inspiration for the list.”

  “Indeed?” Victoria gave Lucinda a thoughtful look and then returned to the list. “Well, I must say you’ve been very thorough. I’m especially pleased to see that you are aware of the importance of psychical compatibility.”

  “Mama said that she thinks it is critical.”

  “Your mother is very wise.” Victoria put down the list and removed her glasses. “If only more couples would pay attention to that aspect. It is the key to marital happiness, especially among those with above-average talent.”

  “There is something I would like to clarify here,” Lucinda said. “What, precisely, is meant by psychical compatibility?”

  Victoria assumed a professorial air. “You are familiar with the notion that everyone produces unique currents of energy across a spectrum.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lucinda said. “Do you read auras?”

  “In a limited fashion,” Victoria said. “I perceive certain wavelengths on the spectrum. It so happens that those are the very wavelengths that are critical to the success of intimate relationships.”

  Patricia leaned forward a little, fascinated. “In what way?”

  “It is really very simple,” Victoria said. “If the wavelengths of the two people involved do not resonate harmoniously, it is a certainty that the couple will not know any degree of true emotional intimacy or happiness. My talent allows me to determine whether the resonating patterns are, indeed, compatible.”

  “How very gratifying to know that you employ such a scientific approach to your work, Lady Milden,” Patricia said.

  “The problem for me,” Victoria continued, “is that, while I can use my questionnaires and personal interviews to estimate the probability that two people will be well matched, I nevertheless must see the potential bride and groom together before I can be sure that they will resonate properly.”

  “How do you proceed?” Lucinda asked, intrigued.

  “The first step is for me to prepare a list of candidates for Patricia.” Victoria tapped the sheet of paper in front of her with one finger. “I shall, of course, keep her requirements in mind. But I warn you that it may be impossible to satisfy all of them.”

  For the first time, Patricia appeared uneasy. “I really do not know if I can compromise on any of those specifications. Each requirement on my list is very important to me.”

  “Never fear,” Victoria said. “If the wavelengths resonate with a sufficient degree of harmony, you will discover that you can make a few compromises.”

  Patricia did not look entirely reassured. “How will you compile your list of gentlemen?”

  Victoria waved one hand to indicate a long row of file drawers. “As it happens, I have been literally swamped with applications from members of the Society ever since I let it be known that I was available for this sort of consultation. I shall go through my records, pull out those of the young men I believe would be the most suitable and arrange for you to meet them.”

  “It sounds a rather lengthy process,” Patricia said. “I was hoping to be engaged within the month.”

  “Oh, I don’t think there will be any problem.” Victoria smiled. “In my experience, once two people of talent who resonate well together actually meet, the attraction is almost instantaneous.” She gave a ladylike sniff. “Not that the individuals involved are always willing to admit to that attraction, even to themselves, let alone to each other.”

  “I’m sure I won’t have any problem recognizing the right candidate immediately,” Patricia said.

  “In addition, parents sometimes raise barriers to the marriage because they disapprove of the prospective bride or groom for one reason or another,” Victoria said. “There is often considerable work for me to do in order to pull off a successful match.”

  “My parents hold very modern notions on marriage,” Patricia assured her. “As I told you, it was my mother’s idea that I come to London to consult with you.”

  “That is good to know,” Victoria said. “It bodes well.”

  A thought struck Lucinda. “What happens if two individuals who resonate well together are already married to other people?”

  Victoria tut-tutted. “That is a very sad situation and one which I am obviously unable to resolve. I regret to say that, given the inclination of so many people to marry for financial and social reasons rather than psychical compatibility, the problem arises all too often. The result is that illicit liaisons are quite common.”

  “Oh,” Lucinda said quietly. “Yes, I suppose that does explain why there are so many people engaged in affairs.”

  “How will you arrange for me to meet the eligible gentlemen in your files?” Patricia asked.

  “Several extremely efficient mechanisms for introducing clients to a great many candidates already exist,” Victoria assured her.

  “What are they?” Lucinda asked.

  “The traditional methods, of course. Balls, parties, the theater, lectures, gallery receptions, teas and so on. People have used such techniques for generations to make introductions. The difference, of course, is that I accompany my clients to such events and assess the patterns of all those they meet.”

  Lucinda froze. “I’m afraid balls and parties are out of the question.”

  Victoria looked at her. “I don’t see why.”

  “Lady Milden, I will be quite honest with you. I can afford to put on a ball or a party of some sort for Patricia but I’m sure you are aware of the notoriety that surrounds my family. I doubt very much that anyone on your list of candidates would accept an invitation from me. I cannot offer anything useful in the way of social connections.”

  “Yes, Miss Bromley, I am well aware of the gossip. But I do not think we need let a few unfortunate rumors get in the way of a successful match for your cousin.”

  “Unfortunate rumors?” Lucinda could not believe her ears. “Madam, we are talking about murder by poison and my father’s so-called suicide. All of the talk is baseless, I assure you. Nonetheless, the taint of scandal cannot be easily washed away. You know how it is in the social world.”

  “I know how it is within the Arcane Society’s social world,” Victoria said calmly. “Rest assured, in that realm, an invitation from a member of the Jones family cannot be ignored.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lucinda said, utterly bewildered now.

  “As it happens, there is a very important Society affair coming up later this week,” Victoria said. “My son and daughter-in-law are giving a large reception to celebrate the engagement of my nephew, Thaddeus Ware, and his lovely fiancée, Leona Hewitt. A great many high-ranking members of the Society will be present, including the new Master and his wife. I will see to it that you, Miss Patricia, and the eligible gentlemen I have selected will all be on the guest list.”

  “Good heavens,” Lucinda whispered, awed by Victoria’s daring.

  For her part, Patricia was suddenly hesitant. “The lectures and gallery receptions sound fine, Lady Milden, but I’m afraid I’ve had very little experience of the social world.”

  “There is no cause for alarm,” Victoria assured her. “I will be there to guide you every step of the way. All part of the service that I provide.”

  “But if you accompany me, everyone will know that I am in the market for a husband,” Patricia pointed out. “Won’t that make things a trifle awkward?”

  “Not in the least,” Victoria said. “Discretion is also part of the service
. Trust me, I receive invitations to every important Society affair.” She winked. “You will not be my only client at the ball.”

  “I think it would be best if I did not attend,” Lucinda said, feeling more than a little desperate. “My presence will only generate comment and speculation. Patricia’s last name is McDaniel. If I am not there it is quite possible that none of the other guests will realize that she is related to me.”

  “Nonsense, Miss Bromley.” Victoria put her reading glasses back on and reached for a pen. “I can assure you that when it comes to dealing with the social world, timidity never pays. The weak get trampled. Only the strong, the bold and the very clever survive.”

  In spite of her unease, Lucinda almost laughed. “You sound as though you subscribe to Mr. Darwin’s theories.”

  “I cannot speak for every species on earth,” Victoria said, dipping her pen into the inkwell, “but there is no doubt but that Mr. Darwin’s notions most certainly apply to the polite world.”

  Lucinda studied her for a moment. “Something tells me that the real reason we might be able to carry off your breathtaking scheme is because we will have the support of the Jones family.”

  Victoria looked at her over the rims of her eyeglasses. “Within the Arcane Society, the Jones family sets down the rules, Miss Bromley.”

  “And outside the Society?” Lucinda asked.

  “Outside the Society, the Joneses follow their own rules.”

  FOURTEEN

  THE KNOCK ON THE DOOR THE FOLLOWING MORNING came just as Lucinda and Patricia were sitting down to breakfast. Mrs. Shute set the coffeepot on the table and cast a disapproving look in the direction of the front hall.

  “Can’t imagine who that could be at this hour,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Perhaps someone is ill and needs Lucy’s advice,” Patricia said, reaching for a slice of toast.

  Mrs. Shute shook her head in an ominous manner. “Those from the neighborhood who send for Miss Bromley always come around to the kitchen door. I’ll go and see who it is.”