“Why are you in his room?”
Without pause for thought, Michiko pointed to the cabinet of curios. “Pretty,” she said.
Mrs. Carter turned and walked over to the cabinet. Michiko followed and pointed at the mask on the bottom. She looked up at the woman and saw a single tear roll down her cheek. “He bought it for me, but I thought it was ugly. So he kept it here. He bought me so many ugly things.” She started to cry harder. “He’ll never buy me another ugly thing again.”
Then she did something most extraordinary. She turned to Michiko and pulled her into a tight, sobbing hug. Michiko could feel the woman’s ample chest heave against her and her tears run down the back of her neck. She didn’t know what to do except to tentatively hug her back.
They stayed like that for what seemed forever until finally Mrs. Carter pulled back and looked at Michiko closely. She cradled her face in her hands and shook her head sadly. Then she released her and moved to the cabinet, opened it, and removed the mask.
“For you,” she said, handing it to Michiko.
Michiko really didn’t want to take it. It felt wrong to be given a gift at this time. Especially because the real reason she was in the room was to help someone steal a private document and escape through the window. She glanced at the butler, whose eyes were flitting about the room, clearly searching for the blonde he’d seen in the hall.
Michiko took the mask. It was lighter than she’d expected, and as she turned it over, she could she just how finely crafted it was. She bowed at Mrs. Carter, who bowed back. Bowing really looked weird when English people tried to do it.
She was sent off home on her own while Callum stayed to watch over Mrs. Carter and her family. Michiko enjoyed a relaxed early dinner while Shuu, very slowly and deliberately, began to shine the silver mask. It was a task he did most every day with their cutlery and other household items, and he was quite adept at it. After a quiet hour, the mask’s true beauty was revealed, and Michiko thanked him profusely.
The vines were so much more defined, so much more delicate. Little details of shadow and light, with the asymmetrical way a leaf curled by the right eye.
Michiko wondered . . .
She looked at herself in the mirror. Head to toe black except for the silver mask covering her face. Utterly unrecognizable. She’d worn samurai masks in the past, during her practices, and was used to how little vision such a thing allowed, but it would still take some getting used to.
She liked how well it matched the Silver Heart.
This was meant to be.
32
A Piece of Paper
THE MAKE-OUT SESSION was interrupted by the bell that signaled someone was at the front door.
“He’s here,” said Cora, taking in a deep breath and pulling herself off Andrew. She’d told herself one kiss, one celebratory kiss for a job well done. The device was finished, and it hadn’t been easy going. (Not, of course, that Andrew would know it. What he had done was little more than pass her tools and make inappropriate comments.)
The kiss had turned into a little more than that. Even though she was still annoyed with him. And she wasn’t entirely certain how they’d wound up on the floor, but there they were.
And then the bell had rung.
The device had been neatly packed up into a small wooden box. Cora grabbed it quickly and escaped the lab to the front door. Andrew followed her. Barker was at the door and Cora dismissed him as she approached.
The boy at the door took the package with a nod and handed her a packet of cash, the remaining payment that was to be made upon receipt of the device. She watched as he hopped on his bicycle, then she closed the door and turned to Andrew, who was lounging on the small bench in the vestibule.
“I think you should go home now. Your working day is more than over,” said Cora, finding his presence in this part of the house unnerving.
“I don’t mind this kind of work,” he said, grinning at her.
“Well . . . you should probably still go.” Was it that she didn’t trust him or was it that she didn’t trust herself with him? It didn’t matter. Either way, it was time to call it a night.
Andrew stood up, walked into the foyer, and glanced up the dark stairs. He looked back at her. Gave her one of his supposedly “knowing” looks. “Or maybe I should stay.”
Cora felt her breath catch and a mild panic rise. Normally it was so easy for her to refuse any such suggestions. She had perfected the art of the withering stare and the slight laugh that implied, “You think there’s even the remotest of possibilities I’d do that with you?”
But this was different. For one thing, he wasn’t one of those old ugly guys. For another, she kind of wanted to. But she knew what it meant to go through with it, what kind of reputation girls who did such things had. Men, young and old, could do it without anyone giving it a second thought.
But if a girl did it?
Not only would she be risking her own reputation, she’d be risking his lordship’s as well.
It was unfair.
And there was another thing. Another thing that went along with the butterflies in her stomach and the deep longing just to stop all the thinking for once and go with what her desires were telling her.
It was another form of instinct. A gut thing. A simple, quiet “no.”
All this she thought in less than a moment, and chose the casual laugh this time, not the withering stare. She shook her head and opened the door for him as he rolled his eyes at her.
Barker materialized out of nowhere with Andrew’s hat, coat, and stick, and Andrew gave him a look. Then he took his things, passed through the door, giving her a wink as he did, and disappeared out into the early evening.
“That one . . .” Barker began, then stopped.
Cora closed the door and looked at him. Barker wasn’t a man of many words. Silent. Formidable.
“Yes, Barker?” she said. What do you think? Tell me, I need someone to tell me.
Barker shook his head and turned and left.
There was a knock on the door.
Cora turned, fearful of who was on the other side. Don’t let it be Andrew coming back to try to convince me . . . because he just might . . .
She opened it slowly.
“Was that Mr. Harris I just walked past? Because if it was, no wonder you fancy him.” Nellie passed into the vestibule without invitation and removed her small pink gloves, giving the place a once-over.
“Hi, Nellie,” said Cora, closing the door and escorting her into the foyer. Barker was there, of course, and Nellie smiled brightly as she passed him her coat and gloves.
“This is a nice place you got here, Cora. A bit dark for my likin’, but still . . . a bit of all right, as me ma would say.”
“Well, it’s not really my place . . .”
“So was that him, then?” Nellie asked after Barker left again.
Cora nodded.
Nellie cocked her head to the side and looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay. So let’s talk about this instead.” Nellie made her way into the formal sitting room, which was lit by a single lamp on a table. She sat on the love seat next to it, and Cora followed her, mildly amused by how quickly Nellie was able to make herself right at home. Nellie gingerly pulled out a blackened piece of paper from her purse. “I was thinkin’ you could maybe help me figure out what’s on this.” Cora sat down next to her and looked over her shoulder.
“Where did you get this?” Cora asked, carefully taking the paper from Nellie.
“Found it at Mr. Carter’s house.”
Cora looked up from the page. “How did you get this from Mr. Carter’s house? Or should I not bother asking?”
“I snuck in.”
Of course you did.
Cora scratched the paper delicately. Black soot came off on her fingernail. It might just be possible to see what was written underneath if the very foundation of the paper hadn�
��t been burned through. She flipped the page over. The back was much lighter.
“Well,” she said, standing up, “let’s try. Go upstairs, turn left, then left again. My room is the second door on the right. I’ll meet you there.”
Nellie nodded and made her way up the staircase.
When Nellie was out of sight, Cora slipped into the lab and collected a few bottles from Lord White’s chemistry station, then joined her friend in her room.
“Let’s sit at the desk.” Cora picked up a footstool that normally sat by the fireplace and placed it near the small oak desk beneath the window. Nellie took a seat as Cora sat in the desk chair and lined up the bottles before her. She placed the paper on a tin pan.
“You’ve got a nice room,” commented Nellie, watching her.
“Thanks.”
“It’s a lot like you, serious but warm.”
Cora glanced at Nellie, who smiled at her. It’s a compliment, she reminded herself. She’s being nice.
“Okay, Nellie, this is what I’d like you to do. In that drawer, there is some paper. Would you mind writing something on it?”
“Like what?” asked Nellie as she opened the drawer.
“Anything. It’s just a test. We’ll singe it after, and then see which one of these liquids is the one that’ll do the trick.”
Cora was a little disappointed in herself that she didn’t already know precisely which liquid to use. There were still so many things for her to learn. But she had observed his lordship do something similar to what they were attempting and she remembered that he had used an odorless, colorless liquid. That left only these three bottles as possibilities.
“Shall I singe it?” asked Nellie, having completed her task of writing.
“Please.”
She returned moments later with the paper held in the fireplace tongs and placed it on the pan.
“Now what?”
“We experiment.”
First liquid.
Second liquid.
Third liquid.
As if responding to the dramatic nature of the situation, and the general intensity level of the two girls huddled together and bent over a small piece of paper, it was number three that proved to be the correct liquid.
“This is a test ta-da!” appeared in Nellie’s flowery scrawl. Literally. Evidently she liked to replace the dots over the i’s with little flowers.
“So we try number three on the real one, then?” said Nellie.
Cora nodded. She opened the drawer to her right and produced a small paintbrush, which she dipped into the bottle and lightly applied the colorless liquid to the paper. But she was maybe a bit too careful in her first attempt, and not enough found its way onto the black ash. She took a deep breath and applied the liquid more liberally.
The ash began to melt away and Cora started to worry it might melt through the paper itself. But the liquid worked a charm, and though it was still difficult to read, markings and words that had been hidden behind the black began to appear.
“It’s magic!” exclaimed Nellie, clapping her hands.
“It’s science,” Cora said, stunned. She was flabbergasted. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Cora, are you all right?”
Cora nodded. But still found she could not speak.
“What is it? What are you seein’?” Nellie leaned in closer to the page, as if greater proximity would reveal something she’d neglected to notice. “It looks like a map. Or, no, more like a set of instructions or somethin’. Do you know what it is?”
“Yes. I know what it is,” said Cora softly. “I just made this.”
Nellie looked at her, wide-eyed. “Can I see it?”
Cora shook her head. “We just sent it off.” The delivery boy. How far had he got by now?
“Oh.” There was a pause as Nellie thought for a moment. Then: “Do you think we should maybe follow it?”
Yes, yes I do. “That’s a good idea.”
Both girls rose, and Cora cleaned up her desk as quickly as possible, shoving everything into the large bottom drawer. Then they left the room and made their way back downstairs.
“Where’s it going?” asked Nellie as Cora opened the front closet and handed her her overcoat.
“The Tower.” It struck Cora just then. “Wait here.” She sprinted back upstairs to her room and pulled out the paper again. This time she ignored the oh-so-familiar blueprints and examined the small drawing in the corner. Something she’d only just glanced at, being a wee bit distracted by the coincidence of seeing plans for the device she’d just spent days working on. Confident in her conclusion, she grabbed her pistol from the bedside table, burst out of her room, and ran smack into Mrs. Philips.
“My word, Cora Bell, what the devil’s gotten into you? What’s with all this up and down, and who’s the girl in the foyer?”
“A friend. We’re going for a stroll. She has the most wonderful gossip . . .”
Mrs. Philips furrowed her eyebrows. “A friend.”
“I have friends,” said Cora. Though, not really. And Mrs. Philips knew it. “I met her at the gala; she’s just delightful. And . . . Mrs. Philips, please let me pass. I won’t be long. And Lord White’s been locked up in his room all evening. He’ll hardly notice I’ve stepped out.”
“Well, it’s nice you having friends, I guess. Just don’t stay out too late, love.” Despite her words, Mrs. Philips didn’t seem all that approving, but she let Cora pass. “And stay in the neighborhood! There’s dangerous business going on in the city these days.”
“I will!” called Cora over her shoulder, and she ran back down to Nellie. “I know what the drawing at the bottom is,” she whispered, grabbing her coat.
“What drawing?”
Cora put her finger to her lips and glanced upstairs. Nellie got the point, and they said nothing further, but slipped out of the house into the night.
“What drawing at the bottom, then?” asked Nellie as they walked quickly along, but still tried to look casual as they passed men and women out for their evening stroll.
“There’s a drawing at the bottom of the page. Something I didn’t realize I’d noticed until I spoke of the delivery boy.”
“Well, what’s it of?”
“The Koh-i-Noor diamond,” replied Cora.
“How on earth do you know that?”
“It’s part of the Crown Jewels collection. And seeing as it’s on the same page as a device being delivered to the Tower, where said collection is held . . .”
“Wow. That’s clever of you.”
“Thank you.” Cora glanced at Nellie and saw she was deep in thought. “What are you thinking?”
“Oh, it’s probably silly. Like Officer Murphy said . . . coincidences . . .”
“What?”
“Well, with Dr. Welland bein’ killed and robbed, those flower girls, and then the British Museum. And then Mr. Carter . . .”
“What about Mr. Carter?”
“Didn’t I tell you? When I was at his home, he was brought back to the house and he was all bleedin’ like. Dyin’. Basically dead. Murdered, I think, though can’t say for sure.”
“My God.” Evidently the man really did have reason to be so scared the other day.
“At any rate, now with your sayin’ that this is a jewel in the Tower . . . I’m thinkin’ maybe it really is all connected. Maybe it’s the same bloke?”
“One night after the other . . . murder and thievery . . .”
“Yes!”
Cora thought for a moment. There was no real link, none between the murders of Dr. Welland and the flower girls, and what Nellie had been investigating with the Society of Heroes. And yet . . . maybe?
“It could all work together,” continued Nellie. “And if he’s pickin’ up a package right at the Tower, now don’t you think if you were a villainous type, you might want to kill two birds with one stone.”
“One very precious stone, yes. Whether he’s the man in the fog or not, whoev
er’s picking up the package is going to rob the Tower.”
33
The Tower
THE TOWER OF London loomed in that sublimely terrifying fashion that it always did. Dark stone, made darker by soot and an overcast night sky, it emerged from the fog like an evil sorcerer’s castle. Built for many purposes, it seemed that its primary function was to intimidate. A palace, a fort, a prison, a mint, the war offices . . . and now? It was best known for the romance of its former glory, and so visitors would come to see the scrawlings of prisoners past on the walls. Peek at the former torture chambers. They’d also have picnics in the shadow of the Bloody Tower. And, of course, they’d view the Crown Jewels.
Nellie and Cora had the cabby stop a few blocks away so as not to startle any potential fog men in the vicinity, and slipped out quietly onto the street.
“Okay . . .” said Cora, “I’ll track down the delivery boy outside the Tower walls. You, Little Miss Sneaking into Private Mansions, can you get into the Tower?”
“Don’t see why not.”
“You feel good about this? You feel safe?”
“Safe enough. Besides, I don’t mind a bit of danger. Only wish I wasn’t wearing so many layers . . .” Nellie paused for a moment, thought, then grinned at Cora and tore off her coat. She began next on her dress . . .
“What on earth are you doing?” asked Cora.
“Can’t climb walls in a long skirt.” She was down to her corset and bloomers in no time, and Cora shook her head. “I’ll just hide this lot over here.” Nellie bundled her dress into her coat and tossed both into a dark corner. “And I’m set!”
Cora wasn’t sure if it was the smartest idea to have Nellie running around in her underwear, but if anything, it could be surprising enough to cause whoever it was to lose his focus for a moment. Might even be an advantage.
“Okay,” Cora said with a shake of her head, “let’s do this and maybe one of us will stumble on this guy.”
“Good plan.”
“Well . . . it’s a plan. Not sure if it’s that good. Meet back here.”
“Right.”
The Friday Society Page 19
