A Matter of Magic

by Patricia C. Wrede

  “He’s a Runner!” Kim burst out before she thought.

  “Jasper, you fool!” said Lady Granleigh, too angry to remember that her brother was still comatose on the hearthstone.

  “Good Lord!” said Andrew. “Miss D’Auber, did you know?”

  “It is to me a great surprise also,” Renée D’Auber assured him. “It is entirely a good thing after all, however, since Monsieur St. Clair and that person with the pistols are arrested, so I shall not repine in the least.”

  “Well, well,” Mairelon said. He stepped forward, holding out the Saltash Platter to Stuggs. “I expect you’ll want this as evidence?”

  “I fear not,” St. Clair put in. Kim looked back at him and froze. He was holding one of Dan’s pistols trained on Stuggs, who stood between him and the door, and his expression was grim. “Or rather, you may want it, but you won’t have it.”

  “Don’t shoot!” Jack Stower pleaded, twisting in Stuggs’s grip in a vain effort to get out of Lord St. Clair’s line of fire. “I ain’t no nabbing cull! Don’t shoot me!”

  “You can’t shoot all of us with only one pistol,” Mairelon said gently to St. Clair, ignoring Jack’s frantic cries.

  “Quite true,” Lord St. Clair agreed. His left arm shot out and grabbed Marianne, who shrieked loudly as he pulled her close and pointed the pistol at her head. “But I doubt that any of you will let the young lady be hurt just to keep me here. I shall let her go in Dover, when I board the packet for France—provided, of course, that no one does anything foolish.”

  “Here, now!” Freddy expostulated. “What d’you think you’re doing?”

  “Lord St. Clair!” Lady Granleigh exclaimed in tones of shock.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Andrew said to St. Clair.

  “He certainly would,” Mairelon said to Andrew. “I think you had better move away from the door, Stuggs. Your superiors will have to be content with half a haul this time.”

  St. Clair smiled and started forward, dragging Marianne along with him, as Stuggs reluctantly moved aside. “Don’t forget the platter, Merrill,” St. Clair said, turning his head slightly.

  At that precise moment, Freddy Meredith stepped in front of Gregory St. Clair and astonished the entire company by knocking him down. His success was due only partially to his catching St. Clair completely off guard; Kim had to admit that the blow had been a regular wisty castor. Lord St. Clair fell backward, discharging his pistol into the ceiling above the hearth. A shower of plaster descended on Jonathan and the unfortunate Jasper, who coughed, choked, and sat up at last, holding his head and moaning.

  “Well struck!” Robert said after a stunned moment.

  “Dash it all, Freddy, that was a stupid trick to pull!” Jonathan complained, brushing at the plaster dust that covered his shoulders. “I might have been shot!”

  “Oh, Freddy!” said Marianne, throwing her arms around him in ecstasy. “How brave!”

  “Get up, you villain, and I’ll do it again,” Freddy said. “Dashed lot of nerve you’ve got, bullying ladies and frightening Marianne.”

  St. Clair did not reply. He lay sprawled on the floor, his top hat gone and his hair disarranged, staring at Freddy as if he could not believe what had happened.

  “I knew he was a regular Captain Sharp,” Kim said with considerable satisfaction to no one in particular.

  To her surprise, Mairelon answered her. “Yes, you did, and very right you were, too. Just hand that other bit of cord to Andrew, will you, Kim? Then look around for something to tie St. Clair. I’ll feel considerably happier when all three of them are, er, secure.”

  “That’s good sense, gov’ner,” Stuggs said approvingly. “An’ pick up them other pops while you’re at it. They ’adn’t ought to be lyin’ about for the likes o’ ’im to get ’is ’ands on.”

  “There ain’t no rope or string or anything,” Kim said, picking up the second piece of cord and Dan’s other pistol. “I already looked.”

  “Amelia?” Jasper’s voice rose querulously from the hearth. “What’s happening? Have you got the platter?”

  “You imbecile!” Lady Granleigh stalked to her brother’s side, the better to berate him. “Fool! That man of yours is a Bow Street Runner!”

  “Stuggs? Don’t be silly, Amelia. Monkton recommended him; he’d hardly send me a Runner, now, would he?”

  Mairelon glanced at the two of them, then took the cord and pistol from Kim and walked over to Laverham, Robert, and Andrew. He handed the cord to his brother and said, “Tie him up.”

  “Of course,” Andrew answered. “Richard—”

  “In a minute, Andrew. Mr., er, Stuggs, I believe you’ll find this useful, at least until we’ve gotten things sorted out.” Mairelon handed Stuggs the pistol, then tapped Freddy, who was still glaring pugnaciously at Lord St. Clair, on the shoulder.

  “I think this would be a good moment for a discreet departure,” he said when Freddy turned. He nodded his head in the direction of Lady Granleigh and her brother, quarreling in front of the fireplace.

  “What?” said Freddy. “Oh, I see. Good of you to mention it. Come on, Marianne.” He abandoned St. Clair to Stuggs and the pistol, and he and Marianne slipped out the open door.

  “That was very kind,” Renée D’Auber said to Mairelon. “But have you not perhaps made for yourself more trouble?”

  “I’m sure of it,” Mairelon said cheerfully. “But I believe I owe Lady Granleigh one, for setting her unspeakable brother on me, and I can’t think of a better way of evening the score.”

  “It seems singularly appropriate,” Robert said, stepping forward. “But I would like to point out that I still haven’t had my explanation. Not in any way that is remotely satisfactory, that is. I don’t suppose you’d care to try again?”

  “Good luck,” Kim said under her breath. She gave the rest of the dropped pistols to Mairelon, then sat on a nearby footstool to watch. Andrew and Renée were both looking expectantly at Mairelon, Jonathan was scowling at him, and any minute now Lady Granleigh would realize that her wealthy ward had managed to escape again. It ought to be better than a Drury Lane comedy.

  25

  Mairelon set the Saltash Platter on the seat of a high-backed chair and put the pistols Kim had given him on top of it. When he turned back to the group, he was no longer smiling. “Yes, there do seem to be a number of loose ends,” he said. “For instance, what are you doing here, Renée?”

  “It is as your brother has said,” Mademoiselle D’Auber replied. She thought for a moment, then added scrupulously, “For the most part.”

  “We came because Miss D’Auber had heard there was a Runner on your trail,” Andrew put in.

  “And you wished to assist him?” Mairelon said politely.

  “No!” Andrew looked hurt. “I—we came to warn you. And to help you, if we could, though I suppose you’ve no reason to believe that.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell Kim the Bow Street Runners were about?” Mairelon asked Renée. “Why the meeting? And why weren’t you there?”

  “Meeting?” Andrew stared at Renée D’Auber in surprised speculation. “You didn’t tell me anything about a meeting.”

  “But of course not,” Renée said. She gave the brothers a brilliant smile. “You have both got the heads of pigs, and if I had told you”—she nodded at Mairelon—“that Monsieur Merrill the elder was here, you would have said a great many things of no politeness and gone away without seeing him, because you thought he did not believe you. And if I had told you”—she glared at Andrew—“that we were to meet with your brother, you would have made a great many excuses of no merit and not have come, because you did not want to face him and admit you made the mistake five years ago. That is why I was late,” she added, turning to Mairelon. “He was being difficult.”

  “Difficult? I was being difficult?” Andrew was almost beyond speech.

  “Do you mean to say that you dragged Andrew down here to force the two of us to make up with each other?” Mairel
on demanded with equal incredulity.

  Renée opened her eyes very wide. “But of course. This feud was all very well when you were in France and he was here, but it would be altogether tiresome if you were both in England, and me, I do not like the things tiresome. So I thought I would arrange it.”

  The brothers exchanged a look of complete accord, and Kim suppressed a grin. That served Mairelon a bit of his own sauce! Stuggs shook his head sadly. “French,” he explained to the room at large.

  “And you weren’t looking for the Saltash Platter?” Mairelon asked Renée, though Kim could tell from his tone that he did not really have doubts any longer.

  “It would have been a very good thing, I think, if I could have gotten it,” Renée answered, unperturbed. “For then we should not have had all this confusion which you have still not explained in the least.”

  “But for yourself?”

  “For me?” Renée looked at Mairelon with convincing horror. “But no! Only consider! The Saltash Platter makes persons speak the truth, and that would have been of all things the most inconvenient.”

  Kim laughed. Mairelon looked at her with an affronted expression, which only made her laugh harder. Slowly Mairelon began to smile. “Yes, under the circumstances, I can see where it would have been, er, inconvenient.”

  Lady Granleigh chose this moment to stop abusing her brother and turn back to the rest of the room. “Marianne, it is high time—where is Marianne?”

  “Gone,” Mairelon answered helpfully.

  Jonathan snickered, and Lady Granleigh rounded on him. “It is not humorous, young man! Stand aside,” she commanded Stuggs. “I must leave at once, to prevent my ward from throwing herself away on that lamentably foolish young man.”

  “I ’ave my duty,” Stuggs said, not moving. “And I ’ave one or two questions as you ought to answer, beggin’ your pardon for the inconvenience.”

  “Of course, you could always pay a call in Bow Street later,” Mairelon put in as Lady Granleigh stared, unable to believe that Stuggs had not immediately followed her orders. “It would cause quite a sensation among the ton; you might even set a new fashion.”

  “Amelia!” Jasper had gone pale. “We can’t! The duns would be after me the minute they got wind of it.”

  “What is it you wish to know?” Lady Granleigh said stiffly.

  “ ’Ow did you come to ’ave an interest in that there platter? An’ what sort o’ interest did you ’ave?”

  “I am very much afraid that I can answer that,” a new voice said from behind Stuggs.

  Stuggs jumped back and whirled, so that he could cover both the doorway and the corner where Laverham, Stower, and St. Clair stood. Then he smiled and relaxed. “Sir!” he said, and stepped aside.

  Four men entered behind him. Hunch was the only one Kim recognized; the other three were gentry toffs, middle-aged and dressed for riding, but she didn’t recall seeing any of them before. She glanced around the room, sizing up the reactions of the rest of the group. Lady Granleigh was staring at the man who had spoken, and she had gone rather pale. Jonathan Aberford turned red when he saw the second toff, but Robert smiled in relief at the same man. Laverham and Stower wore blank expressions; St. Clair’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned as he stared at the newcomers, and Kim got the impression that he was not at all pleased. Stuggs was watching the third man with a respectful expression. Andrew, Renée, and Mairelon all looked startled to various degrees.

  “What ’ave you been a-doing now, Master Richard?” Hunch demanded, ignoring the rest of the company entirely.

  “An excellent question,” Robert murmured. “Perhaps you’ll do better at getting an answer than we have.”

  “Well, well,” Mairelon said. He blinked, smiled, and swept a bow. “Your servant, Granleigh, Bramingham. I’m afraid you’ve missed most of the excitement, Edward.”

  “I am desolated,” the third man replied. With a start, Kim recognized his voice: he was the Earl of Shoreham, who had sent Mairelon off to Ranton Hill in search of the Saltash Platter. “Richard, I hate to be overly particular, but I seem to recall telling you not to attract atten—Andrew? What the devil are you doing here?”

  “No, no, we’ve already had that bit,” Mairelon said. “I want to know what Granleigh here meant when he said he could account for Lady Granleigh’s, er, actions. And how you all happen to be here,” he added as an afterthought.

  “I received some information last night, after Hunch left,” the Earl replied. He glanced toward Laverham and St. Clair. “I thought it sufficiently urgent to post down, but it seems to have been an unnecessary effort.”

  “If you’re talking about the irregular relationship between Mr. Laverham and St. Clair, yes, that’s come out,” Mairelon said. “But where did you pick up these others?”

  “Hunch told me you’d gone to Bramingham Place,” Shoreham said. “Naturally we went looking for you there. Mrs. Bramingham had just discovered that most of her houseguests had vanished, and Bramingham and Granleigh elected to come with me in hopes of hunting them up.”

  “And in hopes of getting away from the excellent Mrs. Bramingham’s frenzy,” Mairelon murmured. “Quite understandable. Now, what was that you were saying about Lady Granleigh?” he asked, turning to the tall, distinguished man who had been first through the door.

  The first man sighed and glanced toward the Earl of Shoreham. “My wife has a tendency to meddle,” he explained. Lady Granleigh stiffened and recovered her usual color, but her husband gave her a look that caused her to subside without saying anything. Kim was impressed; there must be more to this stuffy-looking cull than at first appeared.

  “A tendency to meddle,” Lord Granleigh repeated. “And considerably more ambition than I had realized. I believe she was trying to arrange for me to be the next Minister of Wizardry.” He gave the Earl of Shore-ham another sidelong look as he spoke, as though checking his reaction.

  “Nonsense, Stephen,” Lady Granleigh said unconvincingly. “You are perfectly capable of managing such matters yourself.”

  “True,” Lord Granleigh replied. “A fact which you would be well advised to remember in the future, Amelia. Your interference this time could very easily have had unpleasant consequences.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Lady Granleigh said even more unconvincingly than before. “I am only here to keep Marianne from ruining herself with Freddy Meredith.”

  “I don’t believe it,” the last of the three toffs put in. “Freddy’s a good lad. He wouldn’t do anything, er, dishonorable.”

  “Freddy said something about a special license before he left, Mr. Bramingham,” Robert said, ignoring Lady Granleigh’s glare.

  “Yes, I believe he has one with him,” Mairelon said. “Amazingly sensible of him, too. Any number of things might have gone wrong between here and Gretna Green, if he’d chosen that route.”

  “Sensible?” Jonathan goggled at Mairelon. “Freddy?”

  “There, you see?” Mr. Bramingham said to the room at large. His eye fell on St. Clair, and he frowned. “Shoreham, what’s Baron St. Clair doing in the corner with this fellow pointing a pistol at him?”

  “ ’E’s under arrest, in the name o’ the Law,” Stuggs informed him. “Along with these other two. I ’aven’t got straight yet which o’ ’em did what, but they ’as all done somethin’, and I ’ave my duty.”

  “You ought to be arresting that man as well,” Jonathan Aberford grumbled, pointing at Mairelon. “Whoever he is. Didn’t someone say he was wanted?”

  Andrew’s face set in grim lines. Mairelon only smiled and looked at the Earl of Shoreham. Shoreham returned the smile, then said to Jonathan, “He is certainly wanted by the French, but though our relations with them have improved a good deal, I don’t think our cooperation would stretch so far as to turn one of our people over to them. Particularly a man with such a distinguished record.”

  “You’re too kind,” Mairelon said.

  “Probably,” Sh
oreham agreed blandly.

  Andrew’s mouth had dropped open, as had Lady Granleigh’s St. Clair had gone white; Renée D’Auber and Hunch looked smug. “What are you talking about?” Jonathan demanded.

  The Earl of Shoreham sighed. “For the past five years, Richard Merrill has been one of the best agents the War Office has had the good fortune to employ. Is that clear enough for you?”

  “But—but I thought he stole the Saltash Set,” Jonathan said, frowning.

  “Merrill?” the Earl of Shoreham said. “It’s your turn to explain.”

  “In a minute. I don’t think we were quite through with Lord Granleigh yet,” Mairelon answered. “I still don’t understand what Lady Granleigh’s ambitions for her husband have to do with the Saltash Set, or how she found out about it in the first place.”

  “She listened at doors, that’s how,” Jasper Marston said waspishly, lifting his head for the first time since the Earl and his companions had arrived.

  Lady Granleigh gasped. “Jasper, how dare you—”

  “Oh, stop it, Amelia,” Jasper said. “There’s no use pretending to injured innocence. They already know most of it. They know you,” he added spitefully.

  “You are not thinking about what you are saying,” Lady Granleigh said in a tone that could have frozen the Thames at mid summer.

  “I know exactly what I’m saying! This whole mess is your fault, Amelia, and I’m not going to take the blame for it.”

  “My fault? You are the one who brought along that Bow Street Runner! I suppose you are going to claim you knew nothing about it.”