The Prisoner's Key

by C. J. Archer

  "You might save him then demand he marry you as thanks."

  The fingers on her lap twisted together but her smile remained. "That's absurd."

  "You asked him to marry you?" Mr. Charbonneau asked. "Why did you not say, Louisa?"

  She laughed, a tinkling, musical sound as elegant as I expected from such a woman. "It was on a whim. It's not important now."

  Mr. Charbonneau's frown deepened. "I am sorry to inform you, but he is going to marry another."

  She waved a hand. "No matter. My feelings are a little bruised, but I shall recover."

  "You already have recovered," I pointed out. "You introduced yourself to Dr. Seaford with a view to proposing to him, too. He's a friend of ours," I told a stunned Mr. Charbonneau. "A magician friend. He saw through her and has now distanced himself."

  She narrowed her gaze. "Are you quite finished disparaging my character?"

  "So you are not in love with Fabian?" Mr. Charbonneau asked.

  Louisa squared her shoulders. "I think I might be. I don't know. What I do know is, I made a mistake regarding Dr. Seaford. I was upset over Fabian's rejection and hoped another man would make me feel less wretched."

  I rolled my eyes. I didn't believe her for a moment.

  "How is any of this relevant to Fabian's disappearance?" she pressed. "Are you any closer to finding him?"

  "Fabian will only come out of hiding once he feels safe," I said.

  Mr. Charbonneau nodded. "We cannot search every house in London."

  "The only way to make him feel safe is to catch the real murderer."

  "And pay back his debt," Mr. Charbonneau added.

  "It has been paid," Matt said. Both Louisa and Mr. Charbonneau looked surprised.

  "By you?" Mr. Charbonneau asked.

  "No. We assumed it was one of you."

  They looked at each other and both shook their heads.

  That left only one likely benefactor. Coyle.

  "If my brother does contact you first," Mr. Charbonneau said, "please tell him I wish to speak to him."

  "Be sure to add that Maxime wants him to go home and forget about creating new spells," Louisa added with a bitter twist of her mouth.

  Mr. Charbonneau bristled. "The family have indulged him long enough. What do you call them? Whims? It is time to settle down, marry a good woman and have children."

  "He isn't interested in the family business," Louisa said hotly. "He wants to explore the world of magic, to invent new spells, not make more money for people who are already wealthy."

  Mr. Charbonneau stroked his jaw and pressed his lips together, as if he were holding in words that wanted to burst out. It seemed like they'd already had this discussion and that he'd said all he wanted to say to her on the matter.

  "Forgive us, Mrs. Glass," he said to me. "As you can see, Louisa and I do not agree on the best future for my brother."

  "He's talented, inquisitive, and has already conducted years of research," Louisa said. "It would be a crime for all of that to go to waste."

  "Perhaps Fabian should decide for himself," I said.

  They both looked at me as though I were mad.

  I was relieved when they left. While they had arrived together, Mr. Charbonneau told Louisa he'd rather walk back to the hotel, and Louisa departed in her carriage, alone. She didn't say goodbye and he didn't even give her a passing nod.

  Later, when we were telling Willie and Cyclops about the meeting, Willie said, "If I were Fabian, I'd move to New Zealand. Those two will pull him apart between them."

  "He made a stance against his family when he came to London," Matt said. "And he made his position clear to Louisa when she asked him to marry her. I think he'll be fine, even if he doesn't move to the other side of the world."

  "I hear New Zealand's a mighty pretty place," Cyclops said without lifting his gaze from the fireplace.

  "You ain't moving to New Zealand," Willie told him. "You're staying right here, with me."

  "That a proposal of marriage, Willie?"

  "No, it's a threat."

  He chuckled, but quickly sobered and turned back to the fireplace. "Wish I could stay in London forever."

  Matt and I exchanged glances. I wanted to reassure Cyclops, but it was too soon. If he knew Matt was interfering on his behalf, his pride might have him leave London anyway.

  "Because Catherine's here?" Willie asked slyly.

  "No, because you and Duke are here." Cyclops winked at her. "You know you're my favorite girl."

  She hooted a laugh. "Liar."

  He chuckled but again, it didn't last, and he resumed staring into the fireplace.

  Willie frowned. She suspected something else was wrong, but thankfully she didn't have the opportunity to ask. Bristow entered the library and announced the inspector.

  Willie sat up a little straighter and touched the hair at the nape of her neck. Her tugging and teasing only made the loose arrangement messier. "You got to tell me when you're coming, Jasper. A woman's got to look her best for her man."

  "I—er—right." Brockwell's face flushed. "Next time, I'll send a message ahead."

  "It was a joke," she said, grinning. "I know you're here to see Matt and India about the investigation."

  "I am."

  She got up and stood in front of him, feet slightly apart and hands on hips. She looked as though she was about to challenge him to a duel. "Don't mean I can't have some fun with you after."

  "I—uh, I…"

  "Come on, Jasper, out with it. Or do you just want to kiss me? That's fine if you do. I ain't a prude. You can kiss me right here."

  "Spare us," Cyclops muttered.

  Brockwell cleared his throat. His face had gone so red, it was surprising steam didn't rise from his nose and ears. "I'd rather wait until we're alone, if that's all right with you, Miss Johnson."

  "Miss Johnson!" Willie echoed. "Ain't no need to be so formal, Jasper. You and me know each other about as well as two people can. Come and sit down and say what you got to say."

  "After you, Miss Johnson."

  She rolled her eyes. "You English and your manners. If there was only room for one more on a life raft, you'd still say 'after you.'"

  She turned to sit down again. Brockwell's gaze lowered, admiring her rear in trousers. If Willie knew men looked at her in that way, would she wear dresses?

  "You received our message," Matt said.

  "I did, and I know what you're going to tell me," Brockwell said. "I paid the Ingles Vinegar Company another visit not long after you, as it happens. Mr. Stanhope had just left after being thrown out by Mr. Ingles, and Mr. Ingles was in a fearsome mood about Stanhope's embezzlement. I had a devil of a time trying to get him to calm down and tell me what happened. It seems you two kicked over a beehive."

  "Only to reveal the rotten foundations," Matt said. "It was necessary."

  "Why?"

  "To expose Stanhope and rattle his cage."

  "My husband thinks Mr. Stanhope is guilty of the murder," I said.

  "And you, Mrs. Glass?"

  "I'm not sure. There are too many questions without answers for me to make a firm decision yet."

  "My wife prefers solid evidence before making decisions," Matt said.

  Brockwell gave me a nod. "She is a woman of similar sensibilities to myself."

  Matt scowled. Fortunately, Willie appeared to think nothing of Brockwell's comment. Her gaze was too busy roaming over his face, down his length and back up again.

  "I visited Mr. Stanhope at home after I left the factory," Brockwell went on. "He was in a state, let me tell you. I could hardly get a sensible word out of him, and his wife is worried."

  My guilt resurfaced. We should have been more circumspect, and not told Mr. Ingles about the embezzlement. We'd ruined Mr. Stanhope's life, and I wasn't sure he deserved that. "Do you think he'll do something terrible?"

  "Hard to say. Mrs. Stanhope seems like a good woman. She'll do her best to see that he recovers from this blow."
<
br />   It was a relief to hear, but I didn't envy her the task.

  "Did you ask Mrs. Stanhope about her husband's alibi for the time of the murder?" Matt asked.

  "She says she was asleep with her husband beside her. She's quite sure she would have woken if he got up."

  "That's good enough for me," I said.

  "Wives have been known to lie for their husbands, Mrs. Glass. I expect even you would lie to me if I accused Mr. Glass of murder."

  He had a point.

  "It seems you and I are on the same page, Inspector," Matt said. "Although I do sympathize with Stanhope, in a way. If he does prove to be innocent of the murder, I'll personally do everything in my power to convince Ingles to invite him back to the factory."

  I smiled at him and mouthed, "Thank you."

  "Any news of Charbonneau?" Brockwell asked.

  "Not yet," Matt said.

  Brockwell waited for more, but Matt gave nothing away.

  "Where have you looked?" the inspector prompted.

  "We've checked the main hotels in the city. My friends are now taking it in turns to watch a house of interest."

  "May I know which house?"

  "It's under control."

  "Which house, Glass?"

  Matt refused to answer, and I hoped Brockwell didn't pressure me instead. I wasn't as strong as Matt, but I didn't want the police knocking on Chronos's door. If he were guilty of hiding a fugitive, he would be in enormous trouble.

  "It seems to me you don't want me to find him," the inspector said.

  "If we see him, we'll come and tell you," Willie piped up. "Trust us, Jasper."

  Brockwell hesitated then nodded. "Thank you, Miss Johnson. That's all you had to say, Glass."

  Willie gave Matt a smug smile.

  Despite what he said, I doubted Brockwell would have accepted Matt's assurance as easily as he'd accepted Willie's.

  The inspector made his excuses to leave, and Willie offered to walk him to the front door. "That's very kind of you, Miss Johnson. I accept."

  "You don't need to keep calling me that here," she scolded. "They know what we're doing."

  Brockwell cleared his throat. "I am here in a professional capacity."

  She hooked his arm with her own and marched him toward the door. "That part of the visit is over now. Kiss me, Jasper."

  He glanced over his shoulder at us. "That would not be appropriate."

  "Prude."

  "Professional," I heard him say before they were out the door.

  Cyclops chuckled. "I hope he knows what he's in for with her."

  "I think they're very good together," I said. "They balance out each other's extremes. He tempers her excesses and she adds fire to his otherwise cautious nature."

  "Fires can get out of control."

  Matt smirked. "And some explode."

  "Only when added to gunpowder," I shot back. "Nobody could accuse the detective inspector of being an explosion waiting to happen."

  A sound from the entrance hall caught my attention, and I peered through the doorway. Luckily I covered my mouth before my gasp alerted Brockwell and Willie that I could see them kissing. It wasn't just an ordinary goodbye kiss. It was the sort of kiss where the parties seem to want to devour the other altogether, not only with their mouths but their hands too. Hers were in his hair, over his face, then grasping his shoulders, while his were clamped on the area of her body he was admiring earlier.

  "I think Brockwell has been hiding his gunpowder all this time," Matt muttered from behind me.

  While Matt visited the Home Secretary the following morning, to counter any damage Lord Rycroft might have done, I had to contend with other members of his family. Hope and Charity asked to see me, not Matt or Aunt Letitia, and I told Bristow to show them through to the drawing room.

  "This will be about Lord Coyle," Aunt Letitia said as she settled herself onto a chair to receive them. The girls hadn't asked to see me alone, so I saw no reason for her to leave.

  I did, however, inform Bristow to pass on a message to Cyclops to stay well clear if he happened to return from his shift watching Chronos's house. "And Willie too," I added as an afterthought. There was no guarantee she'd behave if she was in the same room as Charity.

  It was quite obvious from the moment she entered that Charity had simply come along hoping to catch a glimpse of Cyclops. She couldn't stop glancing toward the door.

  "He's not here," I told her.

  She blinked innocently at me. "Who?"

  "Don't play games. You won't be near him again so you can stop looking for him. He's wise to your tricks. We all are."

  She pouted. "You're very cruel. I only told my father because I hoped he would force Cyclops into doing the honorable thing."

  "You don't care for him," Aunt Letitia blurted out before I could recover from my shock. "You are a nasty little wasp, my girl. But you have been caught and your sting will be rendered useless. If you go near Cyclops again or continue with the lie, I will rip out that sting myself."

  I stared at her, open-mouthed.

  Charity sniffed. "Mad old bat."

  "Be quiet," Hope snapped. "Honestly, Charity, you make everything worse by your mere presence. Stop it. Just stop it, do you hear me?" She closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose. After a deep breath, she opened her eyes again and seemed a little more composed. "I am sorry for my sister's actions. I truly am. She's an embarrassment to the family and I, for one, will be glad to leave her behind just as soon as I make a good match."

  Charity snorted from where she stood at the window, her arms crossed.

  "Has Lord Coyle made an offer?" Aunt Letitia asked.

  Hope bit her lip and gave a small nod.

  "So soon," I said. "Congratulations."

  "You misunderstand. He has made his intentions clear to me before he asked my father for my hand, but I rejected him. I cannot marry him."

  "But your pretty speech just now," Aunt Letitia said.

  "I spoke of making a good match."

  "Not to a fat, old pig," Charity piped up. She gave her sister a flat smile.

  Hope sighed but didn't disagree with her.

  "I don't know why my sister objects to him," Charity went on. "They are quite similar. Both are fiercely independent, enjoy telling others what to do, and like getting their own way. It might make for a fiery marriage, but I think Hope rather likes dramatic spectacles, as much as she pretends to be a biddable daughter."

  "Do be quiet," Hope snapped.

  "See? Aunt Letitia, you knew she was like this all along. You always saw through her act. Mama and Father never did."

  Hope slumped, the fight leaving her. It wasn't a side I expected to ever see in the youngest, most vibrant of the Glass sisters.

  "Why are you both here?" Aunt Letitia asked. I couldn't be sure if she didn't believe Hope's woeful turn or simply didn't care.

  "Lord Coyle says he'll give me time to come to my senses, as he put it," Hope said. "But I want India to use her influence with him and ask him to look elsewhere for a wife."

  "Me?" I said numbly. "I have no influence over him."

  She suddenly leaned forward. "Can you not try? Please, I'm begging you. I don't want to marry him, but I don't think either he or my parents care what I want."

  Why would Lord Coyle go from lifelong bachelor to wanting to marry a girl young enough to be his granddaughter? With his wealth and influence, many women must have tried to end his bachelor days over the years, so why choose to end them with Hope now? Had he truly fallen in love with her so quickly? They had certainly seemed comfortable in one another's company, and conversation had flowed freely. Many married couples didn't even share that.

  "The extra time will benefit both of you," I said, rather stupidly.

  "India won't help you," Aunt Letitia said with finality. "You've made your bed and now you must lie in it."

  "What bed?" Hope asked.

  "You flirted with him at dinner."

  "That's
what I told her!" Charity cried.

  Hope glared at her sister. "I was merely doing what all ladies of good breeding do when seated beside a gentleman. Well, most ladies of good breeding. At least I don't flirt with the staff."

  Charity merely gave her that flat smile again and turned back to the window.

  "Insisting on calling Cyclops staff does you no credit," Aunt Letitia bit back. "India won't help someone who disparages her friend in such a manner."

  Wisely, Hope remained silent.

  "Aunt Letitia is right," I said. "You speak of Cyclops as though he's nothing. You tried to sabotage my relationship with Matt, and you've tried to stop your own sister from being happy with Lord Cox. Why should I help you?"

  Hope pressed a hand to her stomach as if I'd landed a sickening blow. "I—I'm sorry, India. Truly I am. I had my reasons for doing all of that, even with regards to Cyclops. If he really is a friend then the situation for him is worse than if he is staff. As a coachman, my father would consider him beneath Charity and would do anything to keep them apart. But if Matt treats him as an equal, then my father might think him a good enough match for his strange and difficult daughter. Believe me, there are few gentlemen who would look favorably at her, and those who do are quite mad themselves. My parents want her married. At this point, they don't particularly care who to."

  Charity clapped her hands. "Well done, Sister. What a performance. You should be on the stage."

  Hope's throat moved with her swallow, but she was otherwise quite still.

  "India may believe that my brother might try to force a union between Cyclops and Charity," Aunt Letitia said, "but I don't. I've known my brother longer than you, Hope, and I am absolutely certain he wouldn't countenance it. He'd rather send Charity to an asylum."

  Charity sat bolt upright. "Asylum?"

  Hope's lips curved ever so slightly. "If we decide to do nothing, we shall find out which one of us is right, won't we?"

  Charity folded her arms again, but this time it was more of a hug than a show of defiance. She turned back to the window.

  "We won't find out," I said to them all. "Because Lord Rycroft will leave Cyclops alone."

  "I don't understand," Aunt Letitia said. "Is that where Matthew went this morning? To confront Richard and demand he end this nonsense?"