03 The Mislaid Magician Read online

  The most unsettling result of this adventure is that we find ourselves in (temporary, I trust) possession of a superfluous child.

  I suspect you enter into my sentiments on this matter. That is, after the first half dozen, one child more or less makes little difference to the general chaos, disorder, and stickiness of life. However, I am reliably informed that this child (like any other) must possess a name and address, parents, siblings, and a station in life. It is my duty to discover all these things as soon as possible. I would be very happy to oblige, but the child refuses to speak. When I attempt to question her, I soon find myself removed from the room on grounds that I am frightening the child. Believe me when I tell you, that child is not in the least frightened of any of us, least of all me. There is simply no pleasing Kate sometimes.

  Still, I have made some progress in this matter. I have made inquiries about the house in Stroud (thoroughly and abruptly abandoned just before our arrival—apparently they felt us coming) where Edward was taken.

  I have a name—Adolphus Medway—for the individual who hired the house, but although I have explored the entire street, I can find no two people who agree on his appearance. He has been described to me as entirely common in height and build, extremely tall and thin, and remarkably short and stout. His voice is reedy, deep, and nasal, depending on who it is we talk to. Unless the nefarious Mr. Medway is a committee of some kind, we are dealing with a shape-shifter.

  None of the neighbors is able to cast any light on the identity of our surplus child. They never noticed she was there. I can only suppose the versatile Mr. Medway exhausted their powers of observation.

  Wrexton has some interesting sources in the ministry. I've shared as much of our puzzle with him as I felt proper. He is well connected at the Royal College of Wizards, so his inquiries may bear fruit.

  In the very near future I shall be compelled to interrogate my watering pot of a sister-at-law. Kate has been given every opportunity to coax a confession from Georgy. No result. It's time to take a firm line with the little baggage.

  There's really no excuse for these goings on, and I have every reason to expect her husband, dunce that he is, will be found ultimately responsible. How I wish I had yielded to my baser instincts long ago. I should have broken his neck at the wedding, when he took such pleasure in pointing out to me that Georgy would now take social precedence over Kate. Duke he may be, but his behavior has never matched his supposed breeding.

  I'll write as soon as I have anything of substance to add. Until then, do try to stay out of trouble. I have my hands full here.

  Yours,

  Thomas

  14 April 1828

  Haliwar Tower

  Dearest Kate,

  What a fright you gave me! It is the oddest thing, to be sure, but somehow it is not at all soothing to discover an unanticipated reassurance, however sincere, in the middle of a letter where one had expected nothing more stimulating than an account of how many times one's children had contrived to fall into a creek or pond. I am so very glad that you recovered Edward promptly.

  My first reaction to your letter was neither so calm nor so sensible. Indeed, I am afraid that the intensity of my emotions led me to act with uncharacteristic rashness. To be quite plain, as soon as I had read your letter, I thrust it into James's hands and set off in search of Daniel. Most unfortunately, I found him almost immediately, before I had had time for my head to clear. He was in the gun room, examining a set of dueling pistols with two of the other house-guests. I did at least retain enough presence of mind to say in what I thought was a matter-of-fact tone, "I beg your pardon for interrupting, but I have something of a private nature to discuss with my cousin-at-law. Rather urgently."

  I must have sounded more decided than I intended, for Daniel went pale and began stammering that there was no need, while the two gentlemen with him immediately bowed and left. I managed to contain myself until the door had closed behind them, and then I said in a low voice, "How dare you!"

  Daniel backed away, for all the world as if I had pulled a shotgun from one of the wall mounts and threatened him with it. "What? What? How dare I what?"

  "I was hoping you would tell me the details, my lord," I said coldly. "I'm sure you have some excellent reason for your actions. Threatening Georgy until she runs away, and then following her and setting gypsies on to kidnap our children—how dare you!"

  "Georgina?" Daniel blinked, then looked, if possible, even more distressed than before. "Has something happened to her? Lucky said he'd call them off, but that was before... Where is she?"

  "She's with Kate and Thomas, as you must know, and if you think Thomas will let you get away with this, you are very much mistaken. If there's anyone Thomas cares for as much as Kate, it's Edward. Duke or not, you are going to be very sorry your people laid a finger on that boy."

  "What has Edward got to do with Georgina?" Daniel said. Then he frowned slightly, and added, "Or with me, for that matter."

  "You know quite well—," I began, and the door behind me opened. I spun around and found James, wearing a puzzled expression and holding your letter.

  "Cecy," he said in that long-suffering tone he occasionally uses, "why is it of such enormous urgency for me to read an account of the sniffles that have attacked the nursery crowd at Skeynes, along with several receipts for cough mixtures?"

  I stared at him, then realized what must have happened. When Thomas enchanted your letter, he did a thorough job of it—no one else could read the real message, not even James. I took a deep breath, arranged my thoughts, and gave him a summary of the relevant portions.

  "I see," James said when I finished. "And you rushed out here..."

  "To find Daniel and drag an explanation out of him," I said, turning as I spoke. "And he—" I stopped. The only sign of Daniel was the half-open French door that led to the garden.

  "Come on," said James, and we followed.

  We did not find him. We did find the Webbs—or they found us, for they appeared almost the instant we left the gun room. They were perfectly happy to help us search for Daniel, at first, though naturally they refused to split up. They became much less happy as time went on with no sign of my lord duke, and they displayed positive signs of annoyance when news arrived that his mare was missing from the stable. The annoyance was quite clear at tea, when he still had not returned. Mr. Webb said, rather shortly, that he hoped Daniel's horse had not met with an accident, then sent one of the grooms out to look for him (a singularly useless gesture, since no one had seen him leave and therefore no one knew in which direction to look for him).

  And that is how the matter stands at present. It is after midnight now, and Daniel has not returned. I do not think he means to. His valet is very dignified and closemouthed, but I believe that is mere show; the man cannot know where Daniel went, nor why, since Daniel left immediately after our conference in the gun room.

  Naturally, everyone wanted to know what "personal matters" Daniel and I had been discussing. Fortunately, I had had plenty of time to consider my response by the time they thought to ask. I told them, with a great show of reluctance, and in utmost confidence, that I had just learned that my cousin Georgy had run away from him and was nowhere to be found, and I wished to know why. Whoever read your earlier letter must know that this is sheer fabrication on my part, but they all looked suitably shocked by the revelation. (I place no dependence on their discretion; if the story is not all over London by the end of the week, it will only be because none of them has any social acquaintance there to correspond with. It is most unfortunate, but there really was no other news that would have served.)

  Upon reflection, I am not entirely sorry to have lost my temper with Daniel. Now that I have had time to consider all that he said, and your report of the gypsy woman's remarks, it seems to me very likely that it is not actually Daniel who is threatening Georgy. He appeared genuinely concerned about her, Kate. The gypsy's remark about the "dibs being in tune," taken together with Da
niel's comment about someone named Lucky "calling them off" make me suspect that the real culprit is one of Daniel's gambling associates. I shall be very interested to discover why. Despite what the gypsy said, it cannot be gaming debts. Daniel may be nearly as chuckleheaded as Georgy, but he has always been punctilious about paying his debts of honor.

  James was quieter than usual through the afternoon. When we retired for the evening and were quite private at last, I discovered why. First, he asked me to read your letter aloud (for of course it still looks to his eyes like a list of cough medicine receipts). When I finished, there was a long, thoughtful pause. Then he said, in the most expressionless voice possible, "Do you wish to return home to see for yourself that the children are safe?"

  I fear I am a most unnatural mother, for until that moment, the possibility had not occurred to me. I considered the matter carefully for some while, for James only uses that tone of voice when he earnestly desires not to influence my response. Finally, I said, "No, I do not think it is necessary. I don't believe the children are in any danger. The gypsy woman only threatened Georgy; carrying off Edward was probably quite accidental. And if Kate had wanted me, she would have asked." I paused, working things out in my mind. "And if we were to race home now, it might give whoever is threatening Georgy the notion of threatening the children instead."

  I am afraid my voice wobbled at the end, for James rose hastily and came over to me. "Now, Cecy, it's quite all right. Kate said everyone was safe."

  "Yes," I said into his shoulder. "And I am sure she will keep them so. But do you think I ought to go back?"

  Silence. I looked up, to find James's expression a study in conflict. He sighed. "I don't know. I think you are right about the children, but I am not sure it is safe for you to be here. If someone is threatening Georgy in order to squeeze money out of Daniel, they might well try the same with you."

  I stared at him for a moment before I found my voice. "You think I am no more capable of dealing with such persons than Georgy?"

  "No, not at all," James said hastily. "I mean, that is not what I meant."

  "If it is safe enough for you to be here, it is safe enough for me," I said. "And if it isn't safe, I am certainly not leaving until you do. Especially since there is magic involved. Thomas is a very good wizard even when he is distracted by magnetism and good burgundy, and under the circumstances, he won't let himself be distracted by anything. The children will be spell-warded within an inch of their lives. You, on the other hand, can't even light a candle without a paper spill. And it is quite evident that there is something very odd going on at Haliwar, magically speaking. You need a magician here more than Kate and Thomas need one at Skeynes."

  James tried to argue, but it was plain that his heart was not in it, and he did not keep it up for long. So we remain at Haliwar. I shall attempt to discover more at this end, and I will let you know at once if Daniel returns. (And, if he does, what he has to say for himself—for I shall not be balked a second time, Webbs or no Webbs.)

  Your determined,

  Cecy

  P.S. And of course you can only do three spells reliably. You have never cared for magic, only for what it can do, and there are only three things that you truly want to do, which can only be done by magic: find Thomas or the children, call Thomas, and keep your hair from falling down. If you ever find a fourth thing that you want, I will give you a new bonnet if you have the slightest difficulty in learning a spell to do it.

  P.P.S. It is now Tuesday morning, and I am about to leave this letter for the post. Daniel has still not come back, and the Webbs are becoming quietly frantic at having mislaid so important a guest. I will let you know the moment I have worthwhile news; I trust you to do the same. —C.

  16 April 1828

  Haliwar Tower

  (in cipher)

  My dear Thomas,

  Congratulations on retrieving your wayward offspring. Having heard Kate's account of the matter, I congratulate her even more heartily on not having had to retrieve any of mine, as well. I am, in fact, quite astonished that neither Arthur nor Eleanor attempted to join Edward's adventure, and I can only put it down to your wife's good influence, as I know better than to think you have had much to do with the nursery crowd.

  You will be pleased to hear that the enchantments on your letters are working to your usual high standards, which is to say that your notes are quite impossible for anyone to read if they do not have the proper key. Indeed, your vile scrawl was barely readable even once the key was applied. It is a pity that magic cannot do anything about that.

  I suspect its illegibility is the reason your missive was some hours later in appearing in the hall than the rest of the post; whoever has been intercepting our correspondence is still trying, despite our precautions. The only other letter to be so delayed, thus far, was one of Cecelia's missives from her father, due, I assume, to his execrable handwriting. I cannot think that our meddler would have much interest in his queries about the local antiquities—Viking campsites, Saxon ruins, and prehistoric standing stones—which Cecelia tells me made up the bulk of his letter.

  I harp on the question of legibility for a particular reason. Though I have been over your letter several times, I am still unsure whether it was a Mr. Medway or a Mr. Medbury who made the arrangements for the house in Stroud where you found Edward. If it is indeed the former, I must tell you that a Mr. Harold Medway, of Stockton-on-Tees, is the man of business with whom Webb has been so involved of late.

  Before you come charging up to the north counties, let me point out that Mr. Harold Medway cannot have been the multifaced person you so eloquently described. Tall, short, fat, thin, bald, red-haired—no matter the disguise or enchantment, this Mr. Medway has been here in Stockton since well before the beginning of this infernal house party and therefore cannot have been recently in Stroud. Yes, I have made inquiries, under pretext of looking for someone to work with regarding the supposed property I am pretending to wish to purchase. And since our arrival at Haliwar, Mr. Harold Medway has been out to consult with Webb every day. Not even magic could get him to Stroud and back, with time to arrange for a house rental, in between his visits here.

  Nonetheless, if your vanishing renter is indeed a Mr. Medway, I find the coincidence of names disturbing. It may, of course, be simple coincidence, but I distrust coincidences of that sort. I think it more likely that someone borrowed the name, since it would be foolish indeed for anyone bent on threats and kidnapping to make rental arrangements in his own person. Or it may be a black sheep somewhere in the Medway flock. I will see what else I can discover in that regard; in the meantime, the northern connection may give you an additional angle for your own investigations. If, of course, it is Medway and not Medbury.

  There is still no sign of our missing German. Peculiarities, there are in plenty. It has taken me nearly three weeks to collect even as little information as I have done. In part, this seems due to the understandable desire of the instigators of the Stockton and Darlington Railway to keep their difficulties quiet, so as to avoid panicking their investors.

  One thing we have established with certainty: There is an extremely strong ley line running directly across the rail line, one end of which passes under Haliwar Tower. I believe, on the strength of Cecelia's observations, that the steam engine is interfering with the ley line (or vice versa, depending on how you look at it). Cecelia said the engine actually pulled the ley line sideways for a moment, like the string of a bow being drawn back. The extra load might well explain the unexpectedly high number of breakdowns. Unfortunately, the Webbs have made it impossible to investigate the railway line itself. So, for the present, we are at a stand.

  Waltham has, as you may already know, seen fit to depart from Haliwar for parts unknown. The only surprising thing about this is that he did not do so weeks ago. His valet speaks of giving up waiting for his master's return and departing for Waltham Castle, on the theory that when His Grace reappears, he will either do so at his main
seat or else send a message there. The Webbs are far more disturbed by this than Cecelia or I, but then, they cannot know His Grace so well. Despite his worries, Ramsey Webb continues his attempts to persuade me to give over looking at property and invest in his railway project instead.

  I assume that by this time you have returned your superfluous child to her annoyed or worried parents—that is, assuming that she, like Edward, was lured away accidentally. If she belongs to your mysterious Medway or Medbury, you may have her on your hands some time.

  Yours,

  James

  17 April 1828

  Skeynes

  (This letter faithfully enchanted by T.S., all his own work)

  Dear Cecy,

  I am so sorry to have alarmed you unduly. I wrote in haste. Now that I have leisure to write in more detail of these matters, I will try not to make such a mull of things again. You have much too much to worry about without my adding to the sum.

  The children are all quite well. I shall enclose their latest missives along with mine when I render this up to Thomas.

  If it is any comfort to you, it is a great comfort to me that you intend to stay with James. Difficult as the decision must have been, I believe it is the right one.

  In addition, I have a purely selfish reason to rejoice. If you came here, there is the distinct possibility that Thomas would find some urgent reason James would need Thomas's help. In certain moods, Thomas can be distinctly mercurial, and he has done quite enough gadding about for now.

  News of Daniel's disappearance does not alarm me as it might have done a week ago. Given recent events, very little alarms me as it might have done a week ago. I feel as if my supply of alarm has been exhausted, at least temporarily.

  Your discoveries at Haliwar Tower astound us, however. In the seclusion of his study, I read your account aloud to Thomas. The look on his face at your description of the behavior of the ley line was such a compound of curiosity and frustration (for he longs to fling caution to the winds and go and interfere) that I cannot do justice to it. You may indeed trust us to let you know any worthwhile news. Be very sure that if any insight into the matter occurs to Thomas, he will communicate it with all speed.