Secrets of the Lost Ledgers (The Glass Library #5)

Chapter 2

T he butler brought in martinis on a tray while Petra and I waited for Huon to finish speaking to his father over the telephone. When Huon had asked for refreshments, I’d thought he’d meant tea. It would seem he hadn’t changed all that much after all.

Petra must have been thinking the same thing. “I don’t know why I expected anything else.” She sniffed the contents of the glass and shrugged. “I suppose it is cocktail hour.” She sipped, wrinkled her nose, then sipped again.

I glanced at the door as I sipped, too. I could hear Huon’s voice, but not his words. The wait shredded my nerves, and I found my cocktail glass half empty by the time he returned a few minutes later.

“Well?” Petra prompted.

Huon handed me the book. “Daniel Barratt is—was—a distant cousin. He died years ago, in 1891. His wife and children went missing around the same time and haven’t been seen or heard from since.”

“How tragic,” I murmured.

Huon indicated the book I clutched in both hands. “In light of that, I’m no longer sure he died of natural causes.”

Before telephoning his father, he’d read the invisible message to us, or as much of it as he could see. Some of it had faded away, the magic having run out. Daniel wrote to tell Oscar that he was afraid, hence the secrecy. He’d been coerced into working for a bookmaker of dubious character. He’d become nervous, however, and wanted to stop. He sent his wife and children into hiding, and hid some evidence, then planned to inform the police about the illegal transactions. However, if Oscar received the book with the invisible message and accompanying map, it meant something had gone wrong and he—Daniel—had been killed. Some of the next sentence was faded, but it was easy enough to understand the gist. Daniel’s will would state his wish for Oscar to be sent the book, as he was the only one with the bravery and contacts to bring his killer, the bookmaker, to justice using the evidence that could be found following the map. The villain’s name was unfortunately no longer readable, but Daniel stated that he, in turn, was an associate of Lord Coyle.

That was a name I knew.

“Uncle Oscar must never have seen the message,” Huon went on. “He would have investigated if he’d known.”

I traced my finger over the book’s title. Perhaps if Daniel had chosen a more unique book on a more interesting subject, it may have gained some attention. The small, slim volume on dung beetles in ancient Egyptian mythology was somewhat uninspiring.

“Did the police look for Daniel’s wife and children?” Petra asked.

“They conducted a search, but they were never found,” Huon said. “My father says they’ve all wondered what happened to Daniel’s family ever since. They could still be alive.”

And still in hiding.

My heart thudded, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “The two children… How old were they when their father died?”

“The boy was aged four and the little girl was one or two.”

An older boy with a younger sister, hidden away to keep them safe. Their mother must have been scared after learning of her husband’s death. Scared and alone, with a killer looking for her and her children. A mother would stay hidden forever if she suspected there was still a danger. She would move cities to throw him off the scent. She would teach her children to protect themselves.

It was all sounding dreadfully familiar.

But not everything added up. I was born in ’94 so I wasn’t two years old until 1896, and Daniel Barratt had died in 1891. Also, my father was a paper magician, not an ink magician. Being a Barratt, Daniel’s talent was ink, too. But he needed to work with a paper magician to write invisible messages, including this one in the book.

“That’s a good point,” Petra said when I mentioned it. “Magicians were in hiding then, but some were aware of the existence of others, so it’s conceivable Daniel purchased spell-infused paper for his work for the bookmaker and asked the same magician to place their spell on the page in this book.”

Huon shook his head. “He didn’t need to purchase magic paper. His wife was a paper magician. That’s why she was in danger, too. She knew her husband was writing secret messages for the bookmaker on her paper. She must have also placed her spell in the book before her disappearance.”

My fingers began to ache, and I realized I’d been clutching the book tightly. I released it and smoothed my hand over the innocuous cover. If the children’s mother was the paper magician, then she couldn’t be my mother. I knew for certain that my mother was Marianne Folgate, a silver magician.

“Daniel’s wife’s maiden name was Hendry,” Huon said.

It was another name that rang a bell. I must have read it in the list of magicians collated by Gabe’s parents.

“What of the map and its code?” Petra asked. “Can you read it?”

“Most of it’s clear,” Huon said. “There’s an address in Whitechapel written at the top of the page. The map is really a diagram that depicts an interesting pattern. I’m not sure why Daniel refers to it as a map. Beside it is a code consisting of a series of letters and numbers. We should go to the address and see if we can make any sense of it.”

“I think the police should do that.” I checked the time on the mantelpiece clock. “We could call on Gabe and ask him to look into it, given he’s a consultant for Scotland Yard on magical crimes.”

“Or we could go directly to Alex’s father and if they assign Gabe to the case then so be it,” Huon suggested.

Beside me, Petra gave a surreptitious shake of her head, or tried to. I saw it and knew what she was trying to convey.

Huon caught on, too. “Ohhhh, of course. Sylvia wants to see Gabe.”

Petra groaned. “You’re a blundering oaf.”

Huon plucked his cocktail glass off the table and drained it in a single gulp. “Come on then, Sylvia, let’s go.”

Petra finished her cocktail, too, and stood. “I should telephone my mother first and let her know I’ll be home late.”

“There’s no need for you to come along.” Huon stepped aside and indicated the door.

“I suppose you’re right, and I should get home. Mother has invited guests to dinner.”

“And you wouldn’t dare do the wrong thing. Missing dinner and upsetting your mother would be far too rebellious for someone who likes to follow the rules.”

“No, it would be rude. Besides, one of her guests is young and apparently rather handsome.” She tossed him a smile over her shoulder as she left. The butler, who’d been hovering, followed her.

Once she was out of earshot, Huon muttered, “She’s as prickly as ever.” He turned to me. “You didn’t ask her how long invisible writing lasts, did you?”

“No. I called on the Petersons. They didn’t know, but suspect it depends on either the strength of the two magics or a word in the spell itself.” I didn’t mention that if it was the former, then his magic was rather weak.

“I need to find out. I’ve got a client, but I can’t sell him my services until I’ve perfected the process. I don’t want the message fading too soon.”

“What’s the nature of the message?”

He tilted his head to the side. “I can’t tell you that, Sylvia. It’s highly sensitive.”

“If you’ll heed some advice, Huon, then I suggest you tread carefully. You don’t want to attract the wrong type of client or…” I waggled the book in his face, before tucking it back into my bag.

His only response was a flattening of his lips, which could have meant anything.

I telephoned Gabe from Huon’s house before leaving, but instead of heading directly to Park Street, we returned to the library first. We both wanted to speak to the professor about the message and the book it had been written in.

He wasn’t able to shed any more light on it, however. “Oscar never mentioned invisible ink to me, so I assume he’d never heard of it.”

Huon indicated the page in the book containing Daniel’s message. “He would have been able to read this. I can.”

The professor sighed. “I suppose he never opened the book after receiving it, and simply donated it to the library. It must have been one of the first books added to our collection. What was the name of the cousin who wrote the message?”

“Daniel.”

The professor shook his head. “It doesn’t sound familiar.”

“My father says they weren’t close. I suspect Daniel wrote to Uncle Oscar because of his connection to Lord and Lady Rycroft and their connection to magic and the police. He probably thought Lady Rycroft could help.”

“Poor fellow. He must have been desperate to organize for the book to be sent after his death. When did he die?”

“1891.”

“A complicated year. Which month?”

“April.”

“That’s not a month I’ll forget easily,” Professor Nash said darkly. “It’s likely this book fell through the cracks during a very chaotic time.”

“We’re going to call on Gabe now to ask him to bring it to the attention of Scotland Yard,” I said.

“Why not call on Cyclops? I’m sure he’d welcome your visit, as would Catherine.”

“Oh, I, uh…”

Huon winked at the professor. “Don’t deny her the pleasure of seeing Gabe Glass.”

Professor Nash smiled. “I wouldn’t dare.”

I snatched the book out of Huon’s hands. “Actually, I wanted to ask Gabe about a paper magician named Hendry.”

“Hendry! Why him?”

“Him? You know the name?”

“Oh, yes, I remember him. What does he have to do with this?”

“Daniel Barratt’s wife was a Hendry. I think I’ve seen or heard the name before.” I didn’t want to mention Lord and Lady Rycroft’s list of magicians in front of Huon. Its existence wasn’t common knowledge.

“Willie or Cyclops may have mentioned him.” From the professor’s tone, I suspected there was a story behind the name. I think I knew what he was alluding to, but I refrained from making assumptions until I’d heard more.

I slipped the book into my bag. “Will you come with us, Professor?”

“I have a bit to do here…” He looked around his flat. It was as neat as a pin.

I took his hand and squeezed. “Come with us. I’m sure they’ll be pleased to see you.”

He gave me a wan smile. “And I’d like to see them.”

I had seen Gabe several times in the weeks since wrapping up the investigation into the decades-old disappearance of a youth we thought may have been my father. The young man proved to be someone else entirely, but I didn’t regret the time we spent on the case. Not only did we bring closure to his family, but it brought me closer to Gabe. Being with him, even just as his friend, was deeply satisfying. Like using my spell, it felt right, as if we should be precisely there at that moment, enjoying one another’s company. Yet I was very aware of a wall between us. I could jump over the wall and be intimate with him, but only if he wanted me on his side.

Yet he never invited me, never so much as nudged the wall with his toe. He seemed content to simply be friends. If he felt the tug of desire and longing, he never showed it. Well, almost never. Once or twice, when we brushed up against each other, I saw the flare of heat in his eyes, felt the unexpected caress of his fingers as he reached for me. Then there was the time he’d moved so that, instead of kissing his cheek, I’d kissed the corner of his mouth. I was almost, very nearly, quite sure that he’d moved on purpose.

He visited the library often of late, not for any particular reason, simply to chat when he wasn’t working. His two constant companions were always present, however. Alex and Willie hadn’t let Gabe out of their sight since the stabbing at Rosebank Gardens Hospital. Gabe seemed to be fully recovered now, although I suspected there was still a significant scar. The patient who’d stabbed him had been arrested at the scene, but hadn’t said a word since except to mutter that God made him do it. The shell-shocked former soldier was incapable of coherent conversation, but we all suspected he’d acted under the instructions of another. Nobody was sure of that figure’s identity. Out of the several possibilities, the most likely seemed to be the same person who was behind the earlier abduction attempts. The patient could have killed Gabe if he’d wanted to, but he’d merely wounded him.

Whatever the reason for the stabbing, nothing like that had happened since. But Gabe’s friend and cousin weren’t going to allow him to leave the house without them.

We found Gabe, Willie and Alex in the drawing room. Gabe looked as relaxed as always when at home, albeit this time he wore no waistcoat over his shirt, given the heat. He and Alex had also dispensed with ties. Willie wore men’s trousers and a shirt with a crimson-and-black-striped waistcoat. She’d started adding a little color to her wardrobe these past few weeks as she attempted to impress Nurse Tilda Wallbank.

Despite her more stylish appearance, she was less than enthusiastic about the change in Huon. She stood with hands on hips as she cast a critical eye over him, finishing her study with a heavy sigh and shake of her head. “You’re a disappointment.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I had high hopes for you. These two ain’t no fun no more.” She jerked her thumb at Gabe and Alex. “But you had promise. You threw wild parties. You drank until you passed out. You didn’t care that everyone thought you were a no-good wastrel. Now look at you. I feel like I should be asking you to balance my books.”

“You don’t have books to balance,” Gabe said with a wry grin.

Huon clasped Willie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m still fun. This is just for the clients.”

Willie grunted. “So, it ain’t because of a woman?”

“Most women adore me no matter what I wear or how unkempt I look. If they don’t, then they’re too prim and proper for me, and I’m not interested in them, no matter how pretty and clever they are.”

Willie frowned. “You talking about anyone in partic’lar?”

“No.” Huon cleared his throat and turned to Gabe. “I don’t suppose your butler was about to serve drinks.”

Gabe asked Bristow to make cocktails and the elderly butler shuffled out. “Tell me more about the invisible message. It sounds intriguing.”

I produced the book from my bag and handed it to Huon.

He read aloud the words written by Daniel Barratt, then told them about the so-called map on the reverse of the page. “The diagram has various shapes—diamonds, triangles, flowers, all bordered with a rope design. There’s a series of letters and numbers written on the side.”

“If Daniel calls it a map, then perhaps those are coordinates,” Gabe suggested.

“I think they’re a code.”

“Can you copy them for us?” Gabe removed a sheet of paper and a pencil from a drawer in one of the side tables.

As Huon wrote, Willie watched him with a pensive expression. “I can’t believe Coyle is making an appearance again, after all this time. He just won’t die, will he?”

“He is most definitely dead,” Gabe said.

The professor pushed his glasses up his nose. “Oh yes. He died around the same time as Daniel, in fact.”

“Perhaps his operation didn’t die with him,” Alex said. “The bookmaker that Daniel mentions may have continued it. If the evidence is still in situ when we get there, we can bring him to justice.”

We all made noises of agreement, except for Gabe. Before he could explain why, Alex shook his head. “No, Gabe. It’s not him.”

“Him who?” I asked.

“Gabe,” Alex warned. “It’s highly unlikely. He was young when that was written.”

I suddenly realized who they were discussing. “You think Thurlow is the man Daniel refers to?”

Thurlow was a thoroughly nasty fellow we’d met at Epsom Downs Racecourse while investigating the origins of a collection of untitled books. Gabe had posed as an American trying to circumvent prohibition laws, but when his story unraveled, Thurlow had retaliated by having his men drive us off the road, destroying Gabe’s motorcar. If it hadn’t been for Gabe’s magic slowing down time, allowing him to save us, I doubted we would have survived the crash.

“I doubt Thurlow is the man Daniel mentions in the message to Oscar,” Alex said. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“He was old enough,” Gabe said.

“There’s no evidence whatsoever that it’s Thurlow. There must have been dozens of corrupt bookmakers back then.”

“As there are now,” Willie muttered.

“The bookmaker Daniel refers to was ruthless,” Gabe pointed out. “That puts him at a rare level. Thurlow is at that level, and he had to start somewhere.”

Alex’s frown deepened.

Willie peered over Huon’s shoulder. “You done yet?”

“Almost,” he said.

She drummed her fingers on the table where he was working. As if infected by her impatience, Gabe started tapping his thumb on his thigh. Neither was aware of their habit.

“It has to be Thurlow,” Gabe said again.

Alex looked worried, although I wasn’t quite sure why. Gabe was right that we ought to consider Thurlow, but Alex was most likely also right in that Thurlow was rather young at the time and corrupt bookmakers in London were common. The chances of it being him were slim.

“There’s more.” The professor eyed Willie warily, as if she were a firecracker near a flame. “Daniel Barratt was apparently married to a paper magician whose maiden name was Hendry.”

Willie’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“She was a Hendry before she married Daniel Barratt. I see from your reaction you remember the name.”

She answered him with a series of curse words that had me blushing. Based on her reaction, my first instinct must have been correct. Hendry was the name of the paper magician who knew a spell to direct paper to fly. With their sharp edges, the papers became weapons, which he’d used to attack Willie and Gabe’s mother years ago.

“Could he be the bookmaker Daniel refers to?” Alex asked. “We know Hendry was an associate of Coyle’s. If he’s a close relative of Daniel Barratt’s wife, then he might have discussed invisible writing with Daniel and be the one who coerced him to write secret messages for him.”

Willie didn’t think it likely. “He wasn’t a bookmaker at the time. Doesn’t mean he didn’t become one, I s’pose. If he was desperate, he might have needed to survive any way he could while he was in hiding.”

“Thurlow is definitely the type, though,” Gabe muttered.

Alex sighed.

“What happened to Hendry?” I asked.

Willie shrugged. “He disappeared and hasn’t been heard of since. Hopefully he’s dead.”

Another disappearance. They seemed to be plaguing us of late.

“Why didn’t Oscar tell us he recognized the name Hendry back then?” Willie asked. “He should have said a Hendry was married to a relative of his when the paper magician attacked us.”

“He probably didn’t know,” Huon said as he checked his copy against the original. “Daniel was merely a distant cousin. Uncle Oscar probably didn’t even go to their wedding.” He held the paper out to Gabe, but Willie snatched it off him.

“It doesn’t make sense.” She passed it to Gabe. “It’s just random letters and numbers.”

Gabe disagreed. “It is a code. The letters L, R, U and D appear several times.”

“But what do they mean? This is going to be impossible to crack without a cipher like the one we used for the Medici Manuscript.”

“L is probably left, and R is right,” Gabe said. “Which means U is up and D is down.”

Willie crossed her arms. “And the numbers, Mr. Know-it-all?”

“The number of steps to move either left, right, up or down.”

“Not steps,” Huon said from where he was studying the seemingly blank page in the book. “Spaces, or whatever these shapes on the diagram refer to. They form a pretty pattern. That’s why Daniel called it a map—when used with the codes, it takes you to a particular position on the diagram. If you knew where to start and traced a path by following the number of spaces up, down, left or right according to this list of instructions, then the final destination could be where the evidence is hidden.”

“Draw the diagram for us,” Willie ordered.

“I’m no artist and it’s too complicated. There’s an address on here in Whitechapel, which is presumably relevant. If we take this map and the codes there, it might become clear what this is referring to.”

“Unless it’s gone,” Alex pointed out.

“We won’t know until we see it in person.” Huon passed the book back to me. “Is it too late to go after dinner? What’s your cook preparing, Glass?”

Gabe invited us to stay for dinner, but insisted on waiting until the morning before trying to find the pattern depicted by the diagram. “Whitechapel isn’t a place we should be walking through at night.”

Willie looked like she’d protest until Gabe shot her a flinty glare. After a moment, it seemed to occur to her that I was the reason for his caution. “Sylvia doesn’t have to come. She can stay here with the Prof. Anyway, she doesn’t want to come. Do you, Sylv?”

“Actually, I do.”

She grunted and slumped into the chair. “You’re all going soft.”

“I would have gone with you tonight,” Huon told her. “You have your gun and I have my fists and my wits. Nobody in Whitechapel would dare touch us.”

“No one is going to Whitechapel without us,” Gabe growled.

Willie slumped further into the chair, only to suddenly brighten a little. “Want to go to the Buttonhole or Rector’s tonight, Huon?”

He thought for a moment then shook his head. “I don’t want a late night.”

She jabbed her finger at him. “I knew it! You have changed, and it ain’t just the fact you’ve taken a bath and had a haircut.”

“I’m still the same old me, just in a tidier package.” Huon self-consciously smoothed a palm over his neatly combed hair. It was the first time I’d seen him self-conscious about anything.

“You’ve become responsible .” Willie spat out the word as if it tasted bitter.

Dinner was a casual affair, in keeping with Gabe’s relaxed character. Even his footman, Murray, joined in with our conversation, much to Bristow’s disapproval. The butler’s expression didn’t change overmuch, yet he somehow managed to exude annoyance at his underling crossing class boundaries.

Despite the easy banter tossed around the table, I couldn’t enjoy myself entirely. I was desperate to ask Willie a question in private, but she was all the way at the other end.

I could tell by the way he shot surreptitious glances my way throughout the main course that Gabe sensed my disquiet. He waited until the pudding was served before leaning closer and asking. “You hardly ate a thing. Will I ask Mrs. Ling not to serve kedgeree next time?”

“I’m sorry. It’s not the food or the company. Both are excellent.”

“Ah. It’s as I thought. You think he’s your father, don’t you? This Hendry fellow?”

His bold statement momentarily took my breath away. “Are you sure your magical power isn’t reading minds?”

He smirked. “I’m glad it’s not. I don’t want to know what’s on everyone’s mind. Willie’s thoughts, for example, would make me blush.” He glanced at his father’s cousin as she told Huon that he used to remind her of her second husband, but now that he’d become more responsible, he reminded her of her first.

Huon choked on his mouthful of pudding, but recovered quickly. “I am not marrying you, Willie. I have other plans.”

Gabe turned back to me. “I want to tell you that Hendry probably isn’t your father.”

“But you can’t, because there’s a good chance that he is,” I finished for him. “My father was a paper magician, and Hendry was a paper magician. My mother was running from someone dangerous, most likely from the man she refused to talk about—my father. Hendry was dangerous.” I nodded in Willie’s direction. “I’ll see if she has any insights for me.”

“Don’t rely on Willie’s account. She’s prone to exaggeration.”

She was the only one in the room who’d met him. Not even the professor had. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Whatever happens, don’t worry.” His hand closed over mine, resting on my lap under the table. “If Hendry is your father, it won’t affect what anyone thinks of you.”

I wished I could agree. I suspected Willie would like me even less.

Gabe followed my gaze. “Ignore her.”

“She’s impossible to ignore, especially if you and I—” I cut myself off, before I revealed raw feelings. I didn’t want to add another vulnerability to my mounting list.

He leaned in even closer, expectant. “Especially if you and I…what? Tell me, Sylvia.”

“Nothing.”

“No, go ahead. I want to hear it.” His thumb massaged mine. The intimate gesture, coupled with the flare of intensity in his gaze warmed me all over. I found myself inadvertently leaning closer to him, too.

“You two!” Willie shouted down the table. “What are you talking about?”

I jerked away from Gabe. “Nothing!”

Huon snickered.

Willie’s gaze narrowed. “Are you talking about me?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Not everything’s about you, Willie.”

“It often is.”

Before she could dig any further, Gabe suggested we return to the drawing room for coffee and liqueurs. Gone were the days when men and women went their separate ways after dinner. Even if the formality was still observed, I couldn’t imagine Willie wanting to be stuck alone with me while the men enjoyed cigars and billiards. I would find it incredibly trying, too.

While we filed out of the dining room, Gabe placed a hand to my lower back. “I’m going to check my parents’ catalog of magicians for more information about Hendry. I won’t be long.” He spoke quietly, confirming my earlier suspicion that Huon didn’t know about the catalog.

He made his excuses to the party then headed up the stairs, while we returned to the drawing room. I was considering how to get Willie alone when Alex drew me aside.

“I’m worried about Gabe,” he said. “He’s becoming obsessed.”

“Obsessed?” I asked weakly.

“Thurlow is a dangerous individual, but I don’t think he warrants the sort of attention Gabe’s been giving him lately.”

“Ohhh, he’s obsessed with Thurlow .”

“Perhaps obsessed isn’t the right word, but he certainly was quick to attribute Daniel Barratt’s message to him. It’s not the first time Thurlow’s name has come up since our last encounter.”

“He was worried about Francis Stray becoming entangled with him.” Gabe’s mathematician friend worked for Military Intelligence, but when Thurlow had discovered he was extraordinarily intelligent, he wanted Francis to work for him. We’d managed to convince him that Francis wouldn’t be a good employee for someone whose activities required secrecy.

Alex watched me closely. “I don’t think that’s why. It’s more…personal.”

“What do you mean?”

He suddenly looked away. “I think the professor wants to talk to me.”

I glanced at the professor, chatting to Huon by the window. Alex joined them before I could make further enquiries into Gabe’s obsession with Thurlow. I decided to talk to Willie instead, since she was on her own.

Murray entered carrying a tray of sherry glasses. I plucked up two and handed one to Willie. I watched as she took a sip.

“May I ask you a question, Willie? I’m afraid it might conjure up painful memories for you, but I need to know.”

“If it’s about murdering my husbands, nothing was ever proved. Anyway, I liked my husbands. Why would I want to kill them?”

“Actually, it’s about Hendry.”

A shadow passed over her face. “That low-down pigswill. I wish I’d killed him when I had the chance. Hopefully he’s dead now and I never have to see his face again.”

“His face is actually what I wanted to talk to you about. What did he look like?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ugly. Real mean looking.”

I wasn’t sure if she was remembering correctly or if her memory was colored by her opinion of him. “Was he fair?”

She gave another shrug. “I think he had blond hair.”

“Did he have freckles?”

“I don’t know! I was too busy trying not to get sliced to death to notice why he was so ugly.”

I gave up. Gabe was right. She was prone to exaggeration, and I needed a levelheaded opinion. I’d ask Cyclops the next time I saw him.

Gabe returned to the drawing room and gave a slight shake of his head. Later, when he managed to speak to me alone, he said, “The information about Hendry doesn’t say much. He disappeared in 1891. He has no known family or offspring, and he’s presumed dead.”

“I asked Willie what he looked like.”

“And?”

“She says he was blond. My hair is fair.”

He tilted his head to the side, waiting for more, but I had nothing else to offer. We both left it at that.