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

Chapter 5

A ccording to Gabe’s parents’ notes on Melville Hendry, when they first met him, he lived alone above his stationery shop in Smithfield. He made paper using traditional methods in the adjoining workshop. It was there that he secretly used the strengthening spell on some batches for special clients, and that’s probably how he became entangled with Lord Coyle. Coyle was known to exploit magicians by threatening to expose them if they didn’t do as he commanded. Gabe assumed Coyle demanded Hendry work for him and use his flying paper as a weapon.

I wasn’t convinced. A circus performer could throw a knife with accuracy and death would be instant, and of course guns were easy to come by. Why did Coyle need a paper magician to wield paper? It was an inaccurate, slow and cumbersome method to kill or control someone.

We passed Hendry’s former shop but did not go in. It was occupied by a tobacconist and newsagent now. Willie slowed down. I thought she was reading the newspaper headlines on display outside the shop, but her thoughts turned out to be on the pipes and boxed cigars in the window. “I need to smoke something,” she said with a deep sigh.

“You can’t relapse,” Gabe told her. “If you do then I might, too.”

“Why have we given up anyway? It ain’t causing anyone harm.”

“You know why.”

She grunted. “Because India doesn’t like the smell and we live in her house. Maybe I’ll move out again.”

“Hallelujah,” Alex said. “How quickly can this miracle occur?”

She shot him a withering glare.

The address Huon had given us for Daniel Barratt was a few blocks from the market. Positioned near the middle of the long street of row houses, it was typical of the area. Whereas Whitechapel’s residents lived a more desperate existence, finding work where they could, Smithfield was a more eclectic area, made up a large market, a hospital and a great many shops. Residents were shopkeepers and clerks. Their homes were still modest but larger than those in poorer parts of the city. They didn’t have to rent out spare rooms unless they found themselves in reduced circumstances.

We didn’t knock on the door where Daniel Barratt had once lived. Instead, we knocked on the neighbors’.

I was surprised when a man answered, given it was a weekday and most men were out working. He was aged in his sixties, and his prominent nose was made more hawkish by his bald head and otherwise plain features. It wasn’t until Gabe put out his hand for the man to shake that I noticed his right hand was missing and he shook with his left. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t work.

“My name is Gabriel Glass,” Gabe said. “These are my friends, Miss Sylvia Ashe, Alex Bailey and Willie Johnson. Are you married to one of the Hendry sisters?”

“That’s right. Fred Laidlow. I’m married to the eldest, Myrtle. Are you acquainted with my wife, or Naomi?” At Gabe’s blank look, he added, “Myrtle’s younger sister. She lives with us.”

“Our business is with both of them. May we come in? It’s about their other sister.”

Fred’s eyes widened. “Please do. The girls are in the kitchen.”

‘The girls’, as he called them, were also aged in their sixties. Both stood at the central kitchen table, preparing dinner in silence. One shelled peas while the other peeled potatoes. A large pot sat on the stove. The heat from the stove made the room stifling.

Both looked up upon our entry and gave us welcoming but questioning smiles.

Fred made the introductions, having no difficulty remembering our names. “They want to talk to you about Rosina.”

The one shelling peas gasped, while the other dropped the peeler. It clattered onto the edge of the table then fell to the floor.

“Your shock is understandable,” Gabe said. “Hearing her name after all this time must be difficult.”

“Have you found her?” asked the one who’d been shelling peas.

If I had to guess, I’d say she was the elder of the two, although both women looked well for their age, with trim figures and only a few lines fanning their eyes and shallow ones scoring their foreheads. Their fair hair blended naturally with the light gray, which both had arranged in loose pompadour styles popular a decade ago. Both had light freckles dusting their noses.

I couldn’t stop staring at them. Fortunately, neither noticed. They were both intent on Gabe.

“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I gather from your reactions that she and her children never returned?” They shook their heads. “We work for Scotland Yard as consultants and have some questions for you about Rosina and Daniel. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“The sitting room,” Fred said, leading the way.

The two sisters glanced at one another then followed us. The sitting room was crowded, but we all managed to find somewhere to sit, although the two women and Fred had to squash together on the sofa. Beside them, on the table, was a collection of photographs. I itched to take a closer look.

They introduced themselves, and the one shelling peas did turn out to be the eldest, Myrtle, married to Fred. When the one peeling potatoes introduced herself as Naomi Hendry, I realized she was a spinster.

It was Myrtle who peppered us with questions. “I don’t understand. What’s changed? Why are you asking questions about Rosina now?”

Gabe invited me to explain.

Both women looked properly at me for the first time. If they saw a resemblance to their younger selves, they gave no indication. “I’m a librarian at the Glass Library. Do you know it?”

“Of course,” Myrtle said.

“I came across a book with invisible writing in it.”

Fred scoffed. “Invisible writing?”

“It can be created when either a graphite or ink magician merges their magic with a paper magician’s. In the case of this book, it was ink magic.”

Fred looked to his wife, seated beside him. She stared stoically back at me. None of them confirmed or denied whether they knew an ink or paper magician. These days, there was no reason for secrecy. At least, there shouldn’t be.

I cleared my throat. “It so happened that the ink magician who read the writing for me was related to the intended recipient of the invisible message, Oscar Barratt. The message was written by Daniel, his distant cousin. Oscar never saw it and has since died.”

“Why did our brother-in-law write a message in invisible ink?” Naomi asked.

“Daniel was asking Oscar to help him. Daniel states that he was working for a man who was involved in criminal activity. The man threatened Daniel, so he hid his wife and children to keep them safe.”

Naomi pressed a hand to her throat and her face paled.

Myrtle showed no surprise. “I always knew their disappearance was his fault.”

“Seems he tried to protect them,” Fred pointed out.

“Perhaps he couldn’t save them after all.”

“He wouldn’t have intentionally put them in harm’s way. He was a doting husband and father.”

“He was a fool. Good riddance.”

“Myrtle!” Naomi cried.

Some of the stiffness left Myrtle’s shoulders. “Sorry.” To us, she said, “It was a difficult time, and you coming here today has brought it all back. If you don’t have any news about our sister’s whereabouts, then why did you come?”

I hesitated. Her hostility unnerved me.

Gabe took over, his voice smooth and reassuring. “A few reasons, but firstly, we wanted you to know that the message from Daniel suggests he didn’t die from natural causes. He may have been murdered.”

Naomi gave another gasp.

“Good lord,” Fred murmured. “Who by?”

“We don’t know. The invisible ink magic has faded, and the name isn’t legible.”

“To think he was meeting someone dangerous right next door, under our noses,” Fred said. “I never suspected. Did either of you?”

Both women shook their heads. “Rosina never mentioned what Daniel was up to,” Naomi said. “What they were both up to. She was most likely the paper magician who helped Daniel create the invisible writing. Did you know she was a paper magician?”

“Of course they did,” Myrtle told her. “Anyway, that doesn’t mean Rosina was involved. Daniel could have got hold of her paper without her knowledge.”

“Whether she knew or did not know is irrelevant now,” Fred said. “But all of this talk about criminal activity does explain where the money came from in those months before Daniel died.” At our blank looks, he added, “Daniel was quite flush. More than a clerk ought to have been.”

“He didn’t follow a trade closely associated with his ink magic?” I asked.

“Clerks use ink,” Willie offered.

“Who did he work for?” Alex asked.

“Harrods, in the finance department,” Fred said. “Up until nine or ten months before his death.”

“Why did he leave?” Gabe asked.

“He wouldn’t say,” Myrtle said tightly. “Which probably means he was dismissed. Typical. He was a pathetic man, quite hopeless. I knew he was no good for Rosina. Our parents should never have let her marry him, but the silly girl insisted. She said she fell in love.” Myrtle rolled her eyes.

Naomi placed a hand over her sister’s, quietening her.

Fred looked a little embarrassed at his wife’s outburst. He apologized on her behalf, but Myrtle’s jaw firmed. She looked like she wanted to scold him, but she remained silent. Her sister’s knuckles turned white as she held onto Myrtle’s hand.

Naomi’s soft voice was in stark contrast to her older sister’s. “What else did the invisible message from Daniel say?”

It would have been the right time to tell them it led us to the house in Whitechapel, but Gabe hadn’t wanted anyone to mention it until we knew what the contents of the ledgers contained.

“Daniel said the man he worked for was an associate of Lord Coyle.” I watched them carefully for any signs of recognition. There were none.

“Did it mention something he’d hidden?” Fred asked.

“No,” Gabe lied. “Why?”

The two sisters exchanged glances, but it was Fred who answered. “Someone went through their house on the night Daniel died. We found their belongings strewn all over the place the next day, drawers emptied, floorboards pulled up…it was a mess. It seemed as though the intruder was searching for something. We don’t know if they found it, or whether it’s still missing.”

The intruder must have been looking for the ledgers, but Gabe still did not tell them we had them in our possession. “Tell us about Rosina’s disappearance and the time leading up to it,” he said.

Naomi’s fingers curled into her apron at her lap. “It’s all a blur now.”

Fred rubbed the stump where his hand ought to be and looked to his wife.

Only Myrtle met Gabe’s gaze. “They were happy for a while after Daniel lost his position at Harrods. As Fred said, Daniel was quite flush with money. He showered Rosina with gifts—clothing, jewelry. She thought he was wonderful. Then everything changed suddenly around February ‘91. They became reclusive. They stayed indoors and kept the children home. We hardly saw our sister. She stopped calling on us every day like she used to. Daniel told us she’d gone on a holiday with the children. We didn’t believe him. She’d never leave without telling us.”

“I assumed she’d left him,” Fred added.

“She would have told us,” Naomi said, her tone gently chiding.

“Did you challenge Daniel?” Gabe asked.

Myrtle sighed. “I tried. He closed the door in my face.”

Gabe fell silent. Although he didn’t look at me, I got the distinct impression he wanted me to ask them about Melville Hendry. I suddenly felt restless. I could no longer sit still. I stood and picked up a framed photograph from the collection on the side table. It showed three smiling young women in their late teens. While none looked exactly like me, I could see small resemblances in each—the straight nose, the freckles, and shape of the mouth.

“That’s Rosina in the middle,” Naomi said wistfully. “She was always in the middle, with Myrtle first and me third.”

“Did you two inherit paper magic, too?” I asked.

“No. Only the others did.”

I almost dropped the photograph. “You have more siblings? A brother, perhaps?”

Naomi bit her lower lip.

It was Myrtle who responded. “She meant to say that Rosina was the only one of the three of us who inherited magic from our father.”

It didn’t quite answer my question. “Is the name Melville Hendry familiar to you?”

“What does he have to do with Rosina’s disappearance?”

“Perhaps nothing, but?—”

“Then why bring him up?”

Her renewed hostility unnerved me. I fell silent.

Gabe answered for me. “He was a known associate of Coyle’s and is still wanted by the police. He also went missing in 1891, the same year Daniel died.”

Both Fred and Naomi looked to Myrtle. She was clearly the leader of the trio, and certainly the stronger of the two sisters. She gave nothing away, however. Her face remained closed, unreadable.

“If you’ve got no more questions about Daniel and Rosina, then it’s time for you to leave,” she said. “We’re very busy.”

Willie snorted. “No, you ain’t. Now see here. You’re probably ashamed of him. I would be, too, and I’m related to a lot of outlaws. But the thing is, we know he lived and worked not far from here. We know he was a strong paper magician, like Rosina. He even looked like both of you.”

Naomi glanced at her sister.

“So there ain’t no point denying it. Tell us how he’s related to you.” When all three kept their mouths shut, Willie said, “Do you know he tried to kill me?”

Naomi covered her mouth with her hand.

Myrtle glared back at Willie. “You’re not with Scotland Yard, are you?”

Willie bristled. “I’m a consultant, too.”

“The Yard only employs women as WPCs, not detectives or consultants. They’re not that enlightened.”

If there’s one way to Willie’s heart, it’s to agree with her that women ought to be given the same employment opportunities as men. Her rising temper instantly dampened, and she gave a grunt in response. It was the closest thing to admiration she was capable of giving.

Myrtle stood. “Fred will see you out. Come along, Naomi. We have to get the stew on the stove.”

I worried that Willie would tell them we suspected I might be Melville’s daughter, but she kept quiet. Perhaps she realized it would do us no favors in our investigation, when they were so determined to cut him off from the family tree. Telling them I could be the daughter of the black sheep of the family could make them even less inclined to help us.

Besides, we weren’t sure. I needed to be absolutely positive before I admitted it to anyone. He wasn’t someone I wanted in my family tree either.

I returned the photograph to the table and thanked the sisters for their time. As I followed Fred out of the sitting room, a long-stemmed pink rose in a vase on the hall table caught my eye. I felt compelled to stroke its soft petals, and that’s when I realized it was made of thick paper, folded into the complex shape of a blooming rose, complete with green leaves and a stem, all made with paper.

Myrtle snatched it away. “Don’t touch that. It’s delicate.”

It wasn’t. It was tougher than it looked, because it held paper magic. Strong magic that made the petal warm to touch. I didn’t tell her that I could feel it, but she seemed to suspect, going by the way she watched me closely.

“It’s origami,” Naomi said, a note of pride in her voice. “It’s a Japanese art form.”

“Your sister, Rosina, made it?” Alex asked.

“We don’t remember where we got it,” Myrtle said. “We’ve had it for years.”

The two women returned to the kitchen while Fred saw us out. He stepped outside and closed the front door behind him. “I hope my wife didn’t upset you,” he said to Willie.

“It takes a lot to upset me.”

Alex smiled to himself, but didn’t point out that she could be as unpredictable as a volcano.

Fred glanced behind him at the closed door. None of us moved or spoke. Sometimes, the best way to get someone to talk is to say nothing. Most people loathed silence and felt the need to fill it. Fred was no exception.

“Melville was their brother.”

Willie swore softly.

“Why didn’t they just tell us?” Alex asked.

“They’re good girls, with good hearts. They’re very charitable, always cooking and baking for the poor. Melville’s actions upset them deeply. They were never close to him, but after he was accused of murder and being involved with Coyle, they distanced themselves even further from him. His disappearance was a blessing, even though it happened around the same time their sister left, and Daniel died. It meant they could pretend he never existed.”

“So you do know of Lord Coyle?” Gabe asked.

Fred realized his mistake. “Ah, yes. Sorry. We’re all trying to forget those days, so nobody wanted to admit it. I’ve heard the name only in connection to Melville. A lord, was he? I wonder why he chose Melville to do his dirty work.”

“He was a strong paper magician,” Willie pointed out.

“Well, yes. Very strong, as it happens. The girls were so frustrated that he inherited their father’s strength, while the two of them got nothing. Only Rosina was a magician, but her magic was quite weak.”

If her magic was weak, then she couldn’t have made that paper rose decades ago before her disappearance. The magic wouldn’t have lasted all this time. So, who had made it? And why?

“Myrtle was so frustrated with Melville, even before the business that led to his disappearance,” Fred went on.

“Frustrated?” Gabe asked.

“He had so much talent, so much magical strength, yet he squandered it. He never bothered to expand his business beyond his little workshop and handful of clients. She thought it was a waste.”

“Magicians were persecuted back then. He might have drawn unwanted attention to himself if he’d manufactured paper on a larger scale.”

“Not if he was careful. Others did it. The Petersons, for example. Melville could have been rich by now. If Myrtle was the magician, she would have found a way to have her cake and eat it too, even then.” He sounded as frustrated by what he saw as an injustice of birth as Myrtle. “The three girls never really got along with their brother, even as children. He was always different.”

“You mean evil,” Willie spat.

Fred scratched his bald head. “I don’t know about that.” He removed a pocket watch from his waistcoat and flipped the case open with his thumb. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get to a meeting.” He opened the door and slipped back inside.

As our motorcar pulled away from the curb, we saw him leave the house with a newspaper under his arm.

“Blimey,” Willie said, sounding more British than American. “What do you make of all that?”

“I understand why the sisters lied about Melville being their brother,” Alex said as he checked over his shoulder before merging the Vauxhall Prince Henry into traffic. “They’re ashamed of his criminal past.”

Willie turned to Gabe and me, seated in the back. “Do you reckon that’s all they lied about? Do you reckon they knew more about Daniel and Rosina’s criminal activity than they let on?”

Gabe shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He gave me a flat smile. “It’s a shame they were so hostile about Melville. It was probably wise not to say anything about your magic or a possible connection to him.”

Willie sucked air between her teeth as she glared at me.

Gabe cleared his throat and she glanced at him before facing the front again.

“They lied,” I told them. “That paper rose was very warm. If it was made a long time ago, as they claimed, then it must have been made by a powerful magician for the magic to last. Fred said Rosina’s magic was weak.”

“Melville?” Gabe suggested.

“Why keep a piece of art from a brother they didn’t like?”

“Or the magic was put in more recently,” Alex suggested from the driver’s seat. “That would explain why it still felt warm to you.”

“They’re hiding something. Is it the fact they are actually paper magicians themselves? If so, why lie?”