Chapter 11
“ I am worried about Stanley.” Juan’s accent was as thick as the note of concern in his voice. He was really troubled about their friend.
Stanley Greville had fought alongside Gabe and Juan in the war. His experiences at the Front had shredded his nerves, however, and changed his personality. So much so that he found it difficult to function in society. He’d stopped studying and retreated within himself. The doctors at Rosebank Gardens hospital who specialized in treating shell-shocked former soldiers had helped him a little, and he’d even found work recently. Gabe and their friends were also keeping an eye on him, making sure Stanley didn’t spiral into an abyss so deep he couldn’t get out of it. The last time I’d seen Stanley, he’d seemed a little better, not quite as anxious, so Juan’s concern was a setback.
“We made plans to meet,” he went on, “but he did not arrive. I went to the pharmacy, and they say he does not work there anymore. I tried his home, but no one answered my knock.”
“You should have broken the door down,” Willie piped up. “I would.”
“I do not want to get in any trouble.”
“Did you speak to his neighbors?” Gabe asked.
“No. It was late.”
“He was probably just out,” Alex said. “I wouldn’t be concerned.”
Juan removed a cigarette tin from his jacket pocket, but apparently remembered that the professor didn’t like anyone smoking in the library. He fidgeted with a cigarette before tucking it behind his ear. “It is just one time, but… I can’t explain why I worry.” He tapped his temple. “His mind is not getting better. The war still troubles him.”
“I’ll speak to him,” Gabe said. “I’ll call on him tonight.”
His words reassured Juan and he relaxed enough to have a friendly conversation with us before it was time for him to leave. Gabe, however, fell into contemplative silence and appeared not to be listening. I worried about him taking on the burdens of his friends, as well as his own. Gabe may be one of the most optimistic people I’d met, but a multitude of problems could wear down even the most cheerful of men.
Gabe asked to use the telephone before he left. We waited for him by the fireplace on the ground floor. Although it hadn’t been used since the charwoman had cleaned it at the start of summer, I could feel warmth. It was the warmth of Lady Rycroft’s magic in the large clock hanging above the fireplace that I sensed, however. Now that I knew the difference between natural and magical heat, it was quite obvious. Particularly when it came to her magic. It was very strong.
Willie stared up at it, as she must have done dozens of times before. “Anyone else get the feeling this mystery is tied to the emergence of magicians in ’91?”
“It’s just a coincidence,” Alex said.
I followed Willie’s gaze to the magnificent clock with its brass numbers and hands gleaming in the light of the central chandelier. Without the light, this area of the library was rather gloomy, even in the day. I felt a sense of gloom now. Willie may be right. The timing did make it seem like there was a link.
Gabe rejoined us and Alex asked if they were heading directly to Stanley’s flat.
“I didn’t telephone him, but we can go there now. It’s only four minutes to six, too early for dinner.” Gabe hadn’t even glanced at the clock or his watch. He always instinctively knew the exact time.
“Who did you telephone?” Alex asked.
“The Hobsons.”
Willie swung around to face him, hands on her hips. “You want to visit them tonight, too?”
“I did, but they have dinner plans. I’ll see them tomorrow night.”
“They agreed to see you?”
“Uh, not quite. I asked the maid who answered the telephone not to tell them I called. She told me about the summer ball they’re attending tomorrow night. I was invited, too, but I didn’t plan to go. I’ve changed my mind, however. Meeting them in a public place is much better than calling on them at home. Harsh words won’t be exchanged, and everyone present can see that there are no hard feelings between us.”
Alex thought it was a terrible idea. “We can’t come with you to protect you. We weren’t invited.”
“I don’t need protecting. It’s a ball for the wealthy and titled who remained in London for the summer. No one will try to kidnap me or stab me there.”
“We can’t be sure about that.”
Willie had gone quiet, but she now spoke up, her voice heavy with defeat. “I got invited. I threw the invitation away, but I can prob’ly find it again.”
Alex’s laugh started light but ended in a guffaw that died only when Willie thumped him in the arm. “It’ll be up to you to act as his sole bodyguard, Lady Farnsworth.”
“ Ugh . If they use that title to announce me when I arrive, I can’t be responsible for my behavior.”
“It is your title. People will use it, especially if it makes them look good. Imagine having the mad Lady Farnsworth at their ball! They’ll be the envy of all society. You’ll attract a lot of attention, so you need to put a lot of thought into your outfit. Don’t embarrass Gabe.”
Willie bristled. “I won’t. I’ll wear my top hat and tailcoat, perfect for a fancy ball.”
The reason for Alex and Gabe’s grins was lost on Willie.
“You really don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Gabe told her, still smiling. “I’ll be fine.”
“I have to go. Someone’s got to make sure you’re not kidnapped, stabbed, or cornered in a dark room by Ivy when the biggest gossip at the ball just happens to look in and catch you, forcing you to marry or face social ruin. I don’t know which is worse, death, kidnap or marriage to that bi?—”
“Willie!” Gabe muttered something under his breath as he steered her out of the library.
Daisy’s flat was never particularly tidy, but tonight it was messier than usual with her sketches placed on every flat surface, including much of the floor. It reminded me of when she was trying her hand at painting, but without the easels, and the canvases had been replaced with sketchbooks.
She made cocktails for Petra and me while we studied her designs. “Choose your favorites,” she directed us. “I want honest opinions.”
Two martinis later, I’d summoned enough courage to tell her I couldn’t choose a favorite. “They’re not really my style, sorry. But they’re all very interesting.”
Petra was equally apologetic. “They’re not the sort of thing I’d wear either, but you know me, I’m not very adventurous when it comes to clothing.” She plucked at the modest ankle-length skirt of her dress belted at the waist instead of the more modern drop-waists of Daisy’s designs.
Daisy looked like she wanted to cry. “But they’re not supposed to be adventurous! They’re supposed to be dresses the average woman would want to wear to a party.”
I put my arm around her shoulders. “But you’re not average, so why are you trying to make things for a type of woman you don’t want to be?”
Daisy twisted her long faux pearl necklace around her finger. “I suppose.”
Petra started gathering up the sketches. “Let’s toss around some new ideas together.”
Daisy cheered up a little as she sat with Petra on the faded sofa that looked like it had once graced the drawing room of a country manor. Daisy had inherited a small sum of money from her grandparents, as well as a few pieces of their furniture, although from the mismatched look of them, none had originally occupied the same room. Yet they somehow made the flat feel as welcoming and as cheerful as Daisy.
I poured another round of martinis at the sideboard then joined them on the sofa. By the time we’d finished our cocktails, we’d forgotten about Daisy’s sketches.
Somehow, Petra managed to steer the conversation to Huon. “He may have cleaned himself up, but he’s still arrogant.”
Daisy giggled from her position on the floor. I wasn’t quite sure when she’d moved from the sofa to the floor, but she lay flat on her back, her legs crossed at the ankles, her martini glass beside her. “Did you know he was good-looking under all that hair and beard?”
Petra snorted. “I’ve seen better looking monkeys in the zoo.”
Daisy rolled to her side and propped herself up on her elbow. “Don’t you think he’s handsome, Sylvia?”
“Very much so,” I said. “And he smells nice, too.”
Petra finally agreed. “I’m glad he washes and shaves these days.”
“And gets out of bed before noon,” I added. “He’s turning his life around now that he found a purpose with his new business venture.”
Petra looked thoughtful.
The wicked side of me couldn’t help teasing her further. “It won’t be long before a society beauty snatches him up. He’s a very eligible bachelor now. If you want him, you should act quickly.”
“Me? Want him ? No thank you. He may be handsome, funny, with quite a clever brain, but he’s still conceited. Good luck to the poor woman who ends up with him. She’s going to need it.”
Daisy and I exchanged grins. Petra failed to notice. She was too busy draining the last drop from her glass.
“Speaking of the men in your life,” I went on, “how was your mother’s dinner party? You said she had plans for you to sit with a young and handsome guest.”
Petra rolled her eyes. “He was young, handsome and dreadfully dull. I prefer men who make good conversationalists.”
“You mean funny men with quite clever brains.”
Petra pointed her speared olive at me. “You’ve hit the nail on the head. If only such a man existed.”
It was then that I realized she was too drunk to be teased. She was taking me quite seriously.
Daisy grasped my ankle and shook it. “You and Gabe seemed a little tense in one another’s company today. What’s wrong?”
“It’s complicated, but it partly involves his ex-fiancée.” I didn’t tell them about Melville Hendry possibly being my father and Gabe’s family’s association with him, mostly because I couldn’t quite think of a simple way to explain it. It would seem I was a little drunk, too.
Daisy and Petra pulled faces at the mention of Ivy. “Engagements made during wartime shouldn’t count,” Petra said. “No one was thinking about the future. It was all about the present moment.”
Daisy shook my ankle again. “Gabe isn’t keen on her anymore. I know he isn’t, because I see the way he looks at you.”
I gave her a flat smile. “He’s going to see her tomorrow night. At a ball. He wants to talk to her and her mother and tell them to stop investigating me, and to not spread gossip about me.”
“Ignore them. They’re snobs. Trust me, I know what that sort are like. My parents are the same.” She sighed, deflated.
Petra agreed. “Gabe doesn’t care about gossip and whether certain people accept you or not. And if it’s his family you’re worried about, I wouldn’t because he isn’t. Besides, when they get to know you, they’ll adore you.”
Daisy sat up with a gasp. “I have an idea. You can borrow one of my gowns and some jewelry and go to the ball, too.”
“It’s invitation only.”
“Don’t worry about that. You can use mine. They won’t know you’re not Daisy Carmichael, daughter of Lord Carmichael.”
“You received an invitation to a ball where the hosts don’t know you?”
“They know my parents and apparently I met them years ago.”
Petra clapped her hands. “Then it’s settled. Cinderella shall go to the ball. Now, let’s put on some music.”
Daisy placed a record on the gramophone. When the tune crackled to life, Petra grabbed my hand and took me in her arms as a gentleman would for a waltz. “All the bachelors will want to dance with the lovely, mysterious stranger, and Gabe will be wildly jealous.”
If I wasn’t so drunk, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to the scheme. But after three martinis on an empty stomach, it sounded like a marvelous idea.
I was woken up the following morning by Mrs. Parry knocking on my door and announcing I had visitors. I groaned and rolled over to check the time. It was already ten o’clock!
I pushed off the bedcovers and threw my dressing gown around my shoulders. Toiletry bag in hand, I jerked the door open and came face to face with my landlady. Behind her stood Gabe, Willie and Alex. Willie sported a smirk, Alex a crooked smile, and Gabe a sympathetic frown.
“I overslept,” I said, rather stupidly. “I’d better telephone the professor and tell him I’ll be late.”
“It’s Saturday,” Mrs. Parry said.
I pressed a hand to my aching head. That’s when I realized I hadn’t wrapped my silk scarf around my head to keep my hair in place overnight. I must look a sight. That explained Willie’s smirk.
“Looks like you girls had a good night,” she said.
Mrs. Parry shooed them out of the way to let me pass.
“Meet us in the kitchen,” Gabe said. “I’ll make you something to help.” As I hurried off to the communal bathroom, I heard him ask Mrs. Parry if she had Tabasco sauce.
“I have a bottle of Crosse & Blackwell's Chili Sauce.”
“That’ll do.”
I wanted to cry when I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hair wasn’t the only thing that looked worse for wear after a night drinking cocktails. Fortunately, a little powder covered the dark circles under my eyes and rouge gave my cheeks some color. I pulled my hair into a simple chignon at the nape of my neck then returned to my room to dress.
When I arrived in the kitchen, Gabe handed me a glass. “It’s a Prairie Oyster. Willie introduced it to us after our first hangovers.”
Alex smirked. “That was the night we…” His words died on his lips as he caught the sharp end of Gabe’s glare.
I peered into the glass. “Is that a raw egg? What else is in it? Oysters?”
“No oysters, but it’s best if you don’t know the ingredients,” Gabe said.
Willie encouraged me with a nod. She’d never looked prouder.
The concoction smelled vile, so I pinched my nose and downed the contents. I almost threw it all up when the egg hit the back of my throat, but I managed to swallow it in one gulp. It burned all the way to my chest and made me cough.
Willie grinned. “Invigorating, ain’t it?”
I blinked back tears. “That’s not the word I’d use.”
Mrs. Parry returned the bottles of chili and Worcestershire sauce to their positions on the shelf. “In my day, young ladies did not need restorative cures after an evening out.”
“Then you and I came from different worlds,” Willie said.
“She did say ladies,” Alex pointed out.
All jolliness ceased as we headed to the motorcar. Alex wouldn’t let Gabe leave the building until he’d checked the vicinity, then he and Willie ushered us to the motorcar. Even Gabe continually scanned the area as I tied a scarf around my hair and Willie cranked the engine. They were more vigilant than ever.
“Has something happened?” I asked.
Gabe turned to me from the front passenger seat. “We were being followed this morning after we left the house.”
I looked up and down the street, taking note of parked vehicles and passing pedestrians.
“Don’t worry. Alex managed to lose them. I’d never lead anyone to your place, Sylvia.”
Willie climbed into the back seat with me and passed the crank handle to Gabe. “We should have stayed home today, but Gabe refused on account of wanting to get this investigation over with. He forgets that it’s been unsolved for nearly thirty years and a few days lying low ain’t going to make a difference.”
“Lying low won’t change the situation,” Gabe told her as Alex merged the Vauxhall into traffic. “It will only delay the inevitable.”
“The inevitable being your kidnap?”
“This way we’ll draw the kidnapper out.”
Willie sulked in silence. I got the feeling this was an argument they’d had multiple times already. Although I had an opinion, I didn’t offer it. I didn’t want to stoke the embers.
In an effort to ease the tension, I changed the subject. “Did you call on Stanley? How was he?”
“More out of sorts than usual,” Gabe said. “He admitted he’d stopped taking his medication because he didn’t like the side effects. When I explained that we’d been worried, he promised he’d start taking it again.”
Poor Stanley. The war had broken him. How long would it take before he no longer needed his medication? Or would his nerves forever be shattered?
We arrived at the address the manager of Epsom Downs racetrack had given us for the magician farrier. After twenty-nine years, there was a good chance he no longer lived in the modest two-up-two-down house, but the woman who led us through to the parlor introduced the man seated in an armchair as her father, Reggie Ferryman.
He struggled to stand, and when Gabe went to help, he waved him away. “I can still manage.”
His daughter stood by the door, twisting her hands together in front of her as she watched her father wince in pain.
Mr. Ferryman indicated his right hand with the gnarled fingers frozen into a claw. “Forgive me for not shaking your hand. This is what happens when you spend too many years on the tools. This and a bad back.” He coughed a dry, wheezing cough that turned his face red. “And a bad chest,” he added as he eased himself back into the chair with another wince.
Gabe introduced us, then mentioned that he and Alex were consultants on magical investigations for Scotland Yard. Before he could mention that Willie and I were assisting them, Mr. Ferryman interrupted.
“Glass, eh?” He grunted. “So, you’re her son.”
“India Glass is my mother, yes.”
“I met her once.” From the sour note in his voice, it was clear what he thought of her.
“Father,” his daughter warned. “Don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to. I’m sure she’s a very nice person. But she’s not every magician’s heroine. She and a few others ruined it for some of us.”
Willie made a scoffing sound and I worried she’d accuse him of ruining his own life by using his magic to cheat for the bookmaker, but thankfully she kept her mouth shut when Alex glared at her.
“That’s why we’re here,” Gabe said. “You were dismissed from your position as on-site farrier at Epsom Downs because they suspected you were a magician.”
Mr. Ferryman’s top lip curled with his sneer. “The key word there is suspected. They didn’t know for certain, but my work was excellent and I was efficient, so they simply assumed. It all happened suddenly after that bloody book came out.”
“Father, language,” Miss Ferryman chided.
“You mean Oscar Barratt’s book about magic?” Gabe asked.
Mr. Ferryman grunted. “Suddenly the whole world knew we existed. It led to a lot of turbulence. Some magicians came out of that time well and expanded their businesses. Some of us lost our jobs. I lost mine barely even a month after the book was published.”
“You landed on your feet,” Miss Ferryman said gently. For our benefit, she added, “He found work almost immediately at the Royal Mews, which turned out to be very fortunate indeed. With the increasing number of motor vehicles on the road over the years, there’s less need for horse-related work, but the Palace likes its traditions. He only retired six months ago, when the pain became too much.”
Mr. Ferryman appeared not to be listening. He was still thinking of 1891. “I was marched out of Epsom like a common criminal.”
“They were worried you were using your iron magic to cheat,” Gabe said.
Mr. Ferryman grunted again.
“Did you cheat?”
Miss Ferryman gasped. “No, he did not!”
Her father shifted his weight in the chair.
“We know you had dealings with a bookmaker,” Gabe went on.
Miss Ferryman drew in a sharp breath. Mr. Ferryman remained silent.
“Who was that bookmaker?” Gabe asked.
Mr. Ferryman pressed his lips together as if daring us to pry them open. He glared directly ahead, not meeting anyone’s gaze.
“Was it Thurlow?”
“I don’t know that name.”
Alex must have been worried that Gabe would hammer the farrier with more questions about Thurlow, so he took over. “What about Arthur Cody?”
“I knew him. He was a groom for one of the trainers. I don’t recall which one.”
“Arlington.”
Mr. Ferryman nodded. “That sounds right.”
“Do you know Mr. Arlington?”
“I knew all the regular trainers. The Arlingtons were locals with a facility not far from the racetrack.”
“Then you must also know the Symes.”
He frowned as he thought. “The name rings a bell.”
“Goreman?”
He frowned harder and shook his head.
“He was a jockey at the time you worked at Epsom.”
“I didn’t know the jockeys. Just the trainers, grooms and some officials.”
“Were you ever approached by a bookmaker?”
“No.”
Alex was undeterred as he pressed on. “We have it on good authority that one did approach you. Your name is in his ledger. He was paying you?—”
“What ledger?” Mr. Ferryman barely got the words out before another cough racked him.
Alex waited for it to subside before continuing. “Who was he, Mr. Ferryman? Who was paying you to do something to the horseshoes?” He waited for an answer, then continued when he didn’t get one. “Did you speak your spell into them to make them stronger? Or do you know the iron moving spell and spoke that during the races?”
Mr. Ferryman’s face turned red with rage. He pointed his good hand at his daughter, looking stricken as she stood by the door. “See them out.”
Gabe and Alex didn’t move, but it was Willie who asked the next question. “Did Lord Coyle introduce you to the bookmaker?”
Mr. Ferryman glanced sharply at her. “I don’t know that name. Now go. Leave me alone.”
Gabe crouched before Mr. Ferryman. “He’s still alive, isn’t he? The bookmaker.”
Mr. Ferryman lifted his chin. “I don’t know who you’re referring to.”
“We understand if you’re still afraid of him.”
The farrier’s eyes flashed. “I have nothing to fear because I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave! Now!” Another cough gripped him, causing the veins in his temple and neck to bulge.
His daughter picked up a teacup from the side table and handed it to him.
We took that as our cue to leave. We weren’t going to get answers. We were all sure he knew more than he let on, however.
“He’s afraid,” Gabe said as we drove away. “That means the bookmaker is still at large.”
“Or Mr. Ferryman was the mastermind behind the scheme,” I added. “Perhaps he is the bookmaker.”