Chapter 2
I was used to seeing Matt and India’s Park Street residence full to the brim.
Their friends and family members often stayed there, but now the babies made it seem even fuller.
The inquisitive minds of little Gabriel Glass and Alexander Bailey sent them wobbling off on chubby legs as soon as their parents’ backs were turned.
Small fingers found their way under sofas, inside vases, and twisted in the fringes of the rug.
If they couldn’t see what was on a table, they reached up anyway and grasped whatever they could touch.
At one point, Gabriel managed to climb onto an armchair then helped his slightly younger friend up by hauling on an arm and then a leg.
The boys looked rather pleased with themselves.
The adults in the room commented on how adorable they both were, then fell into conversations about other things.
With the attention no longer on them, Alexander grasped Willie’s brandy glass from the nearby table and sipped while Gabriel bit down on one of her cigars.
Both boys spat out their mouthfuls onto the carpet after discovering the tastes not to their liking.
“Willie!” India cried as she scooped up the mess with a cloth she kept at hand. “Have you not learned to keep things out of their reach?”
“It ain’t my fault they want to try all my favorite vices.
” Willie tousled the tuft of dark hair on Gabriel’s head.
“Just wait until you’re older, young man.
I’ll take you to the racetrack, dockside taverns, and…
” Her gaze flicked to India and Matt, standing side by side with matching scowls for Matt’s irresponsible cowgirl cousin.
Willie bent and whispered something in baby Gabriel’s ear.
He gurgled in response before slipping off the armchair, feet first and backwards, Alexander right behind him.
Catherine Bailey intercepted her son while her husband, Cyclops, gathered Gabriel into his arms before both boys had a chance to escape from the sitting room. Gabriel tried to remove the patch covering Cyclops’s damaged eye, but the big man distracted him by tickling his tummy.
Catherine tried to hand Alexander to me, but I backed away. “No, no. You keep him. I’m not very good with babies. Send them to me when they’re older and I’ll teach them all about the history of magic. Until then, I’ll admire their energy from afar.”
Alexander wriggled and his mother had trouble holding him. She was tall, slim and terribly pretty. Both she and her friend, India, were lovely inside and out. Their husbands were lucky men, and both knew it, going by the soft gazes they bestowed on their wives when they thought no one was watching.
I’d thought Willie would be like me and prefer to have nothing to do with the babies, but she proved me wrong.
She put her hands out and accepted Alexander from Catherine.
Tucking him under one arm, she held him firmly against her side, like a keg of beer, then asked for Gabriel.
Cyclops handed him to her, and she tucked the second child under her other arm.
Then she whisked them around the room, making whooshing noises as she swooped them up and down like birds flying through the air. The boys squealed with delight.
“You should have one of your own,” Matt told her, smirk firmly in place. “I’d wager Brockwell wants children.”
“You wash your mouth out, Matthew Glass,” she said without breaking stride. “I want to be the fun older cousin, not the boring mother.”
Duke, who’d remained silent as he watched the exchange from where he stood by the window, snorted. “The much older cousin, you mean.”
Willie suddenly stopped to glare at him. “I ain’t talking to you.”
“Seems to me that you are,” Duke drawled in an American accent that was as thick as Willie’s and Cyclops’s.
She pulled a face then set the boys down on the floor. “You’re dead to me, Duke.”
“Good. That’ll make it easier for both of us when I leave. No unnecessary tears and long farewells.”
“Tears? From me? Ha! I’ll be throwing your luggage onto the boat as fast as I can.”
“You’re coming to the port to see me off? Seems you do care, despite the show you’re putting on for everyone else’s benefit.”
“It ain’t a show.” Willie pointed at her own face. “This is me not caring what you do with the rest of your life. You go on home to America, find a little wife, have some brats and raise horses. I’ll take care of everyone here, because I don’t abandon my family and friends.”
Cyclops spread his arms out wide. “I’m staying, too, and I can look after everyone better than you, Willie, now that I’m in the police force.”
Willie ignored him. She only had eyes for the stocky figure of Duke, her long-time friend who’d decided to return to his homeland. Willie wasn’t yet used to the idea. Going by her antagonistic reaction, I suspected she’d be angry with him for a long time, despite pretending to be unfazed.
“Don’t expect me to write,” she went on.
“I won’t,” Duke said. “Your handwriting’s illegible anyway.”
She thrust her hands on her hips and jutted her chin forward. “And don’t expect to come back, either. Once you’re gone, you’re gone.”
“Willie,” Matt chided. “Duke will always be welcome here. If you miss him, perhaps you can visit him when he’s settled.”
Willie wrinkled her nose. “Why would I, when he’s dead to me?”
India wrapped her arm around Willie’s waist. “You’ll regret it if you continue to talk to him in this manner. Be happy for him, as he is for you. You’ve got Brockwell now, and Cyclops has Catherine, and Matt has me. Let Duke have his turn.”
Her lower lip trembled before she bit it. “Why can’t he have his turn here in England?”
“Because I want to go home,” Duke said, his tone gentler.
She sniffed, turning her face away.
“There’s a month before he leaves,” Matt said. “Plenty of time for you to get used to the idea, Willie.”
“Used to it? Ha!”
“Why don’t the two of you go out tonight and discuss it.”
Willie lifted her chin even further. “Nope. I told you, he’s dead to me.”
Duke rolled his eyes. “We’ll have a few drinks, find some trouble… It’ll be just like old times.”
“Not too much trouble,” India added.
Willie wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I s’pose we could get drunk together so you can see what you’ll be missing. By the end of the night, I reckon you’ll change your mind about leaving me.”
Duke’s lips twitched as he tried not to smile. “I don’t want to get arrested, so we better behave.”
“Naw, no need to worry. I’m married to a policeman, so he can get me out.”
“Again,” Matt muttered.
Catherine gazed proudly at Cyclops. “My husband can also help, now that he’s moving up the ranks.”
Cyclops, however, didn’t hear her. He was too busy looking down at the floor, all around. “Did anyone see where the boys went?”
He, Catherine, Duke and Willie hurried from the room, leaving me alone with Matt and India for the first time since my arrival. India, however, was a little distracted by the disappearance of her son, until Matt’s fingers brushed against hers to get her attention.
“They’ve got it under control,” he said.
She leaned into him, a soft smile on her lips. “I know. Do you think it’s safe to have Bristow send in refreshments if Mrs. Bristow distracts the boys in the kitchen while we chat to Professor Nash?”
Matt rang for tea then they sat on the sofa, inviting me to sit on one of the armchairs. With the chaos of the babies crawling on the floor, nobody had yet taken a seat.
“You seemed enthusiastic when you arrived,” Matt said. “Does that mean you were successful at Hope’s library?”
I pushed my glasses up my nose. “Indeed we were. Oscar is unpacking the crate of books at his flat as we speak.”
“Anything in particular catch your eye?”
“Not so much a book, but a letter. Two, in fact.” I told them about the Scotsman named Kinloch who’d refused to sell a particular book to Lord Coyle, and the American railroad magnate who’d also wanted it.
“It’s a treatise written by Scotland’s Lord Advocate, George Mackenzie, on the laws in that country relating to witch trials.
He was an important figure at the time, and his work led to the abolition of witchcraft trials around the world.
The book will be a worthy addition to our library. Your library.”
“It won’t belong to us,” Matt said.
India regarded me with those warm gray eyes of hers. She seemed to be trying to work something out. Indeed, she appeared to be trying to work something out about me. “That’s all very interesting, professor, but that’s not the entire reason you want the book, is it?”
I cleared my throat. “It’s the reason I want it.
Oscar wants it for a different reason, as does the American, John J.
Defoe. According to his letter to Lord Coyle, A Treatise on the Laws of Witchcraft and Maleficium in Scotland mentions the location of another text.
That text supposedly tells of an ink magic spell that can give the tattooed person the ability to fly. ”
They blinked back at me with twin expressions of disbelief.
“You look as skeptical as I am,” I said.
“You don’t believe such a thing is possible?” India asked.
I hesitated, carefully considering my answer. “I’d say the spell has been lost centuries ago.”
“But you believe it was possible, once?”
I paused again. We were heading into peculiar territory, and I didn’t want to sound like a madman who ought to be committed to Bedlam.
But these two were clear-minded, practical folk who’d seen more peculiar things than me.
If anyone understood, it would be them. “Do you recall the myths about magic?”
They both nodded, but it was Matt who responded. “Where maps supposedly came to life, causing rivers to flow off the edges and into the real world, or the tentacles of monsters drawn on the maps of oceans reached out of the paper and pulled real ships under the waves."
“Not just maps,” India added. “And not just myths. Flying carpets are certainly real, as are giant pyramids, and possibly a watering system that could turn a desert into a lush garden.”
It was wonderful to discuss such things with clever, inquisitive people.
They were the perfect couple to be patrons of the new library.
It ought to be named after them. “If this tattoo ink magic spell existed at some point, it may have been so rare and old by the time of Mackenzie’s writing that many dismissed it as legend, just like flying carpets were dismissed.
Or, it could be like the map magic, which I suspect is merely legend and was never actually possible. ”
The butler entered carrying a tray with teapot, cups and saucers.
Somewhere in the depths of the house, one of the boys gave an excited exclamation.
Neither event distracted India as she continued to give me her full attention.
“Either way, it’s an intriguing mystery, and I do so love a good mystery. ”
Matt chuckled. “I take it you’re going to call on the owner of the Mackenzie book and offer to buy it off him for the library?”
“We are,” I said. “We hope to leave as soon as possible.”
India handed me a delicate china teacup that I’d once been told the manufacturer had used his magic to strengthen. “You and Oscar must dine with us before you leave. We’ll give you some funds for the journey and send you on your way with a hearty meal.”
“I’ll let Oscar know,” I said.
“Is he looking forward to the journey?”
“Very much. I believe the adventure will do him good.”
She frowned as she passed me the silver sugar bowl. “Is he still upset about Lady Louisa? I heard she got married to a carpenter magician, much to the surprise of Matt’s aunts.”
“Shocking, I think is how they put it,” Matt said.
“Aunt Letitia was concerned for the health of Louisa’s elderly aunt after hearing of her niece’s downfall, as she put it, at marrying an ordinary man.
My Aunt Beatrice laughed quite cruelly until her youngest daughter, my cousin Charity, declared she thought marrying a carpenter sounded amusing and where could she find one of her own. ”
Matt’s extended family had always been an, er, eclectic group.
Charity in particular had an eccentric streak that could sometimes be cruel.
I refrained from commenting and answered India’s question.
“Oscar hides it well, but I think he is upset. Not that he is still in love with Louisa. I don’t believe he ever was.
I simply think his experience soured him on relationships altogether.
I suspect he plans to stay a bachelor for the rest of his life. ”
“Ha!” Matt barked.
His wife arched her brows at him in question.
He gave her a lazy smile. “You know as well as I do, my dearest, that sometimes that kind of plan goes awry.”
She returned his smile with a secretive one of her own.
I cleared my throat to remind them they weren’t alone. “Oscar’s focus now is on acquiring books and having adventures, not settling down.”
They both gave me indulgent looks. I felt as though I was misunderstanding something, as if they shared a joke where the punchline made sense to them alone.
That was the thing about couples. They had a secret language that others didn’t understand.
Part of me wished I could be understood to such a degree by another.
But mostly I was just glad I could pursue my interests without having to answer to anyone else. No wife would allow me to leave my safe career as a professor of history to go traveling the world to indulge my interest in obscure, old books.
For the first time since making the decision, I felt utterly confident about it.
I knew deep in my bones that it was the right course to take, that the path I was about to embark upon with Oscar was my calling, not simply a task to tick off from a list. It would be the making of me—of us both—and the ripples of the decision would be felt for years to come.
I couldn’t wait to begin.