Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Icame to London, as that was where you told Mother you were heading. I searched but did not find you,” Calder said when Mungo remained silent. His fingers tightening on the reins until the leather creaked.
“I did not want to be found,” he conceded. The words felt thick in his mouth.
He’d been young and fueled with rage at the injustice of his father’s words. As he’d aged, he’d known some of that had simply been his father’s way, but what was done was done. He couldn’t turn back the clock.
“Aye, I worked that out,” Calder said.
Mungo directed the carriage slowly around the first bend of the close, as the locals got upset if he went too fast. It was as he was approaching Ram’s house that he noted the gaggle of people. One of them detached and waved at him.
The horses snorted, unhappy at yet another stop.
“What’s amiss, Mrs. Varney?” Mungo demanded as Mr. Douglas, Clemmie Acton, and Tabitha moved to flank her.
“I made toffee and was handing it out to the residents,” Clemmie said holding up a tin as evidence.
Benjamin lunged for a piece.
“And you needed all of them to assist you?” Mungo asked.
Mr. Douglas waved Mungo’s words off. His eyes were fixed on Calder with unabashed interest.
“Good evening to you. You must be our Mungo’s brother,” Mrs. Varney said, beaming up at Calder. She wore several scarves and a bonnet covered in knitted flowers.
Mungo knew then why they’d been stopped. The toffee had been a ploy to meet Calder. He wasn’t sure how they knew he’d be on the carriage with his brother, but he’d long since given up wondering how the residents knew things.
“This is Mr. Calder Fraser,” Mungo introduced, “my brother. Calder, this is Mrs. Varney, Mr. Douglas, Mr. Clemmie Acton, and Miss Tabitha Varney.”
The carriage door opened behind him once again. Leo stepped out. “By God, is that toffee?” he said.
Mrs. Varney had another tin, which she handed to him.
“Good evening to you, Mr. Fraser,” Tabitha purred. “Two handsome brothers—how will my heart cope?” She pressed a hand to her chest, which was thankfully covered.
“Evening, Tabitha,” Benjamin said, munching on toffee, happy that he was too young for her advances.
“I—ah—good evening, ma’am.” Calder’s accent thickened, as it always had when he was off-balance.
“He’s wed,” Mungo snapped as Leo dropped a piece of toffee into his mouth and hummed loudly.
Tabitha pouted.
“We like to know who’s coming and going from our close,” Mr. Douglas said, leaning on the stick he was using because he’d tripped over his doorstep coming home after drinking too much whisky and hurt his foot. “Especially family. Family’s important. Isn’t that right, Mungo?”
Mungo ground his teeth. “Aye, Mr. Douglas.”
Clemmie stepped closer, peering at Calder as if assessing him for some invisible ailment. “You’ve a strong brow line,” he said thoughtfully. “That means determination. Or stubbornness. Hard to tell, but as you’re related to our Mungo, I’m thinking it’s the latter.”
“Ah—thank you,” Calder replied faintly.
“And those shoulders.” Tabitha sighed.
“He’s wed,” Mungo ground out again.
“If you’ll excuse us, we’ve something urgent to do,” Calder said. He’d always been more polite than Mungo.
“Of course,” Mr. Douglas said. “Mind the rut by the Hellions’,” he called as Mungo gathered the reins again. “I nearly fell into it last week,” he added, like it was the size of a pond and not a wash basin.
Mungo flicked the reins before anyone else could offer a comment. The horses surged forward, the carriage rolling once more.
Beside him, Calder made a strangled sort of noise.
Mungo slanted him a look. “What?”
“They are an odd lot,” Calder said.
Mungo snorted, unwilling laughter pushing against his ribs. “Extremely.”
They reached the next corner, and Mungo eased the horses around the bend.
Two children raced alongside for a few yards, woolly hats pulled low, cheeks red with cold. One of them—a little girl with two braids sticking out on either side of her head—waved at him.
“Mr. Mungo! Mr. Mungo! Make them go fast!” she shouted.
“Ye’ll be the death of me, Elsie Greedy,” he called back. “And no, I will not.”
They left Crabbett Close behind, the tight knot of familiar houses giving way to wider streets and the steady hum of the city.
Somewhere out there it was possible that Fenella was being held against her will, and they had to find her. The tea shop was their only place to start.
“And there was no sign Fenella was troubled during your meetings?” Calder said suddenly.
“Nothing.”
“H-how did she seem?”
“You know her. She’s your daughter.”
“I want to hear you describe her,” Calder said, eyes forward, hands clenched on his thighs. “Give me that much, brother.”
“She laughs like… like our mother,” Mungo said as they navigated around a horse and cart. “Big. As if she doesn’t care who hears. And she’s not one to take a back step when a forward one is on offer.
“Aye,” Calder said.
“She’s a lovely girl.” The words sounded awkward coming out of his mouth. Mungo wasn’t one for praise—or conversation, if he was being honest.
Silence fell between them for a stretch of road, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the creak of the carriage.
“I should have brought her to London sooner,” Calder said suddenly. “Should have taken her from—”
“It’s no use ‘should have’ing yourself to death,” Mungo cut in. “We’ve all got a long list. It doesn’t help to read it over.”
“You’ve one?” Calder asked quietly.
“Aye. Longer than most.”
“Fenella’s always been fixated with London, so when Duncan said they’d take her, I yielded.”
Mungo heard the hatch behind them rise.
“Miss Downing said she wants to walk from Ripple Lane, as she knows her way from there,” Gray said. “It’s just—”
“I know where it is,” Mungo snapped.
“What surprises me is that you have so many people who care about you when your manners are seemingly unchanged,” Calder said.
“He’s all bark and no bite, Bud says.”
Mungo glared Benjamin into silence after he said that.
“You’ve no notion of what I am, Calder, as we’ve had nothing to do with each other in years.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for it.”
The words sat heavy on Mungo’s shoulders. Pride had controlled a lot of his life.
He negotiated the carriage around horses and vehicles for a few more minutes in silence and then pulled it to a halt.
“Right then, Benjamin. You walk the horses, passing here often, and we’ll come back to you,” Mungo said.
They all congregated beside the carriage.
“Take the lead, Miss Downing,” Bram said. “Everyone else, fall in behind and attempt to be quiet.”
Right, the voice inside his head said as Mungo watched Eliza move to the right. They all followed.
She was nervous. Anyone would be with half the Nightingale clan at her back and a missing girl to find. Their mission would either come to naught or they’d find something to push them one step closer to Fenella and Polly.
Be strong, niece, and know we’ll find you.
They followed like a string of ducklings, weaving between the brave souls still out in the bitter wind. Some of them paused to peer into shop windows or comment on a passing carriage. Mungo and Calder kept their eyes fixed on Eliza’s slim back as she navigated the crooked lanes.
The circumstances she’d endured had made her strong, but Mungo had seen the cracks. The shadows in her eyes she tried so hard to hide.
She turned left, then a right, a second left, and then stopped, her head turning as she attempted to remember which way to go next.
“Left,” Mungo said.
Alex looked at him. “How is it you know that?”
“He does have that thing,” Ellen said, joining her brother to stare at him.
“You still have the voices?” Calder asked.
Everyone turned to look at him as one and stared at Mungo.
“Voices?” Leo said with deceptive calm. “What voices?”
“My brother has voices that tell him things like directions and alert him to—”
“Enough, Calder,” Mungo ordered.
But his brother had never taken direction well. “He saved our mother once from a fire,” he continued. “The lamp in her bedroom had tipped while she slept.”
“Calder,” he warned.
“You hear voices?” Alex demanded. “All this time, and you’ve never said a word.”
Bram was scowling now.
“You lot have the abilities, not I,” he protested.
“God’s blood, yet another secret. In all the time I’ve known you, I just thought you were devilishly lucky to always avoid danger and had an excellent sense of direction.”
“Bram, I don’t hear them all the time. Rarely, in fact—”
“Christ, he’s one of us,” Alex said.
“Makes sense, really,” Ellen said with a smile. “We’ve always known he was special.”
And just like that, one of them had humbled him again. He’d not told them so many things about his life, and still they would accept and forgive him. Perhaps it would take a while with Bram, however. He was glaring at Mungo.
“I find I quite like the fact you are like us,” Alex said.
“I’m not. ’Tis minor in comparison,” he assured them. “And now is not the time to discuss this further.”
They all nodded their agreement and moved on. But Mungo felt Eliza’s eyes on him. He resisted the urge to look at her.
“It’s down there,” she said seconds later, pointing a gloved finger to the right where a narrow lane started.
Scars lay under that glove. Mungo would need to speak with Mr. Greedy about them. He may have a salve to stop the pain.
“Right then, let’s take tea,” Alex said, chewing a piece of toffee.
The tea shop sign swung in the wind, the painted teapot on it chipped, the lettering faded almost into illegibility.
“I think Miss Downing needs to speak to the Holton Agency people, and we will take tea,” Bram said. “You lot”—he waved at his niece and nephews—“see what you can pick up. Come, Calder.”
“I’ll be Polly Watts’s brother,” Gray said.
“I say, that’s an excellent idea,” Leo agreed.
“I’m full of them,” Gray drawled. “It comes with being a detective.”
“You’re too posh to be her brother,” Mungo said. “I’ll go as her friend.”