Chapter 9
Wherein an Encounter with a Cat Yields Limited Results; And a Magical Pocket Yields Results Which Are Unexpected …
The distance from Rose Cottage to Ablington’s railway station was but a short walk of one mile down quiet, winding country laneways.
Nevertheless, Mina couldn’t help but peer over her shoulder and around corners and into the deep green shadows as she and Christopher passed by towering yew hedgerows and thick copses of oak and elm and beech trees.
She wasn’t expecting the weaselly bespectacled gentleman, Cheavers, to jump out and accost her and Christopher, but it was always best to be on one’s guard.
Mina was also silently berating herself for not bringing her Parasol Academy umbrella along.
She could have used it to cloak her and Christopher in a shroud of invisibility, or briefly bamboozle the fellow with the Point-of-Confusion to give them a chance to escape.
At the very least, she could use it to fend off the man if he tried to grab her or Christopher.
One thing Mina had learned at the Academy was that one should never underestimate the power of a good umbrella thwacking.
Of course, she wasn’t completely defenseless.
Her trusty knife was strapped to her ankle, and at a pinch, she could always wield Christopher’s valise as a weapon.
She could also pack a decent punch when the occasion called for it.
But she’d rather not become caught up in a physical altercation.
Particularly not in front of Christopher. The boy was bound to be frightened.
They arrived in the main village without incident, but Mina, having had more time to ponder the situation, determined that it might be best to proceed with caution for the rest of the journey.
Instead of waiting on the platform for the London train—where they would be exposed like sitting ducks—she decided that it would be safer if they took cover beneath a large horse chestnut with low-hanging branches that wasn’t far from the railway station’s entrance.
There was no doubt in Mina’s mind that Sir Bedivere had employed a private detective.
Mr. Meecham, Christopher’s tutor, must have recalled enough about their brief encounter aboard the Valiant to rouse the baronet’s suspicions.
If this Cheavers character planned to visit the parish school later on in the day to look for Christopher, he might have stayed overnight at Ablington’s inn, which was at the opposite end of the village green and only a few hundred yards from the station.
At least Christopher won’t be at school today …
Mina shivered in the deep shade of the horse chestnut.
It had been a week since she’d taken Christopher and who knew how desperate Sir Bedivere had become in his quest to locate his ward.
She’d clearly been naive to think the baronet wouldn’t look for the boy.
Although, if it were discovered that Christopher no longer resided with Sir Bedivere, the baronet’s access to the Fitzwilliam fortune would be curtailed.
Such were the terms of the guardianship.
But in order for Sir Bedivere to conduct his ambitious expedition—to navigate the Northwest Passage or anywhere at all—he needed that fortune.
So really, it made sense that the baronet would want the search for Christopher to be conducted discreetly. He certainly couldn’t afford a scandal.
Yes, Mina was relatively confident that Sir Bedivere wouldn’t go to Scotland Yard and create a hullabaloo. He’d continue to use private investigators. Mina just had to be careful to avoid them.
Mina glanced at the front of the railway station.
According to the clock above the arched brick entrance, it was ten minutes to nine.
She needed to purchase tickets for the journey, but she would only do so at the last possible minute.
A handful of villagers were already making their way into the station; she recognized many of them and of those she didn’t, none fitted Cheavers’s description.
That didn’t mean the stranger wasn’t lurking about somewhere.
It was almost as though she could sense him nearby. Waiting. Watching …
Mina began to feel as twitchy as a cat on a hot griddle. Perhaps she could reason with Christopher that it was too dangerous to catch the train and they should teleport to London after all.
At that moment, a large gray tabby—Mr. Quigley, the stationmaster’s cat to be precise—appeared on a low stone wall not far from the horse chestnut.
Mina knew from experience that he was a most aloof creature and may or may not deign to talk to her.
But she would try. Perhaps he’d noticed the stranger.
If the coast was clear, she’d venture onto the platform.
Good morning, Mr. Quigley, she offered in a friendly manner. I haven’t seen you for a while. I trust you are well.
The tabby regarded Mina with his usual superior air. Do I know you? he asked, his green-gold eyes glowing. And there’s no need to stare. One would think you’d never seen a cat before.
None quite so handsome as you, Mr. Quigley, replied Mina. And I’m surprised you don’t remember me. Miss Hermina Davenport’s the name. I don’t expect you come across many individuals in Ablington who can communicate with you by thought alone.
Humph. The cat’s tail twitched and his eyes narrowed.
As if a feline would want to communicate with most humans, Miss Davenport.
The majority are quite foolish. And annoying.
Always wanting to pat me. And it’s always “puss puss this” and “puss puss that” and “come here, kitty kitty.” He shivered dramatically.
I really wish they’d keep their hands and silly, infantilizing names to themselves.
Well, I promise I won’t ever try to pat you, unless you invite me to, said Mina soothingly.
And I wouldn’t dare call you puss or kitty.
Her gaze returned to the entrance of Ablington Station.
I say, you wouldn’t have happened to notice a bespectacled gentleman with graying hair and exceedingly bushy eyebrows and muttonchops on the platform this morning, would you?
No … Mr. Quigley’s tail began to swish back and forth and his ears flattened as he caught sight of a pigeon strutting past on the footpath. But I haven’t been there the entire time. This feline has better things to do than laze about, watching the comings and goings of strangers all day.
Of course, said Mina. I didn’t mean to imply you were lazy.
Perhaps sensing the cat’s predatory gaze, the pigeon suddenly took off, winging its way over the gabled roof of the station. The tabby stood and arched his back. Now look what you’ve done, he grumbled.
Mina rolled her eyes. She didn’t have the time or inclination to argue with the disgruntled cat.
Instead, she thanked Mr. Quigley for his time, took Christopher’s hand, then crossed the street to the station.
The train was due to arrive in five minutes and a small queue had already formed at the ticket counter.
Thankfully, there was no sign of anyone who matched the description of the man looking for Christopher.
Mina had just purchased two fares to London and had moved to the far end of the platform, when out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a middle-aged bespectacled gentleman. Cheavers? Her heart hurtling, Mina turned her head to get a better look at the chap and then she almost fainted.
Blast, bother, and oh, I wish I could utter something a lot stronger that begins with B!
It had to be Cheavers. The man was sporting the most fiercely bristling muttonchops and eyebrows Mina had ever seen in her life.
In fact, he looked like his cheeks and jaw were sprouting thick hedgehog prickles, and two fuzzy caterpillars shadowed his eyes.
In one gloved hand, he held a carpetbag, while his other hand delved into his waistcoat pocket to retrieve a pewter pocket watch.
But Mina didn’t wait to see what the man—he must be the private detective—would do next.
As quickly and quietly as she could, Mina ushered Christopher around the corner of the station house so they were out of sight.
At that moment, a train whistle—as shrill as a clarion call—sounded in the distance.
Darn. If Mina missed this train, there wouldn’t be another until mid-afternoon.
Which meant she’d be late to London and Lord Kinsale was expecting her by one o’clock.
She had to get to Kinsale House on time. She must not be late on her first day.
She thrust her hand into her uniform’s pocket. She couldn’t risk taking Christopher onto the same train as Cheavers. She really had no choice. Despite her charge’s reluctance to hop in a “magic cupboard” again, she was going to have to teleport them back to London.
Only … Mina frowned as she dug deeper into her gown’s pocket, all the way down to the very bottom. Where on earth was her leyport key? Whenever she needed it, it always, always manifested. But it wasn’t there. Her fingers closed around nothing. Nothing at all.
Fear clogged Mina’s throat. Did the Fae know what she’d done?
Had they somehow found out that she had broken the Academy’s rules and removed Christopher from the “care” of his guardian?
Was she being punished? But … but the child’s life would be endangered if this Cheavers took the young viscount back to Sir Bedivere.
Please, she whispered in her mind. Please, Good Queen Maeve. Please do not forsake the safety of this sweet boy. I promised his godmother I would protect him, no matter what.
And then, all at once, Mina felt something materialize in her palm. It wasn’t metallic like a leyport key. It was cold and cylindrical. A small bottle perhaps? And below the bottle she could feel her ley-spectacles.