The Faerie Ring (6 page)

Leo pulled Diablo to a stop as he contemplated the idea. The horse’s sides heaved from exertion, steam rising from the beast in the crisp morning air, and Leo realized he had run the animal hard. An unusually strong blast of wind whipped his hair from his forehead, and Leo urged his mount forward at a slower pace, casting a wary eye at the black sky overhead. The storm was moving in quickly. He walked the horse along the lake within St. James’s Park to cool him down and mulled over the idea of Arthur’s involvement. The more he thought about it, the more he became certain that his brother was at the bottom of the mystery.

Damn him, anyway! Their annual trip to Balmoral was fast approaching, and he didn’t want to be delayed by this foolishness of the ring’s disappearance. At the same time, the sudden loss of the stone made him uneasy. What if there was something to the curse? Just as Mamie had predicted, one of their prized polo horses had gone lame this morning for no apparent reason. Perhaps it was a warning. Leo shook his head in exasperation. The ring needed to be found so he could leave without worry.

A sudden movement to the right caught his eye. It was a bit late for hare, but the moving shadow could have been a winter fox. He pulled Diablo up, peering into the brush. Something was amiss in the thicket at the bottom of an elm tree. With a start he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him.

“Come out of there at once,” Leo commanded. He spoke more harshly than he intended, in an attempt to disguise how unsettled he felt at someone lurking among the trees.

For a moment, the eyes didn’t move. Then, in a burst of energy, a small body came boiling out of the brush and ran in the opposite direction. Leo reacted by instinct. He kicked Diablo into a run, his eyes never leaving his prey.

The big horse broke into a gallop, and Leo leaned over in his saddle to grab the dirty vagrant by the scruff of the neck. After pulling his horse up, he slid ungracefully off the wrong side of the beast, still holding his struggling captive.

“Stop kicking and I’ll set you down.” Cautiously, he set his prisoner down, realizing as he did how small the boy was. “Now turn around and tell me what you’re doing here.”

The boy stood frozen for a moment, back stiff and straight; then, as if realizing there was no escape, the captive turned around.

“I do apologize, sir. I thought I was on the grounds of St. James’ Park. Tell me, have I mistakenly traveled onto Queen’s property here?” The boy spoke with surprisingly good diction.

“No, you’re correct. You’re in St. James’ Park. But why were you hiding in the brush?” Leo’s eyes narrowed as a flash of red caught his eye. “What’ve you got there?” He dropped Diablo’s reins and took a cautious step closer.

The boy clapped his hands together and held his palms up, his scrawny wrists exposed from his oversize jacket as he wiggled his fingers. “Nothing, sir.”

A strange black mark encircled the boy’s wrist, reminding Leo of new leaves on a vine, just waiting to unfurl. “What is that mark on your arm?” He grabbed the boy’s wrist and held it up to see better. “Are you a Gypsy?”

Quick as a wink, the boy jerked his slim arm free and stepped back, yanking his sleeve down. “Why do you ask?”

Leo eyed the dirty face shadowed by a battered cap. He tried to put his finger on what it was that bothered him beyond the tattered clothing and worn boots. A wild idea crossed his mind, and he gestured at the boy. “Empty out your pockets.”

For a second the boy stood frozen, surprise etched on his face. Then, without warning, he sprang toward Diablo with a wild cry, waving his arms and yelling. Leo jumped, as surprised as his horse. He jerked around and watched as his frightened beast shied, then bolted.

Outraged, Leo spun back around, but the boy had disappeared.

Chapter Six

T
IKI’S
lungs burned as she neared Mr. Lloyd’s shop, the ring heavy in her pocket. That had been a narrow escape. What would the prince have done if he’d found the ring in her possession? An image of a dank cell complete with the sound of rats scurrying underfoot clouded her vision, causing her to stumble.

Why had she felt compelled to check on the ring? She needed to focus on helping Clara get well. It was painful to listen to the little girl’s hacking cough.

Tiki wiped her wet hair out of her face as she pushed her way into the shop, her boots loud on the wooden floor. Overhead, drying herbs hung in clumps from the wooden beams in the ceiling, casting a rich fragrance through the room. The combined scent of herbs and medicines that filled the air made her want to sneeze.

Mr. Lloyd, the apothecary, stood behind a wooden counter with glass panes that displayed a dizzying array of bottles. He was a thin, angular man with short, greasy black hair. His black mustache was just as thin as he was, little more than a black line painted above his lips. A pair of silver glasses perched on his hooked nose gave him the appearance of an emaciated owl.

At the sound of the door opening, he turned from where he was arranging herbs on a rack and looked Tiki up and down. “What’s your business?”

Tiki stepped up to the counter, pulling several coins from her pocket and jingling them in her hand. His eyes stopped on the coins long enough to see their color.

“I need something for a cough.” Tiki’s sides still heaved from her exertion. “For a child.”

On the wall behind the druggist, shelf upon shelf held bottles of different colors. The blue green glass marked the poison, while the brown and clear glass bottles held liquids of different colors. Other items were lined up on the shelves: tins, jars, pitchers, bowls, and a multitude of canisters.

“A cough, you say?” Mr. Lloyd adjusted his glasses to peer over the counter at her. “How old is the child?”

“She’s four.” Tiki adjusted her cap. “And small for her age.”

“Any red bumps or blisters?”

She shook her head, thankful Clara hadn’t shown any signs of the pox.

“Hmmm. Sounds like croup.” Mr. Lloyd rolled up his sleeves before plucking several bottles from the shelf. He slid them into the pockets of the great white apron he wore. “Does she have a fever?” he asked over his shoulder. He moved over to another counter, where he pulled the bottles from his apron and lined them up.

“No.” Tiki watched as he mixed yellow leaves with a white powder and ground the mixture together in a small bowl. Then he poured in a red liquid that had a rich, pungent odor, reminding Tiki of fruit that had gone bad. After a moment, he poured the now orange concoction into a small brown jar and pushed a cork into the top.

“That’ll be one shilling.”

Tiki handed over a silver coin.

Mr. Lloyd leaned over the counter and adjusted his glasses as he handed her the bottle. “Give her a spoonful of this three times a day.”

“What should I do if she gets a fever?”

The man unrolled his sleeves and then took the coin she offered. “St. Bart’s will take emergency cases, but that’s only if you can get in. Long lines up there.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “And there’s the Great Ormond Street Hospital up in Bloomsbury. They only take care of children.” He flipped the silver coin in the air. “But if I were you, I’d pray she don’t get one.” He grimaced and drew a finger across his neck in a slicing motion.

Tiki gripped the bottle as she left the apothecary’s shop and slid it into the same pocket which held the ring. The worn fabric felt warm to her touch, almost as if the flames embedded in the stone had infused her pocket with an unusual heat. But she didn’t dare keep the thing. Her brush with Prince Leo had almost been disaster. Better to return the ring to the elm tree for safekeeping until she could figure out a plan to sell it.

The park was sparsely populated when she arrived, the cold weather keeping most people indoors. She was pleased to find the area around the elm tree vacant and she scrambled into the tree unseen. When it came time to shove the ring back into the hole, she hesitated, toying once again with the idea of keeping it with her. The flames seemed to flicker, as if sending her a secret message, and she stared, mesmerized, into the heart of the stone for a long moment.

But in the end, common sense won out and she carefully covered the dirty scrap of cloth that held the beautiful stone with moss until the tiny package was impossible to detect. Still shaken by her close call with Prince Leo earlier, Tiki didn’t linger. She shot a quick glance around the park, then jumped from the branch and ran for home.

The sun was on the wane as Tiki neared Charing Cross. Rather than walk through the middle of the station and possibly catch the eye of a bobby, she cut through the alley that ran alongside the station. There was a door there that led to the maintenance tunnels for the building. From the tunnels a sliding panel provided the back door to their small home.

Her nerves were so ragged from her encounter with both Rieker and the prince that she was jumping at shadows. All the way home she’d imagined that she was being followed. She saw shadowy faces, but when she looked again, they’d be gone. Tiki shook her head and shuddered. Maybe it was just guilt over stealing the ring.

“Are you cold, Tiki?”

“No, Fi, I’m just tired. I ended up walking a long way today and my feet hurt.” Tiki shrugged her coat off as she moved toward Fiona, who sat on the floor near the stove at the back of the room.

Fiona adjusted the blanket that was wrapped around her shoulders. “Well, I’m cold. It’s freezing in here today. Shamus went out to try and snitch some coal.” She pulled her makeshift wrap tighter across her chest. “I hope he finds some.”

Tiki spied Clara huddled in some blankets next to Fiona.

“Is she sleeping?” Clara’s hoarse breathing was clearly audible.

Fiona nodded. She glanced down and smoothed the white blond curls from the little girl’s face. “Her cough is gettin’ worse again.”

“She sounds like she can’t breathe.” Toots was perched in his usual spot, spying through a knothole onto one of the thoroughfares of the train station.

Fiona adjusted the blankets around Clara. “Did you get something for her?”

Tiki tried to push away the panic that threatened to engulf her. She dug into the pockets of her coat and pulled out a small bottle. “Mr. Lloyd gave me this. We’re supposed to give her a spoonful three times a day.”

“Do we have a spoon?”

Tiki cradled the small girl in her arms. “No, but she can just take a sip out of the bottle.” She gave Clara a gentle shake. “Clara? Wake up.”

Clara opened her eyes. “Teek, you’re home.” Her words ended in a gurgling cough. “I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

“No, you’ve been sleeping again,” Toots said from his perch by the peephole.

“Have not.” Clara pushed herself upright to glare across the room at Toots.

“Shhh.” Tiki held a finger to her lips, motioning for Toots to be quiet. His orange mop of hair looked bright even in the shadows. “Stop it. Clara, I need you to take a sip of this. It should help your cough.”

Clara eyed the brown bottle. “What is it?”

“It’s medicine. Now be a good girl and take a drink.”

The little girl took a sip and made a face. Her shoulders shook as she slipped into a spasm of coughing.

“Did you swallow it?”

Clara nodded.

“Good.” Tiki tightened her grip on the frail little girl and held her close for a minute. She would give up the ring in a second if it would buy the four-year-old’s well-being. But that was the whole problem—it took money to buy good health, to get the proper medicines to cure an ailment. And the ring was their only hope of getting enough money to afford a home of their own someday.

“Will you tell us another story, Tiki?” Clara gave Tiki a hopeful look. “One of those stories your mum used to tell you.”

“Yeah, I’d like to hear a story, too.” Toots moved away from the wall and came to sit closer to Tiki and the girls. “Tell us the one about the faerie who captured that soldier.”

“Yes, please.” Fiona looked up at her expectantly.

“All right,” Tiki said. A story might be a good way to get her mind off the ring and Rieker. “He wasn’t a soldier. He was the grandson of the Earl of Roxburgh, and it begins like this.” Tiki affected a thick Scottish brogue.

“Oh, heed my warning, maidens all,

Who wear gold in yer hair.

Keep well away frae Cauterhaugh,

For young Tam Lin is there.”

Clara giggled at her accent. “You sound funny, Tiki.”

“Aye, it’s because I’m Scottish, young lass.” Tiki smiled at the little girl as she launched into the story. “Even though she had been warned, a young maiden named Janet went into Cauterhaugh Wood to pick the wild roses near a certain well. No sooner had she plucked the first stem when a young man named Tam Lin appeared. He asked her why she had taken something from Cauterhaugh without his command. Janet explained that her father owned the wood and had given it to her.”

Tiki pulled a blanket closer around Clara’s shoulders.

“Well, this young man was very handsome, and Janet spent the day with him, dallying in the sunshine. It was near twilight when her lover suddenly disappeared, and Janet feared that he was a faerie. But even so, when she left that day, she was sure she was in love.”

“A faerie?” Clara squeaked.

Tiki nodded. “It wasn’t long after she returned home that Janet’s father noticed that she was going to have a baby. When he asked Janet about the father, she told him that he was a faerie and they were in love.”

“Can faeries and humans fall in love?” Clara asked.

“Shhh,” Fiona said. “Listen to the story.”

“Well,” Tiki continued, “Janet returned to Cauterhaugh Wood and went straight to the well, where she pulled an herb that grew there. Immediately Tam Lin appeared. Janet was desperate to find a way to stay with her love. So she said to him: