The Royal Sorceress (26 page)

He entered Lucy’s brothel through the back window and walked into the lounge. Lucy was waiting for him – she never slept, as far as he could tell – a grim look in her eyes. Jack braced himself for the lecture he knew was coming. She never hesitated to tell him when she thought that he was being a fool.

“You were out there doing something stupid,” she said. She’d exploded in rage when she’d heard what Jack had done at Fairweather Hall. It would only provoke the high and mighty, she’d objected. That had been the point, Jack knew, but he’d kept that thought to himself. Lucy in a rage was more fearsome than much else. Any woman who could make her own way in a man’s world was formidable. “How many did you kill this time?”

“None,” Jack assured her. The bravo might not have survived his beating – particularly if one of his other victims took the opportunity to slit his throat – but he decided not to mention him. Lucy would not have seen the funny side. Starting a vendetta with the street gangs would only render their position insecure. “I watched Cavendish Hall and I located the farm.”

“Nicola will be glad to hear that,” Lucy said, coldly. She knew that he was hiding something, all right. “And do you think you can take the place?”

“Not at once,” Jack said. He finished removing his cloak and hung it neatly on a stand. Lucy would have told him off for leaving it anywhere else. “There are too many magicians on guard, even though they think that no one knows where it is.”

He remembered Lord Fitzroy and smiled, darkly. High Society would have crucified him – perhaps literally – if they’d discovered the true nature of his crimes. What would they do, he wondered, if they learned the truth behind the farm? All the little uncertainties and fears surrounding magic would explode at once. And then...who knew? It would present all manner of opportunities for the underground.

“They’ll be suspicious,” Lucy reminded him. “Master Thomas knows that you know, doesn’t he?”

Jack nodded, without speaking. That was not a memory he wanted to recall.

“Get some sleep,” Lucy ordered, standing up. “You’re going to need to be rested when you crash the party.”

“That’s two days away,” Jack said, but he obeyed. Lucy was right about the need for rest, even if he hadn’t fought his way through a group of sorcerers. If Master Thomas attended the birthday dinner, he’d have sorcerers backing him up. The handful of magicians with reliable precognition – insofar as precognition could be considered reliable – might have warned him about Jack’s plans. “You get some sleep too. I’ll see you in the evening.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

G
wen,” a voice called. “How lovely to see you again.”

Gwen smiled as she clambered out of the carriage and up to the speaker. Laura Crichton was a short, rather plump girl with extensive family connections. Gwen’s father had arranged the match, but rather to everyone’s surprise it had worked out remarkably well. David – a rather stuffy person at the best of times – occasionally needed someone to prick his pomposity and Laura never took anything too seriously. Gwen rather liked her, even though they hadn’t had much time together since she’d married Gwen’s brother.

“And you,” Gwen said. Laura had been the closest thing she had to a real friend. They exchanged hugs as the carriage rattled away, to the back of the house where the coachmen would wait until they were summoned. “I trust that you have been taking care of my brother?”

Laura winked at her as she led Gwen into the gardens. “I’ve been doing more than that,” she said. She rubbed her abdomen meaningfully. “I think you may expect a newcomer to the family in the next five months.”

Gwen stared at her. “You’re pregnant?”

“Of course,” Laura agreed. She winked, again. “Your brother is quite enthusiastic between the sheets.”

Gwen blushed, bright red. She wasn’t ignorant, but she didn’t know everything about sex; it wasn’t a proper subject for young ladies. The textbooks she’d read over the years concealed and obfuscated rather than revealed, something that puzzled her. There were nurses and midwives working for a living; how were they meant to learn when their textbooks were actively misleading? And some of the misinformation had been easy to disprove. She’d only had to take a look in the mirror.

“Believe me, he is,” Laura said. Gwen’s blush deepened. Her mind refused to imagine her brother copulating, let alone her parents. There were some things that just couldn’t be thought about, at least not by her. Gwen’s parents had had their children, no doubt, by some neat method that didn’t involve bodily contact. “And he was looking forward to seeing you.”

Gwen shrugged. David had always been good to her, even if he had been dreadfully stuffy and reserved. He meant well, she knew, but she’d always found his lectures rather trying. Laura kept hold of her hand as they rounded the house and entered the gardens. A dozen tables had been placed on the grass. A number of people moving between them chatting to their fellow guests – and the birthday boy. Gwen’s smile deepened at the thought of David being called a boy. He was in his early thirties, old enough to have a household and career of his own. His path, she’d been led to understand, had already been mapped out for him. David would probably never rise to become Prime Minister, but it was quite possible that when he left the business world, he would find a seat in Parliament or even on the Cabinet.

She found herself attracting more than a few looks from the guests. In deference to her brother, she hadn’t worn the black dress that Master Thomas had had produced for her. Instead, she wore a simple green dress that had been cunningly tailored to allow her legs to move without constraint – and, if necessary, to allow her to rip the skirt free and move in her underclothes. It would cause comment – even if her underclothes would have served as perfectly decent clothing for someone from the lower orders – but at least she would be able to fight. No one had seen anything of the rogue Master since the attack on Fairweather Hall, yet everyone knew that he was still out there. God alone knew what he was thinking, or planning.

David Crichton, in Gwen’s sisterly perception, had been born old. She couldn’t remember a time when he had played in the mud with her, or chased her around the gardens when they’d both been younger – although, to be fair, there was fourteen years between them. He was as tall as Gwen, with short blonde hair and a plain but not unhandsome face. Gwen noted, as he gave her a restrained hug, that he looked older than she remembered. It was all she could do not to check his head for signs of grey hair. But then, like their father, he would probably age well.

“Gwen,” he said, quietly enough so that the other guests couldn’t hear. “Thank you for coming.”

Gwen smiled, feeling oddly relieved. High Society wouldn’t have known what to make of a female magician – even though common sense told her that there would be a great many women with magician talents. And a woman who would find herself holding the most important magical position in the land...? They’d be torn between trying to ingratiate themselves with her and expressing their disapproval by shunning her. David wouldn’t let them get away with that at his own birthday party, at least. She
was
his sister, even though convention insisted that she should be married off by now and producing children. Girls always married sooner than boys.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she whispered, herself. “I heard about you and Laura...”

David seemed to stiffen, just slightly. He was still the same stuffy prude that Gwen remembered, even if he was a decent man under his demeanour. “We’re going to announce it today,” he said. “Laura just didn’t want you and mother to be surprised.”

“Gwen,” a new voice said. Gwen didn’t need to turn to recognise it as Lady Mary, their mother. Her mother’s voice had been ingrained in her ever since she was born, since not an hour would go by without Lady Mary trying to turn her into a proper young lady. “I’m so glad you came.”

Gwen exchanged a last look with David and allowed her mother to haul her through the crowd and up towards the house. David had bought a mansion on the southern side of London for his wife, although Gwen had heard that he also had a flat in Pall Mall to conduct his business affairs while in London proper. Even for an aristocrat, London tended to be difficult to navigate early in the morning. It was a fine house, even though Gwen had heard that it had a bad reputation. The previous owner had lost most of his fortune in a disastrous investment in the South Seas and had had to sell it to recoup most of his losses, before winding up in debtor’s prison. It was a chilling reminder that failure could come to anyone, even an English aristocrat.

Lady Mary was wearing a frilly pink dress that made her – in Gwen’s private thoughts – look rather upsetting. As the mother of the birthday boy, she was second only to Laura, but she’d dressed to attract attention. Gwen had never had any time for the social circle that her mother effortlessly dominated, regarding it as rather silly, the worst display of foolish females in the country. It had often struck her that women would get more respect – and opportunities – from the men if so many women didn’t waste their lives on the social whirl. Lady Mary had a fine mind, when she chose to use it, but she preferred to use her position and knowledge as a weapon. Gwen had no intention of ever becoming like her.

“Gwen,” she said, as soon as they were inside. “I trust that you have managed to find yourself a husband?”

Gwen gaped at her, openly surprised. Her mother had to know that she hadn’t found anyone – and wasn’t even looking. Sure, she’d taken Bruno Lombardi to the ball, but that didn’t signify that they were going to get married. Besides, Lombardi had been lucky enough to meet a girl who might even make him happy. Gwen was hardly going to stand in his way, not when they hadn’t had anything, but friendship – insofar as a boy and girl could be friends.

“You’re alone in a house of male magicians,” Lady Mary said. “Do you not see your opportunity?”

For a moment, Gwen couldn’t understand a word that she’d said. Alone in a house of male magicians...what in the world did she mean? And then it struck her. Master Thomas, as far as Gwen knew, was unmarried – and probably the most eligible man in the city. Did her mother expect her to try to seduce a man old enough to be her grandfather? Or, perhaps, what about the younger magicians? Lord Blackburn wasn’t married. The nasty part of Gwen’s mind had wondered if anyone would want to put up with him, if they knew what he was like. Her mother couldn’t expect her to marry one of them, could she?

“Mother –”

“Gwen,” Lady Mary interrupted, talking over her daughter, “I have agreed to allow you to study and learn magic. I have even agreed to allow you to live at Cavendish Hall.”

Gwen scowled at her. It had been her father who had agreed to allow her to study magic – and he’d been under immense pressure from some of the most powerful men in the realm. The decision hadn’t been taken by Lady Mary – and, as a wife and mother, she would have had little say in it anyway, at least officially. A wise husband would learn to listen to his wife, if only to ensure peace and harmony at home. And her mother, whatever her faults, was very strong-willed. If only she had spent her time storming the bastions of male supremacy rather than carving out an empire of foolish females for herself.

“I have agreed to that against my better judgement, for society
judges
,” Lady Mary continued. “It is not
decent
for a young woman to live on her own among men. It is not
right
.”

“Mother,” Gwen said, as patiently as she could, “there are plenty of young girls my age who go to finishing schools in Switzerland where their brains are turned to mush. How exactly am I any different?”

She knew what her mother would say before she opened her mouth. “Those girls are chaperoned by their teachers – and they are not alone. You are alone in a household of men.”

“Men who know better than to try to lure me into their rooms,” Gwen snapped. Her mother always brought out the worst in her. “And there are female maids and servants and –”

Lady Mary snorted. “Servants cannot be relied upon to guard a young girl’s reputation,” she said, sharply. “You need to start looking for a husband. I have a list of suitable young men –”

Gwen felt her temper flare. “I am not interested in marrying anyone,” she said. Anger burned through her voice, threatening her stability. She felt magic flickering into life behind her eyes. It wanted out; it wanted to be discharged. Somehow, Gwen kept it under control. The last thing she wanted to do was lash out at her own mother.

“There is no one who would be interested in me –”

“You are a magician and of good birth,” Lady Mary said.
That
was absurd. Being a magician, even an untrained one, had ruined her prospects long before Master Thomas had invited her to train under him. “I have no doubt that you would find a partner...”

There was a cough from behind her. Lady Mary spun around to see a young girl, wearing a maid’s uniform. The maid, looking embarrassed to have stumbled into an argument between two of the guests, curtseyed. “Begging your pardon, madam, but the dinner is about to commence,” she said. “The master would be pleased to see you in the garden.”

“Thank you,” Gwen said, before her mother could launch into a furious tirade at the poor maid. She’d never beaten Gwen – or David, as far as Gwen knew, even though the rules for bringing up young men were different from those for young women – but Gwen knew that she had beaten a number of maids over the years. It was the same casual unconcern for the lower orders that Lord Blackburn and his fellow Darwinists shared. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

The maid bowed and vanished. “Come on, mother,” Gwen said. “The master of the house has called us to dine.”

Lady Mary scowled at her and then smoothed out her face as they walked back out into the garden. It was just past noon, with the sun hanging high overhead; Gwen could have almost convinced herself that they were in the midst of the country, rather than on the edge of London. Bees and birds flew through the air, searching for pollen and prey; in the distance, she could see the smog that hung over London. She didn’t care what the factory owners claimed. Something that smelled so bad couldn’t be harmless to the poor humans trapped underneath.