“And unlike so many of the charlatans and frauds who pursue careers giving demonstrations, your mother and grandmother were the genuine articles. They really could work crystal.”
“When I turned thirteen, my own abilities began to manifest themselves. It became apparent that I, too, had a talent for working crystals. Mother and Grandmother taught me the fine points of the business.”
“Were your mother and grandmother members of the Arcane Society?” Thaddeus asked.
“No.” She paused, choosing her words with some care. “They were aware of the Society, but neither of them ever applied for membership.”
“Why not?”
“I suppose they simply never saw any point to it,” she said smoothly. “The Society has always frowned upon their kind of talent.”
“That attitude, I fear, is derived from an old legend within the Society.”
“The legend of Sybil the Sorceress. Yes, I know.”
“Actually, she is better known within the Society as Sybil the Virgin Sorceress.”
She raised her brows. “Surely the status of her virtue is a minor point after all these years.”
He smiled faintly. “It wasn’t to Sylvester Jones, the founder of the Society. Evidently she refused his advances.”
“Who can blame her? By all accounts he was not what any woman would deem a romantic man.”
“Can’t argue with you there,” Thaddeus agreed dryly. “I do understand why your mother and grandmother were reluctant to get involved with the Society. Unfortunately, the organization has always been overly keen on tradition and legend.”
“Yes, well, my mother and grandmother were not.”
“How did they acquire the stone?”
“My mother found it when she was a young woman.”
“She found it?” Thaddeus repeated a little too neutrally.
She gave him a steely smile. “That’s right.”
“Just lying about on the ground somewhere?”
“No, it was lying about in a dusty antiquities shop, I believe.”
“Something tells me there is more to the story.”
“If there is, my mother never told me. She said she went past a shop one day and felt a disturbing tingle of awareness. When she went inside she saw the stone. She recognized it instantly.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Please continue.”
She gathered her thoughts again. “Things went quite well for the three of us for some time. Then Grandmother died. Two years later, the summer I turned sixteen, my mother was killed in a carriage accident.”
“My condolences,” he said gently.
She managed an austere little inclination of her head. “Thank you.” Her hand stilled on Fog, who pressed closer to her. “She was being driven back to a railway station after visiting a wealthy, reclusive client. There was a storm. The vehicle went over a cliff into a river. My mother was trapped in the cab and was drowned.”
“A terrible thing.”
“She had the aurora stone with her at the time. The client had insisted that she use it, in particular, when she consulted for him.”
Thaddeus’s expression sharpened almost imperceptibly. “That was the day the stone disappeared?”
“Yes. I’m certain the thief assumed that anyone who was interested in the stone would conclude that it was lost in the river. But I did not believe that for a moment.”
“You think that your mother’s client arranged the accident to cover the theft of the crystal?”
“That was my conclusion at the time. I knew he was a member of the Arcane Society, you see. That was all the proof I needed. Only a member of the Society would be aware of the crystal and its power.”
“What was the name of your mother’s client?”
“Lord Rufford.” She drew a deep breath. “I was convinced he had the stone in his possession. I determined to search his household. So I applied for a post as a maid.”
For the first time Thaddeus looked nonplussed. “Good lord, woman, you took employment in the house of the man you thought had murdered your mother? Of all the idiotic—” He broke off, jaw hardening. “But I suppose it was no more of a risk than going into Delbridge’s house dressed as one of his servants.”
“Easier, actually. The turnover in servants being what it is, especially at the entry-level positions, I had no difficulty obtaining a position as a maid-of-all-work. As you know, it is the lowest position on any household staff.”
“It cannot have been easy.”
“It wasn’t. But it gave me an excuse to be found anywhere in the house. I spent several days emptying chamber pots and scrubbing floors. But it proved fruitless. I picked up no trace of the stone.”
“I take it you were never discovered?” Thaddeus asked.
“No. Rufford was a very old, very ill gentleman. He died shortly after I left his employ. In the end I was forced to conclude that someone else had arranged the carriage accident.”
“Someone who knew that your mother had an appointment with Rufford and decided that that would be an ideal opportunity to get rid of her and steal the stone.”
“Yes. I was unable to pursue my quest for the crystal for some time after that because I soon found myself penniless.”
“Didn’t you take on your mother’s clients?”
“People, it turns out, are quite reluctant to consult a young woman of sixteen years on matters of a very personal nature such as their dreams.”
“I see.”
She straightened her shoulders and concentrated on her tale. “By the time I had buried my mother and completed my useless investigation of Lord Rufford, I discovered I had no clients left. In addition, the unscrupulous funeral director managed to erase most of what money my mother had left to me. The man cheated me, but there was no way I could prove it.”
He went very still, watching her with an unreadable expression. “You must have been quite desperate.”
“I was.” She looked past him out the window. “The world makes it so difficult for a female to enter a respectable profession, and then everyone wonders why so many women end up on the street.”
“I assure you, there is no need to lecture me on the subject. The women in my family hold forth on that subject on a regular basis.”
“I was contemplating going into service for real when Uncle Edward showed up.”
“Who is Uncle Edward?”
“My only remaining close relative. He was from my mother’s side of the family. He was traveling in America at the time of her death. I did not know where he was, so I could not write or send him a telegram to inform him of what had happened. But he returned to England a couple of months later and came to see me immediately. He took in my financial circumstances at once and invited me to live with him.”
“Did your uncle know about the aurora stone?”
“Of course. I thought I made it clear. The stone has been in my family for generations.”
“Except when it isn’t,” Thaddeus said in his maddeningly neutral way.
She shot him a withering glare. He did not appear to notice.
“Tell me about your uncle,” he said.
She stifled a small sigh and continued her story. “To be honest, I did not know him well at that time. I had seen very little of him growing up. He rarely came to visit. I knew that my mother and grandmother were fond of him but they did not entirely approve of him.”
“Why was that?”
“Among other things, he was an actor. He was always on the road, either here or in America. In addition, he had a certain reputation with women. Although, to be fair, from what I observed, he did not have to work very hard attracting female attention. He is a distinguished-looking and extremely charming man. Women are drawn to him like bees to honey.”
“Did he treat you well?”
“Oh, yes.” She smiled a little. “In his own way, he is quite fond of me.”
“If that is the case, where is he now?”
She looked down
at Fog. “He is traveling in America again.”
“Where in America?”
She buried her fingers in Fog’s fur. “I don’t know.”
“Your uncle took off for America and left you on your own?”
She frowned. “It is not as if I am still sixteen. I am quite able to take care of myself these days.”
“When did he leave this last time?”
She hesitated. “About two years ago.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“I received a telegram from a policeman in San Francisco informing me that Uncle Edward had died in a hotel fire. That was about eighteen months ago.”
There was a long silence from Thaddeus. When she looked at him she discovered that he was watching her with a thoughtful look.
“You don’t believe that he’s dead,” he said.
“Perhaps it is just that I do not want to believe it. Uncle Edward is my only remaining relative. It is difficult to imagine having no family left at all.”
“I understand. Tell me about life with Uncle Edward.”
“Is it really important to your investigation?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But as I said, I like information; the more the better.”
“It is a somewhat complicated story,” she said.
“I’m listening.”
“My uncle was aware that I had inherited my mother’s talent for reading crystals. He suggested we go into the family business together, with him acting as my manager.”
“How did he get around the fact that clients were reluctant to trust such a young person?”
“As I mentioned, Uncle Edward had some experience in the theater. He came up with the notion of dressing me as a stylish widow, complete with a heavy veil. Clients took me for a much older, more mature woman. They also liked the added air of mystery that the costume gave me.”
Thaddeus looked amused. “Your uncle knew what he was about.”
“Yes. It was so effective that I continued to wear widow’s weeds even after I was in my twenties.”
“Business went well?”
“Oh, yes, for several years we did quite nicely.” She paused. “Until Uncle Edward came up with his investment scheme, that is.”
Thaddeus narrowed his eyes very slightly. “Investment scheme?”
“You must believe me when I say that my uncle sincerely believed that there were fortunes to be made in the American West, especially in mining.”
“Mining,” Thaddeus repeated.
She could not tell what he was thinking so she hurried on. “Uncle Edward had ample opportunity to converse with my clients because he arranged all the appointments. He mentioned his conviction that a certain mining project in the Wild West promised great profits. The next thing we knew, several gentlemen insisted upon giving him money to invest in the venture.”
Thaddeus’s mouth twitched and then kicked up at the corner. “And two years ago good old Uncle Edward sailed for America with a few hundred thousand pounds of your clients’ money and has not been heard from since.”
She stiffened. “I’m sure he will come back with the profits one of these days.”
His smile widened. “You’re Edward Pipewell’s niece.”
She raised her chin proudly. “Yes, I am.”
Thaddeus’s eyes were gleaming with laughter now. “The woman who helped Dr. Pipewell fleece some of the wealthiest men in the Arcane Society.”
“My uncle did not steal their money,” she said, suddenly feeling quite fierce. “He put together an honest investment scheme. It is not his fault that things did not go well.”
But she was wasting her breath. The laughter was spilling out of Thaddeus now. He was laughing so hard he could not possibly have heard what she was saying. He roared with laughter, howled with it, doubled over with it.
Fog watched him curiously, head tilted slightly to the side. Leona sat very still, uncertain what to do.
The door of the library opened.
“What on earth is going on in here?” Victoria demanded.
Thaddeus pulled himself together with a visible effort. He gave Victoria his wolfish smile.
“Nothing important, Aunt Vicky,” he said. “Leona and I were just about to join you for breakfast.”
“Humph.” Victoria shot Leona a suspicious look before retreating back into the hall. The door closed with a distinctly disapproving little slam.
Leona looked at Thaddeus. “I will understand if you do not wish to continue an intimate liaison with Dr. Edward Pipewell’s niece.”
He rose from the desk, eyes still glinting with laughter. “Your connection to Pipewell is nothing to me. I didn’t lose any money on your uncle’s scheme.”
He reached down, pulled her up out of the chair and tipped up her chin.
“Thaddeus?”
“I can think of nothing more that I would rather do than continue our intimate liaison, Miss Hewitt.”
He kissed her with a thoroughness that ignited energy in the atmosphere around them. When he released her she had to grab hold of the edge of the desk to steady herself.
He smiled at her again, looking very satisfied. “I think it’s time we went into breakfast, don’t you?”
22
LEONA KNOCKED TENTATIVELY on the bedroomdoor.
"Is that you, Miss Hewitt?” Victoria called out in her brusque, no-nonsense tones. "You may enter.”
Reluctantly, Leona opened the door. She was not looking forward to this meeting. The summons had been issued after Thaddeus had left the house for what he had described as a short meeting with Caleb Jones. Leona had gone into the garden with Fog and her mother’s journal. She was sitting on a bench reading when Mary, the young maid-of-all-work, appeared.
“Lady Milden sent me to tell you that she wants to see you, ma’am.” Mary kept a wary eye on Fog, who was sniffing some foliage at the base of the garden wall. “In her bedroom, she says.”
It had been little short of a royal command.
Leona stood in the doorway and looked at Victoria, who was seated at a dainty little writing desk.
“You wished to speak with me?” Leona said politely.
“Yes. Stop dithering about out there in the hall. Come in and close the door.”
Feeling rather like one of the servants, Leona obeyed.
"I wish to speak with you on a personal matter,” Victoria announced.
Enough was enough, Leona thought. It had not been her idea, after all, to become a guest in this household.
“If this is about my association with Mr. Ware,” she said coolly, “I have no intention of discussing it with you.”
Victoria grimaced. “I have nothing to say on that subject. It is quite obvious that the two of you were meant to be lovers. This is another matter, entirely.”
“I see,” Leona said, utterly bewildered.
“I understand that you are something of an expert on dreams and insomnia.”
Leona thought about the light that had burned so late under Victoria’s door last night.
“I have a certain talent for dealing with the negative energy that can keep one from a restful slumber,” she allowed cautiously.
“Very well, I wish to engage your services.”
Leona swallowed. “Well—”
“Immediately.”
“Uh—”
“Is there a problem, Miss Hewitt?”
“Uh, no, no, there’s no problem,” Leona said quickly. “It is just that I was under the impression that you do not approve of me.”
“That is neither here nor there. For now, you may consider me a client.”
Leona contemplated the situation from every possible angle and saw no escape, at least none that did not involve waving a flag of cowardice. “You must control your audience. Never allow your audience to control you.”
“Very well,” she said in her most professional tone. “What seems to be the problem?”
Victoria rose. Her posture was as rigid as ever, but the
morning sun revealed the map of lines and creases on her face. When she moved to stand at the window, Leona sensed an aura of weariness about her.
“I have not had a good night’s rest since my husband died, Miss Hewitt. Whenever I turn down the lamps I lie awake, sometimes for hours. When I do sleep I am troubled by dark dreams.” She gripped a handful of curtains very tightly in one hand. “Sometimes I wake up in tears. Sometimes—”
“Yes?”
“Sometimes I think that I would rather not wake up at all,” Victoria whispered.
The pain and sadness in the complaint swept aside Leona’s irritation and wariness of the woman. In the blink of an eye Victoria was transformed into a client.
“I hear that from many of those who come to me,” Leona said quietly.
“You no doubt think me weak.”
“No,” Leona said.
“I am an old woman, Miss Hewitt. But I have had a good life. I have been exceptionally fortunate in my health and also in having a family that has provided me with a comfortable home in which to pass my remaining days. Why does sleep elude me? Why, when I do manage to close my eyes, must I endure such disturbing dreams?”
Leona tightened her grip on her mother’s journal. “All lives involve losses. The longer we live, the more losses we are obliged to endure. It is the way of the world.”
Victoria turned her head and looked at her for a long, considering moment. “I can see that you have already endured loss although you are not yet thirty.”
“Yes.”
Victoria turned back to the view of the garden. “The sum can be quite staggering when one adds up the numbers after so many years. I have outlived my parents, a brother, my dear husband, one of my daughters and the infant who died with her in childbed, and any number of friends.”
“My mother was convinced that it is the sheer accumulation of losses that destroys sleep in one’s later years. The weight of all that negative energy takes its toll. One must fight it with positive thoughts.”
“Positive thoughts?”
“Those of us who work crystal know the power of one’s thoughts. There is energy in them. Negative energy creates more of the same. Positive energy can counteract the negative. Tell me, madam, what do you think about when you lie awake at night?”