Mirror, page 15
Artemis's father inclined his head in understanding. “And you would prefer it stay that way?”
Embarrassment colored her cheeks. “You must think me very weak.”
“No,” Artemis's father said quickly. “We all have things in our past that we would prefer to remain there.”
His gaze darted to Artemis briefly, and there was something peculiar in it. Was it guilt? It passed so quickly, she was unsure she’d even seen it.
“My family was quite ashamed of the whole episode, although not for the same reasons I was,” she confided. “Do you really think he … broke in here?”
“I think he was responsible.”
“What do you think he wanted?”
You.
“That’s difficult to say,” her father went on. “But I think you should stay close to home, just for a few days until we get this sorted. Merely as a precaution.”
“If it is Alain, he’s not in his right mind,” she said sadly. “I’d hate for any more harm to come to him.”
“I can speak with Sergeant Treadway,” he said, then added, seeing her alarm, “We are old friends. He will be discreet. But if your Monsieur Leroux is behind this, I would sleep better knowing he was away from you and being looked after properly.”
At the sentiment, the warmth of gratitude infused her features so profoundly that it struck Artemis. Was she, this lovely woman, so in need of kindness and concern that she practically glowed when a relative stranger offered them? And then she realized that this sort of concern and assurance, the very thing she needed, was something Lady Quill would probably never receive from her husband, so it was greedily taken wherever it was found. The thought brought a surge of pity and compassion. She wasn’t sure what had been more tragic, her broken engagement to Leroux or her marriage to Lord Quill.
“That’s very kind of you, Doctor.”
Her father inclined his head then placed his hands on his thighs and leaned forward in that universal signal that things were winding down.
“I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, Lady Quill.” As he stood, she and Artemis did so as well. “If you think of anything else, please let me know.”
She escorted them to the door.
“And try not to worry,” Artemis added as they reached the hall. “I’m sure everything will work out.”
Lady Quill’s expression was hopeful but guarded.
And with good reason.
* * *
Artemis and her father left the Quills’ and walked back toward their carriage.
Taking hold of her elbow, he escorted her across the busy street. “I think I’ll have Tommy drop me at the museum. There are a few things I’d like to talk over with Arthur. That von Welling she mentioned. The name rings a bell.”
“He’s an alchemist,” Artemis said. “Bavarian, I think.”
The look on his face was priceless. It wasn’t often she knew more than he did about something and it took all of her willpower not to gloat. Too much.
He looked at her curiously, prompting her confession.
“I read about him in one of those books.”
He barked out a laugh as they found Tommy waiting near the corner. “You mean you actually read some of them.”
She gave him a cavalier smirk. “Of course,” she replied, then added more seriously, “that’s all I remember, but it’s something.”
Her father was already lost in thought as Tommy leapt down from his perch, a primer clutched in his hand.
“I’m makin’ progress, miss!” He held up his book and pointed at a line. “The mouse is in the ‘ouse. But ‘e really shouldn’t be, should ‘e? Bein’ a mouse and all.”
Artemis’s laughter grew harder at her father’s confused look.
“We’ll work on it more, soon.”
“You can work on it today,” her father said as he helped her into the cab. “British Museum, Tommy.”
He settled in next to her. “I’d like to speak to Arthur about a few things. Tommy can drop me off and take you home. You two can continue his lessons over lunch.”
She was always glad to help Tommy, but she didn’t like the idea of sitting on the sidelines, and she was ready to suggest that she come along with him when he continued.
“Unless of course, you’d rather spend the rest of the morning listening to Arthur explain the difference between the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties of the Old Kingdom of Egypt. Again.”
Artemis didn’t try to hide her grimace. Arthur Darvill was a lovely man and a fount of knowledge; it was just that there was no way to stop the flow of information once it started. Perhaps she should take her escape where it was provided.
“Home sounds good.”
Her father hmm’d in an “I thought you might see it that way” fashion and rapped on the roof of the carriage signaling for Tommy to depart.
Chapter Fifteen
Tommy struggled over his reader, his finger following along beneath the words.
“‘Ere little mouse, take … this bit of cheese,” he said haltingly as he worked out each word. It sounded painful, but he really was progressing very quickly.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Artemis said as she picked up a piece of cheese from the luncheon plates Mrs. Perry had laid out for them in the kitchen.
Tommy laughed and noted the size of the bite she took. “Greedy little mouse.”
Artemis covered her mouth as she chewed. “Hungry little mouse.”
“And one lacking manners, I see,” Mrs. Perry said as she arrived in the kitchen with a disapproving look.
Artemis shared a look with Tommy as Mrs. Perry turned away.
“I saw that,” Mrs. Perry said.
Tommy laughed again, and Artemis gave him a look that said “traitor” before poking at his book. “Back to work.”
Artemis tried to focus on helping Tommy. He really was a wonderful student. He was learning faster than she could have imagined. If he’d gone to school, a real school, there was no telling what he could have made of himself.
It was awful that people like Tommy never got those chances, and probably never would. As it was, he would have to settle for this—a second-hand primer and snatches of her lessons for ten minutes at a time.
It isn’t fair.
Mrs. Perry finished putting things away and Artemis noticed she hadn’t brought in the newspaper.
“Still no paper?” she asked Mrs. Perry.
Mrs. Perry shook her head. “I’ll speak with the boy tomorrow.”
She was hoping to get in a little reading in of her own, something not of the ancient or Latin or fermented, hellbent variety. Instead, she listened to Tommy read, but her mind quickly began to wander. What she and her father had learned about Leroux was interesting but confusing. If he’d been so disfigured in the fire, where had all of his scars gone? Had he actually found a way to cure them?
And more importantly, what was he up to now? After their conversation with Lady Quill this morning, Artemis was more certain than ever that she had been his target all along. The rest were either an attempt to cover up that fact or simply overflow from his Great Plan. Either way, he wasn’t the sort of man to let it go. He would make another attempt on Lady Quill, she was sure. But how and when?
She’s not the only one he’s after now, either.
Would he try to kill her again as well? Her hands were now almost completely healed but still rather pink and tight. A shudder ran through her at the memory of the moment she’d thought the girl was Phoebe.
And what of Phoebe? Her nightmare still lurked somewhere in the city. And God only knew how many others did as well.
It left Artemis feeling off-balance and itching to do something. She really wasn’t very good at waiting.
“Here is some real soo … soogar ….” Tommy struggled, pulling Artemis from her thoughts.
She read the line from the book. “Sugar.”
“There’s no ‘aitch,” Tommy said, glowering at the offending word.
“I know, but this ’s’ is pronounced ‘sh’.”
“There should be an ‘aitch then.”
Artemis laughed; he was right. “I know, but there isn’t.”
“That’s daft,” he grumbled to himself, and then returned to the book as the front doorbell chimed.
“Saved by the bell,” he said, springing out of his chair.
Mrs. Perry put a hand on his shoulder to stop his escape. “That’s my job, lad.”
After what happened yesterday, there was no telling who or what was at their door and Artemis stood as well. “Maybe I should go?”
Mrs. Perry began to protest.
“Just in case …” Artemis added meaningfully.
The door chimed again as the three of them stood there.
“If there’s trouble,” Tommy said, “I should go, too.”
“I can handle myself,” Mrs. Perry said, starting for the door but pulling up short as Tommy followed close behind.
“Just in case,” he said.
Mrs. Perry scowled at him. “Really.”
“No offense, but I think I’m best suited to—” Artemis began.
The door chimed yet again.
“Good heavens,” Mrs. Perry said in exasperation. “Why don’t we all go? Make a little parade out of it?”
With an aggravated huff she went upstairs, Tommy and Artemis close behind.
The little procession arrived just as the chime sounded again.
“All right, all right,” Mrs. Perry grumbled as she reached for the door.
A little man with a cane and a crooked smile stood on the doorstep. His grin grew wider as his eyes fell on Mrs. Perry.
“Beautifo’ as evah, Eugenia,” he said, his eyes raking up and down Mrs. Perry’s form with unconcealed delight.
“Eugenia?” Tommy croaked out, earning a reprimanding look from both Artemis and Mrs. Perry before the latter addressed their new arrival.
“Mrs. Perry, if you please,” she said, eyeing him warily. “And to what, Mr. Slade, do we owe the displeasure of your visit?”
Mr. Slade pulled off his cap. “Wot if I sed I come to see you?”
Mrs. Perry stood up straighter, pushing out her bosom. “I would say you’ve finally lost what’s left of your mind.”
Mr. Slade laughed. It was a strange sort of giggling laugh and its sound amused Tommy, who fought down a snicker.
Mr. Slade was a former patient of her father’s, and Artemis knew he’d asked him to do a little poking around for them, so she spoke up.
“Come in. Is there something we can do for you, Mr. Slade?”
Slade dipped his head politely. “Miss.”
He’d never been anything other than cordial to her. Of course, her father had always been around then.
“Come in,” Artemis said again.
Mr. Slade looked uneasily at Mrs. Perry, who stood blocking the door until she finally relented.
“Don’t touch anything,” she cautioned him, earning another playful leer.
They all finally retreated into the entry hall, and Mr. Slade’s attention shifted from one person to the other before landing on Artemis.
“I come to see your da.”
“Is your leg bothering you?” she asked.
“Oh, no, miss. It’s all right. Gets a li’l creaky-like when it rains, though.”
Mrs. Perry pursed her lips. “I’m afraid the doctor isn’t in. You’ll have to come back.”
She moved toward the front door, but Artemis stopped her. “Is there something you wanted to tell him? About Monsieur Leroux?”
Mr. Slade looked surprised to hear her mention the name.
“Did you learn something? See something?” she asked.
He seemed confused by her knowledge of any of it. “‘E’s gone.”
“What on earth does that mean?” Mrs. Perry asked sharply.
Mr. Slade shrugged his sloping shoulders. “‘E’s gone. Place is picked clean.”
“Where did he go?” Artemis asked. If they lost track of Leroux ….
Mr. Slade shrugged again. “Dunno. Was asleep.”
“On the job, sounds about right,” Mrs. Perry said.
“I needs me beauty sleep just like the rest.”
“More so, I’d say,” Mrs. Perry bit back.
Artemis didn’t have patience for their bickering right now. “You were supposed to watch him.”
“I was. I swear it, miss. I wouldn’t let down the doc for nuffink. But I fell asleep and when I woke ….”
“And you don’t have any idea where he went?”
Mr. Slade shrugged. “I asked ‘round, but ….” he said and shrugged again.
That is not good. That is not good at all.
News of Leroux’s disappearance unsettled Artemis. It was bad enough when they had an idea where he was, but now that they didn’t ….
Maybe she should go to the Quills’ again? Sit outside and wait. But could she just sit there and hope?
The clear answer to that was a resounding no. There had to be something she could do to track him down. Or maybe, she thought with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she could lure him out. Her father would be less than keen on that plan. Not that she was champing at the bit herself to be bait. But she couldn’t just sit in her house while he was out there doing … whatever it was he was doing.
She was tempted to tell Tommy to get the carriage ready—she could at least be out there looking for more nightmares, if she had any idea where to find them—when the telephone rang.
“I’ve got it!” she called out and went into her father’s study.
“Doctor Schäfer’s,” she said as she picked up the receiver.
“Did you hear?” Phoebe’s panicked voice crackled across the line.
A jolt of worry flashed through her body. “Phoebe? What’s wrong? Hear what?”
“About the drowning,” she cried, on the verge of tears.
Drowning? What was she talking about?
“Oh, God, it’s awful,” Phoebe said. “What if he comes back?”
“I don’t understand. Calm down and tell me what’s going on.”
“Didn’t you see the paper? The woman who drowned in her own living room. Drowned!”
What? People didn’t drown sitting in their sofas. “How is that even possible?”
She heard Phoebe’s breath catch on the other end. “It was him,” she said, her voice thready with fear. “Artemis, it was William.”
Artemis hadn’t wasted any time having Tommy take her to Phoebe’s. This time, however, she’d left her father a note and told Mrs. Perry where she was going.
It took her nearly half an hour to calm Phoebe down. As she did, Artemis’s own anxiety grew. The article in the paper was as puzzling as it sounded. Martha Davenport died in her living room last night of what the coroner described as asphyxiation caused by water in her lungs. The victim’s clothing was soaked, although the housemaid told the reporter that her mistress had not left the house that day and no baths had been drawn.
“She lived two blocks away, Artemis. Two blocks,” Phoebe said. “Do you think he’ll come back for me?”
Her earlier near-hysteria had now subsided into steady worry.
“I don’t know,” Artemis admitted, but honesty wasn’t what Phoebe had wanted to hear.
“Oh, God.”
Artemis walked over to her as she paced back and forth anxiously looking out her bedroom window.
“But I’ll be here,” she promised. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
Phoebe managed a fluttering smile and then resumed her pacing. She glanced toward the mirror that still remained in her room.
“Why did I ever let that cursed thing into my room?”
She tore a small blanket off the day cushions in the window seat and threw it over the mirror.
That wouldn’t help, Artemis knew. Not now. What had come through was here. But she offered Phoebe a supportive smile anyway. Now, all they could do was wait.
“All right,” Victor said into the phone. “You’ll call me in the morning?”
On the other end, Artemis promised she would.
He’d arrived home less than an hour ago to find his daughter gone, yet again. He was grateful, however, that she’d left a note this time. He understood and admired her desire to be with Phoebe and protect her, although it disturbed him not to have her safe under his roof and protection, such as it was.
“And you’ll be careful, won’t you?” he asked, earning a beleaguered “Father” from the other end. “Humor me and don’t get yourself killed.”
Her laughter filtered over the telephone wire, but she promised again, and he supposed that would have to do. Finally, they said their goodbyes and he hung up the receiver.
Leaning back in his chair, he ran a hand through his hair. His visit with Arthur had been frustrating. Artemis had been right about von Welling. He was an alchemist. Or had been until his suspicious death two years ago—in Paris.
Victor had the sinking suspicion that Leroux had had a hand in that as well.
While most alchemists concentrated their efforts on chrysopoeia—turning base metals into gold—others searched for even more fanciful things like the Elixir of Life to achieve immortality, or some other potion that would cure all ills.
He wished them well, but Leroux—he was after something else. From what they’d deduced about his presumed work with the old witch, he’d created something far more troubling, and there was little doubt he would stop there. Combining alchemy with the power of dark magic was a disturbing prospect, but it would explain what had happened on Samhain.
However, now that his efforts to harm Lady Quill had failed, he would no doubt strike again. If only they had some idea of how or when.
It was a crushing disappointment to find out that Slade had lost track of him. He could be anywhere now, up to anything.
Guilt gnawed at him. He knew he should have done something more. He should have found a way to stop Leroux by now. He’d known where he was and let him slip through his fingers.
Now he was even more of a danger to Lady Quill and countless others, not to mention Artemis. His jaw clenched as he recalled her recounting of the Pool of Liquid Fear. It had been a brilliant trap, devious and cunning. Thank God his daughter had been clever enough and brave enough to survive it.
