A Little Knowledge (44 page)

Will stood too, and accepted Sir Iris’s handshake. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, Sir Iris.”

“My door is always open to you, William. And give my regards to your wife. I trust she is better behaved now?”

“Indeed, Sir Iris. If you’ll excuse me, she’s waiting for me now and I am eager to return to her.”

• • •

“I’m sorry, your Grace, Mrs Persificola-Viola is resting after the wedding and isn’t receiving visitors.”

Cathy smiled at the butler, hoping he didn’t notice how she was shaking. “I’m actually here to see Mr Viola. It’s a matter of some importance.”

The butler stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. “He’s in the drawing room, your Grace. If you’d like to follow me?”

It felt strange seeing Bertrand get up from the sofa when she entered, rather than Charlotte. It was the room in which they usually took tea together.

“Your Grace,” he said with a bow. “I’m afraid the wedding has quite worn Charlotte out. Would you like me to pass on a message to her?”

“As I explained to your butler, I’m here to see you. No tea, thank you,” she said to the butler, who waited near the door. “I won’t be staying for very long.”

The butler nodded, gave Bertrand a last glance, and, dismissed, closed the door.

“How can I help you, your Grace?”

Cathy had rehearsed the words over and over in her head in the carriage, but now, about to say them, she hesitated. Will wouldn’t be happy about what she planned to do.

“Has whatever it was slipped your mind?” He checked his pocket watch. “I was about to go out. If you’d prefer to send a letter, that would be far more agreeable than standing there looking like a lost child.”

His tone made her bristle. No wonder Charlotte was wasting away. It was far more important that she be helped than a bloody marriage take place—one that none of the women involved even wanted. “I’m here to ask that you destroy the contract between yourself and Nathaniel regarding his marriage to your daughter.”

Bertrand’s nostrils flared and his cheeks flushed the same red as Freddy’s did when he’d drunk too much. “I beg your pardon, madam?”

Cathy ignored the racing of her heart, determined to see this through. “Destroy the contract, sir; otherwise I will destroy you.”

A vein at the side of Bertrand’s forehead pulsed and then he laughed at her. “You have simply no idea how the world works, do you, you silly little girl?”

Any worry about what Will might think flew from her mind as he laughed again. She stormed forwards into the room until the sofa was between them. “Listen to me, you misogynistic twat. I know you stole your wife from Mundanus. She was a suffragette, and you kidnapped her on the way home from a rally. If you had any idea of how the
real
world works, you might have taken the trouble to ensure that any pictures of her at that rally were destroyed. But you didn’t. I have the proof of your crime, and don’t give me any bullshit about how she’ll deny it, because an Arbiter’s Truth Mask can cut through any gagging Charm of yours faster than you can say ‘shut up, dear’.”

Bertrand stopped laughing.

“Oh, taking me seriously now?” she continued, thrilled by the fear in his eyes. “And before you even think about cursing or gagging me, know that the Duke of Londinium protects his family very well. The Irises care for their wives more than any of the Great Families and,” she held up her left hand, indicating the bump of her wedding ring beneath her glove, “he would know the moment you did anything to me.”

“You wouldn’t dare report me,” Bertrand said, gathering his wits. “You’re too fond of Charlotte. You wouldn’t want to see her carted away by the Arbiters to be brainwashed into slavery or thrown back into Mundanus.”

“I would rather see her thrown into Mundanus or even held by the Arbiters than watch her waste away. Being with you is simply a slow death. You are a hateful, toxic, cowardly little man. Your elder brother was an arse, but I’d rather spend a year in his company than a minute longer in yours!” She headed for the door. “If I don’t hear from Will by six o’clock this evening that your daughter’s wedding is off, I’ll go straight to the Arbiters. I will bust your sorry arse, and I will wave you off when they drag you away.”

“If you do this to me,” Bertrand said, his voice low and quiet. “I will seek out every single person you love and destroy them before I come for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Good day, Mr Viola. I trust you’ll be contacting Nathaniel Iris the moment I leave.”

Reaching for the handle, Cathy felt a movement behind her. She twisted as Bertrand stormed towards her, fist pulled back. “Do it!” she yelled. “Hit me like a real man. The Irises would tear you apart and piss on your grave.”

Bertrand’s hand stopped, inches away from her face. He spat on her instead. “You’re disgusting.”

Cathy wiped the spittle from her cheek. “I think you mean ‘your Grace’,” she said, finding the door handle behind her back and twisting it. For a dreadful moment, she feared he wasn’t going to move and let her open the door, but he turned away, moving towards the mantelpiece. Was he going for the poker? She didn’t wait to find out.

As she ran from the room, Cathy almost collided with the butler. “I’m going,” she said, and didn’t wait for him to open the front door for her as the sound of smashing crockery came from the drawing room. “Right now,” she added, and ran out of the house.

• • •

“Something wasn’t right with Cathy,” the gargoyle said, pacing. “You should have let me in.”

Max kept his eyes on the West London street below. It was cold on top of the fire escape and his leg was aching. “There he is.”

The gargoyle hunkered down next to him, staring at the man walking towards the pub. “I’m going to enjoy this.” Its grin bared every single one of its stone teeth.

“I’ll move into position,” he told the gargoyle, and climbed back through the window they’d been standing next to. He went from that room into the hallway, down a set of stairs, and into a cleaning cupboard he’d scoped out beforehand. Max put the earpiece into place as Kay had shown him and made sure the little microphone symbol showing on his mobile phone was green. Through the tiny piece of plastic in his ear he could hear the sound of Oliver Peonia pacing back and forth in the room next door, muttering to himself nervously.

Through the gargoyle’s eyes, Max watched as Bertrand Viola went into the pub behind a group of mundanes. Less than a minute later, Max could hear the creak of the stairs leading up from the public bar below up to the private room in which the Peonia waited. Max pressed a second button on the phone below the microphone, which was large and red. The word
recording
flashed up at the bottom of the screen, as had happened in Kay’s demonstration. He was faintly aware of the gargoyle’s relief that it worked just as she said it would.

“Good evening, Oli,” Bertrand said.

“Good evening, Mr Viola. Awfully cold out there, what?”

“Indeed. Where are the others?”

“I thought I was early,” Oliver said, a slight tremor in his voice.

“No, they’re late.”

“W-whilst I have the opportunity, sir, I’d like to say thank you. For bringing me into the fold, so to speak.”

“We second sons have to look after one another,” Bertrand said warmly.

“I was wondering if I could suggest a new member for consideration,” Oli said. “He’s a chum of mine and a jolly decent chap. He’s the Duke of Londinium now, but he’s been a second son for a lot longer than that.”

There was a pause. Was Viola suspicious? “I did plan to ask him, but his wife interferes too much in his affairs. What the deuce is holding up the others? I told them it was urgent.”

“I could always take a message for you and tell them when they arrive, if you’re expected somewhere else,” Oliver offered.

“I don’t have time…and you’re green and untested…”

“I might be new, sir, but I’m jolly reliable. Why, I travelled the world with William Iris and got us out of all sorts of scrapes. Are you…are you in a bind, sir? You do seem rather flustered, if you don’t mind me saying so. If there’s any way I can help…”

“How close are you to William’s wife?”

“The Duchess? Oh, not at all. Barely know her. Heard some rum things about her, mind you. Bit of a harridan, so I’ve been told. She has a sharp tongue and strange ideas about women and chaps and—”

“I need your help dealing with her. She’s blackmailing me and I need to…to teach her a lesson.”

“Blackmailing you? Gosh! Why not tell Will? He’ll soon sort it all out.”

“That fool has no spine when it comes to that whore. Londinium would be better off without her. He needs a decent woman at his side. If you help me to solve this problem, I’ll set you up in a Londinium house in one of the finest squares.”

Max checked to see that the phone screen still said “recording.” The gargoyle was gouging chunks of stone from the cornice outside as its claws clenched.

“Gosh…that sounds rather splendid. Will does deserve a better wife, it’s true. It’s the least I could do as his friend, what?”

Bertrand chuckled along with Oli’s nervous laugh. “I need you to send a note to her via Letterboxer, asking her to see you, at once. Tell her…tell her that you’ve discovered something about William that you feel she should know, and that it’s most sensitive. Tell her to meet you at Bathurst Stables. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Max had heard enough. Any doubts he’d had were long gone, and he’d recorded enough to make a case to the Duke of Londinium should he become obstructive when someone from his city was arrested by an Aquae Sulis Arbiter. None of the Londinium Arbiters could be trusted, after all.

He dropped the phone into one pocket and pulled the special door handle out of another. Leaving the cupboard, he checked that the gargoyle was alert at the window and then entered the private room.

Oliver leapt away from the Viola as if the man were on fire and shrank into the corner of the room as Bertrand took in Max’s face.

“That damn whore,” he whispered. “She planned this all along, didn’t she?”

“Bertrand Persificola-Viola, with the sanction of the Duchess of Londinium, I am taking you into custody.” He took hold of the man’s arm.

“Whatever she told you about me, it’s a lie. I can prove it.”

“I just listened to you plotting to harm her,” Max said. “I also heard you accept thanks for membership into your secret society, one that has been responsible for several critical breaches of the Split Worlds Treaty, the attempted assault of the Duchess of Londinium, and the blackmail of several prominent members of Nether Society.”

“What do you care about them?” Bertrand scoffed.

“Nothing at all. But I do care about the babies you pressurise young men into stealing from innocents and the Charms you encourage them to use in Mundanus.” Max thrust the pin of the door handle into the wall, opened the Way to the same box that had held George Iris only hours before, and locked Bertrand into the cuffs fixed to the table.

“If I’m going to be thrown out of Society,” Bertrand said, red with anger, “then I’ll take my wife with me. I stole her, Arbiter, from Mundanus. So you’d better go and clap some irons on her too.”

“I know about your wife already,” Max said. “I made a deal with the Duchess about her, in fact. She helped me to trap you in West London, and in return, I’ll overlook your wife if she wants to stay in the Nether. She’s no longer an innocent and her family are long dead. I see no reason to press for her expulsion from a place willing to keep her. She isn’t a risk to anyone else. Unlike you.”

Bertrand tried to launch himself at Max but the cuffs held fast and he kicked the chair instead. “I’ll see you hanged!” he yelled as Max put the pin of the door handle into the wall. “I’m a
Viola
, damn you! I’m not common filth! You can’t treat me this way!”

Max left the man to shout alone. By the time he was back in the room above the mundane pub, Cathy was coming up the stairs after seeing the all-clear signal from the gargoyle.

A very sweaty Oliver waited nervously where Max had left him. “Gosh! That was dreadfully thrilling. I felt like one of those spies I saw in a mundane film on my Grand Tour. I thought I did rather well.”

Max pulled the bug off the Peonia’s jacket and dropped it into a pocket. “The Second Sons are over. You’re off the hook.”

“Oh, that is splendid news. I…I don’t suppose you could put in a good word with the Duchess? Let her know how I helped?”

“I already know,” Cathy said from the doorway. “Thanks, Oli. That was brave of you.”

The Peonia beamed at her and then bowed. “I am your servant, your Grace. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d very much like to drink the best whisky they have in that bar downstairs until I stop shaking.”

Cathy moved aside for him. Once he was gone, Max went over to her. “Your husband wasn’t one of the Second Sons. And Bertrand was planning to kill you. Whatever you said to him worked. He was desperate.”

“Thanks, Max,” Cathy smiled. “That’s a massive weight off my mind. There’s no way Nathaniel will marry the daughter of a disgraced criminal. He’s too proud for that.” She looked at the floor, frowning a little. “I hope Charlotte meant it when she said this would be the best-case scenario. It’s the only one I could come up with.”

Max nodded and opened the window to let the gargoyle in. It went straight to Cathy, who embraced it. She let it go and took a deep breath. “Well, I should get back home before Carter has an aneurysm. With any luck, Will won’t be home yet, and he won’t know I’ve been gallivanting all over London with you.”

The gargoyle sniffed at her and the space around her. “Don’t go yet,” it said. “Something’s not right with you.”

Max pulled the Sniffer from his pocket, agreeing with the gargoyle. “Do you feel any different to normal?”

“I’ve got a headache, but that’s stress.”

The Sniffer’s light glowed green and Max flipped it over. “There’s Iris magic active on you.”

She frowned. “But I haven’t…” Cathy brushed the choker at her throat with her fingertips. She was still wearing it and her Nether clothing beneath her cloak. She paled. “What kind of magic? Could it be my wedding ring?”