Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 02 (16 page)

           
"Really,
Aunt Agatha, that's coming on a bit too strong," Mairelon said. "Kim
only met Lord Franton this evening."

           
"The
marquis was clearly
very
taken with her," Mrs.
Lowe countered. "I can only hope that Kim will have sense enough to pursue
the matter before he comes to his senses."

           
Everyone
looked at Kim; remembering Lord Franton's polite-but-very-interested attention,
Kim flushed. Mairelon frowned. Lady Wendall cocked an eyebrow and said,
"Well, my dear?"

           
"He
asked for two dances at our ball next week," Kim admitted. "And he
said he'd come to call, and asked me to drive in the park."

           
"There,
you see?" Mrs. Lowe said triumphantly to no one in particular.

           
Lady
Wendall smiled. "It is an excellent thing, to be sure. However, Kim still
has the remainder of the Season ahead of her. And may I remind you, Agatha,
that the purpose of this come-out is to see Kim launched and well-established
in Society, not necessarily to find her a husband."

           
"She
could not possibly be more well-established than she would be if she were to
marry a marquis," Mrs. Lowe countered.

           
"She
might marry a duke, as Elizabeth Gunning did," Lady Wendall murmured
provocatively.

           
"That
was over sixty years ago." Mrs. Lowe pointed out.

           
Lady
Wendall considered.
"Only the first time.
Her
second marriage, which you will recall was likewise to a duke, was not quite
sixty years ago."

           
"If
you intend to make a joke of this, Elizabeth, I shall leave you," Mrs.
Lowe said. "I hope you will think about what I have said." With
massive dignity, she swept out of the room.

           
"There!"
Lady Wendall said. "I began to think she would never leave. Now, Richard,
tell me--what scrape have you fallen into this time? I made sure it was
something when Renee told me you had run off, and when I saw your face, I was
certain of it."

           
"It's
a good deal worse than a scrape, Mother," Mairelon said. "You had
better sit down."

           
Kim
glanced at his face, and then away. It had been hard enough for him to admit to
her what had happened, even in the darkness of the closed carriage. She didn't
think he would want her to watch him tell the story over again to his mother.
Silently, she slipped out of the room.

           
The hall
was empty, and Kim hesitated. She wanted to talk to Hunch, but the thought of
being the one to break the news of Mairelon's incapacity to him was more than
she could face on top of the rest of the evening. Tomorrow--tomorrow she would
talk to Hunch, and then go see Mannering. If he was behind what had happened to
Mairelon . . . She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and found Wilson waiting
patiently to assist her in undressing.

           
Kim
allowed the
abigail
to work in silence for a few
minutes, her own thoughts and emotions still churning. Finally she said,
"Wake me early tomorrow. I got some errands to do before people start calling."

           
"Very
good, miss," the
abigail
said. "Will you
be wanting
me to come with you?"

           
Kim
considered a moment,
then
shrugged. "I don't know
yet.
It's
part wizard things and part . . . personal.
What do you think?"

           
"I'll
be ready, then," Wilson said. "I can sit in the coach for the
wizardly bits. Turn around, miss, if you please, so's I can undo the
back."

           
The
abigail
finished her work and left. Kim climbed into bed and
blew out the candle, then lay staring into the dark for a long, long time.

           
Kim slept
very badly, and she was wide awake and had already made a trip to the library
downstairs when
Wilson
returned the
following morning. Wilson made no comment, but went about her work with quiet
efficiency. "What will you wear today, miss?" she asked at last.

           
"I
don't know," Kim said. "What have I got that'll impress
somebody?" Some of her plans had firmed during the long dark hours before
dawn, but clothes were not among them. All she knew was that there was no point
in wearing her boy's disguise today. Jack Stower worked for Mannering now; Jack
knew she was a girl, so Mannering must, and she couldn't pass for a boy by
daylight anyway. What she
would
wear was not something she had
considered.

           
"I
suggest the slate-colored walking dress with the Spanish puffs, miss," the
abigail
said.

           
Kim
nodded and let the
abigail
help her into it without
paying much attention. When she finished dressing, she put the bit of wire she
used for lockpicking in the matching reticule and slid her carefully chosen
book into her pocket. Then she said, "Now I got to talk to Hunch. Do you
know where he is?"

           
"Below
stairs," Wilson replied. "And in a right temper this morning. I'll
fetch him at once, miss."

           
"No,
that'll take too long. Just come down with me," Kim said.

           
"Very
good, miss."

           
They
found Hunch out in back of the kitchen, cleaning carriage tack and chewing on
his mustache. As soon as she saw his face, Kim knew that Mairelon had told him
what had happened. He glowered at her, but Kim ignored it.

           
"Hunch,
I need to get down to the City," she said without preamble.

           
"What for?"
Hunch demanded suspiciously.

           
"To
see a sharper that might have something to do with what
happened
last night," Kim said.

           
"You'll
want
a
'ackney, then," Hunch said, rising.
"Master Richard won't 'ave no trouble figuring out that you've gone and
done something if you take the carriage." His eyes met hers in perfect
understanding.

           
"I
want a pistol, too, if you have one," Kim said.

           
Hunch
stopped. "I better come with you, then."

           
"No.
Mairelon'll want you when he goes to see Lord Shoreham. And I don't know if
we'll be back by then."

           
" 'E'd
want me to come with you. And 'e'll raise merry
'ell when 'e finds out, if I 'aven't. I'm coming, or else you ain't
going."

           
None of
Kim's arguments moved Hunch in the slightest. Finally, she gave in, feeling
secretly relieved. Visiting a cent-per-cent wasn't quite
so
bad as wandering some of her former haunts in girl's clothes would have been,
but it was enough to make her nervous nonetheless.

           
Hunch
procured a hackney coach, and Kim gave the driver the direction. No one spoke
for some time as the coach rattled over the cobbles. Then Hunch looked at Kim
and said, "You think this'll 'elp?"

           
"I
don't know," Kim said.
"Maybe.
I got to try,
anyway."

           
Hunch
nodded and relapsed into silence. The coach pulled up in front of a row of
small, slightly shabby buildings. Kim climbed out carefully and told the driver
to wait, then marched toward the near door without waiting to see whether Hunch
or Wilson followed. She had to ring the bell vigorously two or three times
before there was any response, but finally a watery-eyed clerk opened the door
a crack and said, "We're closed."

           
Kim
shoved her foot into the opening before the clerk could shut the door.
"Not to me, you ain't."

           
The
clerk's eyes widened as he took in Kim's fashionable and expensive dress, and
he gobbled incoherently for a moment. Kim took advantage of his surprise to
push the door out of his lax hands and walk through it into the dim, dusty
hallway beyond. "Where's Mannering?" she demanded.

           
"He
ain't here," the clerk said. "I told you, we're closed."

           
"I
didn't ask if you were closed," Kim said. "I asked where Mannering
is."

           
"Mr.
Mannering ain't here," the clerk repeated sullenly.

           
Kim
looked at his face and decided he was telling the truth.
Now what?
She
frowned at the clerk and said irritably, "You told me that before, cully,
and I heard you then. Where's his office?"

           
"It
don't
matter; there's no use you waiting. He ain't here, and
he ain't coming back today."

           
Forgetting
her girl's clothes, Kim reached up and grabbed hold of the clerk's muffler. One
good yank pulled his astonished face down level with hers, and she snarled into
it, "Listen, you mutton-headed nodcock. For the last time, where's
Mannering's office? Or I'll tie your tongue in a bow-knot behind your ears and
find the place for myself."

           
"Th-that
one," the clerk said, pointing. "But you can't go in there, it's
locked and I ain't got the
key,
and Mr.
Mannering--"

           
"Ain't
here, you said that, too," Kim said, releasing him. She dusted her gloves
and stepped back, to find Hunch and Wilson standing in the doorway. "See
this cove don't shab off just yet, will you, Hunch?" she said. "I
might want to talk to him again after I've had a look at Mannering's office."

           
Hunch
nodded. Kim walked down to the doorway the clerk had pointed out and studied
the lock. It was new and shiny against the aged wood of the door; pretty much
what you'd expect to find at a moneylender's place of business. But this
moneylender had been collecting wizards. Frowning, Kim cast the spell that
allowed her to see enchantments. To her relief, the lock did not glow. She
fished her lockpicking wire from the bottom of her reticule and set to work.

           
Opening
the lock took some time; Mannering had paid for the best, and gotten it. Kim
felt considerable pride when it clicked open at last. The feeling turned to
strong dismay when the door opened and she got a look at the room beyond.

           
Everything
indicated that someone had been here before her: the heavy lockbox lying open
and empty on the desktop, the dustless squares here and there on the shelves
where objects had
lain
, the half-open drawers, the
wrinkled cravat lying forgotten underneath the chair. Kim bit back a curse and
started forward. Maybe the other cracksman had left something she'd find
useful.

           
As she
sifted through what was left in Mannering's office, she quickly became
convinced that this was no robbery. No thief would have bothered to take pages
from the ledgers, or missed the pound note stuck under the lockbox. Mannering
had taken the things he considered important and piked off, and he'd done it in
a tearing hurry, too. Kim frowned. This didn't make sense . . . unless he
thought that Mairelon's tracing spell had worked, and had expected to find the
Runners on his doorstep this morning instead of Kim.

           
Methodically,
Kim began pulling out the desk drawers and examining their contents. Most
contained paper or old ledgers. The center drawer had a small lock, which had
been thrown--but in his hurry, Mannering had not shut the drawer completely,
and the lock had not engaged. Pleased to be spared the work of picking it, Kim
opened the drawer.

           
The
drawer was half full of notes and partially completed spell diagrams. Kim
looked at one or two of them and frowned. They all looked the same, or rather,
nearly the same--on this page, the top line twisted up; on the next, it twisted
down; on the one after that, it was straight as an old Roman road.
Variations
on a spell design,
Kim thought.
But Mannering wasn't ever a frogmaker,
and George and Jemmy and Wags don't know this kind of magic. Who's he got
helping him?
Some of the notes bore a line or two of almost illegible
writing, with frequent crossings-out and insertions. Kim puzzled at one of the
inscriptions for a while,
then
shook her head. Reading
was hard enough when she could tell what the letters were supposed to be;
Mannering's scrawl was hopeless. Maybe it was instructions for the spell. She
gathered up the papers and stuffed them in her reticule. Mairelon or Lord
Kerring or Lord Shore-ham might be able to make something more of them.

           
When she
finished, she rejoined Hunch, Wilson, and the clerk, who was by turns sullen
and terrified. "I'm done, Hunch," she said. "We'd better
go."

           
"You--I--What
am I going to tell Mr. Mannering?" the clerk babbled. "You can't do
this!"

           
"Tell
him I heard he wanted to see me," Kim said. "Tell him I got something
he wants." She pulled a small blue book from her pocket, just far enough
for the clerk to get a look, and then shoved it back out of sight. It had taken
her half an hour to find one that was a reasonable match for Marie de
Cambriol's
livre de memoire
, and she wasn't going to give anyone a close
enough look to see that it wasn't the real thing. "Tell him that if he
pulls any more tricks like last night, he won't see this, or me, or anything
else he wants. I ain't got much patience with jingle brains or shag-bags."

           
The clerk
nodded dumbly. They left him staring goggle-eyed after them, and returned to
the hackney. "Where to now, miss?" the jarvey said.

           
Kim
hesitated,
then
shook her head. "Back to
Grosvenor Square," she said.

           
"Find
anything?" Hunch said as the coach started off.

           
"Not
what I thought," Kim said. "The cull has piked off, right enough. I
think he was scared of something."

           
"Good."

           
Kim
glanced at him, startled by the savagery in his tone. She wasn't really
surprised, though; it was the way she felt whenever she thought about what had
been done to Mairelon. "He left some notes. Maybe they'll help."

           
Hunch
nodded and lapsed back into his usual silence. Kim stared glumly out the
carriage window, watching the tradesmen on the street without really seeing
them. Mairelon was not going to be pleased to find out what she had done, but
she'd have to tell him;
she
certainly wasn't going to be able to make
sense of all those bits and pieces and scrawls.

           
The other
members of the household were at breakfast when Kim and Wilson slipped through
the back door. Kim sent Wilson off with her bonnet and pelisse, while she went
up to join the family. When she entered the room, she could tell from
everyone's faces that this modest attempt at concealment had been pointless;
they were already aware that she had left the house, and Mairelon and Lady
Wendall, at least, had been worried.

           
"Kim!"
Mrs. Lowe said. "Where
have
you been at such an hour?"

           
"I
had an errand to run," Kim said, heading for the sideboard. "Don't
jaw me down now; I ain't had breakfast yet."

           
"Mind
your language!"

           
"Sorry,"
Kim said absently as she filled her plate. "I . . . haven't . . . adjusted
back yet."

           
"Adjusted
back?" Lady Wendall raised her eyebrows.

           
"Don't
tell me that after all my warnings, you went to see some of those low friends
of yours!" Mrs. Lowe said.

           
"No."
Kim took a seat and began tucking in to the sausage. "Not a friend."

           
Mairelon's
eyes narrowed. Oblivious, Mrs. Lowe shook her head at Kim. "Where
did
you go, then? After all the worry you've caused--"

           
"I'm
sorry you were worried," Kim said, glancing at Lady Wendall apologetically.
She couldn't quite bring herself to look at Mairelon yet. "I thought I'd
be back before anybody noticed I was gone."