“It’s his own neck to risk, isn’t it?”
“Is it, now?” Mrs. Baldwin asked. “Have you ever known a man’s enemies to care much about making sure his servants were safe?”
“Well—” Mina remembered the shadows. And the thieves—had they caught her alone, she wouldn’t have ended the night happily. “No,” she admitted.
Mrs. Baldwin nodded. “Well, then.”
“Maybe you should come in,” said Mina.
With another nod—more polite, this one, and less satisfied—the housekeeper entered and settled herself on the small chair by the window. Mina perched on the edge of the bed and tried to think, to balance fairness with discretion.
“There are some things I can’t tell you or anyone. Lord MacAlasdair might, but they’re his to tell. He does have an enemy. Someone from his past.”
At that, Mrs. Baldwin’s eyes flickered just a little. “Ah. Not someone he can tell the Yard about, then?”
“He says he’s worked with the police a little. But—”
“You can’t be relying on…outsiders…entirely,” said Mrs. Baldwin. “Saving your presence, Miss Seymour.”
“No offense taken,” said Mina, who didn’t have the energy for it in any case. Besides, she wasn’t quite an outsider now. She wasn’t quite an insider either, of course, and that was part of the problem. Someone familiar with Stephen’s world might not have felt so lost in it.
Mrs. Baldwin didn’t allow her much time to think about that. “He’ll have been taking his own measures, then. Is there anything—anything the others might need to be worried about? Anything that might do them harm, if they came across it?”
There had been a moon last night; the manes couldn’t return yet. Ward probably would have sent other things after them by now, if he could manage it. “Thieves,” she said slowly, “but I guess any house is a risk for those.”
“Some considerably more so than others. What about a general threat? Fire, aye, or flood?”
“No,” said Mina.
“You’re sure of that?”
Mina closed her eyes and reached up to rub the bridge of her nose. “If you want someone who’s sure of things, ask his lordship. You’ve known him for a while, and you don’t know me at all.”
“Aye, well,” said the housekeeper. Her shadow moved as she reached up to push hair back from her face. It was a movement as weary as Mina felt. “I’ll put about the bit about thieves, at least. They’ll take their chances here just the same, or we’ll fill in a bit for them. Either way, I expect they’ll survive.”
“I can boil an egg or two,” said Mina and looked back at Mrs. Baldwin, “and I know my way around a needle and a dust cloth, if it comes to that. Can’t promise anything about horses, though.”
For the first time since Mina had met her, the housekeeper really smiled. “Great ungainly beasts, aren’t they? I was never so glad as when we came here, though ’twas a sad occasion for it.” She got to her feet. “Don’t fret over much about them. Clyde’s always been fond of the creatures, God knows why. We’ll manage even if Owens takes himself off.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Mina managed an answering smile.
“I’ll have a wee word with the rest of them, and we’ll see what’s to come.” Mrs. Baldwin headed toward the door, then turned. “And should you be free of an evening, I’d be glad of a cup of tea. ’Tis a big house for so few of us, aye?”
“You’re right about that,” said Mina.
Eighteen
“You canna’ be getting out of bed yet,” said Baldwin, late in the morning after Stephen had discovered the homunculus.
“I can,” said Stephen, slipping his arms into his coat. Baldwin knew his duties. Even as he protested, he offered clothes without missing a moment. “And I must.”
“But only the last evening—”
“I’ll not dash into any burning buildings. I’ll not dash anywhere, I’m thinking.” Even now that the coughing had stopped, his lungs still felt tender and almost bruised, and breathing too deeply or too quickly had a painful edge to it. “I’ve always healed quickly, Baldwin. You know as much.”
His valet’s face was full of thought, of old stories about half-seen shapes and places in the woods where nobody went. As Stephen watched, the tales passed like a river through Baldwin’s eyes, relaxing him and yet rousing the old mortal tension that came with mystery, even an inherited one like the MacAlasdairs.
“Well,” said Baldwin and turned his attention to Stephen’s necktie. After arranging the linen to his satisfaction, he spoke again. “Mrs. Baldwin’s had a word with your…secretary, my lord, as you advised.”
“I’d advised you to have a word,” Stephen said, “if you wanted to know.”
“Miss Seymour had gone to her room already, my lord. It wouldn’t have been proper.”
“Of course not.” Leaving aside the urge to be sarcastic about such modern developments in etiquette, Stephen found Baldwin’s consideration a relief. At least the rest of the household was treating Mina with propriety, however much its master might slip on occasion. “What did she have to say?”
“That you’ve an enemy, my lord, and one you canna’ be telling the Yard about. That he’s been thinking to strike at you more than once, but that we’re in no more danger than what we might be if you’d angered some sort of criminal syndicate. Which we’ve told the new lot you have, or your father has.”
“‘Criminal syndicate’? You’ve been reading the Strand a bit, haven’t you?”
“I like to take advantage of such opportunities as the city affords, my lord.”
“But you don’t believe it yourself?” Stephen asked, watching Baldwin as he folded clothing over his arm. “What you’ve told the rest of the staff, I mean?”
“I believe you’ve an enemy, and that he’s been acting in an unlawful manner, my lord. And I believe you’ve decided to place a great deal of trust in your Miss Seymour, and that we’ll then be abiding by your decision.”
Quite a number of protests and questions occurred to Stephen just then. They started with she’s not my Miss Seymour, though the term did sound uncommonly pleasant, and continued to wondering whether Baldwin would have trusted Mina otherwise, or was simply resigned to the situation.
He cleared his throat. “How did the others take that news?”
“Lizzie and Sarah have given their notice, I’m afraid, and so have Owens and James. I’m afraid it was a bit of a shock to them, and they found the prospect rather intimidating.”
“Yes, I’d imagine.”
When, hoarse and in pain, Stephen had suggested that Baldwin apply to Mina for an explanation, he hadn’t expected anything so close to the truth or with such consequences to the household. Anger stirred, and he thought he might have a word with Mina—and then he saw her face in his mind, eyebrows arched and lips thin. He heard the iciest of her professional voices: I was under the impression that people should know if they’re risking their lives, even if circumstances preclude giving them an exact reason. Then she’d say something sarcastic about forgiving her presumption.
Neither Stephen’s natural gifts nor the artifact allowed him to read minds or to see the future. Apparently such abilities weren’t always necessary—or avoidable.
“Mrs. Hennings is still on to cook,” Baldwin continued, “and I’ll be handling the horses and the butler’s duties. Polly and Emily and Mrs. Baldwin should be able to manage the house, and Miss Seymour has said she can lend a hand as needed. It’s a bit irregular, my lord—everything is—and a bit of a pinch as well, but you haven’t been entertaining much, and honestly, we’ve had it soft round here for a while.”