His thumb brushed over her cheekbone. “I’d make the same offer to you, you know. You’d get the hundred pounds and a good character—I wouldna’ bind you here, not when it’s so dangerous. Not when you were nearly killed.”
“I hear danger’s good for the mind,” Mina said, trying to breathe steadily.
Stephen’s other hand clenched on her shoulder. “Mina—”
“Besides, I can’t leave now, can I? Not without making a big hole in your wards.”
“When Colin’s well enough, we can reset them,” said Stephen. He sighed and stepped back, and the air seemed very cold in his absence. “Until then—I feel the worst sort of cad, draggin’ you intae this as I’ve done.”
“You didn’t drag me,” said Mina. A dozen questions came to her mind, questions for which this was neither the time nor the place. In the face of Stephen’s guilt, she might not have trusted the answers anyhow. She turned away. “I’d better go and talk to the others.”
When Mina reached the kitchen, Mrs. Baldwin was pouring out tea for herself, Polly, and Emily. “Hennings is upstairs,” she said when Mina came in. “Packing.”
“I don’t blame her,” Polly said. “Especially with her knee the way it is. If I couldn’t run, I’d be out of here like a shot,” she added, heedless of any contradictions in her speech.
“But, since your knees are fine…” Mina replied, with a questioning look at the housemaid.
“Oh, I wouldn’t leave now for the world,” said Polly, and gave Mina a daredevil grin. “I’ve been in service three years, and I haven’t seen anything near this exciting anyplace else.”
“You call that thing at the door exciting?” Mrs. Baldwin said, shaking her head. “I can well live without that sort of thrill, that’s certain enough, and so can anyone of any sense.”
Polly’s eyes flashed. “People die in this city every day, you know. Typhoid’s as deadly as boogeymen, and a blasted sight less interesting. Besides, I don’t see you upstairs folding your petticoats.”
“I’ve been with his lairdship for many years,” said Mrs. Baldwin stiffly, “and with his family for longer, and they’ve always treated us very well indeed. There’s such a thing as loyalty. But I don’t think any of this horror is some sort of seaside attraction.”
“She’s right, you know,” said Mina, looking at Polly and Emily. “We were lucky this time.”
“And you’ll have fixed the…protections…by next time, his lordship said,” Polly shot back. “So it’s even odds, isn’t it?”
“What about you?” Mina asked Emily, giving up on convincing Polly.
The younger girl looked down and bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I’d miss it here, that’s sure, and I don’t know as another place would be better—um, other than the creatures, that is. But—”
“How old are you, lass?” Mrs. Baldwin asked.
“Fifteen.”
“And have you family about?”
“My father, in Leyton.”
“Then you’ll go and see him for a month. I’ve no doubt he’ll be glad to see you, wi’ your wages and all. You’ll come back after, if you’d like. One way or another, we’ll know a good deal more by then.”
“Oh—” Emily looked up, her face caught between delight and reluctance. “I’m not sure I should—”
“I am,” said Mrs. Baldwin. “And if I go to his lairdship, he’ll be too. We’ll not have a child here at a time like this. I’d not sleep at nights if we did. Go and pack your things.” She sent Emily on her way with a firm pat on the back, and turned to Mina and Polly. “Well, then. There’s the three of us, it seems.”
“Unless Miss Seymour wants to go,” said Polly.
“I don’t,” said Mina, which was more or less accurate. She was past being dismayed by that thought now.
“No, I thought you wouldn’t,” said Polly. “But you’re not one of them, are you? Not properly—you’re from Bethnal Green. I’ve heard from your letters.”
“And they don’t breed many magicians there. At least not that I know of,” Mina agreed. “I just sort of fell into things here.”
“You’ll have to fall into a few more,” said Mrs. Baldwin. “You’ve been a help with the chores already, but we’ll all have to take on more—”
“—and so will the gentlemen,” Mina said firmly. “Or at least S—Lord MacAlasdair. I don’t know if we can convince his brother, especially as Master Colin’s got a broken arm. But if one of them doesn’t come and work down here, they can send out for their meals and pay for it. With that and the four of us, we’ll survive.”
Then she remembered the manes reaching for her and the gashes in the pantry door, and wished she’d come up with another way to phrase things.
Thirty-five
Two days later, Colin was sitting up and talking. Stephen joked that it would take more than a demon to keep him silent for long. His arm was healing slowly, though, almost as slowly as a purely mortal man’s would have. Stephen, as part of his share of the household work, brought trays up to his brother’s room, though Colin said he would have preferred someone more attractive and less related. Because of the broken arm, Stephen let that remark pass.
He had his own tea with Colin as well, keeping his brother company and trying to figure out the next steps of the conflict with Ward.
“If he doesn’t live in the Brick Lane place,” said Stephen, “he’ll at least have left a few traces there, perhaps. Though I’d need to find a way in, and one that wouldn’t get the bastard’s attention.”
“The first is easy enough,” Colin said around bites of muffin. “Find whoever owns the building and persuade him to let you borrow the master key. They’re bound to have one. And if the building’s in Brick Lane, a tenner should do it. Maybe a bit more if the gentleman seems inclined to ask questions.”
“From the sound of it, you’ve done this before,” said Stephen.
Colin shrugged with one shoulder, which made him look even more indolent than usual. “Not under these circumstances. A friend had some letters he wanted back, and I volunteered, being the generous—”
“If you say ‘paragon of virtue,’ I’ll pour the tea out into your lap.”
“I thought I’d go with ‘warmhearted soul,’ as a matter of fact. Variety and whatnot. And if you’re just going to toy with that kipper, you may as well give it to a man who appreciates good food. It must be Mrs. Baldwin’s day to cook.”
“Polly’s, I think,” said Stephen.
“Really? The girl’s a wonder. You do have a talent for discovering staff.”
“Makes up for my lack of choice in relations.” Stephen smiled quickly, then settled down to consider Colin’s suggestion. Discovering a building’s owner wouldn’t present any great difficulty, only wading through a bit of bureaucracy and perhaps providing enough money to grease any particularly stubborn wheels. “And if we can’t,” he thought aloud, “or if Ward turns out to own the place—”
“Then there are a few less legal methods we can manage. You might as well be honest first, though. You don’t have the face for a scoundrel.”
“You’re just worried I’d be better at deception than you.”
“Never.”
Stephen drummed his fingers on the table. “Unless getting the key takes far longer than it should,” he said, eyeing his brother’s arm and the still-white look of his face, “you’ll be staying here. You’ll be no good at tiptoeing about and picking locks, not like this. I’ll need a set of eyes here at any rate, and ideally one familiar with magic.”
“Nice of you to try and make me feel useful,” said Colin, “but I’m quite happy to be idle and ornamental. Still, I’ll keep a lookout. What about your Miss Seymour? Are you planning to leave her here and risk the wards?”