“There have to be more.” She carefully folded the page, not wanting to smear the graphite. “There has to be something that made him come find me. Some kind of code. Something we’re not seeing.”
“We need to look further. American newspapers, perhaps.”
Elsie shook her head. “It will take a month for a letter to reach a repository over there.”
“I’ll use the spirit line.” Ogden closed his sketchbook.
The spirit line was a messaging system developed by spiritual aspectors in the seventeen hundreds, shortly before the American Revolution. Aspectors across the sea—Iceland, Greenland, Canada—could link up with one another, casting spiritual projections that could carry news faster than a ship, or even a telegraph network.
“It’s so expensive, Ogden,” she whispered.
But Ogden shook his head. “It’s an expense I’m happy to make. You just might not be getting much pin money this month.”
Elsie let out a long breath. “I’m more than happy to contribute. Thank you.”
They returned home later than planned, as they had to stop in London to make arrangements for the spirit line. Ogden sent messages to the Library of Congress in the United States, as well as libraries in a few select European countries. Elsie winced at the number of pounds he exchanged for it; they might be eating cabbage for dinner the next few weeks. The sooner I become a profitable spellbreaker, the better, she thought.
And it seemed Irene Prescott agreed, for Elsie found a telegram from her on her bed when she arrived home. Miss Prescott wanted to meet in London tomorrow—she really didn’t heed the fact that Elsie had to work—to begin their training. There was a second message on her nightstand from the enchanted pencil. Her stomach did a little flip at the familiar penmanship.
I’m hoping to interest you in dinner tomorrow at Seven Oaks. More interrogation from the duke and duchess is to be expected, but I guarantee Mrs. Abrams will be conspicuously absent.
Elsie smiled.
“Emmeline, would you do me a favor?” The newspaper articles weighed on her, and she ached to examine them again, more closely.
“Sure, what is it?”
“Run to the post office and reply to Miss Prescott.” She handed Emmeline the telegram. “Ask her if she’d be willing to meet me at Seven Oaks in Kent for training. Tell her I can provide an aspector.”
Emmeline grinned knowingly. “Gladly. And what about that?”
She pointed at the newest novel reader sitting on Elsie’s pillow. Elsie had completely missed it.
She paused, thinking of the story of the baron and his rubies. “You take it, Em,” she offered, and the maid’s eyes lit with delight. “I have a few personal things to see to first.”
CHAPTER 8
Bacchus, being the gentleman he was, sent a carriage for her just after lunch the following day. Elsie put on her second-best dress, as Bacchus had last seen her in her best dress, and she certainly couldn’t repeat the fashion twice in a row. She polished the buttons down the front and put on a smart hat, hoping she would look presentable for the evening’s dinner with the duke and duchess. She had bumped up in society—or she would once she completed her spellbreaker training—but the promotion still felt pathetic when cast in the light of the true peerage. She still worried over bumbling the details of the engagement as well. What if she said something contrary to the story Bacchus had laid out? What if the duke and duchess discovered Elsie was marrying their dear Master Kelsey only to spare herself from the gallows?
Guilt gnawed at her as she rode to Seven Oaks, and she did her best to push it down. The housekeeper escorted her to a drawing room, where Miss Prescott and Bacchus already awaited her. Their small talk ceased upon her entrance. Elsie’s eyes went first to Bacchus, who stood from his chair, polite as always. He was wearing the same blue waistcoat he’d stripped off in Ipswich so she could remove the temporal and physical spells embedded into his chest. Her cheeks warmed at the memory. The sun was high and not coming directly through the windows, and the lighting made his skin look darker. His hair was pulled back into a folded tail just above the nape of his neck.
Miss Prescott wore a smart violet visiting dress that was notably finer than what Elsie had donned, and her light hair was meticulously curled and pinned.
“I do hope I’m not late.” Elsie spared another glance to Bacchus.
“Not at all,” Miss Prescott replied. “I was early. I always am.” She clapped her hands together and turned to Bacchus. “Master Kelsey, where would you like to begin?”
He simply gestured to the low table between them. “Here is fine.”
“Excellent.” Miss Prescott dug through a large bag on the floor, and Elsie, feeling awkward, crossed the room to stand beside Bacchus.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“I’m interested to see what you can do,” he replied, and though he didn’t laugh, she could hear the sound of it edging his words.
Elsie rolled her eyes. “I beg your pardon, but this is hardly funny—”
“Here we are.” Miss Prescott set a small tin dish and a bottle of water on the tabletop, then knelt beside it. Bacchus pulled up a chair for Elsie, who gratefully sat, before kneeling across from Miss Prescott.
“Master Kelsey and I have discussed his repertoire, and I think we’re set.” Miss Prescott poured a third of the bottle into the dish. “Now, Elsie, I want to discuss runes with you. You see, every spell has a rune.” She reached down and pulled out a thin book, passing it to Elsie. She flipped the cover open, and an assortment of runes peeked up at her. They were organized by color: blue for physical, red for rational, yellow for spiritual, and green for temporal. Elsie recognized nearly every single one—hardening spells, softening spells, emotive manipulation, luck, aging of plants, and so on.
And then remembered she had to act like this was all new to her.
“Aspectors can’t see these runes”—Miss Prescott gestured to Bacchus—“and technically we can’t, either, unless it’s a physical rune. Each discipline of magic has its own flavor, so to speak. Physical runes you can see, which makes it that much better for our first lesson to be with a physical aspector. Spiritual runes are auditory, temporal runes are olfactory, and rational runes are tangible, in a sense. You’ll understand what I mean when we get to those.”
Elsie glanced at Bacchus, who seemed interested in the lecture, but perhaps he was simply better at pretending. I know, Elsie wanted to say, yet she forced the words into her stomach, where they boiled and popped. Miss Prescott was going to cover every single basic premise of spellbreaking, and Elsie would have to take it all in without complaint. Because if she complained, then her story was flawed, and she would go to prison.
“Miss Camden?”
Elsie’s eyes shot to Miss Prescott. “Oh, yes, it’s incredibly interesting!”
Miss Prescott smiled. “Now, I’ll show you what I mean. Master Kelsey, if you would freeze this.”
Bacchus leaned over and touched his hand to the dish. Magic tickled Elsie’s senses as the water froze and pulsed with a glimmering blue rune. Changing the state of water was a novice-level spell. Bacchus could have placed a stronger enchantment on it—a more complicated rune that would be more difficult to break—but he’d gone for the simplest option, knowing Miss Prescott would expect to start with something elementary.