A Study in Ashes (39 page)

London, October 2, 1889
HILLIARD HOUSE
6:45 p.m. Wednesday

POPPY FLOUNCED TO HER ROOM IN A MUTINOUS SULK AND
slammed the door. The pictures jiggled where they hung from the picture rail and an old stuffed rabbit toppled from its perch on the rocking chair. Then she threw herself onto her fluffy yellow bed with a growl of rage.
How dare they send me to my room! I’m a young lady, not a child
.

Her chin trembled, so she bit her bottom lip to stop it. Then she grabbed her pillow, squeezing it because she needed something to hold on to. It smelled like licorice and the sweet perfume she liked, and that calmed her a little.

All she’d been able to figure out before Lord Bancroft exiled her upstairs was that Tobias was in trouble. Extreme trouble—bad enough that he had to go away to a part of the country where no one would go looking. Of course, no one would tell her why. If the Gold King had his way, her brother would leave without even saying good-bye.

But Tobias can’t go. We need him here
. What if he hadn’t been there the night the Scarlet King and his bird had come to the party, and when the Scarlet King had caught her just outside her father’s study? That whisky breath of Reading’s didn’t bear thinking about, and the thought of what he might have got up to next frightened her down to her shoe buckles. She’d turn to Tobias a hundred times over before going to
her parents. Her father never had time for his children, and her mother wished she were somebody else.

Poppy rolled to a sitting position, tossing the pillow aside. The feather mattress was soft, the bed frame high, and that made sitting straight nearly impossible, so she ended up in an uncomfortable slouch, her feet not quite touching the floor. That made her feel six years old, so she squirmed off the bed and went to sit in the old rocking chair in the corner.

Much better—she needed to be straight and firm and clearheaded. Something momentous was going on and she had to figure out what it was. More than that, she needed to decide if there was a thing she could do about it. She’d never been a delicate miss and now was definitely not the time to resort to smelling salts and the fainting couch.

What on earth had Tobias done? It couldn’t be
evil
, because though Tobias was sometimes an idiot, he wasn’t wicked. And he wouldn’t leave home without seeing her.
Whatever happened, it made Mr. Keating nervous and angry, but underneath that was another look, like he’d just won at cards. Is that good or bad?

The longcase clock on the landing struck the hour, the bong making her start because it just didn’t sound right anymore. Her foul mood was fraying at the edges—no less bitter, but the sharpness of it was strained by an anxious knot inside.
First Im and Evelina and now my brother gone from the house. I’m going to be alone
. She felt like the last chicken in the yard, and the stew pot was creeping closer.

Then she heard a faint
scritch-scritch
at the door. Poppy stopped rocking her chair, and she heard it again. She stood and softly crossed the floor, pulling open the door. There was no one there. She frowned into the empty space until she felt something cold brush her leg—cold enough to feel right through her stockings.

She gasped and sprang back, doing an inelegant, one-footed hop. And then she spied the mouse. “You!”

The mouse sat up on its haunches, looking up at her with sharp black eyes. Poppy glowered back, her hands on her waist. Evelina had given the mechanical mouse and bird to Imogen, and they were supposed to be simple novelty
toys—but Poppy knew better. She’d seen the little menace scooting all over the house, its etched steel fur almost invisible in the shadows.

But since Imogen fell ill, the things had been stiff and still as—well—toys. Poppy had even picked them up and shaken them to see if they were broken inside, beginning to doubt what she’d seen. Her mother wasn’t
entirely
wrong when she said Poppy had a hectic imagination.

But now here the mouse was, back to its old self. “You are a shameful playactor!”

The mouse put its forepaws on its middle, mimicking her pose.

“Why did you pretend you weren’t alive? You made a right fool out of me!”

It started cleaning its fine wire whiskers, obviously unconcerned by her outrage.

Poppy huffed a sigh, thinking she didn’t have time for mice while Tobias was in trouble—though the notion that there was still one marvelous thing at Hilliard House made her feel much, much better. Lots of people were terrified of magic but she was curious. And the mouse wasn’t exactly terrifying.

“How might I help you, Mr. Mouse?”

It dropped to all fours and skittered from the room on silent paws. The thing never seemed to make noise unless it wanted to. Poppy leaned out of her doorway, remembering she’d been told to stay put, and looked around to see where the mouse had gone. She caught a glimpse of its tail snaking into Imogen’s room. Surely her father wouldn’t object if she looked in on her ailing sister. Not even he was that much of a stickler for obedience. She decided to take the risk and slipped out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her, and tiptoed down the hall.

Imogen’s room was the same as ever, the blue tones cool and serene in the afternoon light. Imogen was exactly where she always was, looking like a fairy-tale princess in her bower. As usual, there was a nurse in Imogen’s room—but it wasn’t the one she was used to seeing. Poppy froze, disliking strangers near Imogen.

“I don’t know you,” Poppy snapped, fear and anger flaring. “Where is Nurse May?”

The woman turned. She was wearing a dark gray dress and white apron, and her gray hair was pulled back beneath a white cap, a few frizzy wisps escaping to frame her face. She smiled reassuringly, then bent to let the mouse run into her hand. “You must be Poppy,” she said. “My name is Nurse Barnes.”

Poppy frowned, watching her stroke the mouse’s back with her finger as she straightened. “Why are you here? Are you a real nurse?”

“Nurse May required a day off, and a mutual friend arranged it so that I could take her place. I believe you know Dr. Watson? And Mr. Holmes?”

“Mr. Holmes? Yes, I asked him for help, but …” Poppy squinted at the woman, distrust now warring with excitement. “He was going to send someone, um, someone else.”

She didn’t want to say Madam Thalassa because there was no telling who might be listening. After all, Jasper Keating was in the house, and he always brought minions.

The woman smiled. “My friends know me by one name and my clients by another. Miss Barnes is what my friends call me, but I do have another name.”

Poppy nearly staggered as the thought sunk home.
This is Madam Thalassa? But Keating is here!
Of all the times for a magic user to come to her house!
This is dangerous
. Poppy bit her lip.
But better than any book
. This was real, and it was happening right here and now!

Holy hat ribbons! Mr. Holmes kept his promise!
Poppy stepped closer, pulling Imogen’s door shut behind her. “How do you do, Miss Barnes, I’m very pleased that you could come.”

“It was the least I could do, Miss Roth. Mr. Holmes doesn’t ask for help without a good reason.”

“And I appreciate that with all my heart, but this isn’t the best day to call, with the Gold King in the drawing room downstairs.”

The woman gave a dismissive look in the direction of the door. “He wouldn’t know magic if a flock of fairies were
taking a bath in his whisky glass. I have a demanding schedule, and had to come when I could.”

“But aren’t you worried about getting caught?”

Miss Barnes narrowed her eyes. “I’m not the nervous type.”

The mechanical bird, bright with jeweled feathers, flew to Miss Barnes’s shoulder and settled there with an odd mechanical chirp. Poppy watched, so fascinated she almost forgot everything else. She’d never actually seen the bird fly before. “How did you make them work?”

The woman smiled, dumping the mouse into Poppy’s hand. The little creature padded about on velvet-tipped paws, its cold little body plump and round against Poppy’s fingers. She was utterly charmed.

“I didn’t do anything,” Miss Barnes explained. “Mouse and Bird were just waiting for someone who could speak with them. They’ve been helping your sister as much as they could, but now they need assistance.”

Poppy was mystified.
Speak with them?
“But how
do
they work?” Springs and gears could not explain everything she’d seen them do.

She gave an enigmatic smile. “It was the creature’s choice to come to you for your aid.”

“My aid?”

Miss Barnes—or Madam Thalassa—moved to the head of Imogen’s bed and placed her hand on the young woman’s pale forehead. “From what Miss Cooper was able to tell me, your sister suffered a severe shock. Her soul separated from her body and has drifted. She needs to find her way back home.”

Someone walked down the hall and they fell silent, waiting until the footsteps passed. Poppy’s fingers were cold and clammy, as if all her blood had been sucked up by her whirling brain. There was too much to take in all of a sudden—and not all of it as wonderful as the mouse.

Imogen wandered away? How was that possible? And Miss Barnes had spoken to Evelina—who was locked away someplace and not allowed even to write a letter. How had
she managed that? Poppy’s mind was beginning to feel like melting ice cream. “I don’t understand very much of this.”

The woman nodded. “What you need to know is that Mouse and Bird will try to bring your sister back, but it’s not an easy journey. And there is interference.”

“Anna?” Poppy asked under her breath.

“Perhaps.”

Poppy looked doubtfully at Mouse. “Are they really big enough to help?”

Bird gave an indignant chirp. Miss Barnes made a shushing gesture. “They have the right kind of strength for this job. But they need to be anchored to someone here. Someone who is going to stay by Imogen’s side.”

Poppy thought about that, searching for some frame of reference. “Like on a quest, there’s always one knight who has to stay behind to watch the horses while the others sneak into the castle.”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that,” Poppy said quickly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what Mouse thought. He said you are very loyal.”

Poppy eyed the creature. It stood on its hind legs and looked up at her, whiskers tickling her thumb. “You’re cheeky,” Poppy said. “But I’m glad you’re going to help.”

“But you may need to be more than loyal, Miss Roth. You might need to be brave.”

“Why?”

“If I open a door, things may begin to happen. You might need to guard that door.”

“How can I? I’m not magical.”

“Magic doesn’t always happen with spells. And you may need to get reinforcements.”

Poppy was growing nervous and a little impatient. “Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do it.”

“Good. Then I think it’s best we get started,” Miss Barnes said briskly.

Poppy wondered what would happen next, but held her tongue. She could hear doors slamming and people moving around, and she locked the bedroom door just to be safe.
The last thing they needed was Lady Bancroft sailing in while the infamous Madam Thalassa was conjuring a passage to a magic land.

With an efficiency that suggested Miss Barnes was in fact a real nurse, she began clearing space on the dressing table, dislodging the bottles of perfume, necklaces, and powder boxes no one could bring themselves to put away. In danger of being tidied, Bird flew over to where Poppy stood and landed on her arm, digging sharp claws clear through her sleeve. The creature was much more ornate than Mouse, though it had been patched in a few places by a clumsier hand. It chirped and picked at the lace of her cuff, cocking its head as if waiting to see what she would do.

“Don’t be a pest,” Poppy scolded.

Bird opened its beak wide, waggling a bright red tongue. Poppy was sure that was the same as a rude noise.

“Bring them over here,” Miss Barnes directed.

Much had happened while Poppy had been distracted. The dressing table was bare except for a circle drawn in a very fine white powder, and a small candle burned at every point of the compass.

“What is all this for?” Poppy asked.

“The candles provide a beacon. It’s hard to navigate the spirit realms.”

“What’s the white dust?”

“Quartz. It contains the properties of both light and earth, and they will need both illumination and stability.”

Mouse jumped from Poppy’s hand to the dressing table, then Bird. They hunkered down in the middle of the circle, suddenly looking worried. “Are they going to be safe?” Poppy asked.

“Safer than your sister,” Miss Barnes said in a voice that made Poppy twice as uneasy. “Now we need to anchor them to you. That way you’ll be able to help them find their way home.”

“What do I need to do?”

And then they froze again while someone with a heavier tread walked down the hall. Poppy thought she recognized her father’s footsteps, and she looked at the dressing table in
panic, her pulse so violent that she could feel it in her mouth. How quickly could they snuff out the candles and hide the evidence of the spell? But Miss Barnes looked much calmer. “Hold out your hand.”

Poppy did, and to her horror Miss Barnes picked up a tiny white-handled knife. “I’m going to prick your finger. Is that all right?”

Poppy caught her breath, but nodded. This sort of thing happened in fairy tales all the time. The only proper response was to be brave. And she was, although she felt a little sick when Miss Barnes held her finger first over Mouse and then over Bird, letting the bright drops fall onto their sleek metal backs.

Then Miss Barnes began to chant in a hushed voice:

Blood of faith and blood of fire
,

Hear the cry of danger dire;

Fly to realms unseen or heard