Cards & Caravans (10 page)

Sure enough, all her clothes and many of his had been carefully hung inside.

Connor selected his own clothing and then turned to her. “Which colors? We’ll need to get you a larger wardrobe as soon as we return to Edinburgh.”

As she’d only packed two spare shirtwaists and one other skirt, she nodded. “I’ll try not to spend much. Maybe at some point, we’ll be able to go back to the farm for the rest of my things.”

He raised one eyebrow. “I can afford to clothe you, Belinda—and not just with my parents’ or grandparents’ funds. I’m a wealthy man in my own right. The Order pays well, and I’ve a healthy private income from investments.”

“You have a position to maintain. I understand that.” She grimaced. “And I don’t wish to shame you by wearing the clothes of a simple farmwife.”

He pulled out a pink shirtwaist and her brown skirt and laid them next to his own garments on a nearby chaise. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I wouldn’t be ashamed of you if you were in sackcloth. I just want you to have some pretty things.”

Belinda opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again at the sight of his scowl. Instead she smiled. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He went into the bathing room and soon she heard the sound of the bathtub filling. She’d had more baths in the last two days than she usually had in weeks, but after the days in gaol, she still wasn’t sure she’d ever feel clean again. Last night, they’d bathed together, with Connor carefully washing her, while keeping her bandaged arm out of the water. Would he expect the same this morning? The notion of learning all his moods and preferences suddenly seemed daunting. The man could move from gentle to mischievous to passionate to lethal, all in the space of a heartbeat. How was she ever to keep up with him? Still exhausted from the last few days, she drifted off against the plump feather pillows that still smelled of him, of her and of their lovemaking.

“No going back to sleep, wife. You’ll want to wash while your water is still warm.” He padded back into the bedroom, wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist. His smile fell away as he glanced at her arm. “Do you need any help?”

“No, thank you.” She swallowed hard before dropping the covers and managed to keep her chin up, despite his warm regard, as she walked past him without a stitch of clothing on. She and Micah had never been this uninhibited. She peeked over her shoulder, pleased to see he was watching her with hooded eyes. When he dropped the towel, she caught a glimpse of an impressive arousal and the tenderness between her legs clenched.

“You may want to get dressed, wife, before we end up spending all day in this room.” His voice was low and raspy as he swallowed hard and looked away from her. Eyes downcast, he slipped on his tight knitted smalls and undershirt. Watching him lift his arm over her head made her wound ache, so she admitted, “I may need some assistance with my clothes.”

“I’m calling now for a maid with some chocolate and toast,” he said. “She can wait while you bathe and help you with whatever you need. Just put on your shift and wait in here. I want Geneva to have a look at your arm before you dress.”

“Yes, sir.” She nearly snapped a salute. “And I’d prefer tea, if you don’t mind. I’ve never been fond of chocolate.” If that showed her plebian ancestry, so be it.

Connor just grinned. “Good to know I shan’t have to share my chocolate supply. Tea it is.”

He picked up the speaking tube to summon their breakfast, so Belinda stepped into the bathing room and shut the door. “If he thinks he’s going to get away with being an autocratic husband,” she muttered, “he’s in for one devil of a surprise.”

* * *

After Geneva had pronounced Belinda’s wound to be healing nicely, she helped Belinda dress and the two descended the stairs together. The rest of the family, along with most of their adult guests, were gathered in one of the sitting rooms, which appeared ready to burst at the seams. Every last individual stood as the two women entered. Starting with Maura, they all began to applaud—except for Connor, who scowled.

“Don’t.” He strode across the room and took Belinda’s hand to guide her to a seat beside him on a settee. “Don’t encourage her to do such a bloody damned stupid thing ever again.”

Maura curtseyed deeply in front of Belinda. “Thank you.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears. “I’m sorry if I didn’t welcome you to the family with open arms. Can you forgive me? I was being a fool.”

Belinda dropped to her knees and embraced the older woman. “No, Lady MacKay. You were being a mother. I can’t fault you for wanting to protect your son. Let’s just put everything that happened yesterday behind us and start afresh.”

“I will never be able to forget that you leaped between my son and a bullet.” Maura hugged her back and they both stood. “But I’d love the chance to start anew. Please, call me Mama or Mother or Maura, whichever you’re most comfortable with.”

“I’d love to call you Mother.” Belinda’s own parents had died when she was young, but she still didn’t feel right calling another woman Mama. Maura resumed her seat as Belinda swallowed the lump in her throat and let Connor lead her to a chair one of the younger men had hastily vacated in favor of the floor. Connor sat cross-legged in front of her, his back leaning against her knees. Belinda wouldn’t have thought to see this much touching among the upper class, but nearly every couple, young or old, maintained some kind of physical contact. It was a quirk she liked, so she let her hand rest on Connor’s shoulder.

“Right. Now that we’ve all thanked you for your courage,” Fergus began.

Connor coughed and glared at his father.

“And reminded you to be more careful about avoiding injury in the future.” Fergus looked back at his son until Connor subsided and nodded for his father to continue. “We thought we ought to discuss what the Order has been able to discover in the last day or so, regarding both your individual case, and the idea of witch-finders running amok in Britain.”

“Using the Order’s Babbage Engines, we’ve been able to go through a year’s worth of newspapers from cities and towns all over England and Scotland,” Wink said from her perch on the arm of her husband’s chair. “We also looked through parish court records. There have been a surprising number of witchcraft cases, even more than we’d thought at first, mostly in smaller villages. Nearly every one of them was rushed through trial and execution. There are also more than the usual number of missing persons, particularly in the professions of midwife, apothecary and performer—all of which are often filled by individuals with supernatural gifts. It appears someone is waging war on magick, and particularly singling out anyone with less than pure Anglo-Saxon or Norman heritage.”

“But I’m not magickal,” Belinda said. Wink’s words made her stomach churn. “Why would they choose me?”

“First of all, you do have gifts, even if they’re not powerful ones,” Merrick Hadrian, Baron Northland, said. There were so many people here that Belinda struggled to keep them all straight. “Secondly, I think there is some sort of ethnic or religious angle. We could be looking at a resurgence of Cromwell’s puritans.”

“The darkest hour for the Order,” Sir William said. “They did their best to eradicate magick from Britain, along with anyone who didn’t follow their beliefs or share their bloodlines.”

“I tend to agree,” said Lord Drood, a middle-aged Welshman who was here alone as far as Belinda knew. He was an unassuming sort but if she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, even she could sense power. According to Connor, this was the most powerful wizard in all of the Empire. “There is some sort of organized war going on. We need to root out the people responsible and stop it before more innocents wind up dead.”

“But how?” asked Nell.

Several people jumped in with ideas and a lively discussion ensued.

“I think we need a Trojan horse,” Caro said, interrupting half a dozen other ideas. “We know there’s someone—probably a group of someones—attacking people with magick and non-traditional backgrounds. Rather than wait for the villains to pick them off, one by one, and perhaps come after us when they’ve gained more power, we could set a trap—a situation where a number of talents are all in one place, looking harmless. Then when they strike, you can capture them and question them, to make sure you’ve rounded up the entire group.”

“Very clever,” agreed Amy Lake.

Belinda sat silently, amazed by the degree to which the women were included in the conversation.

“That’s a good idea,” Amy’s father-in-law, the duke, agreed. “What sort of group will draw their attention? I can send several Knights.”

“Knights might be too obvious,” his son said.

Miss Dorothy nodded. “It needs to be a group that looks harmless, like a troupe of performers or a—”

“Circus,” Belinda interjected. “We could set ourselves up as a circus. We already have one wagon.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Magnus, Geneva’s husband looked exhausted, as if he’d hadn’t slept at all the night before. “We’re leaving tonight after the ball, but if there’s any way we can help, just phone.”

“We could do a trained wolf act.” Wink grinned at her husband. “I think I could pull of tights and spangles, don’t you? Plus, you’ll need a mechanic.”

“I’d come take pictures, but Ned’s still nursing,” Amy said. “But I could teach someone the basics and loan you the equipment.”

“I can sing,” Nell said softly. “If you want me to, that is.”

“You’re not involved in this,” Tom snapped. “It’s liable to be dangerous.”

“If Jamie and Piers didn’t have to go back to school, they could put together a magick act—with real magick. That would help draw in the witch-finders.” Nell ignored her foster brother and turned to Belinda. “The five of us grew up in Wapping, picking pockets. We all still remember sleight of hand and how to defend ourselves.”

“I could take some time off,” Piers, the quietest Hadrian said, his face set in a studious scowl. “I’m ahead of most of the other students anyway.”

“No.” His father shook his head. “And don’t get any ideas, Jamie.”

“I wasn’t.” Jamie, the youngest of the adopted brood, as Belinda had learned, shrugged. “I was lucky to get a three-day pass for the party. I can’t afford to be late getting back.”

“We don’t have enough equipment,” Connor said. “Otherwise I think it’s a bloody brilliant plan. No one thinks twice about a circus arriving in town. One caravan, though, isn’t nearly enough.”

“What about Mr. Smith?” Liam said. “He’s the one who drew our attention to this in the first place. Maybe he’d loan us his equipment if we gave him any profits we earned.”

Connor laced his fingers through Belinda’s. “That’s not a bad idea. By his own admission, he owes us a few favors, and Belinda is his niece.”

“The roustabouts and performers might even help,” Belinda said. “As long as they all know about the danger. Of course the children and some of the older ones, like Madame Zara, will have to be safely hidden somewhere.”

Merrick shrugged. “We’ve plenty of room at Hadrian Hall and there are several other Order estates scattered around Britain. They’ll be safely lodged, if that’s what they want.”

“Without Madame Zara, there won’t be a fortune-teller,” Wink said. “I wonder if I could pretend to do that.”

“Or me.” Nell bit her lip. “I have the exotic looks, remember.”

Belinda shook her head. “No. I’ll do the fortune telling. Madame Zara is my great-aunt, after all, and I am a Rom, so I look the part too. Besides, I’m quite good with the cards if I do say so myself.”

“So that’s what your gift is.” Miss Dorothy grinned. “Remind me to have you do a reading sometime. I’ve always been fascinated by the tarot.”

Ideas flew so fast they made Belinda’s head spin, and then she and Connor were sent to the telephone to contact her uncle. All was agreed, and by supper the details had been hammered out. That evening, the eldest MacKays’ grand anniversary ball went off without a hitch, although the guard at the gates had been significantly increased. This time, Belinda got to dance with her new husband without interruption—and in another of her mother-in-law’s gowns. It didn’t matter. All she cared about was being with Connor.

A week later, the circus arrived in Northumberland.

Chapter Eight

Belinda finished unpacking her suitcase into her grandfather’s caravan, now that it was parked at the circus grounds. She and Connor, along with Lucifer and the two deerhounds, would call the wagon home for the duration of the investigation. Connor had been assigned to act as Fernando’s apprentice ringmaster, while Tom had worked up a magick act, as his sister had suggested. Melody was along to help Wink with the machines and act as Tom’s assistant. Wink planned to demonstrate some of her wonderful automatons and her “trained wolf” of a husband, who would represent the police in this matter. Her sister Nell would sing as part of the main performance. Altogether, half a dozen Knights and family members had replaced those members of the circus too old or frail to take the risk that might be headed their way.

It had been a whirlwind of a week as they put together the plan and prepared for their various roles in the circus. Most importantly, Sir William had made sure all the charges against Belinda were dismissed. It had come as such a relief, she’d nearly fainted for the first time in her life. Not only had Connor and his father gone to retrieve her belongings from the farmhouse and make arrangement to sell the property, but Belinda had also been allowed to go into Edinburgh to shop. The trip there, in Connor’s steam car, had been exciting, as she had the chance to be utterly alone with Connor in their very own small house. She’d even been given her first lesson in driving the steam car. Perhaps most importantly, she now had a wardrobe fit for a queen, despite it being all ready-made.

Of course, this week, she’d be wearing her old clothes, supplemented with paste jewels and things from secondhand stores to replicate Zara’s exaggerated gypsy style. It wasn’t ladylike, and they were about a serious business, but she couldn’t help but enjoy being back with a troupe. This was where she’d grown up, after all. Having her great uncle as ringmaster and numerous cousins among the group who had stayed gave the entire situation something of the feel of a family reunion.

As for Belinda and Connor, the week had given them time to get to know each other. They’d spent almost as much time talking as they had making love. One thing she’d discovered about being married to a younger man was that his appetites—for food, for adventure and for lovemaking—were voracious. After eight days of marriage, her body was still tender from all the unaccustomed activity. She also couldn’t stop smiling. Her new husband was determined to make her happy. They hadn’t married for love and he probably loved another woman. Belinda could live with that. She’d loved another man, after all, though what she’d felt for Micah was very different from her growing feelings for Connor. Still, she believed they could be content together. They got on, and the passion between them was like nothing she’d ever dreamed. Belinda no longer had any difficulty believing affection would grow, and that they had a long and pleasurable future in store. It would be enough. She refused to ask for more than he could give her.

Presuming, of course, that they were able to stop the witch-finders. Engle had gone into hiding, but they’d set their trap carefully, choosing a midsized town, less than an hour’s carriage ride from Newcastle, where Engle lived. The alderman hadn’t been cooperative when questioned about his cousin, but apparently the squire had possessed no such compunctions and had readily shared what little he knew in return for having the charges against him dropped.

Belinda slid the last suitcase under the bed just as Connor stepped into the caravan, his shadow, Rowan, at his heels. Connor caught Belinda around the waist and pulled her close for a long, smacking kiss. “Everything looks ready for tomorrow’s grand opening. The tents are up, the sideshow booths are in place and we’re already drawing a crowd around the outside of the fence.”

“That’s wonderful.” She kissed him back but wiggled away before things got out of hand...again. “I’m all finished in here, so I thought I’d go get myself settled into Zara’s booth.” She picked up the velvet pouch containing her grandmother’s tarot cards from the bed.

“You’ll have to wait a bit. Merrick is here with more information,” he said. “We’re meeting in the main passenger car to hear what he has to say.” Since the circus traveled primarily by train, they were perforce set up at a railroad siding just outside town, tucked behind the local station. The advantage was that the train cars remained available to house performers and equipment so the crew didn’t have to live in tents. The passenger car was the circus’s primary gathering spot when they wanted to talk without being overheard. Today only the temporary performers were present, along with Fernando to represent the circus. He was the only one who had been briefed on the exact nature of his new “employees.” With both dogs beside them, Belinda and Connor took seats facing the front where Merrick waited, chatting with his two daughters. Once everyone arrived, Wink and Nell took their seats.

Merrick cleared his throat and began. “First, we’ve been able to ascertain that the so-called sheriff who presided over Belinda’s trial was an impostor. Charges against him will be leveled as soon as anyone can find him.”

Belinda gasped while Connor and some of the others cheered.

“We managed to find one club in Newcastle with an Archibald Engle listed on the membership roll,” Merrick said. “We’ve investigated, but we don’t believe it to be a front for his anti-magick group. No one there admits to knowing him well and the club includes several foreign nationals among the membership. We’re still watching it and also making sure that word of this circus spreads to the neighborhood around those clubs, along with hints that there will be real magick. Hopefully, word of the magick, along with the newspaper advertisements emphasizing that this is a Romany troupe, will be enough to draw them in.”

“We will all be on guard,” Fernando said. “If they come, we will be ready.”

A murmur of agreement rose from the rest of the crowd.

Wink stood up. “Before we go rehearse, I have something for each of you. Not all of us can carry pistols in our costumes, and we don’t want anyone walking about unarmed—even the regular performers. These are only good for one shot, but in a pinch, that should be all you need.” Her husband took a box from the floor by his feet and handed around silver rings designed like large flowers, each centered by a different colored artificial stone, to every one of the women. “The stone flips up to reveal a tiny dart,” Wink said. “There’s enough sedative in the dart to knock an adult male unconscious in seconds. All you do is push aside the stone like this, and press the stem of the flower.” She did so, and a dart embedded itself with impressive force into the velvet of the seat behind her.

Belinda accepted a ring with a bright red glass center. Next to her antique wedding ring, it was garish and cheap, but she put it onto her opposite hand nonetheless. She already wore a small pistol strapped to her thigh beneath a slit in the side of her skirt and petticoat.

“For the men, I have gloves with brass knuckles set into them and pocket watches with the tranquilizer darts.” Wink nodded to Tom, who passed those around. “We’ve got enough of each for a number of the regular performers too, Mr. Smith. We also have weaponry and distress sirens hidden in most of the tents and booths.”

Belinda knew about that. There was a rifle mounted under the fortune-teller’s table, and an electronic buzzer installed to summon help if she needed it. Since her plan was to keep Willow with her at all times, she wasn’t terribly concerned about the alarm. While Scottish deerhounds were a noble breed, far too dear for circus performers, they could pass for gypsy lurchers. Since Belinda’s injury, the dog had all but refused to leave her side. As often as not, Rowan was there as well, having clearly decided that Willow was his. While his attachment to Connor remained clear, the dogs were both happiest when their two humans were together. Lucifer chose to keep to the caravan, disdaining the open spaces and bustle of the circus.

“Since neither of us is in the performance, why don’t we take the afternoon train into Newcastle?” Connor asked as they left the meeting car. “I trust my father and Merrick to handle the investigation, but I can’t help wanting to see Engle’s premises for myself.”

“I agree.” Belinda looked down at her layered, brightly colored skirts and purple satin bodice, then Connor’s striped waistcoat and tall boots. His hair had been dyed black so he didn’t stand out among the Romany circus folk. “Do we have to go dressed like this? We might cause a stir walking through neighborhoods.”

“I think we can sneak out in our own clothing,” he said with a chuckle, tugging her into their caravan. His voice dropped to a husky promise. “Although if we help each other change, we might have to catch a later train.”

* * *

Connor tried to stifle his satisfied grin as he and his demure-looking wife settled into their seats on the train into Newcastle-upon-Tyne just past teatime. There was still plenty of daylight left to examine Engle’s neighborhood, but it would be a late supper they’d be having before they caught the last train back. Being newlyweds was an exhausting, if exhilarating, business. Looking at Belinda now in a forest-green traveling suit with a parasol in her gloved hands and a green velvet hat with a tiny black veil shading her forehead, he wanted to crow with pride. Other men eyed her with admiration, but only he got to see that luxurious dark hair tumbled across his pillow.

“I’d like to stop at a stationer’s, if we can,” she said. “I need a new notebook.”

“Filled the old one up with stories, have you?” She’d let him read some of her children’s fairy tales. Several of them, including one about a sheltered prince who longed to be a warrior, had touched him deeply, making him gasp with excitement, laugh out loud and genuinely care about the endings. She had a true gift. As a surprise, he’d already sent a letter to an Edinburgh publisher with a sample.

She nodded. “On the trip down. Traveling gives me extra time for writing, it seems.”

“When you’re not the one driving or shoveling coal.” Connor touched her nose. “I’m glad that we had additional help.” Tom had joined them for the trip from Kay’s Tower, meaning that Belinda had been able to relax in the sleeping compartment.

“Well, I offered to help.”

“Yes, you did.” She’d have been perfectly capable too and he felt no shame admitting that. Still, both he and Tom had been raised as gentlemen, so they’d taken turns with driving and stoking the boiler. “So have you given any thought to redecorating the house once we return to Edinburgh, or would you rather just look for something larger right away?” They’d spent the night in his bachelor townhouse on their shopping trip, and even Belinda had admitted quarters were tight.

“Whichever you prefer.” She bit her lip then smiled. “If we do stay, I was thinking some lace curtains in the sitting room and parlor to let in more light than the velvet drapes. I can use the spare bedroom in the attic as a stillroom.”

“So a bigger house, with ample space and better windows. Agreed.” He wiggled his nose to make her laugh, which she did. “We’ll need more space for servants, anyway. One couple is sufficient for a bachelor establishment, but not for a family.”

“Making assumptions again?” Her smile vanished. “Please don’t get your hopes up.”

“Not assumptions, blackbird—promises.” He patted her hand. He’d grown to love the idea of a houseful of children. “One way or another, my dear. If it’s children you want, then children you shall have—as many as you like. I asked my mother to poke around and look for a respectable orphanage while we were gone. They’re always looking for patronesses, so whether or not we choose to adopt one or a handful, you’ll be able to help any number of them by supporting the institution.”

“Thank you.” She laced her fingers through his. Her voice was thick with emotion. “I never dreamed I’d be so fortunate.”

They sat in companionable silence for the rest of the short ride and then took a hansom cab to Engle’s purported address. The house, settled in a clean middle-class neighborhood, appeared vacant. The shutters were all nailed closed and the brass doorknocker and doormat had been removed, long enough ago to leave a film of dust behind on the doorstep.

Connor climbed back into the cab after walking around the house to the alley behind. Taking his seat across from Belinda, he removed his breathing mask—necessary in a large industrial city like Newcastle due to the overwhelming coal smoke. “There’s not a damn thing back there—no sign at all of recent occupation. Hell, I didn’t even find footsteps around the servants’ entrance.”

Belinda’s forehead wrinkled. “Where could he have gone?”

“I don’t know.” He clenched and unclenched his hand, wanting to hit something, or more specifically someone. He wouldn’t be sure Belinda was safe until the bastard was behind bars. “This isn’t the address of a gentleman of leisure. Do we know Engle’s profession?” That hadn’t been anywhere in Merrick’s briefing.

“You believe witch-finder is just an avocation?” She rolled her eyes. He could practically see her mind working as she no doubt thought back over everything she’d ever heard about Mr. Engle. “I seem to recall Mrs. Douglas once saying her husband’s cousin had designed the newest wing of their home. So he could be an architect or builder, but I’m not sure it was the same cousin.”

“Well, we can use that to look for more information.” It was more than they had so far. Connor checked his pocket watch. “It’s not five o’clock yet. There might be time to find an official and ask how a newly married couple would go about choosing someone to design a house.”

“That’s an excellent thought.” She tapped her fingers together, pantomiming applause. He felt a distinct flush of pride at having earned her approval. “Perhaps they can give us a list.”

“Or better yet, direct us to a trade association or guild hall.” He instructed the driver to head to the county offices, and pointed out a few sights to Belinda as they went. Newcastle was a bustling city, with its shipyards and cathedrals, theaters and shops nestled at the mouth of the River Tyne, and Belinda was a delightful audience—bright, eager to see and learn as much as she could and able to tell him things he hadn’t known either, including which parts of town were considered off-limits to gypsy circus performers.