Any Other Name (23 page)

“How did they die?”

“Different things; a couple of cancers, a few heart attacks, a few I just couldn’t find out because they weren’t reported in the press. The forge isn’t the only thing linking them Sam. The ones that died all worked for Neugent over the past ten years.”

“In Pin PR?” Sam was on his feet.

“One of them, yes, five years ago, but not the others. He’s worked for several companies over that time. Sam, please, sit down until I’ve given you all the information.”

“But my wife–”

“Please.”

The last thing Max needed was to have him run off into Mundanus and do something stupid. Sam sat down. “I looked into Neugent more closely. He’s never been married and he’s in his thirties, whereas you described him as being in his fifties, so something doesn’t add up there. Every company he’s worked for is owned by one massive international corporation, one I didn’t know existed until I started looking into all of this. It’s called CoFerrum Inc.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“From the name I suspect it has something to do with Lord Iron,” Max said. “And I suspect he’s using Neugent to interfere with your wife in some way, resulting in her change in behaviour and physical weight loss.”

Sam was on his feet again. “I’m such an idiot. She wants to divorce me and it’s all because of Neugent. He’s been sniffing round my wife for bloody ages, he puts her in an apartment that’s got an iron cage built into it and now you’re telling me people who wear wedding rings made at that forge and work for him die young? That’s it.”

He marched to the door.

“Where are you going?” Max asked, struggling to get back on his feet.

“He’s gonna break Neugent’s face,” the gargoyle said, cheering. “Yeah, go on Sam, you show him who’s the man!”

“Be quiet,” Max said, but by the time he’d turned back to Sam, he was gone. Max limped out into the hallway to see Axon closing the front door. “He left?”

“Yes, sir, Mr Ekstrand gave no instructions for him to be kept here. A message has just arrived for you from Mrs Reticulata-Iris. She’s waiting in the ballroom. I understand you agreed to give her some information in return?”

Max took the small piece of paper. There was an address in London, then a sentence explaining it was the anchor property of a Mr Sinensis-Wisteria who “has been taking great efforts to hide something since the Rosas fell”.

“So Cathy came through for us,” the gargoyle said, peering over his shoulder to look at the note.

“She’s given us a name and address. She may have the wrong person.”

“But you’re gonna give her that file she wanted, aren’t you?”

Max nodded. “We’ve made a copy and if the puppet is still messing us about she’ll think we’ve fallen for it. It’ll make it more of a shock if we bring her in for interrogation.”

 

Cathy stepped through the Way and back into Lancaster House with the file on Miss Rainer clutched to her chest. She was grateful that no one was there to see her hurry into the bedroom.

Perched on the bed, nauseous with anticipation, Cathy opened the plain manila file from the Agency. The first line on the top summary sheet made her snatch up the piece of paper to read it again with disbelieving eyes.

“Name: Miss Natasha Rainer Rainsworth”

“She’s still alive!” Cathy laughed and then wept with relief. Miss Rainsworth was now a scullery maid at a house near Kew Gardens, anchor property for the Parviflorus-Ranunculus family, and had been since she’d been sacked from her position in the Papaver household. The rest of the page was a cryptic list of abbreviations so she flipped over to read the next.

There was a report on the complaint made by Mrs Rhoeas-Papaver that accused Miss Rainer of smuggling inappropriate literature into the household and giving lessons on “inappropriate topics” including social history with an “unusual focus on the Suffragettes and other such mundane matters”. She scanned down to the signature at the bottom of the page: Harold Bennet.

“That bastard! He knew all along!”

A section was highlighted noting that Miss Rainsworth was under no circumstances permitted to work in any household in which Catherine Rhoeas-Papaver was resident. Paper-clipped to the report was a brief note in Bennet’s handwriting outlining how he’d told the now Mrs Catherine Reticulata-Iris that Miss Rainer had died in order to avoid any further enquiries.

“Well, sod you, Bennet,” she said to the signature and flipped forwards to a list of previous assignments. Rainer’s first position was as a lady’s maid, then she became a governess. Was that switch in career normal for Agency staff or had Rainer charmed her first employer into giving her a more challenging role suited to her intellect?

There was a knock on the door. “Not now, Morgan, I said I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“It’s me, Cathy,” Will said and the handle started to turn.

She slapped the file shut, rolled over to the far side of the bed and shoved it underneath. She was just about back on top when the door opened.

“I told Morgan–” Cathy stopped when she saw the tray with champagne, two glasses and a bowl of strawberries.

“You’re not unwell, are you?” he asked, pausing to close the door with his foot before setting the tray down on the dressing table.

“No.” She shuffled to the edge of the bed. “I was just… having a lie down.”

“Good.” He smiled as he eased the cork out of the champagne and then poured it into the glasses.

Whilst he had his back to her she checked there weren’t any pieces of paper in sight. She’d locked the camera and iPad away before going to the Arbiter.

“We have something to celebrate.” He handed her a glass. “I’ve been accepted into Black’s.”

“Black’s?”

His smile lost its lustre. “The gentleman’s club. It’s the most exclusive in Albion and I thought it would take years to get in. It only took a week.”

“Oh.” It was hard to fake enthusiasm when she just wanted him to leave so she could carry on reading the file. “Actually Will, I–”

He chinked his glass against hers. “Here’s to the future.”

She couldn’t ignore the toast without being horribly rude so she smiled and had a sip. “Will, would you mind–”

“And here’s to you.”

The crystal rang as he tapped his glass against hers and sat next to her on the bed. They both took another sip.

“Why are we toasting me?”

“Because you won over the Tulipas. Bartholomew sponsored me into Black’s and I’m sure he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been so delightfully charmed by you.”

“I’m not charming.”

“Nonsense. You’re just an acquired taste. How did it go earlier?” Her heart fluttered. “With Dame Iris. I heard she paid a visit.”

“Oh that,” Cathy said with relief. Of course he didn’t know what she’d been up to since then. “It was bloody awful.” A giggle slipped from her lips. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. I survived. Let’s leave it at that.” She didn’t want to go into detail and prolong the conversation.

He beamed at her. “Here’s to successfully surviving the formidable Dame Iris!”

Another bright ring from the crystal and another sip of champagne and Cathy laughed, feeling a rush of euphoria rising in her chest like the tiny bubbles in her glass. Miss Rainer was alive! She was working at a house a short drive away in Mundanus and there was nothing to stop her from going to find her.

Will reflected her smile. “Here’s to us,” he said and after tapping her glass he downed the rest of the champagne. “Now, celebratory strawberries, brought to us out of season by the magic of the mundane world!”

Cathy knocked back the last of her champagne, happy to celebrate even though it was for a different reason. She imagined running up to Miss Rainer and telling her that she’d got to university despite everything they’d tried to do to stop her, that all those lessons about freedom and the right to pursue one’s own life hadn’t been in vain.

Will relieved her of the empty glass and retrieved the bowl to set it between them on the bed.

She plucked out a strawberry and its sweetness exploded across her tongue. “These are so good!” Her heart raced with elation and they both laughed when they reached into the bowl at the same time. Will caught hold of her fingers and brought them to his lips. He leaned towards her, closing his eyes, and she found herself doing the same. His lips touched hers. Their warmth felt incredible and for the first time she thought only of Will. It was as if she hadn’t even noticed him before, hadn’t been aware of the beauty of his eyes and the richness of his voice. The kiss drew her in, seeming to last forever and then no time at all as he pulled away gently and studied her.

 

20

 

Will scanned the list of names, crossing out the ones he’d already spoken to, as Cornelius poured the sherry. He was desperate to throw himself into winning the Dukedom so he didn’t have to think about what he’d done the night before. He’d hardly slept, lying next to Cathy as she was curled on her side, sleeping deeply. At first he felt satisfied he’d solved a problem, the next he even felt heroic for saving her from the impending wrath of Lord Iris. It shifted into a leaden guilt that lingered until he decided to get up and leave before she woke.

It was cowardly and he was disgusted with himself. He had arrived at the house and asked for Cornelius without his usual trip up the stairs to see Amelia. He didn’t feel a need to be sated and he didn’t want her to see the guilt in his eyes.

“Is that all of them?” Cornelius asked, bringing Will’s mind back to the task. He crossed three more out then passed it over. “You’ve been busy.”

Will sipped the sherry and lay the pen down. “There isn’t time to waste.”

“You’ve spoken to Tulipa, I see. What did you say?”

“That I couldn’t support him because I have no choice but to stand myself.”

Cornelius’ eyebrows arched. “And how did that go?”

“As well as it could.”

“Have you noticed anything unusual since then?”

“Like what?”

“Was it quiet on the road over today?”

Will nodded. “It’s always quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen another carriage. It takes some getting used to after Aquae Sulis.” Cornelius still seemed dissatisfied. “What is it?”

“I don’t think you should have told him. Now he’ll see you as a threat.”

“I could hardly do anything else. Besides, I played it down, I’m not a complete fool.”

“The Tulipas are very accomplished, Bartholomew in particular. You have to be careful now, he could take action.”

“What kind of action? Running me out of town?”

“Worse. Just because they’re polite and cultured, it doesn’t mean the Tulipas won’t resort to low forms of persuasion.”

“Are you seriously trying to tell me Bartholomew would threaten my person?” Will laughed. “The same man who charms my wife with debates on philosophy and thinks Freddy Viola is a grotesque idiot?”

“Will, please, listen to me. The Tulipas have been coveting the throne for hundreds of years. Just because you’ve had a few pleasant conversations with the man, don’t think that will protect you.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Don’t be complacent!” Cornelius’s voice rose. He closed his eyes as Will stared, taken aback. “I’m sorry. I feel very strongly about this. You must put an extra footman on your carriage and have them armed.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Please take my advice. If nothing else, it will put Amelia’s mind at rest as well as my own.”

Will nodded and looked back down at the list. “There’s a few left to talk to. No one has promised their support yet, but a couple seem more receptive than others. I wanted to talk to you about the Peonias.”

They discussed the list and new approaches for most of the morning. Will decided to return home for lunch so he could consult the steward about security and see if Cathy was all right. It wasn’t until he was halfway back that he realised he’d neglected to see Amelia.

“Is my wife at home?” he asked Morgan as his gloves and cane were taken.

“I’m afraid not, sir, she was collected by Dame Iris shortly after eleven. I understand they are to take tea with a friend of the Dame and then have lunch.”

Will nodded. “Could you send a message to the steward to see me in my study?”

The steward was a rather dour man with angular features and an unfortunate set of ears, but he was most capable and had already proven himself to be invaluable. He listened to Will’s concerns and then assured him he would give it his full attention. Will felt like a bit of a fool, but Cornelius seemed to think it was necessary and he couldn’t see any harm in being cautious.

He’d lunch at home, then go to Black’s to see if there was an opportunity to find Oliver’s cousin. He leaned back in the chair, wondering what trouble his best friend had got himself into of late. It hadn’t been so long ago that they’d been travelling together, then swanning about in Aquae Sulis, enjoying the attention as the newly returned. He marvelled at how quickly his life was turning into his father’s, with a household to care for and a patron to keep happy. He wondered when Nathaniel would be paired off and why it hadn’t happened already. He imagined that Imogen would soon be engaged, and Sophia, well, there was no telling what would become of her.

He had a sudden urge to see his youngest sister. He remembered Sophia’s tiny kisses on his cheek, the way she’d asked to be a bridesmaid, and felt an awful twist in his stomach at the thought of her left at home with the housemaid whilst the family had been at the Oak. Sophia would have loved the wedding; in fact, she was probably the only person capable of being filled with joy at the event.

There was a scrying glass in the drawer of his desk, one he kept in case of emergencies. Will lifted it out and looked at his reflection briefly before saying, “Show me Miss Sophia Reticulata-Iris.”

The surface of the glass rippled in the manner he was accustomed to, then he saw his youngest sister sitting on the floor. She looked pale and thinner than he remembered, and far from happy as she combed the hair of a porcelain doll.

Will’s stomach tightened, remembering her happy babble and the effortless affection she’d exuded whenever they were together. He set the glass down, went to the door and locked it, then went to the middle bookcase and pulled back the third book in from the left on the lowest shelf. There was a gentle click and it swung into the room, revealing a second door behind it set into the wall. Will retrieved the wooden key, as heavy as one made from lead, from the hidden compartment in his desk and put it in the lock. It sent a tingle up his arm as he turned it.

He pocketed the key and opened the door. He could just make out his old room in his parents’ Aquae Sulis home through a haze that reminded him of the roads in Sicily during the heat of the day.

He held his breath and stepped through. When he glanced back he could see the door had already shut and locked behind him and the bookcase would be swinging back into place. When the Patroon had insisted on giving the Way as a gift, he’d been resistant to the idea, thinking the Patroon’s generosity was a thinly veiled lack of confidence in his ability to cope in Londinium. It was nothing more than a means of enabling Will to gain advice from his father without anyone else’s knowledge. Now he was grateful he hadn’t expressed that opinion at the time.

His mother, ever conscious of the embarrassment of being surprised by an unexpected guest – even if it was her own son – insisted on a Charm being put in place to ring a bell down in the servants’ hall should the Way from Londinium be opened. The butler was hurrying up the stairs as he emerged from his room.

“Good morning, sir, what a pleasure to see you again.”

“Good morning. Is my mother here? I need to speak to her. I apologise for the lack of polite notice, but it’s important.”

“She’s entertaining guests. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to wait in the drawing room, and I’ll inform her of your arrival.”

“Is my father here?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. He’s expected back this evening.”

Will paced as he waited in the drawing room, feeling strange now he was back in his old home. He felt younger and tense in a way he hadn’t for some time. He was back on guard, ready to defend himself from his siblings and their latest attempt to ridicule or trick him.

He was brought tea, which he hadn’t the stomach for, and then shortly afterwards his mother arrived, dressed in such an elaborate dress he surmised the guests were important.

“William.” She kissed him on the cheek. “What a lovely surprise. Is everything well in Londinium?”

“Yes,” he said. “Mother, I’m here about Sophia. I want her to come and stay with us.”

It was clearly the last thing she’d expected him to say. “I beg your pardon?”

“I want her to come and live with Cathy and me. She’s not happy here.”

“Whatever gives you that impression?”

“I used a Glass.”

“How rude!”

“She’s not looking well. Is no one keeping her company? Who is looking after her?”

“Stop making such a fuss. She’s fine.”

“I’d like to see her.”

“But that will only upset her, she misses you.”

“All the more reason for her to come with me.”

Mother arranged two cups on saucers, and they rattled as she did so. “William, do sit down and think about what you’re suggesting. Catherine is newly married and hardly in a position to care for her, and besides, it’s her first year as a new bride. She should be settling in and no doubt Dame Iris is paying her a great deal of attention.”

“You’re worried the Dame will find out about Sophia,” Will said, sitting opposite her. “I’m not a fool, mother. We’ll keep her out of the Dame’s way and tell the staff she’s a distant relative of mine, whose mother is sick or something.”

“Is Catherine prepared to do this?”

“She’ll adore Sophia, it’s impossible to not love her.”

Mother set the teapot down. “Oh, William. You haven’t told her, have you?”

“It’s not a problem,” he said. “Besides, I want her to have some contact with a young child. She needs to get used to the idea of us having children and what better way to do that than see how delightful one can be?”

“William,” – Mother handed him a cup of tea he still didn’t want – “you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“I can’t leave Sophia here being so miserable, it’s not right.”

She fidgeted, stirring her tea for too long. “We have guests. We’ve not been able to give her as much attention as usual, it’s true. And your father has been nervous about this for a while… the Patroon has been visiting more often since you went to Londinium. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have her stay with you a little while, just whilst we’re entertaining.”

“Let me have Sophia to stay for just a month. We’ll see how she settles and how Cathy takes to her. Would you be amenable to that?”

“But what about standing for the Dukedom, won’t she be a distraction?”

“Hardly, Mother, and I rather think having her around will keep me cheerful in the midst of all the politics.”

“You really are a sweet young man, William. I hope Catherine realises how lucky she is.”

Will took to stirring his tea. “I’m sure she will.”

 

When the carriage finally pulled away from the restaurant, Cathy released a long sigh of relief. Finally she could accomplish something useful now that her obligation to Dame Iris was over for the day. She wanted to check her email and see if her tutor had responded. Cathy had been very apologetic, explaining that a family emergency had taken her away from her studies and that she’d be unlikely to return for a few months. She wanted to know if she’d be able to continue her studies at a distance in the interim. She’d ordered books from her reading list and arranged to pick them up at a bookshop only a short walk away. She’d also stumbled across information on P.O. Boxes, a remarkably useful mundane service which would enable her to have a postal address separate from the anchor property. Slowly, piece by piece, Cathy felt like she was starting to make real progress. She wished she could hurry the painting Charm along as easily.

There was also a hire car to arrange so she could sneak out to find Miss Rainer. She’d already found the anchor property on Google maps and even looked at it with the satellite view. The people of Mundanus were so wonderfully advanced! Thanks to the internet she could sort out all the logistics without having to be seen leaving the house. None of the servants had noticed her going off to the nursery, as the corridor leading to it wasn’t used for anything else. She smiled. The room that had made her faint was now her favourite in the house.

The time wasted with Dame Iris had been so frustrating. Cathy’s cheeks ached from the hours of fake smiling and attempts to appear animated when the Dame described various embroidery projects she’d undertaken in the last year. It had been so hard not to just grab the teapot and start pouring it all over the table cloth whilst shouting every expletive she’d learnt in Mundanus. Imagining it was the only thing that enabled her to appear vaguely cheerful throughout the tedious tea with the Dame’s boring friends and then lunch at a restaurant with the atmosphere of a funeral parlour in a healthy neighbourhood.

She wondered whether Will was home and the churning over of the previous evening’s events started again. She felt a flicker of hope that he would be and that they’d kiss again. “Don’t,” she whispered to herself. “Don’t fall for him, you idiot.”

Cathy tried to remember the details of the conversation they’d had, but they seemed to have been pushed out by what had followed. She felt her cheeks grow hot as she remembered how it had felt. She shook her head. What had she been thinking? Then, for the hundredth time since she’d woken up, she hoped she wasn’t pregnant. How could she have been so careless?

The euphoria over finding out Miss Rainer was alive had made the champagne rush to her head and her better judgement collapse. The memories were slippery, muddied by recollections of his kisses, his touch, tempting her down mental alleyways all leading to the same rush in her chest. She needed to talk to Will and see if she really did feel differently about him. Then she changed her mind; she had to stay away from him in case she lost control again. She had to stay focused on her real goal and not be distracted by her handsome husband.

Will was likely to be running around Londinium canvassing for supporters so it was the ideal time to hide in the nursery and get things ticked off her to-do list. The only thing that stopped her worrying about his fight for the Dukedom was the sure fact that Bartholomew would win and she wouldn’t have to face the awful prospect of being Duchess. Shivering at the thought, she took the footman’s hand to descend the steps. The new dress hastily commissioned at the Dame’s insistence wasn’t the easiest to move in. Style over comfort, as always.