PEACOCK

33

HETTY WAS CURLED UP in the window seat in the study, reading Esther’s book, when Benjy entered the study.

“How was the baseball game?”

Hetty shut the book and leaned back against the window with a smile, anticipating how he’d react to her next words. “I nearly fell off a broomstick.”

Benjy’s eyebrows rose at that, and he sat down on the couch. “Tell me this story.”

Leaving off any embellishments for a change, she told him everything, starting with her quick visit to see Oliver and Thomas and ending with the fight on and above the train.

“Adelaide Duval was attacked by Nathan Payne. And her brother bought supplies from him?” Benjy nodded. “You scratched off a suspect and a lingering question in one swoop. Very nice.”

“Valentine bought chalk from Payne.” Hetty blinked, seeing the connection she had overlooked at first. “If only he hadn’t?”

“He’d have met a bad end either way. The murderer has a list to go through, after all.”

“Yet Payne has time to transport stolen magical goods.”

“He has to, it’s his scheme. Although he’s working with the alderman, I doubt it’s a true partnership. Such things always come at a price.”

“Money?” Hetty asked, even though she knew it wasn’t the right answer. When they were at the warehouse, Payne had said something about goods. And a spellbook. “Payne gave the alderman some type of magic.” Hetty blinked as the pieces fell into place. “Could Payne be giving away a fire-boosting potion?”

“Odds are likely,” Benjy replied.

Which meant yes.

Hetty had suspected magic was at the root of the fires, but thought it might have been Sorcery. But if Payne was behind this, it explained a few things, including why the fires had occurred frequently in the past few weeks.

“Now we have another reason to do something about Payne. What did the printers tell you about the ciphers?”

Benjy gave a short laugh. “That the pamphlets sold out quickly. But it was only a short run. The printers were burned down.”

“Just that one?”

“Printers, plural,” Benjy repeated. “All three places, including their equipment. No more copies to be found anywhere. Which was part of the reason there’s such chatter. With only a few copies around, what remains is even more treasured.”

Now this was something she didn’t expect. “You were looking for other copies?”

“I wanted to compare what I had with another.” Benjy shrugged. “Couldn’t get my hands on another. Nearly had to fight someone to answer my questions.”

Hetty chuckled. “Someone tried to fight you?”

“Didn’t say they were wise. Speaking of fighting. Anything else I should know about your adventures?”

Hetty plucked the note from her pocket. “I got this from Bernice’s assistant. It’s a warning from Valentine Duval about the arrival of Emily Jacobs to town. To protect her from danger.”

“So this is what Bernice is planning to tell us about.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean? You got the note from her assistant, didn’t you?”

“I don’t think she was asked to do that. I was thinking about why she was on the train. Temperance could have been following after Nathan Payne on Bernice’s orders. But she only intervened once I was attacked. I think she heard about the meeting and planned to pass this note on to me. She knew who I was. The letter had a crescent moon on it. Maybe Valentine knew about that—Adelaide did, after all. But he wouldn’t just draw a moon on it.”

“There would be a sun and moon on it.” Benjy nodded.

“Exactly. I think Temperance Murray was noticing things and decided to tell us without the approval of Bernice. She faked this note.”

“That’s a remarkable leap of judgment, given the woman pointed a pistol at you.”

“It says more that she didn’t pull the trigger,” Hetty said. “She never seriously did that, despite her threats. I have a feeling she’s keeping several secrets, though. She said nothing really about herself and her place in things. Even this note shows an extraordinary interest.”

Benjy shrugged. “If you work for Bernice Tanner, keeping ­secrets is the way of things. But it’s hardly the time to add on yet another mystery.”

“No, it’s not.” Hetty leaned against the window. The crows were flitting about the yard, busy themselves with their own affairs. “What a week this has been. People are dead that should be alive, and we got a number of ghosts haunting us.”

“We can’t fix the first, but the latter we can.”

Hetty turned back to him, quite bemused. “I thought ghosts weren’t real.”

“Literally they aren’t, but metaphorically, yes. Although that’s just a turn of phrase to drive a point.”

“Never a simple answer from you?” Hetty asked, grinning all the same.

“If it was simple it wouldn’t be a question.”

Hetty nodded before asking, “How do you suppose I get rid of my sister’s ghost?”

Benjy lightly tapped the top of their couch. “You have the right idea of giving items to Penelope. But another part is using the things Esther sent. Otherwise, why would she have bothered in the first place?”

“Use the knowledge?” Hetty glanced at the book in her hand, suddenly struck by something she read. “I thought I was finished with my preparations, but there’s one more thing I need to do!”

 

---

When they arrived at the hotel hosting Bernice Tanner’s ball later that evening, the moon was bright and bold over their heads. Not quite full, but close. Still, it was a bauble as luminous as any decoration that filled the venue.

It seemed a grand palace to Hetty’s eyes, though the couple that walked past them grumbled about the small size. The ground floor was for dancing and general merriment. Stairs led up to the next level with the lip of balcony hanging over the room. Around them, windows stretched to the height of eighteen feet tall. Twinkling overhead was the centerpiece of the room, a brilliant chandelier with every orb enchanted with flickering flames.

“This is a brilliant piece of magic,” Hetty said. “It should be drawing every single eye.”

“There’s something else already doing that,” Benjy whispered. He ran his fingers along the thin cape she’d attached to her gown. The same burnished gold as her dress, the cape had a number of embroidered flourishes that hid a dozen star sigils. Hetty’s best work was blending the cape’s collar with her lace choker, building upon the fabric to hide the scars around her neck. For jewelry, she had the hairpins Benjy had made her, and a ring with a large flower she’d found in Esther’s crate. The flower didn’t spit out a needle or carry poison, but according to Esther’s book it had been imbued with some minor magical abilities that would be perfect for that night.

“You never do anything by half measure, do you? You either disappear into the shadows or steal the glory of the brightest stars around.”

Hetty warmed at the compliment and hooked her arm into his. “What fake name do you want to give strangers? I’ll let you pick this time.”

Benjy was still pondering over names as they made their way across the room. As was their habit, they arrived in a corner of the room with a solid wall at their backs and full view of all the doors that led out of the room.

There were three doors. The one they came in through, another leading to the kitchen, and the last leading to a short hallway the musicians had emerged from.

“For a ball done in the Duvals’ honor,” Hetty said, “I see less of a tribute to their lives and work, and more rich people talking to each other.”

“The Duval name has not been forgotten. Look over there by the buffet. That trio there are patrons for Olmstead, ICY, Vaux, and the other schools. Rich folk who toss their money at the schools in hopes of having a classroom named after them.”

“You can stop. I know you aren’t enjoying yourself.”

“I always enjoy myself in your company,” he corrected swiftly.

Hetty suppressed a smile, and looked about once again. “Have you seen anyone? All our friends are supposed to be here.”

“Not yet. But it’s pretty crowded. They might be here and we wouldn’t even know it.”

That Hetty could agree with. Even on the edges it was hard to really see people. Most were moving about quickly as they took turns around the room. Hetty thought she might have spotted Cora and Jay in the midst of conversation elsewhere, but it was hard to say for certain.

Then a cluster of people broke away, and one of the reasons they were at the ball at all appeared.

Adelaide Duval glared up at her cousin Horace. And for good reason. At his side was the medium, Eudora Mason.

“Look who it is,” Hetty said. “Why do you think she’s here?”

“Obviously she was invited to put on a show. Expect her to charge money, as all frauds do.” Benjy shook his head. “It’s poor taste all around.”

“She might not be here as a medium,” Hetty observed. “Her clothes are not all that fancy, and it’s not the costume she normally wears. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was his guest. Could there be infatuation?”

“For the prospects of imagined riches, maybe. She’s using him.”

“There are simpler ways, instead of going around announcing herself as Eudora Mason, the great conjurer of spirits and medium extraordinaire. I bet that’s not even her real name.”

“Eudora,” Benjy repeated, but when he said the name he pronounced it as if he were hearing it for the first time. Then said even softer. “Dora.”

The name had a familiar ring to Hetty. She pondered for a moment, before a letter floated forward in her memory.

Dora was a name that appeared in one of the letters that Raimond Duval kept. Since it was such a vague letter, Hetty hadn’t given it a closer look. There was so much to read, so much to understand, that Hetty hadn’t bothered looking for any others.

But Benjy had.

“There were seven letters,” Benjy said. “Seven letters that a ‘Dora Reynolds’ wrote to Raimond Duval after the publishing of the pamphlet. The first few were rather polite. Although rather terse, so it’s understandable when later the tone shifts to undisguised anger. The last had open threats about death and violence. Not hints she would do anything herself, but a warning.”

“That might all be true, but how do you know it’s her? The names are similar, but that’s not much—”

“Raimond saw her in Camden,” Benjy interrupted. “Three weeks before he died. He didn’t mention a séance, but he did mention having to draw Dora aside from a crowd. No details about what they spoke about, but he had a number of concerns, and there was a vague note that didn’t make sense then but does now.”

“Which was?”

“ ‘The past shows up when you don’t stretch out a hand.’ ”

Hetty wasn’t quite sure if this was proof enough. “I want to believe you. I really do. But I can’t see how this fits in with the case.”

“Then we must talk to her. Even tell her,” he said with a shudder, “that we want a private séance.”

“Think she’ll agree to that?”

Benjy once again plucked at Hetty’s gown. “With you dressed like this, she’ll be too busy counting her coins to ask questions.”

“All we need is a good story,” Hetty said.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” he asked.

“I’ll make it up as I go. Just play along.”

“Stars above,” Benjy muttered.

“We’ll be fine.” Hetty flashed a dazzling smile up at him. “Trust me!”

The unhappy trio of Adelaide, Horace, and Eudora seemed to be more than glad to have their tense conversation interrupted when Hetty and Benjy approached.

Only Adelaide seemed to recognize them. She opened her mouth to greet them, but Hetty spoke quickly in a breathy voice: “Are you Eudora Mason? My friends told me you are a medium. I would love for you to do a séance for me. I’m Iris Landry.” Hetty made a show of rubbing her hand along Benjy’s arm. “And this is my husband, Sylvester.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure.” Eudora’s voice was warm as she spoke, but her eyes were coolly calculating. “But I am always happy to speak to those interested in communicating with departed spirits.”

“But not at the ball,” Horace interjected. His glare was fixed solely on the medium. “Now’s not a good time for such things. Even though several people have already voiced interest.”

“It wouldn’t be proper,” Adelaide growled. “Where would you do it?”

“There are rooms upstairs,” Horace said. “Plenty of space for a small group.”

Adelaide swung around to her cousin. “You will not hold a séance here. I’ll have you thrown out! I don’t care if you contact the ghost of the Queen of Sheba, I will not have it!”

“Adelaide,” Horace cried as he glanced over to Hetty and Benjy. “Calm yourself!”

Adelaide drew back, her hand clenched in a fist. For a moment it truly did seem like she would strike him. Instead, she relaxed, turning her back to him. “You will not get my father’s house. I’ll burn it down myself before you do!”

She stomped off, into the ballroom.

“Adelaide!” Horace called. His cry attracted some attention, and he grumbled as he followed after his cousin.

“Oh my.” Eudora touched her hand to her face, more than a bit embarrassed. “I’m afraid it’s all my fault. I’m always looking to help, but didn’t realize I stumbled into family trouble.”

“Not your fault,” Benjy said. “Those lost to us are always a sore subject.”

“That is true. I was drawn to this delicate art in the hopes of speaking with my own father,” Eudora said. “Cruelly, my gift does not allow me to work on my own behalf. But I do find that speaking with those who’ve passed on helps people in their grief. Which is why I came here. Miss Adelaide needs a chance to heal.”

“She doesn’t seem that interested,” Hetty said.

“Her grief is too sharp. She very recently lost her brother. It is how these things tend to go.” Eudora focused intently on Hetty. For a moment Hetty feared she might have recognized her. “Who have you lost, my dear?”

Benjy took a half step forward, as if placing himself between Hetty and the medium. “My parents. As a very young child.”

“And more later, as well,” Eudora said softly as she immediately turned to him. “You lost someone recently too, a person you thought a friend. They’re gone, but you can’t stop thinking about the past.”

Hetty could feel Benjy stiffen next to her, but Benjy was too good of an actor to let it show. His hand only tightened around Hetty’s.

“You are quite good at this,” Benjy said.

“I can’t take credit. It’s a gift. I would be happy to do a séance for you. At your home, perhaps? Unless you wish to visit me in Camden.”

“Such a short distance would not be hard to travel for all that you can do for us,” Hetty said.

“Then I look forward to meeting you soon.” Eudora nodded at them and drifted away to mingle elsewhere.

Benjy still gripped Hetty’s hand, and she wiggled her fingers to get his attention.

“Sorry,” he breathed when he finally let go. “Her words cut close. It’s like she knew.”

“She’s good at using vague words once she realizes she’s caught your attention. That’s how she got me before.”

“I can see that. I’m afraid I underestimated her.”

“She’s still a fraud,” Hetty said. “She doesn’t speak to ghosts. And what about her wanting to come to our house? I bet you right now, if we go to her tent she’ll try to say it’ll be better to do a house visit!”

“That might be a good thing if she did,” Benjy said.

Hetty was just about to ask what he meant by that when Temperance Murray emerged from the crowd and approached them. Although she did not wear the crisp burgundy uniform the servers were wearing, the muted sable coloring of her dress and its neat practical lines placed her a world apart from the gathered guests.

“You look lovely,” Temperance observed. “Miss Tanner will be glad of that. She worried you’d come in disguised as servants. She wants to talk to you.”

This was expected, but much sooner than they had planned. Hetty glanced up at her husband, who only nodded.

“Take us to her, then.”

Temperance led them from the ballroom into the short hallway. She opened one of the four doors that lined the hall, gesturing for them to enter. Temperance did not follow them inside. Instead, she silently shut the door behind them.

Inside, Bernice sat in an armchair under a painting of a fruit bowl. Her dress was a deep plum, with elegant ruffles suitable to her station. Her cane had even been spruced up for the occasion, polished to such a degree that the handle gleamed in the light. But even the shine on the cane could hardly match the gleam on the surface of the tinted dark glass of her spectacles.

“Would you like a drink?” Bernice said as a wine bottle poured liquid into the glass in her hand. “It’ll raise your spirits.”

“No need,” Hetty said.

“More for me then.” Bernice took a deep draw from her glass. “Take a seat. Don’t stand on ceremony.”

They sat. Hetty pulled her cape aside, her fingers running over the stitches.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I invited you here,” Bernice said.

“You want us to do something for you,” Benjy said.

Bernice smirked. “I always did like you. Where most people dance around their words, you charge right through. Yes, I do have a task for you.”

Benjy shifted forward. Nothing else changed. Not the placement of his hands, the set of his jaw, or even his gaze. Hetty realized then that there was no need for a change. He had known from the moment Bernice waved an invitation in front of them that whatever she wanted, whatever she asked, was not going to be worth the trouble they’d end up in. “I think you’re misunderstanding things. We are not here to take an assignment from you. We are here for crucial information you withheld because you were moving pieces around on your chessboard, not realizing that there’s a different game being played. What is it you want from us?”

Bernice slammed her empty glass onto the table. “The only thing you can do in this situation! I need your help with the Clarke Cipher. The ghost of Raimond Duval insists on it!”

A strangled noise escaped Benjy’s throat, but he said nothing, leaving Hetty to speak up: “The Clarke Cipher is a well-crafted story.”

“No, it has a good storyteller.” Bernice poured herself another glass. She didn’t drink it. She sat holding the glass, as she continued. “Most of what’s in that star-forsaken pamphlet is true. I know Raimond and John Roberts are dead because of it. As is Valentine. And so many others. I didn’t act quickly enough. Before he died, Valentine told me that he expected a threat on his life and that he needed my help. He wanted the names of the people who had helped Sarah Jacobs. He said he was trying to figure out who might have been in trouble, but I didn’t quite believe him. I didn’t want to believe him. But when I thought of Raimond’s death, and the others I’ve taken for accidents, I thought he had a point, even before Valentine himself died. When Sarah’s daughter arrived in town, I made sure to keep the girl safe. It was difficult. The girl did not trust me and gave my assistant the slip once or twice until we were able to convince her to stay with us.”

“What convinced her?”

“The fire at Valentine Duval’s home. The news about his death hadn’t reached us yet, and Emily snuck out early that morning. Miss Murray went after the girl, and just in time. Fire was eating away at the house. A fire deliberately set by an intruder. Emily didn’t see the man—she had hidden away in a room—locked herself in by accident. Luckily, Miss Murray found her and brought her back.”

“That was a few days ago. Why stay quiet about all this?” Hetty said.

“I was hoping to handle this on my own. I also was trying to get information from the girl. Raimond and Valentine both were in communication with her. She knows something, but she won’t tell me.”

“Where is she now?” Benjy asked.

“You don’t need to worry about her. She’s under my protection.”

“Then what do you want us to help you with?” Hetty asked.

“I need you to pretend that you’ve solved the cipher. Spread tales like you always do so that the murderer’s attention falls on you while I make arrangements in the background. Once I have things in play, I’ll let you know what you need to do next.”

“Under what stars do you think we’ll say yes to that?” Hetty exclaimed.

Bernice tightened her grip around her cane. “Don’t you want your business to pick up at your funeral home? I can help with that. A few well-placed words do wonders. They bring business. They pull business away.”

Whatever else Bernice had to say, Hetty didn’t hear.

Magic crackled at her fingertips, as Hetty closed the space between her and the old crone.

“How dare you! I bet you are the cause of all our troubles! Raimond Duval dies, and you decide to ransom our business! All to get us to do your bidding. If it weren’t for you I would have found my sister years ago and she’d probably be alive today! Now you’re asking us to put ourselves in harm’s way for you? How dare—”

Benjy put a hand on her shoulder. His touch, more than his magic, neutralized her roaring anger. Hetty’s arm fell to her side. As she heaved, gasping for air, Benjy’s words continued to be the only sound in the room.

“Miss Tanner would not waste her precious time meddling in our affairs,” he said, turning each quiet word into a dagger. “She is far too busy. And far too aware of what it means to do such a thing to the people who did the impossible for her time and time again.”

For the first time during the course of the interview, Bernice was silent, but Hetty had her answer anyway.