Quicksilver

TWENTY-EIGHT

“Well, that certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons,” Charlotte observed. “For heaven’s sake, Virginia, why did you not simply wear a large sign on the back of your gown tonight announcing that you were involved in a romantic liaison with Mr. Sweetwater?”

“I didn’t think the sign would complement my dress,” Virginia said.

Charlotte glared at her. “I am serious.”

“Sorry,” Virginia said. “I could not seem to help myself. It is not as though the rumors about my relationship with Mr. Sweetwater were not already circulating.”

“Rumors of an affair are one thing. An outright declaration is quite another. Until tonight we could always hope that there were at least a few doubts about the nature of your relationship with Mr. Sweetwater. Leybrook looked furious. This could well destroy your career, Virginia.”

“I’ll survive. I do have one thing going for me.”

“What?”

“My talent is genuine.”

They were standing on the crowded front steps of the Institute, waiting for Nick and Owen to return with the carriages. It was nearly midnight. In the glary illumination from the gas lamps that bracketed the entrance, the busy scene looked as if it had been rendered in chiaroscuro, all light and shadow. The street was jammed with carriages and hansoms hoping for fares.

“Your talent may be real, but you know as well as I do that the average client cannot tell the difference between a fraud and the real thing,” Charlotte said. “The reason your business is flourishing is because of your connection to the Institute, not because you can actually read mirrors.”

“I did manage to make a living before I joined the Institute,” Virginia said.

“Yes, but you are earning far more now, thanks to Leybrook making this Institute fashionable.”

“Trust me, I am aware of the current state of my finances.”

“In any event, as if the damage to your reputation was not enough, Nick tells me that the entire exercise tonight has been wasted. He claims that any number of people appear to be obsessed with you, including Leybrook and Adriana.” Charlotte paused. “For somewhat different reasons, of course.”

“Nick? You are already so well acquainted with Nicholas Sweetwater that you refer to him by his first name?”

“It seemed the most convenient way to distinguish him from your Mr. Sweetwater,” Charlotte said. “It was getting confusing.”

“He’s not my Mr. Sweetwater.”

“Hah. That is no longer in doubt, thanks to your remarks to Adriana and Leybrook. Honestly, Ginny, what were you thinking?”

“I’m not sure I was thinking. I just did not care for the way Adriana was looking at Owen.”

“Gentlemen do have a difficult time looking her in the eye when they converse with her. Their attention tends to wander south. My point is that she is a nasty piece of work. If she thinks you are a threat to her position with Leybrook, there’s no telling what she might do.”

“I did get the warning about both of them from Pamela’s ancient Egyptian princess,” Virginia said. “But I very much doubt that Leybrook would be happy with me as his assistant, and I do not think that Adriana would murder me just because she lost her position.”

“I wouldn’t place any wagers on the lovely Adriana, if I were you,” Charlotte said. “That woman is a viper. I am convinced she could be dangerous.”

A voice rose out of the crowd on the steps: “Miss Dean, Miss Dean, one moment, if you please.”

Virginia turned to see Jasper Welch bustling toward her through the throng. She smiled. “Good evening, sir. I saw you earlier from across the room, but you appeared to be feverishly busy attending to D. D. Pinkerton.”

“He was being practically ignored. Everyone was trying to chat with Leybrook.” Welch came to a halt in front of her. “It was quite awkward, given that the reception was in Pinkerton’s honor. I felt obliged to do something to smooth over the insult.”

“It was very gracious of you,” Charlotte assured him.

“It has been a difficult evening.” Welch took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “I am very glad it is over. There are always so many details to attend to, and something always seems to go wrong. Poor Mrs. Fordham was overwhelmed. The caterer ran out of lobster canapés midway through the evening, and she was forced to send for more champagne.”

“You did a brilliant job, as always, Mr. Welch,” Virginia assured him.

Charlotte smiled. “Yes, it was a beautifully planned affair, sir. I do not know what Mr. Leybrook would do without you. I’m sure the Institute would collapse, were it not for your expert management.”

“I could not handle any of it if it were not for Mrs. Fordham,” Welch said. “She is a wonder.”

“Speaking of Mrs. Fordham, I did not see her tonight,” Virginia said.

“She was very busy behind the scenes,” Welch said. “The crowd was larger than we had anticipated. Miss Dean, the reason I wanted to speak to you was to apologize for the unpleasant gossip that is making the rounds.”

“Idle chatter,” Charlotte said firmly.

“And certainly not your fault, sir,” Virginia added.

Deep furrows of concern lined Welch’s brow. “Nevertheless, I am very sorry for any embarrassment you may have experienced tonight.”

“I shall recover,” Virginia assured him.

“Of course, of course.” Welch inclined his head in a small bow. “Dear me, I see Mrs. Harkins is having some difficulty managing the steps with her cane. If you will excuse me?”

“Of course,” Virginia said.

“Good evening, Mr. Welch,” Charlotte added.

They watched Welch scurry off to assist the aging Mrs. Harkins, a venerable practitioner who conducted séances twice weekly on Wednesday and Friday nights.

“The woman may be suffering from rheumatism,” Charlotte observed softly, “but she is still doing more business than most of her competitors. I hear that she recently raised her séance fees yet again, and now counts Lady Bingham among her regular clients.”

“Yes, well, Mrs. Harkins is an American,” Virginia said. “You know how it is, the act from out of town always draws the largest crowd.”

Like many who specialized in summoning spirits, Mrs. Harkins had originally hailed from America. The rage for the paranormal had begun in the States decades earlier, and American mediums still commanded considerable attention from the British public.

Charlotte raised her brows. “How fortunate for Mr. Sweetwater that he did not choose to make an example of Mrs. Harkins when he set out to expose a couple of fraudulent mediums last month. She’d have made mincemeat of him.”

Virginia laughed. “I’m sure he has no idea just how lucky he was.” She watched Owen emerge from the chaotic tangle of horses, carriages and people milling about on the street. “Mrs. Harkins has been looking after herself and her career for a long time. She has dealt with more than one investigator who sought to expose her as a fraud. She made them all look like silly fools for questioning her talent.”

Owen reached the top of the steps in time to hear the remark. He grinned.

“I’m not a complete idiot,” he said. “When I set out to expose a few frauds, I chose very carefully, I assure you. Sally Harkins was not on my list.”

“Very wise of you, sir,” Charlotte said. “Legend has it that Mrs. Harkins punished the last investigator who tried to expose her by revealing the name of his current mistress to a correspondent from the Flying Intelligencer. The gentleman’s wife was not at all pleased when the item appeared in the paper.”

“I did some research,” Owen said. “I was aware of that story.” He surveyed the busy street. “Where is Nick?”

“Here,” Nick said, materializing out of the crowd. “I finally found a carriage. The driver is waiting in the lane, Miss Tate.”

“Our carriage is across the street,” Owen said to Virginia. “Are you ready to leave?”

“As the evening has apparently been a complete waste of time in terms of the investigation, I suppose so,” Virginia said. “Not that it hasn’t had its moments, mind you.”

There was a short round of polite farewells, and then Owen was steering her through the crowd. He had his hand clamped around her upper arm. He was not hurting her, but the manaclelike grip spoke volumes about his determination to get her away from the Institute.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Aside from the fact that tonight I discovered that Gilmore Leybrook wants you as his mistress, do you mean?”

She flushed. “Don’t waste any time worrying about Leybrook. I am quite capable of handling him.”

“He is determined to have you, Virginia.”

“Pamela Egan did say something to the effect that he may be shopping around for a new assistant. But I assure you I have no interest in the position. I prefer to control my own career. I have no wish to work as another practitioner’s assistant.”

“I am not referring to the opening for a new assistant. Leybrook wants you in a much more intimate position.”

“Nonsense. You’re overstating the case.”

“I saw it in his eyes.”

“He does have a very unpleasant history of conducting affairs with his assistants,” she conceded. “Indeed, he is known to select them for very specific physical attributes. I’m quite certain I do not meet his specifications.”

“I think he may have adjusted some of the specifications on his list.”

She glanced at him, startled. “How odd. Pamela Egan said much the same thing. Just what is this new attribute that might move me to the top of Leybrook’s list?”

“Your talent,” Owen said. “He has sensed that it is real.”

“What of it? He possesses some talent himself. I’m sure of it.”

“Precisely. I believe he has concluded that with you by his side he can take his financial empire to even greater heights. It’s a logical move, when you consider it closely. The Institute is already a profitable enterprise. But just think what two people of strong talent could do with the business.”

“If Leybrook offers me the position Adriana now holds, I will decline. I have no interest in entering into a partnership with him.”

“Even if it means making a great deal more money than you do now?”

“Make no mistake, I am as ambitious as any other practitioner. But I have my own long-range plans. They do not include Leybrook.”

“You say that, yet you are affiliated with the Institute,” Owen pointed out.

“Temporarily. I did not say that I could not do business with Leybrook. But I would never enter into a close partnership of any kind with him.”

“You make such fine distinctions?” Owen sounded intrigued, not dismissive or critical.

“A close partnership is like a marriage, sir,” she said. “To be successful, there must be a great deal of trust on both sides.”

“And you do not trust Leybrook?”

“Oh, I trust him,” Virginia said. “I trust him to always do what he perceives to be in his own best interests. As long as I keep that in mind, he and I can get along together at the Institute. At the moment our financial interests are aligned, as Mrs. Crofton would say. But that will not always be the case.”

At the base of the steps the hair suddenly stirred on the nape of her neck. Her intuition sent a sharp jolt of warning through all of her senses.

“Owen?” she began.

But he was already reacting, pulling her aside so quickly that she stumbled and would have fallen if he had not steadied her.

A figure in a hooded cloak swept past so close that the edge of the cloak whipped against Virginia. A gloved hand lashed out, missing Virginia’s shoulder by inches. She knew that if Owen had not yanked her out of the way, the cloaked figure would have shoved her down the long flight of granite steps.

It was all over in an instant. The cloaked figure slipped away into the throng. The crowd closed up, oblivious to what had occurred.

“Wait here,” Owen ordered. “Don’t move.”

He started past her. She knew that he was going after the cloaked figure. She put out a hand to stop him.

“Owen, no,” she said urgently.

To her surprise he stopped. His eyes burned. “She tried to push you down the steps.”

“It was an impulsive act. She is not our killer.”

“Impulse or not, if you had gone down those steps you could have broken your neck.”

“There are a lot of people in the way. I’m sure they would have broken the fall. It is more likely that I would have twisted an ankle.”

“Owen, Miss Dean, wait.”

The sound of Nick’s sharp, urgent voice came from the street. Virginia turned and saw him plowing a path through the crowd. He had a firm grip on Charlotte’s hand, hauling her with him.

Owen watched the pair come quickly toward them.

“What did you see?” he asked Nick.

“I glanced back in this direction just as I was assisting Miss Tate into a cab. Saw a figure in a cloak push through the crowd. Her movements were very deliberate. It appeared that she was determined to get to Miss Dean. Thought maybe she wanted to have a word with her, but there was something about the way she was moving that did not seem right. Then I saw Miss Dean stumble.”

“Someone brushed up against me,” Virginia said. “It was an accident.” But even as she spoke, she remembered the frisson of intuition that had seared her senses.

“The woman in the cloak tried to push Virginia down the steps,” Owen said.

“Who was it?” Charlotte demanded. “Did you see her face?”

“No, but I saw her glove and her shoes,” Virginia said. “It was Adriana Walters.”