Page 1 of The Journal of a Thousand Years (The Glass Library #6)

CHAPTER 1

LONDON, 1920

T he long, sweltering summer surrendered to a damp autumn the day the calendar changed to September. The cooler weather was welcome for those of us who couldn’t afford to leave London. The city had become an oven throughout most of August, and anyone who could retreat to the seaside or country did so. Except for Gabe Glass, that is. His family owned an estate, and with his parents away, the manor was available for his use, but he chose to stay in London. My friend Daisy suggested I was the reason behind his decision.

“He wants to be where you are, Sylvia,” she said as we walked along Bond Street. The end of the drizzling rain meant we could finally lower our umbrellas and walk arm in arm. “It’s clear to everyone that he stayed in the city because of you.”

Gone were the days where I’d dismiss the suggestion, or change the subject, or deny my feelings for Gabe. I no longer even blushed when someone mentioned his affection for me. Ever since we’d kissed outside the drawing room of his Mayfair townhouse almost a week ago, I’d accepted that we couldn’t deny our feelings for each other any more than we could stop breathing.

Nevertheless, I wasn’t so self-absorbed as to think I was the only reason he remained in London. He wanted to flush out the person who’d tried to kidnap him. That same person had also stabbed him and conducted tests to study his reactions. The most recent test had involved us being shot at. Gabe’s magic responded by slowing time, ensuring we all survived. Despite his friends’ attempts to squirrel him away to the countryside, Gabe was determined to stay and capture whoever was responsible for disrupting his life.

I didn’t mention any of that to Daisy. She was only partly listening as she gazed upon the wares displayed in the shop windows. At first, I thought she was envious of the expensive jewelry and exclusive hat designs, but then I realized she was studying them with a creative eye. She’d recently declared she was going to become a fashion designer, although her conviction had already begun to waver as she realized she didn’t like to sew, and all her best designs were inadvertently copied from magazines.

I also didn’t mention Gabe’s troubles because that would remind her of Alex, and thinking of him would make her melancholy. I’d yet to discover what had happened between them, but I suspected it had something to do with introducing him to her parents.

Daisy stopped abruptly in front of the window of The Home Emporium, a shop that sold soft furnishings and housewares. “Oh, look at that.”

I followed her gaze to the black velvet cushions embroidered with a bold geometric pattern in gold arranged on a chaise longue. I couldn’t see the price, but I knew from a past visit to the shop that only the very wealthy could afford their items. Despite her privileged upbringing as the daughter of a lord, Daisy wasn’t well-off. The money she’d inherited from her grandparents had almost run out, hence her need for employment. Unfortunately, daughters of noblemen weren’t equipped with many employable skills. Daisy’s keen sense of the modern woman’s style might benefit her, however.

“It’s very smart,” I said, “but it won’t suit your flat.” Daisy’s furniture was a mixed ensemble of pieces from her parents’ home that they no longer wanted, and things she’d bought cheaply. There was no cohesion to the collection, yet somehow it all worked together.

“Not the chaise or the cushions, although they are terribly chic .” She pointed at a card propped up against one of the cushions. “I’m referring to that. Look at what it says.”

“ Wanted: a respectable, steady young woman, about twenty-three years of age, as a shop assistant. She must have a pleasant disposition and good appearance, ” I read. “Are you giving up on fashion, Daisy?”

“I think so, yes. While I adore clothes, I’m no designer.”

I watched her studying the chaise longue and cushions, and the small table lamp beside it with a slender brass base and domed shade. Her gaze held wonder as she took in every detail. “Perhaps you’re not a designer of clothes, but of furnishings.”

Her head whipped around, and she blinked at me. “Do you think so? I do love The Home Emporium. I often go in just to browse and imagine how I would use a particular piece in a particular room.”

“There you are then. Plus, that advertisement has your name all over it.”

She studied it again. “I am twenty-three. And I’m from a respectable family and have a pleasant disposition.”

“Not to mention that your appearance is better than good. Although I don’t know why appearance matters for a shop assistant.”

Daisy pouted. “The ad asks for someone steady, and I have a rather fickle nature.”

“Nonsense. When it comes to the things you love, you are as steady as they come, and I know you love furnishings. Besides, you have an excellent eye for putting a room together. The position was made for you, Daisy. Go inside and apply.”

I gave her a little shove in the direction of the door, then waited for her to return a few minutes later.

She emerged, beaming. “I begin tomorrow.”

I hugged her. “There now, doesn’t it feel right?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

I hooked my arm through hers and we continued our walk to Petra Conway’s stationery shop. “It’s good to see you smiling again, Daisy. I’ve been worried about you. It’s not like you to be gloomy for so long.”

A stoop of her shoulders accompanied her sigh. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bore. It’s my family, you see. I always knew they were snobs, but now I’ve realized how horrid my parents truly are.”

“What happened? What did they say when they met Alex?”

“Nothing. That’s the whole problem. They treated him as though he was a groom or footman escorting me. They barely even looked at him, let alone spoke to him.”

I hugged her arm. “What will you do?”

“As I see it, I have two choices. If I want to speak to my parents ever again, I must stop seeing Alex. And if I want to be with Alex, I’ll lose them. The choice is simple, really. Alex is my future. I’d do anything to be with him and make him happy. If Mother and Father can’t accept him, I won’t return to their home.”

She said it with such conviction that I believed her. I also believed she’d fallen deeply in love with Alex, and he with her. She would protect that love with every fiber of her being.

We arrived at Petra’s shop a few minutes before she was due to close for the day. To my surprise, her one and only customer was Huon Barratt. The graphite magician and ink magician did not get along. Their magic disciplines were in competition with one another, not to mention that their personalities clashed. Where Petra, the graphite magician, was sensible, Huon treated each day as if it would be his last. He threw wild parties that continued past dawn. He drank until he forgot where he was, and cared little about finding work, earning money, and settling down. While the carefree and careless attitude had been in evidence before the war, apparently his wartime experiences, coupled with the loss of his beloved uncle, had plunged him into a downward spiral that seemed to have no end.

Huon’s story was typical of many men who’d come back from the war. It had altered them, but the changes manifested in different ways. Some couldn’t cope in society and had to be hospitalized, others turned inward and serious, like Gabe, while some preferred to drown their awful memories in alcohol and excess, like Huon. I couldn’t blame Huon for his recklessness, after what he’d been through. I only hoped he could find a way to climb out of the pit he’d fallen into.

Indeed, I suspected he’d discovered a way out recently. He’d begun a business where he used his magic to write and read invisible messages for anyone who hired him. We had been his first client after he’d transcribed some ledgers for us that had been written in invisible ink. His skill had helped solve a decades-old mystery.

Although the new business venture had certainly helped focus Huon, there was a part of me that suspected reconnecting with Petra had made him want to change. Not that either of them would admit it.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

He slouched against the shop counter, his ankles crossed and one elbow resting on the countertop near the cash register. Despite the casual pose, he looked like every other gentleman in the city with his neatly pressed clothes, polished shoes and smooth jawline. It was a far cry from the unwashed, unshaven man I’d first met months ago.

Huon jerked his head at Petra, standing behind the counter with a stiff back and a rumpled brow. “I’ve come to warn her.”

Petra rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He’s being obnoxious, as usual.” She gave his shoulder a shove. “He was just leaving.”

Huon straightened but didn’t walk off. Although his lips didn’t so much as twitch with a smile, his eyes twinkled. Huon in a mischievous mood could lead to all sorts of mayhem. No wonder Petra looked worried.

“Warn her about what?” Daisy asked.

“I’m going to call on her mother and tell her we’re in love.”

“We are not in love!” Petra exploded.

Huon took her rebuttal in his stride. “First of all, you can’t speak for me. I am in love with you, Petra, and there’s nothing to be done about it except follow my heart and declare myself. Secondly, you think you don’t love me, but you do. You just don’t want to admit it because you’re worried what people will think.”

“They will think I’m doolally, and I quite agree. It’s the only explanation for what happened between us.”

My interest piqued even further. “What happened? Did you kiss again?” Last time they’d kissed, Petra claimed it had been a drunken mistake. This time, she flushed scarlet and wouldn’t look at anyone. Nor did she deny it.

Huon winked at Daisy and me. “A gentleman never tells. Suffice it to say, Petra wants to be with me as much as I want to be with her, only she doesn’t like to admit it because of the graphite and ink rivalry.”

“Oooh,” Daisy cooed. “Your love story is as intriguing as Romeo and Juliet .” She wrinkled her nose. “Hopefully the ending won’t be as tragic.”

Huon clicked his fingers. “Yes! We are the magical equivalent of Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers. Don’t worry, fair Daisy. Our story won’t be a tragedy. It will see the uniting of the two feuding households and an end of the ancient grudge. Love will conquer all.”

Petra made a sound of disgust in her throat. “Do shut up, Huon, or I’ll throw up my lunch.”

He simply smiled at her, revealing dimples that made him even more handsome. “I’ll shut up when you agree that you like being with me, that I fulfill your life as much as you fulfill mine, and that I complement you in ways you never realized needed complementing.” He turned to face her fully and lowered his voice to a seductive rumble. “I see your face when I close my eyes, and you’re the first thought I have when I wake up. Every decision I make, I ask myself what would you do. The change you’ve seen in me these last few weeks is because of you. You bring out the best in me, Petra, and if I want to continue to be the best version of myself, I must have you in my life. So, I won’t give up easily. If I give up on you, it’ll be like giving up on myself.” He leaned across the counter and touched her chin. It had dropped a little further with every sentence he uttered, parting her lips until her mouth formed an O. “You are very beautiful, especially when you’re not trying to be.”

She snapped her mouth shut and moved out of his reach. “You are quite simply the most impossible man I have ever met. Do not call on my mother, Huon. It’s far too soon.”

Huon’s smile teased wider. “You’re right. It is too soon in our relationship. But at least you’re acknowledging that we have a relationship.”

She bristled. “I am not!”

He looked at Daisy and me for confirmation. I shrugged, not wanting to get involved.

Daisy gave Petra a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid that’s how it came across. Don’t feel horrid. Any woman would find him hard to resist after that speech.”

Petra crossed her arms but seemed to have run out of steam. She stayed silent.

Huon picked up his hat from the countertop. “She found me hard to resist before the speech. She just doesn’t want to admit it.” He slapped the hat on his head. “Good day, ladies. Enjoy your evening. I will be home tonight, just in case you’d like to call on me to discuss anything.” This last sentence he said to Petra.

She was having none of it. “If I do call on you, it will only be to tell you that I think you’re an arrogant idiot.”

He touched the brim of his hat in farewell. “I look forward to your visit.” He sauntered out of the shop.

Once the door closed behind him, Petra uncrossed her arms and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, lord. What am I going to do?”

“Call on him, of course,” Daisy said. “I take it you two…”

“Kissed?” I offered.

Petra lowered her hands and slumped against the counter. “It went a little further than kissing last night.”

I gasped. “Were you drunk again?”

“No,” she said on a groan. “I wish I was, but there’s no excuse. I can’t stay away from him, even though I tell myself I should.”

“Why should you?” Daisy asked. “Perhaps you’re meant to be together.”

“I should stay away because we’re wrong for each other. Not only are we very different people, but our families would also never approve. You’re right, Daisy. There are similarities to Romeo and Juliet about our story, and we all know that didn’t end well.”

“Petra,” I chided. “Huon clearly adores you, and you’re obviously a good influence on him. Why not explore where a relationship with him will lead? Perhaps your families will surprise you. Perhaps you’ll surprise yourself.”

She groaned again. “Why are relationships so difficult? They shouldn’t be. They should be easy. I like things to be easy.”

Daisy slumped against the counter, too, with another heartfelt sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

It was difficult to concentrate on work the following day. Gabe visited the Glass Library and although he wasn’t there specifically to see me, I was all too aware of his presence. Whenever I passed the first-floor nook where he sat in an armchair, reading, I couldn’t help flicking a glance his way. I was drawn to him. I was no more capable of not staring as a bee was of not buzzing around a blossom.

As if Gabe was aware of me, too, he looked up whenever I passed. He smiled. I smiled back.

Alex sat opposite Gabe but did not look up from his book except to write notes on a notepad balanced on his knee. He was engrossed in their research. The two men were studying texts in an attempt to learn something about Gabe’s magical ability. He could alter time by slowing it down or speeding it up, but only to save his own life or that of someone he cared about, and it wasn’t something he could control. Unlike magicians who used spells, Gabe’s magic simply activated when required. He’d always thought himself artless until he went to war and found his life in danger almost every day. His mother’s powerful watchmaker’s magic had become mutated within him as the result of an incident she’d experienced while pregnant.

Yet despite her power and her magical connections, she couldn’t give Gabe the answers he sought. He hoped ancient texts could. He and Alex were searching the library’s books, scrolls and other documents for any reference to mutated magic similar to his.

It was an area the military had an interest in, too. Mr. Jakes from Military Intelligence had come to the Glass Library a few months ago in search of relevant texts. He’d since claimed to have no interest in Gabe anymore, but some of us believed he was behind the recent kidnapping attempts.

Alex was always with Gabe nowadays, acting as bodyguard wherever his friend went. Gabe’s second bodyguard, his father’s cousin Willie, was usually with them, but she was absent this time. She loathed reading anything more in-depth than The Daily Mirror , so had arranged to meet a friend instead. In her words, reading books from the Glass Library’s collection was “more boring than listening to a lecture about watching paint dry.” Her absence made for a peaceful morning.

I entered the stacks in search of a book requested by a patron, only to see Professor Nash emerge from the hidden door that led to his flat. He carried a leather-bound notebook in one hand. I recognized it as the book in which he was writing the rough draft of his memoir.

I nodded at it. “Are the words flowing today?”

He stared down at the notebook clutched in both hands, then folded it against his chest, as if afraid of dropping it. “Slowly, Sylvia. Very slowly.”

I watched him shuffle past, bald head bowed, his thin shoulders more stooped than usual. He seemed less cheerful of late. His smiles were wan, when he smiled at all, and there was a sense of heaviness about him that hadn’t been there months ago. I knew he missed his friend, Oscar Barratt, but I wondered if a part of him had held out hope that he’d walk through the door. Unlike the professor, Oscar hadn’t returned to England when war broke out, and instead continued to the Arabian Desert, where he met his end. I wasn’t sure of the details, but I did know that the professor missed him terribly. It seemed that writing his memoir was stirring up memories that made the pain of losing Oscar more acute.

I retrieved the book I needed from the shelves and returned to the ground floor reading nook where the patron was poring over another text at the desk. We chatted for a while about his area of interest—cotton magic. Although paper magic descended from cotton magic, I didn’t tell him I was a paper magician. Very few people knew. I wasn’t yet sure what I thought about it, and until I did, I wanted to keep it to myself.

When the patron left, I went to check on Gabe and Alex’s progress. Although their stack of books had shrunk as they completed their review and set them aside, neither had made many notes.

“No luck?” I asked, peering over Gabe’s shoulder.

“Not really,” he said. “I found one reference to a mutation, but that only came about after a carpentry magician ingested a herbal concoction over several years. He wasn’t born that way.”

He sounded so forlorn that I wanted to comfort him. I was still reluctant to show much affection toward him in front of others for fear of backlash, particularly from Willie, so I simply gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

He reached up and placed his hand over mine, tucking his fingers underneath. We exchanged small smiles that said more than either of us had yet to express in words.

I looked to Alex, but he didn’t notice. “Alex? Have you discovered anything?”

“Hmmm?” He blinked at me. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening. My mind was elsewhere.”

“With Daisy perhaps?”

“With the meeting we had with her parents.”

I would have probed further to ascertain his opinion of the event, but the professor appeared at the top of the stairs with three visitors in tow. I smiled at the Hendry sisters, genuinely pleased to see them. They smiled back, even Myrtle, the most serious of the trio. I invited them to sit on the sofa while I took the armchair Alex vacated.

Mere days after learning that I was most likely related to the Hendry family, I was still somewhat shy around them. That was perhaps because I wasn’t sure how I was related to them. I could be a distant relative, or I could be their niece. If their brother, Melville, a man they didn’t like, who had caused trouble for Gabe’s parents years ago, turned out to be my father, then any relationship we’d built would be on shaky foundations.

It would also affect my relationship with Gabe. Although he claimed not to care, Willie cared very much. Gabe’s parents would also be anxious if my presence attracted Melville Hendry back into their lives.

According to his sisters, however, it was unlikely I was Melville’s daughter. He didn’t like women, and so wouldn’t have done what was necessary to produce children. That didn’t mean he couldn’t, just that it went against his nature.

We exchanged the obligatory pleasantries before Myrtle came to the reason for their visit. “Do you recall that we said we’d contact our extended family and ask if anyone was aware of a brother, uncle or cousin who may have fathered you?”

“I do. Those must have been awkward telephone calls.”

Rosina, the pluckiest of the sisters and the only paper magician among them, chuckled. “We offended a number of elderly aunts. One even hung up on me.”

“That’s because you called her son a philanderer,” Myrtle pointed out.

“He was, as his mother knows all too well.”

My interest was piqued the moment she mentioned philanderer. “Could it be him? What was he like?”

If he were a monster, then he was a likely candidate. My mother had been fleeing from someone all her life. Since she refused to tell my brother and me anything about our father, it made sense that he was the reason for her constant fear of discovery. I’d come to terms with the fact my father could turn out to be an awful person. I was at a point where I simply wanted to know, no matter the outcome.

It was Naomi, the gentle-natured youngest sister who answered me. “My dear Sylvia, it’s not possible. He died before you were born. We hadn’t been aware until his mother informed Rosina.”

I splayed my fingers across my lap, releasing some tension. I’d not been aware how tightly wound I’d been ever since they’d arrived. “So…are there any candidates?”

Once again, Myrtle the no-nonsense eldest sibling, answered. “Not that we’ve found. There is a surprising lack of men in our family tree.”

“They’re all rather a weak lot,” Rosina added.

“Weak paper magicians?” I asked.

“Weak in character. It seems to be a flaw in the male line.”

“Rosina,” Naomi chided. “Melville wasn’t weak. He was…different. He didn’t fit into the world’s view of how he ought to think and act. That’s why he became so?—”

“Cruel?”

“Introverted.”

“His crimes weren’t the result of his introversion,” Rosina pointed out, somewhat hotly. “They were the result of a corrupted mind and had nothing to do with whether he preferred men to women.”

Naomi blushed at the mention of her brother’s homosexuality, turning her ruddy cheeks even pinker. She was the homeliest of the three, and the only spinster. She lived with Myrtle and Myrtle’s husband, next door to Rosina, a widow, and Rosina’s two adult children. Whenever I looked for similarities between myself and these women, I always felt I was most like Naomi, somewhat reserved and a peacemaker. Although Gabe had once pointed out that I wasn’t all that shy, merely cautious with people I didn’t know well, he did agree that I liked to settle disputes rather than inflame them.

Myrtle told Rosina to quieten her voice. “Don’t talk about Melville’s predilections in public. People will talk.”

Rosina rolled her eyes.

Myrtle noticed but chose to ignore her. She turned to me. “Disregarding Melville’s dislike of women, I’m beginning to think he is your father, Sylvia.”

I glanced at Gabe, seated in the other armchair, to gauge his reaction, but a newcomer ascending the staircase caught his attention. He rose, as did Alex who’d been perching on the edge of the desk, when they saw the visitor was a woman.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Evaline Peterson said.

The paper magician, aged in her forties, was most certainly not my relative. We looked nothing alike. She was tall and thin, and came across as officious and prim at first, but I’d since discovered she was good-natured. Despite agreeing that we weren’t related, she and her brother, Walter, had taken me under their wing when they discovered I was a paper magician with no family. They’d enjoyed teaching me their spell to strengthen paper, which they used on cards and paper they manufactured for exclusive clients. I’d introduced the Hendry sisters to Walter and Evaline Peterson mere days ago. It was hard to imagine that the two paper magician families had never met, but the Hendrys weren’t involved in manufacturing. Two of the sisters were even artless.

“I couldn’t help overhearing as I came up the stairs,” Evaline said. “You were talking about Sylvia’s father.”

“There’s a possibility it could be our brother,” Myrtle told her. “He’s been missing a number of years, however, so we could be clutching at straws.”

“She does look like all three of you.” For someone usually so stiff and reserved, Evaline brought an air of excitement with her that had us all waiting eagerly for her next words. “That’s why I’m here. Ever since meeting the three of you, I’ve been thinking how much you look like one of our employees. His name isn’t Hendry, and he isn’t a magician, but the similarity nagged at me so much that I couldn’t rest until I mentioned him to you. I thought perhaps you could come and meet him, thinking he might be a cousin, but hearing you mention your brother, well… might it be him living under an assumed name?”

My heart seemed to suddenly stop.

“What name does he go by?” Gabe asked.

“Maxwell Cooper.”

“Cooper!” Alex bellowed. He turned wide eyes onto me.

Gabe reached across the gap between us and took my hand in his. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

“Do you know him, Sylvia?” Rosina asked. “How are you connected to this Cooper fellow?”

I blinked at Gabe, appealing to him to explain since I seemed unable to form the words. My tongue was thick in my mouth, my throat tight.

He offered a reassuring smile. Without taking his gaze off me, he answered Rosina. “Sylvia’s mother’s last known address was a house in Wimbledon. Her neighbor knew her as Marianne Cooper.”