Page 15 of The Journal of a Thousand Years (The Glass Library #6)

CHAPTER 15

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. Gabe looked so much better than the last time I’d seen him. Although he was still pale, some of his color had returned. The shadows under his eyes were dark, but the eyes themselves were bright and focused.

They were focused on me. “Can we talk, Sylvia,” he said again.

“Perhaps later. Bristow was just about to give me something.”

“Do you mean those?” Gabe pointed to the corner of his bedroom where my cases sat on the floor. “Mrs. Bristow thought they needed very particular attention so left them in my care while I was sleeping this morning.”

“How can you care for them while you’re asleep?” Willie asked.

Tilda jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow and shushed her.

Gabe put out his hand, inviting me in. “Sylvia. Please.”

His earnest plea and imploring gaze almost shattered me. I folded my arms across my body, hoping that would hold me together, and shook my head. “No, Gabe.”

“Very well. If you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you.” He pushed the covers back and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood, but the effort made him dizzy and he sat heavily on the mattress again.

He received a round of scolds from everyone. Then they turned accusatory glares onto me.

I’d not been aware of having rushed forward when he collapsed, but I found myself standing several steps inside the room, so I must have.

Gabe patted the bed beside him. “If you don’t come here then I’ll have to try and stand again.”

“This is emotional blackmail.”

He smiled smugly.

Petra made a shooing motion. “Everyone out.”

I turned to go, but Daisy, the nearest to me, caught me by the shoulders.

“Not you.” She stood in front of me, blocking my line of sight to Gabe. “As your best friend, it is up to me to tell you that you are being an idiot, Sylvia.” She put a finger to my lips as I began to protest. “I’ve already heard your excuses, and I think they’re bollocks. We all do.” She took my hand and dragged me over to the bed. She released it, only for Gabe to capture it instead.

I was trapped.

But I still had some fight left in me, and I still had right on my side. The only way to stay on course, however, was to not be in the orbit of Gabe’s magnetic presence. I indicated the tray Murray had set on the bedside table. “Eat your breakfast, Gabe. Tilda, tell him he needs to eat.”

There was no answer.

I turned around to see they’d all left, and the door was closed. I tugged my trapped hand, but Gabe’s grip only tightened. “This conversation needs to happen when you’re better,” I said. “You’re too weak now.”

He pulled me down onto the bed beside him. His beautiful sea-green eyes raked over my face, as if he’d not seen me in a very long time. I was so distracted by his eyes that I didn’t see his mouth until it was too late. “I’m not too weak that I can’t do this.” The smile teasing his lips vanished.

He kissed me.

There was no hesitation in it, no question that I might reject him. It was an utterly confident kiss, certain that I’d already given in and was going to stay.

It was wonderful.

Every reason I’d had for leaving fled. There was a part of me that still tried to listen to my head and not my heart, but it was drowned out by the tide of yearning. Gabe’s kiss branded his point of view on me as thoroughly as his lips seared mine.

It took his dizzy spell to separate us. He sank into the pillows, his face dreadfully pale again.

“Gabe!” I searched his eyes and was relieved to see them refocus.

“I’m all right,” he murmured. “I probably should eat.”

I settled the tray across his lap and watched as he tucked into his steak. Only when he’d eaten half did I ask him what he knew. “Did they tell you what Thurlow did?”

“That he abducted you? And that my former fiancée and her mother helped?” He lowered the knife and fork to the tray with a shake of his head. “I can’t believe how badly I misjudged Ivy. I knew well before I ended the relationship that I didn’t love her and never had, but I thought she was a decent person. Then again, apparently I’m not a good judge of character, as evidenced by Stanley’s actions.” He heaved a sigh as he went back to cutting the steak.

“Both Ivy and Stanley have been driven to the brink, making them do things they wouldn’t normally do. In Stanley’s case, the war changed him. Returning home to a society that dismissed his shell shock as his own fault for not coping when other men did…it left him feeling isolated and alone.”

“He wasn’t alone. He had friends. Juan and I wouldn’t abandon him.”

“I know you wouldn’t, but Stanley’s mind is in a very dark place.”

“Do you think he can be brought back from it? He was taking medication before. Perhaps he could have a stronger dose.”

I curled into his side and hugged his arm. “I don’t know, Gabe. I don’t think anyone knows, including the doctors.”

“I’ll try to talk to him.”

I sat up straight. “Don’t deliberately place yourself in danger or I will leave.”

He gave me a grim-faced nod. “I won’t.”

“Gabe, you have to be prepared for the worst. If he tries to kidnap you again, Alex, Willie and Cyclops will stop at nothing to release you. Nor will I.”

He nodded again, even more grim-faced. He understood that Stanley probably wouldn’t survive if he jeopardized Gabe’s life a second time. “The thing is,” he said, “that may be the whole point. He could be counting on retaliation. Hoping for it, even.”

He finished his steak then set aside the tray. I poured him a glass of water from the jug and made him drink all of it then made him drink another. I refilled the glass and reached across him to place it on the bedside table nearest him. Once the glass was safely put down, he circled his arm around my waist and drew me on top of him.

He stroked my hair back and kissed me again. This time it was soft and tender, although no less confident. He harbored no doubts about his own feelings toward me, just as he harbored none about my feelings for him. In anyone else, it would be arrogant. On him, the self-confidence was natural.

After a moment, I could tell something was on his mind and drew back. “Go on, Gabe. Say it.”

“With Thurlow and the Hobsons free, I don’t want you returning to your place. You should stay here. Alex said there are constables at the front and back doors.” He searched my face. “Please stay, Sylvia. I’m too weakened to worry about you, and I will worry if you’re not here with me.” It was the occasional vulnerable moments like this that stopped him from being arrogant. If I harbored any more doubts about staying, these moments would have banished them completely.

“I suppose I’d better, since I don’t want Willie blaming me for making you unwell.”

He cupped my face and kissed me.

A knock on the door separated us. I scooted off the bed and self-consciously adjusted my skirt and blouse. Gabe bade his visitor to enter.

The door crashed back on its hinges and Alex’s three younger sisters barreled inside, followed by their mother, Catherine, at a more modest pace. I could tell from her face that she was no less relieved to see him well. Indeed, I suspected she’d been crying.

Lulu, the youngest at seventeen, was still crying as she threw her arms around Gabe. Mae, the middle sister, allowed her only a few seconds before she told Lulu to move aside. Ella, the toughest of the trio and policewoman in training, stood with hands on hips as she waited for her turn. When she finally hugged Gabe then pulled away, she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Mae pulled a face. “That’s disgusting. It’s no wonder you don’t have any suitors.”

Lulu gasped. “Are you crying, Ella? Look everyone, Ella is crying . She is a real person and not an automaton.”

Ella gave her sister a withering glare. “Shut up.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Catherine chided. “You’ve all seen that he’s well, now let him rest.

They filed out, joining Alex where he stood in the corridor.

Catherine stayed. She hugged Gabe fiercely. “I am very glad you’re all right, but I’m not looking forward to telling Matt and India what happened.”

“They don’t have to know.”

“If you think Nate and I are going to keep something so important from them, you don’t know us at all.” She handed him the glass from the bedside table. “Tilda says you need to drink lots of water.”

“Sylvia just made me drink two glasses.”

She continued to hold it out, so he gave in and drank. When he finished, she put the empty glass back on the table and tucked in the sheet under the mattress where it had come loose.

“Is Cyclops here?” Gabe asked.

Catherine continued tucking the sheet, shoving it again and again under the mattress, even though it was perfect the first time. “He’s looking for your respective kidnappers.” She smoothed the bedcovers beside him, flattening the wrinkles I’d created. “Speaking of which, Nate and I think you should stay here, Sylvia. I know India and Matt would approve, so you don’t have to worry about how it looks.”

“She has already agreed,” Gabe said, watching Catherine vigorously whip her hand across the perfectly flat bedcovers.

“Good. Now, did Alex tell you there are constables at the front and back doors?”

“He did.”

“I see you’ve eaten all of your breakfast.” With the bedcovers smoother at Gabe’s side than even Mrs. Bristow managed to get them, Catherine returned to tucking in the sheet under the mattress.

“Nurse Tilda threatened me with a lecture from Willie if I didn’t,” Gabe said.

“Good for her. I like her a lot.”

Gabe caught her hand. “Catherine, I’m all right.”

She stopped fussing and pressed her lips together as tears welled in her eyes. Once she was composed again, she gave him a wobbly smile. “I know. But it gave us all a scare.” She folded her other hand over his. “Now, promise me you’ll stay in this bed until the doctor says you’re well enough to leave the house. Don’t go gallivanting around the city looking for the kidnappers.”

“I promise to listen to doctor’s orders.”

Satisfied, she pecked his forehead before leaving and closing the door again.

I stood beside the bed, arms crossed, my gaze narrowed.

He blinked back at me, all long dark lashes and innocent eyes.

“You may have hoodwinked Catherine, but it won’t work on me, Gabe. We don’t want your promise to listen to the doctor; we want your promise to heed his advice. There will be no leaving this house until he approves. Understood?”

His grin turned devilish. He suddenly circled me in his arms, drawing me onto the bed again. I rose above him, on my knees, and peered down at him. “I like this stern side of you,” he said.

I unfolded my arms and rested them on his shoulders, stroking my fingers through his hair. “I want you to know that I am aware that you still haven’t promised.”

“Noted. But?”

“What makes you think there’s a but?”

“Hope.”

I smiled. “But we’re alone and all I can think about is kissing you again.” So I did.

The following day, I felt like our troubles had melted away. Number sixteen Park Street became its own bubble of safety with friends dropping by and the constables guarding the doors. I ensconced myself in Gabe’s library after the professor deposited a box of books at the house. He’d retrieved them from the Glass Library’s attic and assigned them to me for cataloging. He knew being surrounded by paper and books was precisely what I needed. Not only did it keep my mind occupied, but the magic within me responded to all that paper. It soothed my nerves just as much as the presence of the constables did.

I suspected my magic also responded to the magic in the Hendry family journal. I’d started reading it before the box of books arrived, but set it aside to work. The paper magic infused into every page of the journal was a strong magnet, however, and I found my attention often wandering to it.

As if the book had summoned him, a most unexpected visitor in the form of Melville Hendry arrived. I was so surprised to see him—not least because he was wearing a false beard—that I forgot my manners and left him standing there in the library doorway looking rather uncertain. It wasn’t until I shook off my surprise that I remembered he must have problematic memories of this house and its owners, just as they had of him. Bristow’s severe scowl was testament to that. He and Willie had both been here all those years ago. I must never forget that my father had done terrible things to Gabe’s parents. If I was to have a happy future as a part of Gabe’s family, I mustn’t let Melville ruin it.

It struck me like a hammer blow that this had to be our final encounter.

Bristow cleared his throat. “May I take your disguise, Mr. Hendry?”

Melville removed the false beard and placed it inside his hat, but refused to hand them to Bristow.

I invited him in, then asked him to sit. It wasn’t lost on me that we were surrounded by weapons both of us could wield if necessary. Except I hadn’t yet learned to control the paper I directed using the moving spell, whereas Melville had years of practice.

“I’ll inform Mr. Glass of your visitor, Miss Ashe,” Bristow intoned.

“He was asleep last time I checked, and I’d like him to keep resting. Please inform Willie and Alex instead. On second thought, just Alex.”

“Isn’t he the police detective’s son?” Melville asked after Bristow left. “I don’t want him to know I’m here.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come. Don’t worry, he won’t arrest you.

Having Alex as my guard was rather pointless, given all the paper contained in the library. I simply didn’t want Bristow waking Gabe, so having Alex nearby might appease the butler’s concerns.

Melville looked around the library with wonder. “He’s fortunate to have all this at his fingertips.”

“He appreciates his good fortune.”

“There’s paper magic in that green leather-bound one on the second-top shelf.”

“I know.”

While he didn’t smile, I could tell my answer pleased him. He studied me, his gaze lingering on the features that I’d inherited from the Hendry side. My fair coloring, freckled nose and the shape of my mouth, so I’d been told. “You are my daughter,” he finally said.

“Yes.”

This time he did smile, but it was fleeting, almost as if he was embarrassed. “You received the journal.” He nodded at the family book on the table. “Keep it safe until it’s time to pass it on to the next generation.”

“I will. Speaking of time, the book mentions a prophecy whereby a member of the Hendreau family will save time. Do you know what that means?”

“No. It’s not important anyway. What’s important is that you learn the spells in the journal. Have you tried them?”

“I’ve been busy, but I learned the moving spell. I have trouble controlling the power, though. I suppose I just need practice.”

He indicated the crate of books I still had to catalog. “Then why aren’t you?”

“Because I have work to do,” I snapped.

Alex entered the library. He nodded at Hendry but remained by the door, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze flitted around the room, taking in all the books packed onto the shelves. If he was worried about them being weaponized, he didn’t show it.

Hendry smoothed his hand over the journal’s cover. “The key to controlling your magic is to focus it.”

“How do I do that?”

“Concentrate.”

“On what?”

“The words, your target…” He sounded annoyed, so I didn’t press him. “I’ve been thinking about you ever since we met in the café.” He paused, perhaps waiting for me to say that I’d been thinking about him, too. Perhaps I would have, if I hadn’t been so preoccupied. “I didn’t want to tell you some things then. They were painful memories that I thought never to bring up again. But I stand by what I said in the café: every child has a right to know their origins. So, I’ve decided to tell you some things.”

I was taken aback. I’d given up hope of learning answers to questions that had eaten away at me for years. “Thank you. That would be appreciated.”

He shifted his weight in the chair, taking a long time to begin. I bit down on my tongue to ensure my frustration at the delay didn’t boil over. “I already told you that Lord Coyle set Marianne and me up together. He blackmailed us both.”

“I know he got you out of prison. You felt you owed him.”

“He helped Marianne, too. We were both at our lowest points, desperate, afraid, alone. We both owed him favors in return for his help, and having children together was how he wanted us to pay him back. That was his only condition for his assistance, and we couldn’t refuse.”

“Even so, what he asked you to do is extreme.”

“It wasn’t easy to get me out of prison. I owed him an enormous debt, which I paid.”

“Even though being with a woman was abhorrent to you.”

“I don’t dislike women, no matter what my sisters tell you.” Despite the denial, he didn’t meet my gaze.

“And my mother?” I asked. “How did Coyle save her?”

“Marianne’s father was cruel. She ran away and came here to London, where she became known to Coyle. I suspect it was because she was selling off items containing her father’s silversmith magic that she’d stolen before leaving Ipswich, and someone noticed and informed Coyle. Such a rare magic would have immediately grabbed his attention.”

“So he helped her when she moved to London?” I shrugged. “That’s hardly a favor worthy of her pound of flesh.”

“His way of helping her was to kill her parents.”

My head began to buzz, as if he’d struck me. In a way, he had. The news was so shocking that I could barely comprehend it. I remembered my mother’s old neighbor in Ipswich telling us about the fire that had killed my grandparents, but it hadn’t occurred to me that Marianne was the reason for the fire, even if she hadn’t lit it herself. According to the neighbor, she’d left some time before that dreadful night.

Coyle had started the fire, or sent someone to do it, killing Marianne’s parents for her sake, to keep her safe. At moments like this, when we used the name Marianne Folgate, it was a little easier to disassociate that person from my mother, the woman I knew as Alice Ashe.

But no amount of pretending ignorance could deny the fact that Alice was Marianne, and she’d either asked Coyle to free her from her cruel father, or known he was going to take matters into his own hands. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have felt obligated to return the favor.

“Her father doesn’t deserve sympathy,” Melville said, following my train of thought. “He was violent toward her.”

“And her mother? Did she deserve to die so horribly?”

“She was complicit, by not protecting Marianne. It’s a mother’s duty to take care of her children.” He gave a humorless grunt. “It’s rather an ironic admission for me to make, don’t you think?”

I frowned. “Yes, I do. She fled from you for the very same reason.”

“I was never violent.”

I waited. There had to be more. My mother had run from him for years, well after Lord Coyle died.

Finally, he gave in. He cleared his throat. “I admit I was…cruel to her in other, non-physical, ways. I took advantage of her anger and fear at the situation she’d found herself in, and her youth and loneliness. I let my feelings about women in general color my interactions with her. I was angry, too, at finding myself in that predicament. Coupled with the fact that I had to hide my natural instincts when it came to loving men rather than women, and hide my magic, as we all had to in those days…I lashed out at someone weaker than myself. I realized later that I should have protected her, should have talked to her. If I’d been willing to be her friend, perhaps we could have found a way to be content. We had James, after all. But I won’t take the entire blame. She wasn’t willing to try either.”

“She’d been raised with a violent father and a mother who turned the other cheek. She didn’t know how to love.”

I’d meant it as an accusation against his lack of understanding for her situation, but he seemed to think I was absolving him from blame entirely. “She was rather difficult. I suppose you’re wondering why Coyle chose us to be parents when we were clearly not suited.”

“Is it not merely because you two owed him considerable favors?”

“That, and your mother’s silver magic. It’s incredibly rare. Some thought it had disappeared altogether. Did you say James inherited it?”

“We never discussed magic, but he alluded to it in his diary.”

“Pity,” he muttered.

I didn’t know if he meant it was a pity James had died before he could learn more about his own ability, or that he’d inherited silver magic and not paper. “Did Coyle demand my mother use her magic to create silver pieces for him?”

“Most likely, but not for financial gain. He simply liked to possess magician-made objects. He was a collector. He appreciated them.”

“Are there other couples like you and my mother? Magician couples blackmailed by Coyle into having children?”

“I’m quite sure we were the first, although I suspect we wouldn’t have been the last.”

“His death put an end to his plans,” I murmured.

“If it hadn’t, bringing magic out of the shadows would have. Giving magicians freedom from persecution would have diminished the power Coyle had over them.”

“You mean the freedom that Gabe’s parents were instrumental in bringing about? As a magician, you would have been free, too, if you hadn’t attacked Gabe’s mother and needed to go into hiding.”

His lips flattened. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

As ironic as the fact my very existence was thanks to Lord Coyle, a man who’d caused Gabe’s parents so much trouble.

Melville pulled the journal toward him and opened it. “You should study this closely. We can practice the spells together, if you like. You seem intelligent, so I’m sure you’ll pick up the nuances in the language quickly.” He flipped through the pages until he stopped at the moving spell. “You should learn to control flying paper first. It’s perhaps the most important spell.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Not if you learn to control it. It’s a weapon, and like any weapon, it can be used to protect yourself. I want you to be safe out on the streets, Sylvia. There are some evil men out there.”

I watched him carefully, but he showed no sign of recognizing the irony this time. “My mother taught me some self-defense moves.”

“So I noticed. Now it’s my turn to teach you other ways to protect yourself. No one expects paper to be turned into a weapon, so the element of surprise will work in your favor.”

“I have already used it, as it happens. It was effective, but chaotic. I’ll practice focusing until I’ve learned to control it.”

I thought he’d be pleased to hear my promise, but he looked concerned. “You had to use it? What happened?”

I’d not wanted to go into it, but I’d come this far and I didn’t want to brush him off entirely. “A corrupt bookmaker named Thurlow abducted me in an attempt to lure Gabe, for reasons I don’t really want to go into.”

“Abducted you!” He reached across the table, but I withdrew my hands before he could touch them.

I crossed my arms. “I escaped by using loose paper to cut him and his assistants.” I touched the cut on my neck. It no longer stung, and I’d quite forgotten about it in the turmoil of the previous two days.

“Well done, Sylvia. I like that you’re a capable woman, not a silly flibbertigibbet.”

“It’s how my mother raised me.”

He lowered his gaze to the journal. “This Thurlow fellow…have the police caught him?”

“Not yet.”

He frowned at Alex, as if it were his fault Thurlow was still at large. “That’s a concern. You must be very careful, Sylvia.”

“I’m well protected.”

“I want to help you catch him.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but he must be caught before he strikes again. You’re the only family I have. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“I am not your only family. You have three sisters, a niece and a nephew.”

He huffed out a breath. “My sisters don’t care about me. They made that clear years ago when they learned that my inclinations lean toward men. Anyway, I don’t care about them.”

“They may have changed, as have you. If you tried?—”

“No.” He reached across the table again, but I kept my arms crossed. “You are my daughter, Sylvia. My flesh and blood. You won’t fully understand until you become a parent, but having children will change everything you thought you knew about yourself. I never wanted children when I was your age. I was content never to marry, never be with a woman to…” He waved his hand in the air in dismissal. “Having James brought a different perspective and brought out a side of me that I wasn’t aware existed. When your mother took him from me, I was devastated. When you told me he’d died in the war, it was a double blow.” He offered me a tentative, hopeful smile. “But you are here, Sylvia, and I want to get to know you.”

This was going to be harder than I thought, but I had to say it now before emotions deepened. “Melville, considering what Gabe means to me, and your past entanglement with his parents, I’m sorry but this has to be our last meeting.”

I heard rather than saw Alex shift his weight.

Melville’s shoulders slumped, before he seemed to rally a little. “I thought you’d say that, but now I have a chance to prove to you—and them—that I only have your best interests at heart.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Your kidnapper, Thurlow…do you know where he lives?”

“We only know his workplace, but…” I shook my head. It was all becoming too much. “Melville?—”

“Call me Father.”

“No.” I stood, hoping he realized I wanted him to leave. He stood, too, but made no move toward the door. “Thurlow has gone into hiding. Leave it to the police to find him.”

He rounded the table and strode toward me, his intense bearing somewhat unnerving. “I know how to stay hidden, Sylvia. There are people and places—” He cut himself off and glanced at Alex. “I might succeed where the police failed.”

I blew out an exasperated breath. He didn’t seem to want to accept that we couldn’t have a relationship. “Even if you find Thurlow, it won’t change anything between us.”

“Very well. I’ll write and apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Glass, but you have to understand that I can’t hand myself over to the police. I won’t survive in prison.” He attached the false beard that wouldn’t fool anyone if they looked closely, and picked up his hat.

Seeing him in disguise was a reminder of how much he was risking by coming here. While Alex wouldn’t turn him over to the police, Cyclops probably would, as would the constables guarding the exits if they recognized him. I should be more appreciative. I tried to be.

“You’re right, you must be careful. You’d better not return here. You can write, if you like.”

He placed the hat on his head. “I know this will take time, but hopefully you’ll see how much I want to play some part in your life. The time for raising you has passed, but I like to think I can play another, equally important role in your life.”

I couldn’t be any blunter, but I decided not to repeat myself. I’d tell Bristow and Murray to turn Melville away if he came back.

He came back the following morning, and what he had to say changed my mind.