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

CHAPTER 6

T he blindfold was removed at the top of a set of stone steps worn smooth from years of use. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to a flickering, dim light coming from below. Once they did, I realized the steps led down to a cellar built of redbrick with arch supports. The light came from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling like a stalactite. There were no windows in the cellar, and the door through which I was pushed was the only exit. I wasn’t surprised to see Thurlow waiting for me at the base of the steps. I was surprised to see Bertie Hobson with him.

Bertie chewed on his lower lip and didn’t meet my gaze.

Thurlow smiled that slick smile of his. “Welcome, Miss Ashe. I am sorry for the subterfuge, but I thought it would be the only way to get you here. Did my man harm you?”

My cheek ached from where Ivy had struck me, but I wasn’t going to let them know it.

“We’ll remove that gag so you can talk.” He nodded at the burly fellow who’d been seated beside me in the motorcar. “There’s no point screaming. No one can hear you. If you do scream, I’ll have to shut you up. I can’t abide screeching women.” His wince sharpened his weaselly features further.

It was a relief to have my mouth free again. I didn’t scream, but I did spit a few strong curse words at him.

He merely smiled, revealing teeth crowded together, vying for space. “I’ve always admired your fire, Miss Ashe. It doesn’t always reveal itself, but when it does, it’s intoxicating.” His tongue darted out and licked his lower lip. His gaze fell to my chest. “It’s so much more attractive in a woman than ice.”

Whether she suspected the comment was directed at her or not, Ivy employed that iciness she was famous for, and coolly asked Thurlow what would happen now.

He indicated I should sit on one of the three chairs. Aside from some barrels stored to one side, they were the only pieces of furniture in the cellar. “Now, we wait. A note will be slipped under the door at number sixteen Park Street, Mayfair, directing Glass to meet me if he ever wants to see Miss Ashe again. When the household awakes at dawn, they’ll give him the note. Then we’ll see how much he cares for her.”

“I know what you’re trying to do and it’s pointless,” I said. “Gabe is artless. He can’t perform magic for you.”

Thurlow ignored me and continued to speak to Ivy. “Fetch your mother, please, Miss Hobson. My driver will take you. She should be here, since she’s the reason for this, after all.”

Ivy jutted her pointed chin forward in defiance. “This is not her fault. She’s merely trying to fix things. The fault lies with my idiot brother.”

Bertie finally came to life like an automaton wound up and released. “I didn’t engage his services! You and Mother did that.”

“We wouldn’t have to engage him if you hadn’t drawn us into this predicament in the first place.”

“It’s not my fault I’m artless,” he whined.

Ivy strode up to him, and I thought she’d strike him as she’d struck me. But she was composed, her piercing gaze the only sign of her fury. She’d never seemed more regal. “So now you want to play the artless card. It’s too late, Bertie. The damage has been done, and you are responsible for all of it!”

She spun around so she didn’t see her brother’s eyes well with tears and his chin tremble. She hurried up the stairs and closed the door behind her with an ominous thud.

Thurlow grunted. “Families, eh? This is why it’s better not to have one. Don’t you agree, Miss Ashe?”

I ignored him and addressed Bertie. “You don’t have to do as they say. Do the right thing and let me go.”

Bertie blinked rapidly back at me. “I don’t have a choice!” He indicated Thurlow and his thug, standing at the base of the steps, guarding the way out. “I’m sorry, Miss Ashe. Truly, I am.” He indicated my tied hands. “Is that entirely necessary, Mr. Thurlow? She can’t escape past your man.”

Thurlow snickered. “It would be amusing to see her try.” He untied me then stepped back, as if he expected me to leap at him like a wildcat.

I remained seated. Bertie was right; I couldn’t get past the guard. The only thing I could do was to try convince Thurlow he would achieve nothing by luring Gabe here. “What do you think Gabe can do for you? I told you, he’s artless.”

Thurlow sat on one of the other chairs and crossed one leg over the other. He looked unruffled, as if this were simply a casual meeting between acquaintances. “Come now, you don’t believe that and nor do I. Not after what I witnessed at the Epsom racetrack during the storm.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Someone fired a gun.” He put up his hands in surrender. “Before you ask, I don’t know who. I didn’t organize a shooter. I was merely a witness. And what I witnessed was Glass saving you.”

I crossed my arms. “That’s absurd.”

“You would have been shot if he hadn’t pushed you out of the way. The thing is, he moved in the blink of an eye. Less than a blink.” He clicked his fingers. “No one saw him actually move. So I asked myself how that could be possible. How did a man save someone without being seen to move? It must have been the same way he survived four years of war unscathed, and saved that boy from drowning. He traveled through time.”

I kept my features schooled, even though part of me wanted to laugh. He was right that Gabe’s magic involved the manipulation of time, but he was quite wrong about the time-travel theory.

Bertie must have heard this explanation before because he didn’t look surprised. Indeed, he clarified for me. “It explains a lot. Every time he was hit in the war, he used his magic as he lay injured, perhaps dying, to wind back time. Then he made sure he was prepared and out of the way when the attack came again.”

“Just as he made sure you were out of the way at Epsom, Miss Ashe,” Thurlow added. “It makes sense that he can travel through time. His mother is, after all, a watch magician. Her magic must have mutated within him somehow, or perhaps her husband isn’t artless after all, and they’ve been fooling everyone all these years.”

He might be wrong about how Gabe’s magic worked, but he still believed Gabe was a time magician. And that was dangerous. So, I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Thurlow merely shrugged. “Deny it all you want, but I was there at Epsom that day.”

It was best to steer the conversation in a different direction so that I wasn’t in danger of accidentally telling him the truth. “How did you get the Hobsons to agree to kidnap me and lure Gabe to you?”

“After first meeting Glass, I did a little research and discovered Ivy was his fiancée for a time. I’d already read about the former soldiers whose Hobson boots had failed, and it made me wonder if there was something there that I could use to my benefit. I befriended Bertie and he admitted he was artless. From there, it was easy to put two and two together and realize he was responsible for the batch of boots failing.”

“He tricked me,” Bertie grumbled. “I thought he was my…particular friend. We became close and I thought I could trust him.”

Had Thurlow and Bertie been lovers? It would explain why Bertie trusted Thurlow with an important secret.

“At first, I simply asked for money,” Thurlow went on. “The time you saw Mrs. and Miss Hobson meet me at the racetrack, they were paying me for my silence.”

I tried to meet Bertie’s gaze, but he kept his head low. He sniffed.

Thurlow continued, unconcerned that Bertie was upset. “Then, once I witnessed Glass save you from the gunshot during that storm, I realized the Hobsons could be useful in another way.” He gestured to me with a flourish of his hand.

“He’s blackmailing us,” Bertie muttered. “We wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t being forced.”

Thurlow made a show of being pained by the accusation. “Blackmail is such a dirty word. Let’s call it payment for my services. In exchange for me not divulging their traitorous secret to the nation they are being useful by bringing you here, which will lure Glass. It’s a neat scheme. I did consider having Ivy go directly to Glass and not involving you at all, but it was her mother who pointed out that he wouldn’t be fooled. We had to be smarter. So we came up with this plan instead. I must say, Hobson, your mother is quite the shrewd woman.”

Bertie sniffed again. “My mother is a she-devil.”

Thurlow chuckled.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, blackmailing a widow,” I said.

“She may be a widow, but she has always ruled the family and overseen the business. Her husband was little better than a puppet.”

“It’s true,” Bertie muttered.

It was no use continuing to appeal to Thurlow’s conscience. He didn’t have one. I turned to Bertie instead. “It would be better to come clean about your artlessness yourself and face the consequences, rather than do this. Thurlow can’t be controlled. If Gabe doesn’t do as Thurlow expects, he’ll kill Gabe, and me. Is that what you want? Our murders on your conscience and to never be free of him?”

Thurlow pressed a hand to his heart. “You wound me, Miss Ashe. I thought you and I could come to some sort of arrangement where I will let you go, and you will become my…particular friend.” His smile turned as oily as his hair, slicked back with brilliantine.

Bertie sat heavily on the third chair, and finally lifted his head to look at me. He was a pathetic, forlorn figure. Although he and Ivy were similar in appearance, her bearing was imperial whereas the same features somehow made him look weak. No more so than now, with tears pooling in his eyes. “We’ve gone too far to come clean. It’s not just the charges we would face for kidnap; we’d be charged with treason or criminal negligence. The newspapers would relish the story. Even if I was found not guilty, our business would be ruined. Now that Father is dead, I’m supposed to be the magician who infuses the leather in our boots with magic, but once everyone discovers I’m artless, no one will buy them. Customers will go to our competitors.”

That’s why the family refused to admit they’d made a mistake on a batch of boots in the war. They were protecting the future of Hobson and Son. A family business built on the promise of magic was in danger of becoming worthless if all living family members were artless.

“You could change your structure, and do as other artless businesses do,” I said. “Sell lower quality goods than magicians, at a cheaper price.”

“Our profits would fall dramatically.”

“Not to mention no one would buy from a traitor,” Thurlow added with a twist of his lips.

“Mother would hate existing on a more meager budget. Ivy, too. It would devastate them. It’s hopeless.”

“It’s a matter of greed,” Thurlow added.

“The Hobsons aren’t the only greedy ones in this scenario,” I snapped. “You’re kidnapping Gabe to force him to use his so-called time-travel magic for your own ends. Do you hope he can wind back time so you can place illegal bets on horses that you know won? Or change the odds you offer at the tote?”

“Very good, Miss Ashe. You’ve guessed correctly.” He got to his feet. “Come, Hobson. We’ll let Miss Ashe rest until your mother and sister arrive.”

Both Bertie and I looked around. There was a hard floor, hard chairs and hard barrels. I wouldn’t be getting any rest. Bertie gave me an apologetic shrug then followed Thurlow up the stairs. Thurlow’s man brought up the rear.

I saw a chance and took it.

When Thurlow opened the door, I raced up the stairs on my toes to be as quiet as possible. But my footsteps still echoed in the cavernous cellar. The thug heard my approach and blocked the exit with his barrel-sized body. I kept my distance. I didn’t want to be pushed down the stairs. The last thing I needed was an injury.

He sneered as he left, closing the door behind him.

I returned to the chair, only to get up again. I checked the walls and floor for secret passages, scrabbling at the bricks until my fingers bled. Panic set in when I found none. My chest tightened, and my breathing became labored. Weak-kneed, I sat on the chair and bent over in an attempt to catch my breath.

At that angle, the chair legs came into view. If I could snap one off, I could use it as a weapon. If I were a wood magician, I might be able to wield it without touching it. But I wasn’t.

I was a paper magician.

With a renewed sense of calm, I sat up straight and waited.

It wasn’t too long before Ivy, Mrs. Hobson and Bertie returned. Thurlow wasn’t with them, but his guard took up a position at the base of the stairs again. He’d dispensed with his jacket, revealing thick arms straining the seams of his shirt and a throat like a frog’s, bulging above his neckerchief. The scars on his hands and cheek looked to have been inflicted by a knife. I was no match for him, physically.

I rose as the Hobsons approached, but I was still much shorter than all three. Mrs. Hobson made a point of looking down her nose at me. She and her daughter were alike, with their sleek dark hair and statuesque figures that suited the latest fashions so well, not to mention the sharpness with which they regarded me. Poor Bertie was an insipid imitation beside them.

“I believe you are responsible for my predicament,” I said to Mrs. Hobson. “Your plan won’t work. Gabe isn’t a magician.”

“We’ll see.” Her gaze swept my length, twice, before some of the tightness around her eyes and mouth relaxed. Had she been worried I was injured? “You’ll be exchanged for Gabriel when he arrives. Mr. Thurlow gave me his word.”

“His word is worthless.”

Bertie nibbled his lower lip. “I think she’s right. Mother?—”

“Quiet!” Mrs. Hobson snapped.

Bertie seemed to shrink into himself. He once again gnawed his lower lip.

I indicated the thug. “You and I both know Thurlow won’t simply let me walk out of here. You can’t trust him.”

Ivy glanced at her mother but didn’t say a word. Mrs. Hobson looked in no mood to put up with another dissenting voice.

She folded her arms. “I suggest you leave London the moment you are released, Miss Ashe. For your own good, and Gabriel’s.”

I barked a harsh laugh. “Forgive me if I refuse to take the advice of someone responsible for my abduction.”

“Think a little longer about it, then act based on common sense not petulance. You can’t marry Gabriel, even if he wanted to. You have no father, no family, no history. It’s as if you don’t exist. How could the Rycroft heir marry someone like that?”

She might be wide of the mark about my family, now that I’d discovered I was a Hendry, but in a way, that knowledge made it worse. Being Melville’s daughter would remind Gabe’s parents of a past they wished to forget.

I shook off the negative thoughts. Gabe had assured me he didn’t care who my father was, and that his parents wouldn’t either. I mustn’t let Mrs. Hobson burrow her way into my mind and infect me with her poisonous words.

She slowly circled me, her arms still crossed over her chest. I felt like I was back at school with a strict headmistress checking I was following the uniform rules. “A marriage between you would have repercussions beyond the social. Lord and Lady Rycroft have significant influence over government policy surrounding magicians. Their son needs to marry a magician from a good family, not a mousy nobody. You would ruin him.”

“Save your breath, Mrs. Hobson. You’re going to need it when the police arrest you. It’s your reputation that will be ruined.”

Mrs. Hobson laughed, a brittle sound that echoed around the cellar. “You are so naive, it’s almost charming. You will be the one wasting your breath if you go to the police upon your release. We didn’t abduct you. Mr. Thurlow’s men did. Who would take your word over ours when there’s no evidence we were involved?”

“There is evidence. My landlady can identify Ivy.”

None of the Hobsons showed a flicker of concern. They’d already thought of that. “Did she actually witness me kidnap you?” Ivy asked. “Or simply call on you? It’s not my fault I got the wrong end of the stick and thought Gabe was being kidnapped, or that you then followed me out of the house. I thought I was taking you to my motorcar, but it seemed you got into a different one. The vehicle sped away before I had a chance to stop you. My driver tried to follow, but we lost sight of you, alas.” She shrugged and batted her eyelashes oh-so-innocently. “Nobody witnessed us get into the same vehicle.”

A jury would adore her. They would eat up her testimony, particularly if she added a few tears.

Mrs. Hobson laid a hand on her daughter’s arm. “We’ll wait upstairs. The air is unpleasant down here.”

The thug moved aside to let them pass. The women lifted their skirts and marched up the steps. Bertie hung back, watching them go with stooped shoulders.

“May I have a book to read to pass the time?” I asked.

Mrs. Hobson paused on the top step and looked down. “No. Bertie, come.”

Bertie cast me a look filled with hopelessness, then followed his mother and sister out. The thug exited, too, and locked the door behind him.

I sat on the chair and buried my face in my hands. I prayed they were right and Thurlow would follow through on his promise to release me. Unlike the Hobsons, I was confident I could get Scotland Yard to believe my account of the abduction. Alex’s father, Cyclops, worked for Scotland Yard and would be on my side, and perhaps even Mr. Jakes. He would be very interested in hearing my account of Bertie’s admission.

But I had very little confidence that Thurlow would keep his word to the Hobsons and let me go.

When the door opened again, I thought it might be him, but it was Bertie, along with the guard. The thug remained by the door at the top of the stairs this time, instead of at the base.

Bertie gave me a weak smile as he handed me two books. “I could only find texts about leather goods, I’m afraid. There are no novels here.”

I accepted the books gratefully and held them against my chest. “Where are we?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.” He glanced up at the guard then lowered his voice. “After his death, we discovered my father kept a small house in Bethnal Green.”

Bethnal Green wasn’t the sort of place where a respectable gentlemen had a house, particularly if he lived not far away in a much better area with his family. The fact he hadn’t told his family about it meant Mr. Hobson hadn’t been a respectable gentleman, after all.

Bertie smirked. “Mother was livid when she found out.”

I’d never had much to do with Bertie in the past. He’d simply been there in the background, looking like he would rather be somewhere else. I regarded him with renewed interest. “You don’t like your family, do you?”

“You’ve met them. What do you think?”

“I think you loathe the way they treat you.”

“My mother calls me to heel, like a dog. If I don’t come running, she has me whipped. Not physically,” he conceded. “But her verbal lashings have left scars nevertheless.”

I nodded in understanding but remained silent. I got the feeling he wanted to talk to someone who would just listen. He’d probably gone his whole life without being truly heard.

“When I came clean to my parents about my artlessness, they told me I was pathetic, useless. I was the son in Hobson and Son. I had a job to do; make the leather in our boots stronger by using magic. I’d pretended to be a magician when I was young to get them to like me, but they suspected I was artless for years before they finally admitted me to Rosebank Gardens in an attempt to draw it out of me.” His mouth turned down as if he would cry, but he rallied and continued. “It was a horrid place. The treatments were painful. I wouldn’t inflict them on my worst enemy. With Father alive, and Mother essentially running the show, it didn’t matter that I was artless. We all simply continued on, fooling ourselves that I’d one day simply gain magic abilities. Then when Father unexpectedly became ill during the war, I told them I’d take care of everything, that I’d ensure the boots received their magic. I thought I could do it. I thought I felt magic inside me.” He tapped his chest. “I must have been wrong.”

“You probably convinced yourself because you wanted your parents’ love and acceptance.”

He shrugged. “Father was too sick to verify whether the boots held my magic, and Mother was busy ensuring his will and other financial details of the business were in place in case he died. Later, when we found out some of the boots failed and the batch could be traced back to the time when I was in charge, we all realized I was definitely artless. There was no longer any doubt, or hope. They blamed me for the boots failing, and rightly so. It was my fault.” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips firmly together, as if that would stop him blurting out his emotions. When he reopened his eyes, the haunted look made him seem even more vulnerable. “Those poor soldiers who’ve lost their limbs… I tried to convince my parents that we needed to compensate them, but they refused. They said the future of the company depended on me being a magician. Admitting that a batch failed because I was artless would ruin us when it came time for me to take over.”

“It’s not too late to come clean.”

“Mother won’t let me. I don’t even have an ally in my own sister. Ivy will do whatever Mother thinks is best.”

“You are your own man, Bertie. Your future is what you make it, not what others want for you.”

He lifted his gaze to mine, and for the first time, I saw a spark in them.

It gave me hope. “I know someone in Military Intelligence. Let me arrange for you to speak to him. If you explain that it was all a dreadful mistake, that you were under the influence of your parents, perhaps he’ll be lenient.”

The spark in Bertie’s eyes flared brighter. “I was under their influence. And Father was still in charge, with Mother deputizing in his absence. Not me.”

If he thought the only way to absolve himself was to blame his parents, then I wasn’t going to tell him otherwise. My plan had a better chance of working if he believed he could walk free.

Bertie glanced at the guard at the top of the stairs. “None of this can be blamed on me either,” he said quietly. His face suddenly fell. “But I can’t get you out of here, Miss Ashe. I can’t fight him, let alone Thurlow and his other henchman.”

I hugged the books tighter. “Leave that to me. When the opportunity arises, we’ll make our escape.”

He didn’t look like he believed it would happen. I couldn’t blame him for that. I wasn’t sure my plan would work either.

He headed up the steps and left the cellar with the guard. This time, when the door locked, I didn’t feel a sense of hopeless dread. I simply sat on the chair and opened one of the books.

I didn’t read the title, but I silently apologized for the sacrilegious thing I was about to do. Then I tore out each page, one by one. When I’d finished with the first book, I went on to the second, piling each loose page up on one of the other chairs. Once both books were left with nothing between the covers, I quietly spoke the paper moving spell.

The top page lifted and flapped about before fluttering to the floor.

I tried again, digging through my memory for the way I’d emphasized the words not twenty-four hours ago in the library. More pages rose into the air and flew about, a little faster. I tried again and again, each time perfecting my pronunciation and altering the emphasis on the words I suspected affected speed and direction. The papers flew about, whipping through the air like blades, but I couldn’t control where they went. I stopped, worried I’d cut myself.

It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. I didn’t have a watch on me, but I suspected it would be dawn soon. It was time to act.

With an armful of papers, I climbed the steps and thumped on the door. “I need to use the privy!”

The door opened and the guard regarded the papers. “Why do you need those?”

“Reading material.”

He indicated I should follow him. The cellar opened into a kitchen, which led to a short hallway and the front door. Another of Thurlow’s men stood there, guarding it. The voices coming from the only other room off the hallway belonged to Thurlow and Mrs. Hobson.

“Just one moment,” I said to my escort.

I stepped into a compact parlor where the three Hobsons sat on stiff-backed chairs while Thurlow stood by a small fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since its last use. His casual stance stiffened upon seeing me. The Hobsons turned as one toward me.

“Why is she here?” Thurlow snapped at my escort.

The thug grabbed my arm.

I began the chant I’d learned from the Hendry family journal.

Ivy rose. “What is she doing?”

Her mother stood, too. “Is that a spell? But you’re not a magician.”

The papers in my arms flapped like birds wanting to be released. I let them go and watched them fly around the room as if a whirlwind had whipped them up.

Bertie laughed, until he had to duck under one of the pages that flew toward him.

The others ducked, too, including the thug. He released me to protect his head with his arms. Ivy screamed, drawing the second man into the parlor to see what the commotion was about. He realized too late what was happening and was cut by a paper’s edge. Another one nicked his forehead before he fell to the floor and covered his head, too.

There were so many pages, over five hundred, and the noise of flapping papers all vying for space in the small parlor was louder than I expected. As with my experiments in the cellar, I failed to control them, and had to duck out of the way, too. I didn’t stop speaking the spell, however.

“Get her!” Thurlow growled. “Shut her up before your bollocks are sliced off!”

The man closest to me covered his crotch with his hands, leaving his head exposed. He received a cut to his cheek and another to his shoulder. Blood tinged his shirt.

The second man was a little further away, but he blocked the doorway. His gaze narrowed as he readied himself to leap at me, low to the ground. I spoke the spell faster, changing the emphasis of a syllable here and there. Suddenly, the pages dove toward him, like a swarm of bees at their hive. He swore as he tried to bat them away.

There was no time to wonder at how I’d managed to direct the paper onslaught at him. With both men occupied, I ran past them, but hesitated in the doorway. “Bertie?” I managed to say between spell repetitions. I held out my hand.

He leapt up and took it. Thurlow tried to follow him, but the swarm of flying paper blocked his advance.

Bertie and I ran onto the road and spotted Thurlow’s motorcar. Like Gabe’s vehicle, it required a crank to start the engine, not a key like some newer ones. I took the driver’s seat while Bertie cranked. Only once the motor rumbled to life did I stop speaking the spell.

Gabe had given me driving lessons, so I knew what to do. I pulled away from the curb, expecting to hear a gunshot. But the house was silent. I hoped no one was terribly injured. Individual cuts shouldn’t be deep enough to bleed out or leave scars, but if they received too many…I shuddered to think.

It was fortunate that there was very little traffic on the road because the motorcar steered differently to the Vauxhall. I quickly got used to it, however, and headed in the direction of Mayfair.

“You’ve been cut.” Bertie pointed at my neck.

I touched it. My fingers came away sticky and the cut stung. I glanced at him. In the soft light of dawn, I could make out two cuts on his face. “So have you. Sorry.”

He dabbed at them with a handkerchief. “I didn’t know you’re a paper magician.”

“I just found out myself.”

After a few more turns, he added, “We’re heading to Gabe’s place, aren’t we?”

“I have to retrieve that note Thurlow left for him.” I flexed my fingers on the steering wheel and blew out a fortifying breath. “Can you look around for something to write with?”

He opened the glove compartment and found a notepad and pencil. When we stopped around the corner from number sixteen Park Street, I penned Gabe a note of my own.

It was the hardest thing I’d ever written.

My feet felt like they were bogged in clay as I made my way up the steps to Gabe’s front door. Another deep breath did nothing to steady my jangling nerves. Despite every part of me screaming that what I was doing was wrong, my head knew it was right.

I had to stay away from Gabe. Not to protect his family from social disgrace, but to protect him from Thurlow. Even if Thurlow was caught, someone else would take his place. Indeed, someone else had tried to kidnap Gabe before Thurlow even came onto the scene, and they were still at large.

I made Gabe vulnerable. His affection for me was a weak spot to be exploited by those who wanted to use his magic for themselves. I must leave London, leave my friends, and leave Gabe and the Glass Library behind.

I raised my hand to knock.