Quicksilver

FOUR

The following morning Owen took the carriage out of the safe, hauled it upstairs to the library and put it on a table. He collected a variety of small tools and set to work dismantling the curiosity. He was in the process of carefully removing one of the windows in the cab when a knock sounded on the door.

“Not now, Mrs. Brent.” He did not look up from the delicate task of disassembling the carriage. “I told you, I do not want to be disturbed this morning.”

“Yes, sir, I know, sir.” The housekeeper’s voice was muffled by the door. “It’s Mrs. Sweetwater, sir.”

“Which Mrs. Sweetwater? There are half a dozen of them in London at any given moment.”

The door opened. Mrs. Brent fixed him with a stern look. “Mrs. Aurelia Sweetwater, sir. She just arrived, and she insists on speaking with you.”

Of course it would be Aurelia, he thought. She was the oldest of his great-aunts and enjoyed the status of being the family matriarch. He had known this visitation was coming, he reminded himself. But he had been dreading it.

“Damn it to hell,” he said. But he said it very softly. “Very well, Mrs. Brent, show her in here, if you would.”

“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Brent started to retreat into the hall.

“But I warn you that it will be worth your position in this household if you bring in a tea tray,” Owen vowed. “I do not want to give my aunt any excuse to hang about here.”

Mrs. Brent’s mouth twitched in amusement, but she kept her professional composure. “Yes, sir.”

“I heard that,” Aurelia Sweetwater announced. She swept into the library, elegantly regal in a dark purple gown. Her gray hair was caught up in a towering chignon and crowned with a feather-trimmed hat that matched the dress. Her street-sweeper petticoats rustled ominously on the carpet. “As it happens, I do not have time for tea today, but that is beside the point.”

“Good morning, Aunt Aurelia,” Owen said. He left the table and crossed the carpet to give her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “You are looking in excellent spirits today. A bit early, is it not? What brings you here at this hour?”

“You know perfectly well why I was forced to call on you at this ungodly hour of the morning. It is the only time I can hope to find you at home. You have been avoiding me, Owen.”

“Not at all. I have been busy of late. New client, you know.”

“I am aware that the family has taken on Arcane as a client. I’m not certain that is a wise move, but we shall see.”

“Arcane is changing,” Owen said. “Under the new Master, it has assumed new responsibilities. It seems the Joneses feel an obligation to protect the public from the monsters.”

Aurelia raised her brows. A thoughtful expression crossed her face. “If that is true, then we will likely be seeing a great deal of business from J & J in the years ahead.”

Owen angled himself on the corner of his desk. “Precisely. There is never a shortage of monsters to hunt.”

Aurelia smiled. So did Owen. It was a moment of silent, familial communication and mutual understanding that only another Sweetwater would comprehend. The men of the Sweetwater family were compelled to hunt the monsters. It was the nature of their talent. But they had long ago concluded that it made excellent financial sense to have a client pay for the work whenever possible.

Aurelia stopped smiling. “As it happens, I came here today to discuss Arcane with you.”

“What about it?”

“It seems the Society is now offering a matrimonial consulting service that specializes in introducing people of talent to each other.”

It took him a split second to realize where the conversation was going. When the full horror of it struck home, he came off the corner of the desk very suddenly.

“Do not even think about registering me with the Society’s matchmaking agency, Aunt Aurelia,” he said.

“Oh, I cannot do the registering for you.” She waved that aside, unfazed by his dark mood. “You would have to take care of the details yourself.”

“I am not about to employ a matchmaker.”

“My understanding is that Lady Milden, who operates the agency, has a true gift for matching people endowed with strong psychical natures. She has a number of resources to draw on, including Arcane’s extensive genealogical records.”

“Forget it.” He went to the window and stood looking out at the rain-dampened garden. “I am not interested in that approach.”

“Why not?”

“Sweetwaters find their own women.”

“Except when they don’t,” Aurelia said. She spoke quietly, but the words were heavy with meaning. “We both know what happens when a Sweetwater man goes too long without a true mate.”

He did not respond. There was no need.

“You have begun the nightwalking, haven’t you?” Aurelia said quietly.

A cold chill iced the nape of his neck. The Sweetwaters were very good at keeping secrets from outsiders, but it was damned difficult to keep a secret within the family.

“I have always hunted at night,” he said, trying to claw his way out of the trap. “Everyone in the family knows that. It’s the nature of my version of the family talent. I see the evidence of the monsters more clearly after dark.”

“What everyone in the family knows,” Aurelia said, “is that you are spending more and more time on the streets late at night. It is one thing to troll for monsters occasionally. In this family, that passes for sport, rather like fishing. But it is quite another to go out alone night after night, searching for your prey. That way lies madness for a Sweetwater man.”

“I am not hunting at night for the sport of it. I have a particular client, J & J, and I have a specific target, a psychical maniac who is murdering glasslight-talents.”

“I realize that you have recently acquired a client, but that is only a short-term diversion. It will not change what is happening to you. Owen, your parents and the rest of the family are starting to worry. If you do not find the right woman soon, you will become a nightwalker.”

“What makes you think Lady Milden can find me a match?”

“I am told she is very skilled at what she does. What do you have to lose?”

“Time,” he said. “Time that I can spend searching for my own true mate.”

“You said yourself this is the modern era. You should take advantage of modern, more efficient ways of doing things.”

“I’ll consider it,” he said, lying through his teeth.

“I will take that as a promise.”

He swung around. “Damn it, Aunt Aurelia.”

“I will ignore the bad language this one time, because I am aware that you are under considerable stress.” She went toward the door. “You have wasted too much time already. You must not wait any longer, Owen. Your family does not want to lose you to the night.”

FIVE