Imogen Robertson - Circle of Shadows

‘No need to mention it further, sir. And you are quite a salesman. Now do tell me, what were you saying to Michaels so excitedly when I interrupted you?’

He looked grateful for the chance to recover himself; his voice became lower and softer. ‘Only how glad I was when the Al-Said brothers arrived in court and took up residence here. The servants from the palace had been sneaking into the building night after night to amuse themselves with parlour games and ghost stories. I don’t begrudge them some entertainment, but sometimes the women would let out a shriek that would wake the dead. Certainly woke me anyway.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But you have both had more than your fair share of my nonsense now. Good day, Mrs Westerman, Michaels.’

He nodded to them both and returned to his workshop. ‘If he can control his tongue, I think that young man will do well in life,’ Harriet said, watching him retreat

Michaels grunted. ‘He thinks too well of himself, if you want my opinion. I asked him who the people were who came up here, and all he had to say was “servants”, as if anyone without a title has no right to a name of their own.’ He glanced at her sideways. ‘No need to grin at me, missus. I doubt you like this set-up any more than me. Never realised how easy I had it in England till I saw all the bowing and scraping goes on round here.’

‘I can’t imagine you ever bowing to anyone, at home or here, Michaels. Yet you would not ride in the carriage with us, or dine with us on the road, and when you come to Caveley you come in through the kitchen door.’

‘I like the fresh air, and my boots are always dirty.’

She sighed. ‘I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t say you know your place.’

‘Maybe you should.’ He winked at her.

‘Enough! I know better than to fence with you. What news then, Michaels?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Some dribs and drabs. But it seems my path and Mr Crowther’s have led us the same way. That needs thinking on. I’d be willing to come and chew it over with you both, if you’re at liberty.’

They found Crowther in his room, and when Michaels had finished telling them what he had learned, and they in turn told him of the uses Kupfel’s drugs had been put to, Michaels hissed between his teeth.

‘It makes me worry for the girl,’ he said. ‘I’ve no doubt that it was she who took the books and supplies, but she was all cons and flummeries, not murders. I reckon she’s passed those poison notes on to someone else, and I wonder what has happened to her now.’

Harriet put her chin in her hand. ‘I fear you may be right. Is there no way of finding out where Beatrice went?’

‘Maybe. There was a boy here who liked her, we had a word or two as I passed him coming back, and though I don’t think he knows much, I reckon he knows a little more than he’s saying. I just haven’t found the right way to wind him up to talking. I’ll ask about here too. Sounds like my Beatrice could have been caught up in the spirit nonsense that Julius made mention of.’

‘Good luck, Michaels,’ Crowther said. ‘It seems you might have the best chance of running this matter to ground for now.’

‘We’ll see. Plenty of riddles for all of us.’ He paused. ‘So Mrs Padfield’s been hanging on and waiting till someone like me came along that might help her, trying to keep this quiet.’

Crowther nodded. ‘I understand. I can see no reason we need let it be known that Beatrice was Mrs Padfield’s sister. What say you, Mrs Westerman?’

‘The same.’

‘I meant to tell you, Mrs Westerman,’ Michaels said, turning to her, his voice soft. ‘If you wish it, I will throttle that Manzerotti for you. I could make it back to England on the quiet.’

She studied her hands.

‘Thank you, Michaels. But no. If I cannot kill him myself, I will not send another to do it. Find this girl and her poison book. And we shall try and discover who has been making such use of it.’

When he had left, Harriet showed the papers she had collected from Herr Dorf to Crowther. He read through them and put them aside with a sigh. ‘Nonsense.’

‘It does read like the work of a madman, does it not? Secret societies working in the heart of government. All assertion, no evidence. Thank goodness we have news of this poison book, or I should think myself lost indeed.’

If anyone knew who used to go to the village to see spirits, they weren’t saying. Michaels couldn’t blame them. Sneaking off after-hours like that would be enough to lose you your place; better to play dumb and say you had never heard of such a thing, especially to a stranger just rolled in. He gave up soon enough and stepped into town to wait for the boy to finish at the blacksmiths. He timed it nicely; after half an hour Michaels spotted the boy emerging from his workplace and slouched forward.

‘Can I buy you a brew, lad?’ he said, nodding towards a doorway nearby.

Simon looked suspicious. The offer of a free drink is a difficult one to refuse on any occasion; however, when your feet are sore with standing and your bones ache with hammering iron all day, such a refusal is all but impossible. He nodded, and they went into the tavern together.

A keen-eyed boy just clambering long-boned into his teens brought them beer, and Michaels pronounced in its favour.

‘You know I want to talk to you more of the girl, Beatrice,’ Michaels said, once he had sunk half his drink in a single gasp. Simon sipped his as if he thought it might be bad.

‘You said you were her uncle.’

‘That why you clammed up on me?’

‘She told me she had an uncle, but he was dying or dead. You look pretty bloody healthy to me, and for all Gurt or her like say of her, I trust Beatrice over you.’

Michaels grinned into his beer. ‘Thought that might be it. You were more friendly with her than others knew, eh?’

Simon didn’t answer, but hunkered over his tankard.

‘Did she tell you she had a sister too? Two years older than her, taken out of the orphanage with her by the man they travelled with. It’s on her account I’m asking.’

‘Why say you’re an uncle then, and lie to folks you’re asking trust from?’

‘It’s a fair question.’ The smoke in the place was so thick you didn’t need to light a pipe yourself, just taste your neighbour’s tobacco for free. Michaels examined the young man. Hard eyes, and thin-faced. He wondered if Beatrice had seen him as a fellow spirit. Like appeals to like, after all.

‘All I can say is, the sister married well. Wants to know why Beatrice hasn’t found her out to feel how deep her pockets are, but she doesn’t want to risk asking about her herself now.’

‘Who is she?’ His face was hidden by the tankard, but Michaels could still see his little eyes glimmering through the fug and fall of his fringe. He leaned forward till his face was only an inch away from the other man’s, and spoke quietly and carefully.

‘You don’t want to think of playing that game, lad. You tell me something that helps, and I’ll see you won’t suffer for it. But don’t get thinking.’ He put his hand on the boy’s elbow and twisted very slightly. Simon hissed in pain. ‘Now maybe your little rat’s mind is thinking who it might be. Maybe you’re thinking I’ll leave Maulberg soon. Well, I might. But I won’t leave the lady unprotected, so even if you do work it out and try and force a penny from her, you’ll have to watch your back every night for the rest of your sorry little life.’ He leaned back again and patted the boy’s shoulder in a friendly way. ‘Be smart. Take the easy money and smile. Two thalers now, if I like what you say, and five more if I find something worth finding.’ It would take the boy two weeks to earn that in the general run.