The Faerie Ring (21 page)

The woman looked up from the page on which she was writing notes. She gave Tiki a quick glance, nodded, then turned back to her paperwork without a word.

Tiki hurried down the hallway. She was anxious to see Clara. They had moved her out of quarantine almost a week ago and in with the rest of the children. Fiona had been up to see her the day before yesterday and said she’d made even more improvement. To celebrate, Tiki had brought her a small bite of chocolate. Tiki’s eyes darted around the room, looking for the little girl’s curly blond head.

The metal frame beds in the ward were crammed together, using every available inch of space. Every bed was occupied. A thin aisle threaded its way down the middle of the room between the footboards with just the smallest space for a person to stand between the beds. Small windows lined two of the walls, though the gray light of the day did little to dispel the aura of sickness in the room. Tiki tried to ignore the muffled cries and moans of the sick children. At the far end of the room, a single nurse bent over a bed.

Tiki’s heart beat a little faster as she searched the beds, unable to find Clara. Where was she? She bit her lower lip in fear as her head swiveled from one bed to the next. Had they moved her? Tiki’s worst fear bubbled up and threatened to choke her. Had she gotten worse again?

Tiki rushed over to the door of the quarantine room and peered inside. Had Clara had a relapse? But only three beds were occupied, and Tiki could tell by the color of the children’s hair that Clara was not among them. Dread settled across her shoulders like a heavy cloak as she hurried from the room and headed back to the woman at the front desk.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am. There was a little blond girl in here, named Clara.” Tiki clutched her hands together under her cloak. “I told her I’d show her something special today and I can’t seem to find her. Has she been moved?”

“Clara?” the lady repeated in a tired voice. She glanced at a chart with a list of names. “Oh, right, that one. Her relatives came to pick her up yesterday.” She shook her head. “Can you believe it? The little thing’s been in here for nigh on two weeks and they just now come to see her. Then they up and take her.” She shuffled her papers some more. “One hopes they’ll take better care of her this time round.”

“Her relatives?” Tiki couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. “What did they look like?”

“A man and a woman. Well-dressed, average-lookin’ folk.” The nurse peered at her. “What difference does it make?”

“What color hair did the woman have?” Tiki asked.

The woman shrugged. “Blond hair—just like the little girl. In the prettiest ringlets. Didn’t look old enough to be her mother, but you never know, these days.”

Tiki dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands and swallowed. She couldn’t seem to draw a steady breath. “Do you … know … where”—she took a shaky breath—“they took her?”

“No, we don’t ask where they’re taking them. Especially if they’re relatives. They just have to sign for them and off they go.”

Tiki swallowed hard. “Could I see their names? I’d love to stay in contact with that little girl.” She bowed her head as if overcome with sadness and whispered, “We became friends. She reminded me of my little sister that I lost to the fever.”

“Oh, I know just what you mean.” The woman sighed. “So many dead.”

She reached for a clipboard and ran her finger down a list. “Here it is. Clarence and Emma Houghton.”

The names echoed in Tiki’s head. “Did they leave an address or anything?”

“Actually, she came in as a charity case. Strangest thing. I was on duty that night and a bunch of the dirtiest children you ever laid eyes on brought her in. One of them said she was her sister. But I doubt any of them had parents. Looked like a bunch of street urchins to me.” She ran her finger along the name and stopped. “They left an address for the bill. Up in Soho. Forty-six Oxford Street.”

“Oxford, you say? Thank you.” Tiki backed away and hurried for the front door.

“Good luck,” the nurse called after her. “I know it’s hard to say good-bye to those sweet little dears when they go home, but it’s for the best.”

Tiki waved a hand in response. As soon as she was through the doors and out on the street, she ran. She ran as fast as she could, arms pumping, skirts flying around her legs. She ignored the shocked stares of the people as she flew by.

She darted into the street and bit back a scream as she narrowly avoided a collision with an oncoming hansom cab, causing the horse to rear in alarm. Tiki sprinted on, choking down the bile that rose in her throat. Fear like she’d never known boiled in her stomach, fueling her legs.

Clara was gone.

Chapter Twenty-one

“A
RTHUR,
you’ve returned,” Leo cried as he hurried into the library. “I’ve got to talk to you. I’ve learned something.”

His brother fixed him with a steely gaze from where he stood next to the fire burning in the hearth. “We’ve received what amounts to a ransom note.”

Arthur’s words had the same effect as being dashed with a bucket of ice water. Leo stopped and gasped for breath, staring at his brother in stunned silence.

“You may shut your mouth now.” Arthur paced toward the glass doors that overlooked the gardens at the other end of the room. “It was delivered to your man in the Horse Guards this afternoon by a street urchin. He ran away before the guard could question him.”

“A ransom note?” Leo finally choked out. “For the ring?”

“Are we missing anything else for which we have offered a reward?” Arthur said. “Of course it’s for the ring.”

“And did it mention the inscription?”

“Very clearly. They’ve asked for the reward to be delivered in three days’ time. No bobbies. No guard.” Arthur gave Leo an appraising look. “They want you to deliver it, on Diablo, at midnight, in the woods alone.” He turned away and pulled a piece of paper from inside his vest and snapped it open in front of his face. “Allow me to read the note to you.

“‘I am in possession of the missing item. I would like to collect the reward which has been posted but I do not seek attention and would like to keep my identity a secret. For that reason, please leave the reward in a large black bag. On Tuesday night have Sir Leopold come ALONE…’” Arthur looked over at Leo. “They wrote ‘alone’ in capital letters.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry grin before he continued, “‘… at midnight on his black horse with the reward to the large elm near the blue bridge in St. James’ Park. There will be a message in the crook of the tree telling him where to go next.’” Arthur raised his eyebrows at Leo and cleared his throat. “Second paragraph.

“‘We will be watching. Do not try to follow Prince Leo. We will not harm him.’” Arthur looked up. “That’s certainly a relief, wouldn’t you agree? Let me continue: ‘I know others seek the ring. So please follow these directions precisely and do not try to identify us. We hope the following is true:
Na síochána, aontaímid
—For the sake of peace, we agree.’”

Arthur folded the letter and held it up for Leo to see. “Apparently they know of the truce.”

“Oh, my God,” Leo whispered, and sank into a chair. “It’s a bloody treasure hunt.”

Arthur barked out a bitter laugh. “Exactly, dear brother. I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Leo stared unseeingly at the pattern of the rug as his mind raced, recalling his conversation with Elizabeth at the ball. She had questioned how to collect the reward:
I’m sure if you truly want the ring back, then you must have a system of exchange planned out.
He had stupidly told her exactly what to do. And now she had done it.

He pushed himself out of the chair. “I think I know who is involved in the ring’s disappearance.”

Arthur jerked his head over in surprise. “You do? Has your man learned something?”

“No.” Leo shook his head. “
I’ve
learned something.” He rubbed his face hard with both hands, then ran them through his short hair. He let out a long sigh. “The day after the theft of the ring, I met an urchin outside the palace. At the base of the very tree we are told to leave the ransom.” Leo slid his hands into his pockets, a thoughtful expression on his face as he remembered the scene. “There was something suspicious about him. He was tucked into a thicket below a tree, and I had the strong impression that he was hiding something. When I told him to empty his pockets, he spooked my horse and ran away before I could question him further.”

“A street urchin? What’s this got to do with the ring?”

Leo held his hand up. “I’m getting to that. The boy bore a black mark on his wrist, as if he’d been branded, like a heifer up at Smithfield’s Market. It was a most unusual mark—I thought perhaps he was a Gypsy.” Leo stepped nearer to his brother and dropped his voice. “I would have forgotten about the incident except the mysterious Elizabeth bears the exact same mark.
That’s
the reason I dropped my wineglass at the ball.”

Arthur cocked his head in surprise. “Are you speaking of Wills’ friend Elizabeth?”

“Yes.” Leo nodded. “It was too much of a coincidence that they would both bear the same mark, so I drew the shape on a page and took it to Mamie.”

Arthur let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’m wondering what type of guidance you’re seeking from a woman we used to consider to be a witch.”

“If you’ll recall, Arthur,” Leo said defensively, “you’re the one who has insisted that the missing ring holds a truce with the world of Faerie.” He jerked a glass off a tray and angrily poured some wine into it. “Who better than Mamie to question about that world?”

Arthur gave a slight shrug. “You have a point. So tell me, what did she say? Did Mamie recognize the mark?”

“She did.” Leo drank deeply from the glass, hoping the wine would settle his ragged nerves. Though he suspected Elizabeth played a part in the ring’s theft, to receive a ransom note in the exact manner he had described to her was both startling and damning at the same time.

“Mamie rattled something off in Gaelic when she saw it. Said the mark meant the faerie ring. That it was ‘a mark of the fey.’” Leo reached for the decanter and refilled his glass. “I’m afraid I’ve been converted to a believer about the truce, Arthur. I fear there are fey in our midst who mean to do us harm.”

“Because of a mark on some street urchin’s wrist?” Arthur said in a disbelieving voice.

“Because the mark is evidence of a faerie connection,” Leo snapped. “Because of the questions that Elizabeth,
who also bears the mark,
asked me about ransoming the ring at the ball.”

“Are you sure, Leo? It seems like a bit of a leap. Can you be positive the mark is the same? Can you be positive that Mamie knows what she’s talking about?” Arthur raised his eyebrows. “You’ll recall she’s practically as old as time.”

Leo threw up his hands in frustration. “How could Elizabeth know of the ring?”

“What did she tell you?”

“She said she overheard someone talking about it.”

“Didn’t you say Isabelle Cavendish asked you about the ring recently, too?”

“Well, yes … but—”

“Isabelle was at the party. Perhaps Wills’ friend overheard her. And while we’re on it, how is it that Isabelle knows anything of the ring to begin with?”

Leo wanted to explode. “But Arthur, whoever has written that ransom note”—he jabbed the page that Arthur still held with his finger—“has done exactly what I told Elizabeth to do.” His shoulders sagged. “And now I’m concerned that she’s involved with Wills. After everything that Wills has been through, I wonder if he has any idea who he’s got himself mixed up with?”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Wills is the least of our worries, and I warn you, Leo—you need to be very careful before you accuse a friend of his of having an association with faeries. We’ll become the laughingstock of London if that gets out.” Arthur folded the note one last time, creasing the edges into crisp lines, and tossed it on the table. “Did Mamie have anything else to say?”

“Yes.” Leo’s concern was reflected in his expression. “She said there’s a spy among us.”

“A spy?” Arthur choked.

“She told me the fey are everywhere now that the ring has gone missing, just waiting for their opportunity to strike.” Leo’s voice dropped. “That some could even resort to murder.”

Arthur’s face was unreadable. After a long moment, he spoke. “There has been a shocking increase in the number of dead bodies that the mudlarks are pulling from the river now. I’m sure you’ve heard. They all appear to be mutilated in the same fashion, as though they were ripped apart. As if they’ve been attacked by some kind of monster.”

Leo nodded. “She seemed especially concerned about Mother. And Baby.”

Arthur gripped the back of a chair with both hands. “And did Mamie recommend how we are to fight against something we can’t even see?”

“We have to recover the ring,” Leo said. “There’s no other way. I’ll have to deliver the money.”

“You can’t be serious.” Arthur’s normally dry tone was etched with disbelief.

“It’s the only way I know to get the ring back,” Leo said. His voice was insistent.

“But to go alone? At midnight? Mother would have your head.”

“She won’t have my head if she doesn’t know.” Leo raised his eyebrows at his older brother.

“It’s one thing to sneak out for a little fun and mischief,” Arthur replied, as though stating the obvious, “but something completely different to ride alone in response to a ransom note.”

He pulled the stopper from a crystal decanter and filled a glass with amber liquid. He lifted the glass and drank deeply before continuing. “
That’s
called stupidity. Not to mention the fact that the ransom is being claimed by a thief who snuck in and out without leaving a trace.”

Leo moved a step closer. “Lives are hanging in the balance now. We can’t take the chance of
not
paying the money. We’ve
got
to get that ring back.” He nodded at the folded ransom note that Arthur had tossed on the table. “And there’s only one way.”