The Spiritglass Charade (Stoker & Holmes 2)
Page 61“No!” Uncaring of my rudeness, I pushed past him. “Where did they take her? Do you know? When? Who?”
“It was two men in a curtained carriage. They had the papers. Miss Geraldine, she cried and screamed and tried to fight them off, but there was nothing for it. He showed her the papers. Mr. Ashton, he wasn’t here, and there was no one else. No one else to stop them.”
“Where is Miss Geraldine now?”
“She went after Mr. Ashton, or to find someone—a magistrate or someone to help. I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
Ill at my stomach and cold with fear, I was already running up the stairs to Willa’s bedchamber. I didn’t know why—perhaps it was to take one last chance to look for clues, to examine the spiritglass for anything that could betray the villain.
I had a suspicion, yes, I was fairly certain I at last knew who the perpetrator was . . . but I wanted to make certain. I grabbed the spiritglass and the sheaf of papers next to it, startling the cat from his perch on the chair. He hissed and thumped to the floor, his tail twitching in warning.
I ignored him, casting about the chamber. Nothing seemed to be out of place from earlier this morning. Then I smelled something pungent and unusual. I’d noticed it before, but now I sniffed again, lifting the papers to my nose for a better whiff.
Ah.
Crickets. Pickpockets. UnDead. Smithfield. A floating key.
My eyes widened and all at once, everything fell into place.
I rushed from Willa’s chamber, pounding down the stairs like an army just as the front door knocker clacked. Rightingham and I got there at the same time, opening the door to an earnest-looking Mr. Treadwell.
Oh, no. The poor man!
I hesitated, wanting to assure him I’d do everything in my power to save Willa, but time was of the essence. Instead, I thrust the papers, which I’d wrapped around the spiritglass, at him and said, “Whatever you do, keep these safe. I will send you further instructions. Do it for Willa.”
Bewildered, he nevertheless took the objects and stuffed them in his coat pocket. Meanwhile, the butler struggled to control his grief whilst explaining that Miss Willa Ashton was not at home, and would not be for the foreseeable future.
To my great annoyance, the cab I’d engaged to bring me here had left, against my specific direction. Thus I was forced to walk out to the street and three blocks down in an effort to find another one. Drat and blast! Where was a taxi when you needed one? I needed my own dratted carriage.
Chafing at the delay, my stomach still upset and in knots—for I knew the clock was ticking—I hurried all the way back to the Ashtons’, hoping Mr. Treadwell might still be there. I could beg a ride from him.
To my relief, a Two-Seat Charley was parked out front, presumably brought around for Mr. Treadwell now that he learned Willa wasn’t there.
Puffing from my rapid walk, I approached the front steps just as the door flew open. Instead of Mr. Treadwell, however, I found myself confronted by Aunt Geraldine.
The usually perfectly groomed woman was a wild mess—her hair straggling, her eyes wide and desperate, her hands wringing her skirts.
“Miss Kluger!” I stepped out of the way so she wouldn’t bowl me over.
“Miss Holmes, forgive me, but I haven’t any time. It’s Willa! They’ve taken her away, and I must try and stop them. I must save her!”
“Is this true?” She halted. “What you say, is this true?”
“You can trust my word. But I don’t know where she’s been taken.”
“I do! Oh, will you come with me, Miss Holmes? You must tell them, prove it to them . . . before it’s too late. Will you come with me?”
“Of course I’ll go. But we mustn’t delay. We must leave immediately. Is that your carriage?” I gestured to the Two-Seat Charley.
“Yes, oh, yes. I just returned from trying to find Herrell, but I couldn’t. He seems to have disappeared! I didn’t know what to do. I am so relieved you’re here, and that you can help!”
I took a moment to scribble two messages, giving them to Rightingham to have delivered to Evaline and Mr. Treadwell, respectively. Then a footman helped me into the seat of the small, mechanized carriage. Miss Kluger climbed up next to me, and I was intrigued by the fact that she meant to drive it herself. Perhaps such a vehicle could be the solution to my transportation woes, and I wouldn’t have to rely on Evaline any longer.
“Where are we going?” I asked as Miss Kluger navigated neatly through the busy streets. She was an expert driver, and again I considered how much more independent I would be if I should acquire my own form of transportation.
“There is a place in Smithfield where they’ve taken her.”
“Ah. As I suspected. I trust it’s near the locksmith Ivey & Boles?”
“You suspected? Is that so?” Her expression changed to a very cold smile. “And did you suspect that you would be joining her there as well, Miss Holmes?”
“You seem to know an uncomfortable amount about my niece’s situation. I think it would be best if you stayed with Willa at our purlieu in Smithfield. Then no one else will hear about your theories or proof that she was—how did you put it? Forced into doing things she didn’t mean to?”
“I would never have stated it so inelegantly.” My palms had gone slightly damp.
Aunt Geraldine merely smiled. “Have it your way, then, Miss Holmes. I had no idea you were so aware of what was happening. If I had, I’d have done something about it much sooner. I underestimated you, despite your family connections.”
“Pity for you. And I suspect this won’t be the last time you’ll be outfoxed by a Holmes.”
She laughed in a particularly nasty way. “I hardly consider myself outfoxed. Despite the conclusions you’ve drawn about my niece, you’re not about to come out of this situation victorious. After all, you’re trapped in my vehicle—oh, yes, I have the doors locked. There’s no way out of here until I allow it.”
“Apparently I hadn’t considered that possible outcome.”
“I should say not.”