The Mislaid Magician Read Free Page B

chicken feathers and onion skins all over, a couple of broken sticks with charred ends, and random lines drawn in chalk here and there. I would have suspected the children had they not been laid up all week.
    Arthur’s surprise was evident … as was his desire to investigate everything at once. I made quite certain that there was no magical residue and then let him collect feathers. He found a shiny silver button in one corner, quite flat and polished to a mirror finish. If it belonged to the would-be magician, then he is no vagrant. I plan to test it tonight, after Arthur is safely in bed.
    I do wish James would come home. I have no particular concern about the prowler himself, of course, but I am growing more concerned about Arthur’s fascination with the notion of discovering him. I spent considerable time and effort, very early this morning, placing yet another ward around the house—to detect anyone attempting to sneak out late at night. I could almost wish that Arthur would catch the cold like the rest of them, but he remains disgustingly healthy.
    Yours,
    Cecy

4 March 1828
Skeynes
    Dear James,
    In London, are you? Bored rigid yet?
    Sincere apologies for my tardiness in replying to your letter. Rest assured that your young hellion has not damaged anything. I think I can promise that he won’t be able to duplicate the feat.
    The fact that Arthur contrived to do it even once interests me. I look forward to my next interview with him, as I have it on excellent authority (my member of the league of holy matrimony had it from your member of the league) that the lad claims to have seen things in my big paperweight. A truly reliable gazing ball would come in very useful, so if he has found a way to create one, I owe Arthur a debt of gratitude. I can promise you that if I had a truly reliable gazing ball, I would never again return to my home weary from the hardships of the road to find my sister-at-law still visiting. Certainly not when the visitor seems to labor under the impression that she is hiding from a mysterious organization that plots her demise. (Not that I don’t occasionally sympathize with the urge to plot her demise.)
    No, if I had a truly reliable gazing ball, you would find me putting up at a quiet and comfortable inn, playing shove ha’penny, sampling the ale, and doing no harm to anyone. Instead, I return to find domestic chaos, and Kate, Edward, and the infant afflicted with streaming colds, whilst I, sadly neglected, am left to my own devices.
    I may come to London myself. There are some fates worse than boredom. Put in a word for me with Old Hookey if you think I can be of the slightest use.
    Kate sends her love to you, to Cecy, and to the rest of your merry band,
    Sincerely,
    Thomas

6 March 1828
Tangleford Hall, Kent
    My dear Thomas,
    No, I won’t invite you up to London. Find your own excuse to avoid your domestic disasters. Not that I blame you for wanting to avoid Her Grace, the Duchess of Waltham—or have you suddenly acquired some other sister-at-law whom you wish to avoid?
    In any case, as you observe, I am no longer in London, nor do I anticipate returning soon. Our new prime minister found some letters that had been sitting unopened in the “Secret” packet since October, if you please! Some Prussian railway surveyor has gone missing in the north. It ought to have been looked into at once, but Lord Wellington has had his hands full with the royal family since he became PM last month. King George has never seen eye to eye with his brothers on political matters, and he and the Duke of Cumberland have had another row over the succession. Something about the Duchess of Kent and her daughter, I believe. It was all Old Hookey could do to keep it out of the papers.
    But that business has blown over, for the time being at least, and now Cecelia and I are off to Leeds to see what we can find out. It will take us a few days to pack and make arrangements, but Wellington wished to keep additional