The Prisoner's Key Read online

  "Do I ignore you, Cyclops?" I asked as we sat at the breakfast table the following morning.

  He paused as he buttered his toast. "No. Why?"

  "It recently came to my attention that I might not take as much notice of you as I should."

  He frowned. "How much should you notice me?"

  "Yes, India," Matt bit off, stabbing his knife into a small tomato. "I'd like to know the answer to that too."

  Cyclops eyed the tomato and put up his hands in surrender. "Don't involve me in your squabble."

  "We're not squabbling," I said. "Matt, use your fork. Just because Aunt Letitia isn't here doesn't mean you can resort to your cowboy ways." The three of us were alone, the others not yet having risen. After a later than usual night, Aunt Letitia might not join us at all.

  Matt suddenly grinned, putting Cyclops at ease again. He picked up his knife and continued spreading butter.

  "Charity thinks I don't pay you enough attention," I said.

  His hand stilled. "Ah."

  "May I see your fingernails? Charity says they're lovely."

  He looked as if he wanted to run out of the room.

  "She also said you two kissed."

  Matt choked on his tomato and coughed until his throat cleared. Cyclops poured him a cup of tea.

  "When were you going to tell me?" Matt asked after taking a sip.

  "Who?" Cyclops said. "Me or India?"

  "Both of you. Why am I the last to know something like that about my best friend?"

  "Last to know what?" Willie said, swaggering in with Duke at her heels. "And he ain't your best friend."

  "I'm going to finish breakfast in my room." Cyclops went to take his plate but Duke caught his wrist.

  "You've got to tell us now," Duke said.

  "I don't."

  Willie clapped her hands on my shoulders and massaged. "You have to or we'll force India. You know she'll crack like a walnut."

  "I will not!" I cried. "I'm sorry, Cyclops. I didn't mean for them to find out. I hoped we could discuss it privately."

  "This about Catherine?" Willie asked.

  "No," Cyclops said morosely.

  "But it is about a girl or you wouldn't be looking all coy."

  Cyclops gave her his fiercest glare. A stranger would have run off, terrified they'd woken his angry side. But we knew better.

  Willie wasn't giving up so easily. She sauntered to the sideboard and picked up a plate. "If it ain't about Catherine then it must be about another girl who buzzes around you like a fly."

  Willie and Duke exchanged smiles. "Charity," they both said.

  "So what did you two do?" Duke asked, joining Willie at the sideboard.

  "Nothing!" Cyclops wiped his hand over his face. "She's a dime short of a dollar. I want nothing to do with her."

  "More like a dollar short of a dollar." Willie set her plate next to Cyclops and threw her arm around his shoulders. "She might be mad but that don't mean you didn't kiss her."

  I gasped. "How do you know they kissed?"

  Willie chuckled and sat.

  "She kissed me!" Cyclops blurted out. "You've got to believe that."

  "I do," I assured him, and not even Willie disagreed with me.

  "She found me in the stables," he went on. "It was just a couple of days before you two got back from your honeymoon."

  "You're rarely alone in the stables," Duke said doubtfully.

  "She was lucky you were, or her reputation could have been ruined if someone saw," I said.

  "I think she was watching and waited for the others to leave." Cyclops pushed his plate away and rested his elbows on the table. He lowered his head to his hands. "I asked her if she was looking for Miss Glass, and she said she wanted to see me. She backed me into one of the vacant stalls—"

  "She backed you up?" Willie hooted. "She ain't a big girl."

  "She was relentless. She kept coming at me, telling me…" He cleared his throat. "Telling me things a lady shouldn't. Don't make me repeat it in front of India, Willie."

  "Tell me later," she said, eyes gleaming.

  Duke sat at the table, not bothering to hide his grin. "You could have told her no."

  "I did." Cyclops looked down at his hands. "But not until it was too late. She's like a…a cat, all friendly at first, then next thing you know, it’s sunk its teeth into you."

  "She bit you?" Willie burst out laughing.

  "No!" Cyclops groaned. "Christ, Willie, it was bad enough without you making it worse. She kissed me, and I pushed her away. End of story." He pointed his fork at her. "And if you breathe a word of this to…to anyone, I'll tell Brockwell that you like women."

  Willie's laughter died. "You wouldn't."

  "I will if you speak of this ever again."

  She pouted. "Can't I even tease you about it?"

  "No."

  "Come on, Cyclops, let me tease you. I won't mention it to Catherine, I swear, but I got to make a joke of it in private every now and then. That's what friends do. It means I care about you."

  He continued to glare at her.

  "Spoil sport," she muttered, cracking the shell of her boiled egg with a violent whack of the spoon.

  "What did you say to her afterward?" I asked.

  "Everything I could think of to discourage her," Cyclops said. "Honest, India, I didn't invite it. I'm just glad no one saw. Does anyone else in her family know?"

  "I think Hope might."

  "I think so too," Matt said. "Last night at dinner, Charity said she wanted to tell me something important about one of my staff. Hope cut her off before she could speak, and the conversation moved on."

  "Cyclops ain't staff," Duke said.

  "Charity thinks I am." Cyclops sighed. "She was trying to get me into trouble with you so you'd send me packing. Wasn't she?"

  "But why?" I asked.

  "She's not all there." Willie tapped her forehead. "Who knows why she does anything?"

  I looked to Matt, and he had the same grim look on his face that I suspected I wore. It was more than likely that Charity knew exactly what she was doing, and by getting Cyclops dismissed, she hoped he would go to her and beg for her assistance. It would give her power over him.

  But she didn't know that Cyclops meant more to Matt than a mere employee.

  "You don't have to worry about her," Matt assured him. "If she approaches you again, tell her you've informed me and that she can expect a visit from me."

  "I ain't hiding behind you, Matt."

  "I got a suggestion," Willie said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Tell her you like men."

  "No," Cyclops said.

  "Fine. Tell her your old cowboy's got a disease."

  I was about to ask what she meant when I realized cowboy was a euphemism.

  "That won't stop her." Cyclops sighed. "I'll just keep ignoring her. She'll give up eventually."

  Bristow entered carrying a piece of paper on the silver salver. A small newspaper article was pinned to the back. "A message has arrived from Detective Inspector Brockwell of Scotland Yard."

  Willie put out her hand to accept it.

  "It's for Mr. Glass."

  Matt took the letter. "'This might be of interest to you,'" he read. He unpinned the article, skimmed it, and glanced at me. "It's about Charbonneau. He's in prison."

  Chapter 4

  I read the article, twice, before passing it on to Cyclops. "Poor Fabian," I said, shaking my head. "We must help him."

  Matt nodded.

  "What'd he do?" Willie asked.

  "He's been declared bankrupt," Matt said.

  "The English still have debtors' prisons?" Duke asked. "Most of our states outlawed them, but some still have 'em."

  "Bankruptcy no longer incurs a prison sentence here, either," I said. "Except when the debtor is deemed able to pay the debt off but doesn't. Under that circumstance, he can still go to jail."

  "He'll be in a debtor's prison, won't he?" Cyclops asked. "They ain't too bad."

>   I shook my head. "We don't have debtor's prisons anymore. If the court thinks he has the means to repay his debt but refuses to do so, then it's essentially theft. He'll be put with regular prisoners."

  "That ain't right."

  "None of this is right," I said heavily. "I remember a neighbor of ours fell ill once and couldn't keep his shop open. He couldn't pay the rent so the landlord took him to court. He was sent to prison where he was expected to miraculously find the money to repay the debt. Some of us gave him what we could afford, but it wasn't enough. His health was already poor, and the prison conditions exacerbated his illness. It was a bitterly cold winter that year, and he wasn't strong enough to get through it. His jailors found him dead one morning."

  Matt closed his hand over mine. "I'll pay off his debts."

  "Thank you, Matt." I stroked his cheek and kissed him. "But hopefully it won't come to that."

  Newgate Prison was as imposing as I expected it to be. The brick walls, filthy with soot and suffering, seemed to extend forever and must give the prisoners no sense of hope. The warden allowed us through after checking our belongings for weapons. Unlike a regular prisoner, debtors could have visitors come and go throughout the day.

  Another guard led us to Fabian's cell down a bland corridor punctuated by cell door after cell door. Our echoing footsteps were a beacon to the prisoners. I could hear them through the walls, begging for food, but it was the request for company and conversation that filled me with despair. What a lonely existence.

  I knew from the spacing of the doors along the corridor that the cells would be small, but I wasn't prepared for how small. Fabian's cell fit only a bed, washbasin, stool and small table. His personal effects of plate, mug and bible sat on a shelf wedged into one corner. The narrow rectangle of spring sunshine tried valiantly to cheer up the cramped cell, with its ubiquitous whitewashed walls, but the high, barred window simply wasn't big enough for it to succeed.

  The quip I'd been preparing on our journey died on my lips, and instead I simply greeted Fabian with a flat, "Good morning."

  He shot to his feet upon our entry and went to readjust his tie. Finding it gone, he fidgeted with his cuffs instead. He wore his own clothes, not a prison uniform, but whether that was because he hadn't been issued with one yet or because debtors didn't wear them, I wasn't sure.

  "We came as soon as we heard," Matt said.

  "We thought we'd see you at court this morning, but it was all over by the time we arrived," I added.

  The color rose to Fabian's cheeks. "Thank you, but you should not have come. I will not be in here long."

  "Of course," Matt said. "The situation will be sorted out soon."

  "You are good friends." He offered us a smile but it was weak. He looked tired and not at all like his well-groomed self. His hair was unruly and his jaw shadowed with stubble. "Please, India, sit." He indicated the wooden stool. "I would offer you tea but I do not yet know how things work here. I could ask the guard—"

  "We're not here for tea," I said. "We're here to make you an offer."

  He shook his head. "I know what you will say and I cannot accept your loan."

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Because a gentleman does not ask his friends for money."

  "You didn't ask, we offered."

  "And a gentleman should ask his friends for help," Matt said. "His friends want to help. Take the loan, Charbonneau, and pay us back when you can. I know this is merely a temporary problem."

  Fabian looked away.

  "What happened?" I asked gently.

  "I failed to meet the first repayment two weeks ago, so the man I borrowed from began proceedings. I told him, under oath and in front of witnesses, including the press, that I did not have the means to repay yet and that I needed time."

  "They didn't give you time, did they?" I asked.

  "They did not. And they know my family is wealthy, so they claim I could pay." He shook his head sadly. "I was assigned a court date of today, cross-examined, then deemed bankrupt but with means to pay off my debts. And here I am."

  "What were the terms of your original agreement?" Matt asked.

  "A modest interest and regular payments. It is true that I could not pay him yet, but I did not think he would act so quickly." He clicked his tongue and muttered something in French. "I did not expect to be without income for so long here. Every day was another expense, another day I could not repay."

  "How were you planning to repay?" Matt asked.

  Fabian hesitated for so long, I thought he wouldn't answer. He seemed to be cut from the same cloth as Aunt Letitia, and considered money a vulgar topic. But it only took a little more coaxing on my part before he finally spoke.

  "You were relying on your allowance," I said. "But your family withdrew their support, didn't they?"

  He nodded. "My father cut off my allowance when I left France. I refused to do as my parents wished, and my father became angry."

  A weight settled in my chest. "Because you wanted to come here and work with me."

  "No! No, India, it is nothing to do with you." He dragged his hand through his hair, ruffling it more. "It is because I left, yes, but not because of my study of magic. They wanted me to marry a woman of their choice. An American woman from a rich industrialist family. I have never met her."

  "Both families wanted a strategic alliance to shore up their business interests on two continents," Matt said with a knowing nod. "It's not uncommon."

  "It is very common for two families to want to increase their power," Fabian said matter-of-factly. "I do not blame my parents for wanting it. But I could not do it. Even if she is beautiful, and would make a wonderful wife, I cannot do it. I vowed many years ago to marry a woman of my choosing."

  Tears sprang to my eyes and the weight in my chest lifted. "It's so romantic that you want to marry for love."

  Fabian shook his head. "You do not understand. I do not care to marry for love either, unless the woman I love is a magician."

  I blinked, hard. "A magician?"

  "You want to continue with the magical lineage," Matt said. "Don't your family want that too? So that the future of the company is in safe, magical hands?"

  "The company is in safe magical hands," Fabian said. "My brother married a girl from a magical family to keep the line strong. His wife was chosen by our parents to give the business the best chance of continuing into the future, of…how do you say it? Best chance of flourishing? My brother has children, so it was deemed unnecessary for me to also marry a magician. That's why my parents chose an American heiress. Our marriage would one day mean I inherit her father's company, providing an alliance between my future father-in-law's company and my brother's. It would mean expansion across the world."

  "But you don't care about the business," I said. "Magic is your passion, not commerce. That's why you came to see me and risked your parents' ire."

  Fabian nodded.

  "That's why you want to marry a magician, not an artless. You don't want to dilute the magic in your blood." It sounded calculating, but it was no different to what his parents strove for, or indeed what many families in high society wanted. The Rycrofts wanted their girls to secure husbands that could improve their situation, even if that meant choosing a husband like Lord Coyle. Fabian had merely swapped a financial alliance for a magical one.

  "Have you found a suitable bride yet?" Matt asked.

  "I have not searched since…" Fabian cleared his throat. "Since arriving in London."

  I suspected he'd been going to say since finding out I was engaged to Matt. It wasn't polite to discuss financial matters, but it was even more uncouth to tell a man that he'd coveted his wife. To Fabian's credit, he hadn't once tried to separate me from Matt before we married. And to Matt's credit, he'd allowed me to visit Fabian every afternoon for a week without chaperoning me.

  Fabian smiled. "I am young. I have time."

  "I feel a little responsible for you being here, away from your home where
you could at least talk to your parents," I said. "Please allow us to pay off your debts until your family reinstates your allowance."

  "They will not reinstate it, but I do not care. Coming to England is worth it. This…" He indicated the cell. "This is an inconvenience, but it will not be for long."

  "If your parents won't change their minds, how do you expect to pay off your debt and be released?"

  He smiled, but it vanished as his gaze flew to the doorway behind me. "Louisa!"

  "Fabian, you poor thing!" Louisa swept into the room and grasped his elbows. "Are you all right? I came as soon as I heard."

  He kissed both of her cheeks in familiar greeting. "I am well. Do not worry about me."

  "I do worry. This place is awful. Simply awful. India, Mr. Glass, thank goodness you're friends to Fabian too. Now, let's get to work and set you free." She removed a rolled up document from her large reticule and looked around the room. "Is there no pen and ink?" With a huff, she turned to the guard at the door. "Fetch writing implements." When he didn't move, she made a shooing motion. "Off you go."

  "You have to pay him," Fabian said, sounding amused.

  "Oh." She opened the drawstring of her reticule but Fabian closed his hand over it.

  "I know what this is." He took the document from her. "It is not necessary." He unrolled the document, read it, then handed it back to her.

  She pushed it against his chest. "Set aside your masculine pride and fill in the details of your creditor and the amount owed. I'll have the money sent to him immediately."

  "I do not need your money."

  Louisa's gaze shifted to Matt. "I'm too late?" Did I detect a hint of disappointment in her voice?

  "I am not accepting a loan from Mr. Glass either," Fabian said.

  "Then how will you pay back your creditor? How will you get out of this Godforsaken place?"

  "That is not something I can tell you."

  "Your father has reinstated your allowance?"

  "Non."

  "Has someone else offered to pay off your debt?"

  "Louisa," he chided. "Do not worry." He took her hands and smiled gently. "I know you care for me as a friend but your help is not necessary."

  Her eyes pooled with tears and she blinked rapidly. She did care for Fabian, but I was certain it was as more than a friend. She loved him.