A Matter of Magic by Patricia C. Wrede
“As it ’appens, ’e didn’t,” Stuggs put in. “I know my business, and it ain’t lettin’ no buffle’eaded toff in on the nick, beggin’ your pardon, sir.”
“It was your idea to get hold of that blasted platter!” Jasper said, ignoring Stuggs. “The whole thing was your idea, start to finish!”
Mairelon cleared his throat, which recalled the presence of an audience to the combatants. Lady Granleigh closed her mouth on whatever she had planned to say, and Jasper subsided on the hearth once more, holding his head. Mairelon smiled blandly. “And how would Lady Granleigh’s, er, acquiring the Saltash Platter advance you with the Ministry, Lord Granleigh?”
Lord Granleigh looked at Mairelon in surprise. “Good Lord, man, recovering the Saltash Set and catching the thief would give anyone a boost! One of those chaps down at the Royal College came up with a gadget that said so, and the whole Ministry has been buzzing ever since.”
“A gadget?” Mairelon frowned, distracted. “Not one of Fotherington’s crystals? He’s been trying to get them to make accurate predictions forever; do you mean to say he’s finally succeeded?”
“As it happens, yes,” the Earl of Shoreham said. “You can discuss it with him later.”
“How did he get it to—”
“Later, Richard. Right now, we want your story, and you must admit we’ve been very patient.”
“Too patient,” Hunch said darkly.
“Oh, very well. I think I have enough of the pieces to put together a fairly good picture. It’s a long tale, though; you’d best make yourselves comfortable.”
The Earl suppressed another sigh and leaned against the door. Mr. Bramingham, looking mildly puzzled, held a chair for Renée D’Auber, while the rest of the company (with the exception of Stuggs and his prisoners) settled themselves around the room. Watching Lady Granleigh and Jonathan Aberford vie for a chair, Kim was glad she’d bagged the footstool before it had occurred to anyone else to sit down.
“The story begins about five years ago,” Mairelon said, and Kim smiled, recognizing the familiar lecturing tone. “The Saltash Set, of which this is part, was being displayed in the antechamber of the Royal College of Wizards, to which I had recently been elected.
“Lord St. Clair”—Mairelon gave him an ironic half-bow—“had for some time been attempting to obtain the Saltash Set from the College, but for one reason or another, the College refused to sell. So he decided to steal it. Having no experience with the finer points of theft, he approached his illegitimate half brother, Daniel Laverham, for assistance.
“Laverham sent St. Clair a young man named James Fenton, who I must suppose was both an accomplished housebreaker and extremely loyal to Laverham. Laverham, you see, disliked and distrusted St. Clair—”
“With reason!” Dan Laverham interrupted, glaring at Lord St. Clair.
“Quiet, you,” Stuggs said. “You’ll ’ave your chance to talk later.”
“St. Clair arranged for Fenton to steal the Saltash Set,” Mairelon continued. “St. Clair must have taken care of the Royal College’s magical precautions against theft, and Fenton did the rest, including dropping one or two items he’d stolen from me in the antechamber to make it look as if I were the thief. He had even timed things so that I’d be on my way home alone from my club when the theft occurred, so he had no reason to worry about laying information at Bow Street against me.
“Unfortunately for St. Clair, things began going wrong at that point. I ran into Shoreham here outside the club, and we got to arguing about the use of invocations in wards and protective spells. We ended up at Renée’s, experimenting with catnip and powdered pearls until the watchmen made their morning rounds.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?” Andrew burst out. “Why did you let everyone believe—”
“At first, because I didn’t see the need,” Mairelon said. “I didn’t think anyone would take the accusation seriously. And there was Renée’s reputation to consider.”
“Which was a great foolishness,” Renée D’Auber said emphatically. “I am the eccentric, me, and no one pays the least attention when I do odd things.”
“Not now,” Mairelon agreed. “But five years ago you were barely eighteen, and it would not have done.”
“Bah!” said Renée, dismissing these imaginary terrors with a wave. “You are altogether English, and very silly besides. Papa and I would have contrived something.”
“But once you knew the Runners intended to arrest you—” Andrew said and stopped, looking from Mairelon to Renée uncertainly.
“By then I had asked them not to say anything,” the Earl of Shore-ham said. “It was the perfect excuse for Richard to fly the country and take up residence on the Continent, and we needed someone like him to do just that. Someone who could deal with any level of society, someone who wouldn’t look too suspicious, and above all, someone who knew magic. Richard was perfect.”
“So Hunch and I fled to France,” Mairelon resumed. “Meanwhile, Fenton took the Saltash Set to Laverham instead of St. Clair. Since Laverham didn’t know the set had magical properties, he broke it up and sold it to spite his brother. By the time Fenton learned that the set was more useful together than apart, it was too late. The pieces were scattered, and practically impossible to trace.”
Laverham and St. Clair were looking at Mairelon as if he had suddenly acquired two heads; the rest of the company was listening with rapt attention. Kim shook her head in admiration. Mairelon had put it together so neatly that he might have been eavesdropping on Laverham and St. Clair the whole time.
“One of the pieces of the set, the bowl, was purchased by a German Baron,” Mairelon said. “I got wind of it, and after the war I stayed on the Continent to track it down. It took me nearly a year. Meanwhile, Laverham had recovered two of the four spheres, and the platter had fallen into the innocent hands of Mr. Aberford’s little group.”
Jonathan Aberford scowled, and Kim wondered whether he was more annoyed by Mairelon’s reference to the druids as a “little group” or by his characterizing them as innocent.
“That was the situation some four weeks ago when I returned to England,” Mairelon said, giving Jonathan a charming smile. “And things began to get complicated. Naturally I couldn’t return as myself; the Runners were still after me, and I have a great deal of respect for their abilities.” He and Stuggs exchanged nods. “So I chose the role of a market performer. No one expects a real magician to work for pennies and the occasional shilling in a market, so I didn’t expect anyone to look for me there. But I did send word to Shoreham, and I presume he told you, Lord Granleigh.”
Mairelon paused and looked at Lord Granleigh expectantly. Lord Granleigh nodded. “He did. We discussed the implications at some length.” He glanced at his wife and added, “In my study.”
“That will be how Lady Granleigh heard about it,” Mairelon said with supreme lack of tact. “She, ah, persuaded her brother to help her find me, intending, I suppose, to collect me and as much of the Saltash Set as possible and present the lot to the Royal College on behalf of her husband.”
“And a proper mull ’e made of it,” Stuggs put in, looking scornfully at Jasper Marston. “Went around askin’ this one an’ that one, with no more sense nor a baby. Word was all over St. Giles before the day was out.”
“How was I to know?” Jasper complained. “ ‘Find this Merrill person,’ she said; well, how do you find one man in the whole of London without asking?”
“Which explains how Bow Street heard of my return,” Mairelon said, “and undoubtedly how Mr. Laverham heard of it, as well.” He glanced at Dan, who glared and said nothing. “Bow Street arranged for Mr. Stuggs here to keep an eye on Mr. Marston. At least, I presume it was Bow Street.” He threw a sidelong look at the Earl of Shoreham.
The Earl laughed. “Right again, Richard. Stuggs has done a job or two for me before, though this wasn’t one of them. How did you guess?”
“He recognized you when you arrived just no
Lady Granleigh sniffed, but a look from her husband kept her from saying anything.
“Once he found Mairelon the Magician, Mr. Marston hired Kim here to look through my wagon for the Saltash Bowl. I, er, found her in process and persuaded her to come with me after she completed her commission from Mr. Marston.”
“Cloth-head,” Kim muttered, not entirely sure whether she meant Marston or Mairelon.
“I suspect it was Laverham’s men we gave the slip to on our way out of London,” Mairelon went on blandly. “It doesn’t matter, though. Shore-ham told us where the platter was, and we came here to recover it. I’m not sure how Renée found out where we were headed—”
“Lord Shoreham told me,” Renée said. “And since Monsieur Andrew Merrill was of an unhappiness, and had besides heard some of the rumors, and since I also heard that the Bow Street Runners were of an interest, I thought, me, that it would be best to come here and arrange matters myself.”
“Renée!” Shoreham looked horrified.
“Oh, I was very discreet,” Renée assured him. “No one knew I was not in London, except of course Madame Bramingham and her guests, and Monsieur Andrew stayed at the inn in that town with the dreadful name I cannot remember.”
“Swafflton?” Mairelon murmured.
“Yes, that is it,” Renée said. “And it has all turned out well, so there is no reason for you to pull your mouth down, so, and make faces as if you have the stomachache.”
“You should have left matters to me,” Shoreham said, shaking his head.
Renée opened her eyes very wide. “Truly? But it does not seem to me that you have done very much.”
“It wasn’t necessary,” Mairelon said. “Any more than it was necessary for you to come.”
“Well, but it might have been,” Renée replied, unperturbed. “And it is better to be too ready, is it not? Also, I do not see that you would explain anything at all to me if I had stayed in London, and I do not wish to perish of the curiosity. So I am glad I came, and I do not care if you look very sour about it.”
Mairelon rolled his eyes, and Kim laughed. She was beginning to like Renée in spite of herself.
“I don’t know whether Lady Granleigh knew that the Saltash Platter was in Ranton Hill when she came down to Mrs. Bramingham’s house party,” Mairelon went on after a moment, “but I rather think not. It didn’t take her long to discover it and send for her brother, though, and the roads and weather being as they’ve been, both of them were settled in before we arrived.
“Laverham must have known the platter’s whereabouts for several months, at least, but he was being very cautious. He arranged for James Fenton to take a job as footman to Freddy Meredith, intending to have Fenton steal the platter for him later. Fenton had other ideas.”
Dan Laverham muttered something under his breath and glared at Mairelon. Mairelon smiled, and Kim shook her head. He was enjoying this altogether too much, she thought.
“Fenton’s family was respectable, and his brother was a silversmith. Fenton persuaded him to copy the Saltash Platter exactly. Perhaps the original idea was to cover up the theft of the platter for as long as possible, but he must have realized fairly soon that he could make a tidy sum selling copies of the platter to each of the, er, interested parties. Since he wasn’t a magician himself, he didn’t know that the forgeries would be childishly easy to spot.
“When the copies were finished, Fenton replaced the real platter with a copy and hid it in the druid’s lodge.” Mairelon waved at the gaping hole in the floor in front of the hearth. “But he was stretching his luck; making the copies had taken a long time, and Laverham was beginning to worry, particularly since by then he’d heard that I was back. So Laverham sent Jack Stower there down to Ranton Hill to check on Fenton.”
“Then he didn’t follow me at all!” Kim exclaimed, remembering how frightened she had been by Jack’s unexpected appearance at the inn in Ranton Hill.
“No, but it was as well that you kept out of sight,” Mairelon said. “Think of the trouble we’d have had if Laverham had arrived a few days earlier than he did.”
Kim shuddered.
“Richard,” the Earl of Shoreham said. His tone was mild, but Mairelon sighed and returned to his story.
“Just to thoroughly confuse matters, at about this time Freddy Meredith lost the false platter to Henry Bramingham in a game of cards. Henry knew that his uncle,” Mairelon nodded at Gregory St. Clair, “collected oddities of that sort and proposed to give it to him. That brought St. Clair down to Ranton Hill posthaste and set off an interesting round of burglaries at Bramingham Place. Kim and I were privileged to observe most of the parade.”
“What, what?” said Mr. Bramingham.
“We hid in your priest’s hole,” Mairelon explained.
“Priest’s hole!” Kim said, disappointed. “Is that what it was? I thought it was a spell.”
“Bramingham showed it to me last time I visited,” Mairelon said. “Next time your household is roused in the middle of the night, Bramingham, you should remember to check inside it.”
“Yes, but what’s this about burglaries?” Bramingham said. “Somebody broke into the library a couple of nights ago, but—”
“Several somebodies,” Mairelon interrupted. “Actually, I believe Renée was the first, but she recognized the platter for a fake and left it where it was. She was long gone when Kim and I got there.”
“I knew I ’adn’t ought to ’ave gone to London and left you ’ere with ’er,” Hunch said.
“It wasn’t my idea!” Kim protested.
“I didn’t figure as it was,” Hunch said dryly, and Kim blinked in surprise. Then she grinned at him.
“We were interrupted by Mr. Stower’s arrival,” Mairelon said with a quelling look at Hunch. “Stower was interrupted in turn by Marston and Stuggs, who were interrupted by Jonathan Aberford.”
“Jonathan?” Robert Choiniet said, startled. “Are you sure?”
“He has a turn of phrase that is unmistakable,” Mairelon answered.
“Have you got maggots in your head?” Robert demanded, glaring at Jonathan. “Or have you suddenly gotten as bacon-brained as Freddy Meredith? Why in heaven’s name would you try to burgle Bramingham Place?”
“I thought it would work,” Jonathan said sullenly.
“He hadn’t counted on the, er, competition,” Mairelon said. “In the end, Lady Granleigh managed to obtain the platter by as neat a trick as I’ve seen. You might consider taking her on, Shoreham; she’s got the nerves for it.”
Lady Granleigh looked as if she did not know whether to be pleased or insulted by this remark, and Kim hid a smile.
“Lady Granleigh quickly discovered that her platter was a forgery, which left her in something of a dilemma. She couldn’t return it to the Braminghams without awkward explanations, but she didn’t want to keep it, either. And Jonathan Aberford was hanging about Bramingham Place and making a nuisance of himself; if Lady Granleigh and her brother made any attempts to locate the real platter, Jonathan was sure to notice. So she decided to give the forgery back to the druids and solve two problems at once.
“Miss D’Auber and I had agreed to meet this morning near here to compare what we had each learned. She was delayed”—Mairelon gave Andrew a quick look, and Andrew smiled wryly—“so I was here alone when Lady Granleigh and her party arrived. I, ah, accepted the platter on Mr. Aberford’s behalf.”
“By what right?” Jonathan demanded.
Mairelon looked at him without answering. Stuggs made a peculiar noise that Kim realized, after a moment, was a smothered chuckle. Jonathan turned very red and subsided, muttering, and Mairelon turned back to the Earl of Shoreham and continued his tale.
“Meanwhile, Fenton was proceeding with his own plans. He gave or sold the second of his fakes to Jack Stower and presumably made arrangements to meet with a couple of o
“Get on with it, Richard,” the Earl said. He sounded amused but determined.
“You have no sense of the dramatic, Shoreham,” Mairelon complained.
“I have as much as I need,” the Earl replied in a dry voice. “Though I will readily admit that I have not spent the last few years on a stage. No doubt it’s a grave failing in my education.”
“No doubt,” Mairelon said, looking somewhat disgruntled. “Well, Stower was on the point of returning to London with his platter when he spotted Hunch in Ranton Hill. He followed Hunch to our camp and attempted to take the false platter we had collected; instead, he lost his own and prompted me to head to Bramingham Place to find out what was going on.
“I found more than I expected.” Mairelon paused, staring at the far wall, and something in his stance kept the others from commenting. Then he shook himself and looked at Mr. Bramingham. “When you get back, you’d best send someone down to the wood by the Long Avenue. There’s a body and two more copies of the Saltash Platter hidden there.”
“Richard!” said the Earl, his voice carrying clearly over the confused babble that broke out among the rest of the listeners. “Who? What happened?”
“The body was the unfortunate and ambitious James Fenton,” Mairelon answered. “As to what happened, I can only speculate; Kim and I heard the shot, but we didn’t get a look at the man who fired it.”
“Speculate, then!”
“I think Fenton had arranged to meet someone in the Long Avenue. Two someones, actually; he couldn’t very well have sold both fakes to the same person. I think he miscalculated badly—remember, he didn’t know that a magician could easily tell the difference between his forgeries and the real platter. So when he tried to pass off one of the fakes, St. Clair shot him.”
“Unlikely,” Lord St. Clair said into the horrified silence that followed.
“Not at all,” Mairelon said with exaggerated politeness. “You, Laverham, and Aberford there are the most logical people for Fenton to pick as possible customers for his remaining forgeries. Laverham, or rather, Laverham’s man Stower, already had a platter. Aberford would clearly do a lot to get his hands on his, er, Sacred Dish, but I doubt he’d commit murder. Besides, if he’d killed Fenton, he wouldn’t have held up Laverham’s coach half an hour later, looking for the platter.”