Spellmaker

A sister. Elsie had a sister out there somewhere. A sister who probably didn’t remember her last name was Camden, which would make her that much harder to locate. Pressing her palms against the table, Elsie said, “I just don’t understand why they would do that. Why they would abandon their own children.”

“As I said, we were poor,” Reggie offered softly, while the others listened in silence. “Real poor. I remember being hungry a lot. We traveled quite a bit, our pa always looking for work, though I don’t remember what he did. We lived off the hospitality of strangers. Which is where they got the idea, I guess.”

Elsie nodded, solemn. “Did you go to the workhouse, then?”

Reggie looked abashed. “Uh . . . no, I didn’t. See, they left me with a family that couldn’t take me on. But there was an older couple in the same village, the Turnkeys, who weren’t able to have a child of their own. They took me in. Made me work for every stitch I wore, but they gave me a place to stay.”

Elsie nodded. “That sounds nice.”

“I suppose it’s better than a workhouse. But it looks to have worked out for you.” He glanced around the room, then to Ogden, Emmeline, and finally Bacchus. To the last, he said, “You probably get this a lot, but where are you from?”

“Barbados,” Bacchus answered patiently.

Reggie whistled. “That’s far. I would have guessed Turkey.”

“Reggie, that is, Mr. Camden”—Emmeline sounded suddenly eager—“what is it you do? Are you a farmer?”

Reggie laughed. “Could say I used to be, but nah, I repair letterpresses. Sell the parts, too. Just up in London.” He pointed north as though they didn’t know where the sprawling city was located.

“Sounds like good work,” Ogden chimed in.

Reggie nodded. “I like it well enough. Don’t own my own shop like you do, but the bloke I work with is a good man and fair.”

Wondering if there was more family she had yet to meet, Elsie asked, “Are you married?”

To her surprise, Reggie colored slightly and glanced to Emmeline. “Ah, no. Not yet. Can’t say I haven’t worked on it.”

Emmeline blurted, “Elsie is a spellbreaker!”

It was still strange to her, having that information public.

Her brother—her brother!—looked at her with wide eyes. “Are you really?”

“In training,” she said, and Bacchus squeezed her knee. It would have been utterly inappropriate were they not engaged, and Elsie had to continually remind herself she was engaged.

For what had to be the thousandth time, she found herself thinking of what Bacchus had said in the carriage before kissing her. They merely sped up the process. Had he planned to court her in earnest, then, and not sail for Barbados right away? Elsie wasn’t sure how else to interpret such a confession, so she clung to the hopeful answer.

First Bacchus, and now Reggie . . . maybe she had been wrong. Maybe it was simply misfortune—and imbeciles—that had carved her life into what it was today. Perhaps she wasn’t as terrible as she thought.

Perhaps.

Reggie whistled again, and it made Elsie smile. “Ain’t that something, Elsie. You can do a lot being a spellbreaker. They make good coin. And yer a spellmaker.” He looked to Bacchus as he said it. Then, sheepish again, followed up with, “After I saw Elsie’s name in the paper, I looked you up, too. Master physical aspector. Bang up the elephant, you two have it made.”

Elsie flushed. “I suppose we do. And you’ll stay for lunch, won’t you?”

Her brother grinned. “Took the whole day off, and I’m not one to say no to a free meal.” He glanced at Emmeline again. “If you don’t mind me sticking around.”

“Of course not!” Remembering herself, Elsie waited for Ogden’s nod of approval and exhaled when she got it. This was his house, after all. “And, Bacchus, you’ll stay as well.” She bravely set her hand atop his.

Bacchus nodded. “After, I would like to return to London to see after Master Hill.”

“Of course.” Reality, nearly forgotten, crashed down on her. They still had to find Merton, to stop her from whatever she was attempting to do.

But for now, she could ignore those pressing matters and focus on her brother, if only for one day. She had a brother! She still couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “Now, tell me about where you grew up. About this couple who took you in.”

Reggie leaned back in the chair, getting comfortable. “Well, we lived right by a stream that had the name of St. Patrick, but we all called it Pattie’s Water, which maybe was a bit sacrilegious . . .”

Elsie and Reggie got on so swimmingly, like true siblings, she didn’t want him to leave. Ever. But they were adults, and they both had jobs and lives, and so leave he did, with the promise they’d see each other again soon. All in all, it was one of the most pleasant days of Elsie’s life.

The following day, however, was far less cheery.

A clash of thunder echoed within the dressmaker’s shop, reverberating through the walls as it clamored its way into the earth. Elsie flinched at the sound, and the seamstress nearly stuck her with a pin.