Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [9]
“Mr. Sweetwater is an investigator,” Virginia said. “A sort of private inquiry agent. Finding people is what he does. Isn’t that right, sir?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Owen said.
“Oh, I see.” Becky’s expression cleared. “I’ve never met a private inquiry agent. It sounds a very interesting profession.”
“It has its moments,” Owen said.
He opened the door, heightened his senses and looked out into the night-shrouded gardens. Nothing moved in the fogbound darkness. The walled grounds that surrounded the mansion were as eerily silent as they had been earlier, when he had arrived. The mansion also appeared deserted. No light glowed in any of the windows.
He led the women out of the shed.
Behind him, Becky spoke quietly to Virginia.
“Are you Mr. Sweetwater’s assistant, ma’am?” she asked.
“No,” Virginia said firmly. “I do not work for Mr. Sweetwater.”
“Ah, then you are his mistress,” Becky said, speaking with the wisdom of the streets. “I thought so. It must be very exciting to be the mistress of a private inquiry agent.”
Owen winced and braced himself for the thunderstorm he knew was about to light up the garden. But to his amazement, Virginia did not lose her temper. She kept her voice polite, almost gentle. One would never know that she had just been grievously insulted.
“No, Becky,” she said. “I do not have any sort of personal or intimate relationship with Mr. Sweetwater.”
“I don’t understand,” Becky said. “If you don’t work for him and if you’re not his mistress, why are you out here with him in the middle of the night?”
“I was at loose ends this evening,” Virginia said. “I thought it might be amusing to go out on an adventure with a private inquiry agent.”
“I expect it was thrilling,” Becky said.
“Yes, indeed,” Virginia said.
Owen glanced back over his shoulder. “Thrilling, was it, Miss Dean?”
“Perhaps that is not the perfect word,” Virginia said.
He got them through the garden gate and down the alley to the waiting carriage. The figure on the box stirred and looked down.
“I see you found not one but two ladies, Uncle Owen,” Matt said. “A good night’s work.”
“There was a bit of luck involved, but everyone is safe.” Owen opened the door of the cab. “We are going to drop our guests off at their respective addresses.”
“Aye, sir,” Matt said.
Virginia drew Owen aside while Becky got into the vehicle.
“We will take Becky to the charity house in Elm Street,” she said quietly. “She will be well taken care of there tonight. The woman who operates the house will give Becky a clean bed, a good meal, and offer her a way off the streets.”
“I know the place,” Owen said. He smiled. “Are you aware that it has recently come under the auspices of the Arcane Society?”
“Arcane is operating a refuge for young prostitutes?” Disbelief rang in Virginia’s voice. “I don’t believe it. When did the Society develop an interest in charity?”
“I’m told it is the modern era, Miss Dean. The world is changing, and so is the Arcane Society.”
“Hah. I sincerely doubt that lot of arrogant, hidebound old alchemists is capable of change.”
She turned and went up the steps and into the cab. He climbed in behind the women, put the clockwork weapon on the floor of the vehicle, sat down and closed the door. The carriage rattled forward down the lane.
Becky frowned at the clockwork device. “Is that a toy?”
“No,” Owen said. “It is an automaton, a clockwork curiosity. Someone evidently left it behind. Thought I’d salvage it.”
“Oh,” Becky said. “It is very pretty.”
“Yes,” he said.
She lost interest immediately and sank back into the corner of the seat with a small sigh. “Do you think the handsome man in the carriage will try to find me? He will no doubt be very angry when he discovers that I am gone. He knows the corner where I conduct my business.”
“I promise you that you will never see him again,” Virginia said. She touched the girl’s hand. “You are safe.”
THREE
They delivered Becky into the warmth