She stood, suddenly, the sort of abrupt movement that Griffin appreciated all the more now that it was largely beyond him. She turned away, looking out the window to the street beyond. “I don’t know what to think about your asking. Would you like to look at something for your mother now and come back in a few days?”
“I can do that.” Griffin would like to have a nice tidy solution for his problem, but it had already become clear that wasn’t on offer. There were no cases in the Courts right now, since they were on the Equinox break. Then it’d be another two weeks before anything actually came to trial or needed the courtroom magics. And he’d been told in the strongest possible terms that finding some solution was his focus for the time being. “Should I call again in a few days, or would you prefer to send a message round?”
“I can send a message.” Annice crossed her arms, turning back. Griffin nodded at Charlus, who produced a notecard from his pocket and a pen, writing out their current address. Griffin didn’t offer the journals by way of contact. He was fairly sure this woman wouldn’t have one, given what he’d seen of the building. Nothing was in horrible repair, but nothing was new, either, and that meant the cost of a journal was likely beyond her.
“Excellent. We’ll find something to amuse ourselves, I’m sure. I brought books. Now, my mother’s got an eye for the unusual, not the staid Victorian drops. Something with a natural feel to it, that might do nicely. She has a sometimes excessive fondness for the Arts and Crafts style.”
As he hoped, it startled Annice out of her protective stance. “Excessive, sir?”
“I don’t know about you, but I find a bath tiled in beautiful ceramics of disapproving maidens processing along the opposite wall to be a little disarming. Beautiful, the colours are very striking, but they seem to see right through one.”
She made a noise that Griffin couldn’t begin to interpret at all. It might have been anything from amusement to annoyance. Then she brought out several pieces. After a brief consideration, he picked up one of an unfurling rose, which had a delicacy to the petals Griffin found quite charming. He suspected there were at least three different makers of the pieces, but he wasn’t enough of a craftsman to know for sure. That settled, he paid up for both the piece and her time, using the higher end of the acceptable scale as the Courts’ accountants had it.
Then they were led back out through the faded hallway, to the outside, and left to their own devices again.
Chapter10
MARCH 16TH
Annice made her way down the beach, walking carefully. The last tide had brought up more battered bits of wood and good-size rocks than usual, the rising spring tides did that sometimes. Not much of it was any use to her, however, though she’d been almost fooled by five pieces of coal so far.
She’d made it well away from the harbour proper when she heard someone behind her. She turned around to see Bill coming up, a little out of breath. “Bill.” Annice had no reason to take her mood out on him.
“Wondered if I’d see you.” Bill took off his cap, ran his hand through what was left of his hair, and tugged it back on. “Heard there was someone asking ‘bout you. Wanted to give you a word.”
“Oh, he found me. The man in the wheelchair, yeah?” Annice had been trying not to think about that conversation, though of course that meant it was all she could think of unless she was absorbed by something else. Two days, and she couldn’t get him out of her head, or what he’d asked. Offered. She didn’t even know what to call it.
“Him.” Bill hesitated, and that wasn’t like him. One thing she liked about Bill is that she knew what to expect, straightforward honesty. Not this hesitation.
“Did you talk to him?” Annice glanced around and found a bit of a boulder where they could both sit comfortably enough. They’d done it before.
“Aye.” Bill said nothing more until he’d sat and chewed on it for a minute. “Odd chair. Odd man. And the one with him. Right quiet. I was in Edgar’s when they came in. Though he had the crutches then. Odd.” Bill pronounced it. “Ought to be one or t’other, you’d think. And that’s a sort of crutch I’ve never seen b’fore.”
Annice tried to figure out what to say to that, and it wasn’t like she’d had Griffin Pelson’s medical history explained to her. Or any of his other history, actually, other than that baffling title. “He didn’t say much about it. They had to come round the back, though. He had the chair when he came to see me.”
“You want I should warn him off?” Bill was big, he was burly, he could certainly be plenty intimidating to both Griffin and what was the name? Charles. Charlus.
Annice hesitated, but then she shook her head. “They were polite. And they bought something. Well. Mister Pelson did.” She had to think and put the non-magical title on it. She also didn’t know how she felt about the fact he’d bought one of her pieces, the rose she’d only just finished. He’d looked at all the others, he’d complimented Grandad’s work, and Da’s, and all. But he’d bought hers. Definitely not something she was going to talk about with anyone. Maybe Ruth, but probably not Ruth either. Ruth didn’t entirely approve of her breaking with tradition and doing her own carving.
“Huh.” Bill leaned back, staring out at the ocean. “They asked a knot of questions. Who did jet carving, who’d done inlay, if anyone had. Not usual.”
Annice nodded. “I didn’t tell them much.” The hell of it was, she didn’t know if she could actually do the work. She could do the carving fine, but she did not know about the rest of it. Grandad had taught her, like he’d taught her the rest of it. But she’d never had a chance to practise. Which was the other part. Surely someone had set it the last time it needed setting, but who had done that? It was a mystery, because she didn’t think it had been anyone from Whitby. Or if it had, they’d kept it very much under their hat.
Not that she could talk to Bill about that. He knew jet, the raw material, not the magic of it, and Annice kept the Pact. Everyone did, when speaking of magic to someone who didn’t have it. The oaths against it brought them smack up against their worst fears. Now she swallowed. “What did you think of him? Them?” Though mostly him, because the other man, Charlus, had been in the background.
“Don’t know as I trust a man who...” Bill wriggled a hand. “Chair, crutches, no explanation. Or what he asked, not being clear.”
Annice was caught up with the same frustration, if from a very different angle. On one hand, Griffin had answered the questions put to him readily enough. He’d given her chapter and verse about what he did. Even about the truth charms, which made her very uncomfortable indeed. There was something about him that was almost compelling, and she didn’t trust that at all. Lots of people could be compelling, and at least half of them were angry drunks and worse, if someone didn’t do what they wanted the way they wanted.
Lots of men had reason to drown their sorrows, and lots of women too. But taking it out on other people, that was a problem Annice refused to deal with, at least up close. It made the way Griffin drew her attention - exactly the way jet did - make her squirm. Finally, she swallowed. “What did he ask Edgar? Was he looking for jet, or a carver, or what?”
“Both. Aye. Both. More the jet itself, though. He knew a bit about it, mind. More than some,” Bill considered. “Wasn’t too rude for posh.”
Annice snorted. “Posh is supposed to have manners. Whether or not they use them on us.”
It made Bill laugh. That was something. “Heard you had some custom, too?” Bill was cautious about this.
“Three women - grandmother, daughter, granddaughter, here for the sea air. The grandmother had an earring gone missing, and I made her a copy.” It wasn’t quite in the same category as making new pieces, and therefore not the same flavour of unlucky.
