Ring. Sister. Piano (Book 4 of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Nine: Stargazing

Jack went back to the Academy and strolled around outside the ring of gargoyles. He half-suspected that Mathilde's hostility to him would mean he was uninvited, and wouldn't be able to push past the statues, but he was too afraid of being right to give it a try. He didn't want to be one of those male intruders who gawped in at the girls and wasn't welcome.

Eventually, he saw Danvers and Elsie climbing Headington Hill, arm-in-arm. Elsie had her face turned up to the weak, wintery sunlight, as if she was enjoying the feel of it on her skin, and Danvers was trying to tug her shawl tighter about her neck and shoulders.

Jack watched them for a moment, with the same feeling of surreal envy he had felt all those months ago, when Danvers had spoken to Elsie about having a picnic breakfast by the river. Imagine having someone you loved on your arm, and planning days out with them, in complete innocence of the hordes of men who would conspire to take her away from you. Imagine being so boring and respectable that no-one would glance twice at you, and you could live out your life in peace.

It was a momentary thing. He had never wanted a quiet life. Not really. Even now that he was dizzy, shivering, short of breath, and fairly sure he would have to compete with a man who was perfect for Ellini, he was excited. Or anxious. Or angry. Or all three. Either way, the idea of a quiet life did not appeal. Sitting down and doing what he was told was unthinkable.

They spotted him – well, Danvers spotted him, and whispered urgently to Elsie, and soon they were both running. One end of Elsie's shawl slipped off her shoulders and trailed behind her like the tail of a comet.

"Thank goodness," Danvers panted, when they were face-to-face. "We've just been to the Faculty. They said you were horribly injured-"

"Is he all right?" said Elsie, pawing anxiously at Danvers's coat. "Is he dying? What does he look like?"

"Well... well," said Danvers. There was a moment where his tact battled with his honesty, but the honesty won out. "Um. Perhaps not well. Perhaps a little white and shaken. But he looks whole, Elsie. I can't see any scars."

"They're under the shirt and neck-tie," said Jack helpfully.

"But what happened?" Elsie insisted. "The doctor said you had dozens of knife-wounds, but Miss Marron said she didn't touch you. She said she made a point of not touching you."

"Can we go somewhere darker?" said Jack, shaking his head to try and ward off the volley of questions.

"What an extraordinary request!" said Danvers. "Why do you want to be somewhere dark?"

"Because I want to go stargazing."

There was a manhole at the end of the street. Jack seized Elsie's arm and dragged her towards it – which, of course, dragged Danvers too, because it would take a crowbar to separate them.

He bent down and lifted the manhole cover, while Danvers spluttered over this unusual behaviour. 

"What on earth are you doing?"

There was a pause, in which Jack motioned courteously to the uncovered grate, and then the spluttering recommenced. 

"You don't mean – you can't mean for us to go down there? It's far too damp and cold, and Elsie's clothes would be ruined, and what would people say?"

There was a splash beside him, and then a happy, echoing voice. "Come and see, Mr Danvers – it must go on for miles! It's like another city under the city!"

Danvers glared at Jack.

"Come and tell me what it looks like," she went on. "It smells fascinating!"