“Your canary has rather more common sense than some of them,” Isabelle said dryly. “At least the Elemental Mages are more-or-less levelheaded and disciplined, which brings me to the reason I wanted to talk to you. If I were going to find the person who was the closest thing to a leader in your Esoteric circle, who would that be?”
And Beatrice hesitated.
That was distinctly peculiar, and not at all like Beatrice.
“In terms of being a leader, in virtually all ways,” she said slowly, “I would have said Alderscroft. Lord Alderscroft, now; his father died two years ago, poor man. He’s immensely skilled, and quite eclipses most of the other Elemental Masters hereabouts. They’re calling him the Wizard of London, now, and the Young Lion.”
Isabelle managed a slight smile, although it gave her a pang to think of how well that name suited him. “I can see how that would please him,” she said, in as neutral a tone as possible. “He always did enjoy being the recipient of accolades if he thought he had earned them.”
Bea nodded. “Don’t men always? Nigel is just as susceptible. But Alderscroft does have power and skill, and it’s not just Esoteric power either; he’s gotten political, and he has connections. He’s talking about finding a sympathetic Minister, revealing what we can do to him, and making the Elemental Masters into an adjunct arm of the War Department. He says that we will have to reveal our powers to someone eventually, so it ought to be on our terms, so that we are the ones negotiating from a place of strength… but…”
“But?” Isabelle prompted.
“But—he’s just so cold. Which is an odd thing to say of a Fire Master, I know, but he is and he gets worse every time I meet with him. Even Nigel remarked on it, and when it comes to commenting on the foibles of his fellow man, Nigel simply doesn’t.” She smiled, slightly, “He has a terribly sweet temper, does my Nigel, which I thought was a decent reason to marry him. Earth, of course, which is why I am here and he is not, he cannot abide even this little clean area of London for more than a week at a time. But at any rate, Alderscroft began getting distant just before you left, and he would be a hermit, I think, if he didn’t have to interact socially with the rest of us to herd us in the direction he wants. Or—” She wrinkled her brow—“He wouldn’t exactly be a hermit, because he is everywhere, socially. One can’t go to a party without seeing him. But he might as well have an invisible barrier about him.” She shook her head. “I’m doing a very bad job of explaining myself. I suppose you would have to see it for yourself.”
That’s hardly likely. Isabelle hesitated a moment, then asked the loaded question. “Is Lady Cordelia still his mentor?”
“Oh, Her Ladyship is very much present in his life, I assure you.” Bea pursed her lips and looked wise. “If she weren’t such a pillar of dignity, chastity, and sanctity, one would assume all manner of goings-on, but I cannot imagine Her Ladyship removing so much as a glove in the presence of a man.” She sighed. “One wants to like her. After all, it isn’t as if there were that many female Elemental Magicians in London, much less another Air Mage. But that off-putting manner… it’s as bad or worse than that barrier Alderscroft has about him.”
Isabelle nodded, understanding all too well. She was more than halfway convinced that Lady Cordelia BryceColl was at least partially, if not fully responsible for that final snub on Alderscroft’s part that had sent Isabelle off in tears. But, of course, the woman had been as sweet and smooth as honeyed cream in public, and had even sent a little bon voyage gift, so there was no way to prove anything. Lady Cordelia never gossiped, never said an unpleasant word about anyone in public. Back in her girlhood, Isabelle and her friends had formed the habit of referring to Cordelia as “the nun,” both from her penchant for dressing all in ice-blue or white, and her demeanor. Even thinking improper thoughts about her was impossible. To this day Isabelle, who had spent so many years in the sensuous East and been exposed to things that would send most English women reeling back in a dead faint if even hinted at, could not imagine Cordelia BryceColl in any state other than fully clothed, ramrod straight, and cool and calm as the marble image of a saint.
“You know,” Bea said thoughtfully. “I always thought it was her fault that Alderscroft snubbed you.”
Isabelle gazed at her friend in astonishment. “Whatever makes you say that?” she asked.
“Well, who else would it have been? After that incident at Vesuvius, his father wasn’t capable of putting two sentences together, and besides, the old lord liked you. If his mother had been alive, there might have been trouble, but I can’t think of anyone else who would have wanted to meddle.” Bea shook her head. “No, it was Delia, I would stake my diamonds on it.”
Isabelle made herself shrug with feigned indifference and sipped her tea. “It doesn’t matter, really, now does it? It’s all in the past. But I think I would rather not consult with Alderscroft about this, especially not if she is still hanging about him.”
“Well,” Bea said slowly, winding a strand of hair around her finger. “You might tell me what this is all about. I know practically everyone in Elemental circles, at least in London, these days. I might be able to help.”
Since Isabelle could not imagine anyone she would rather talk to, she launched into her narrative with a will. She began all the way back at the point when little Sarah and Nan joined the school—because Sarah and Nan were so integral to the story—
“Though I can’t in all honesty call Nan a charity case, when she more than pays for her way with all of the hard work she does—”
Then she went on to the phony medium, Sarah’s true mediumistic abilities, all the inquiries about the girls—and went from that to the incident in Berkeley Square. Bea listened intently to every word.
“Well, I must say, I wish Nigel was here. That sounds like an Earth Elemental to be sure, but I don’t know enough to make an identification.” She frowned. “And I don’t imagine that an Earth Master gone wrong is going to identify himself to the rest of us.”
“Probably not,” Isabelle agreed, and sighed. “Still, if one of you could look into the situation—”
“That, my dear, is a given,” Bea told her, raising her head with a determined set to her chin. “We simply can’t have something like that loose, even if it is confined to a single building. Someone could be hurt. If we haven’t dealt with it by the time Nigel returns, I’m sure he’ll banish it, but I suspect I can find a Water Master to get rid of the vicious thing.”
Isabelle sighed, and nibbled a biscuit for the sake of politeness. “This was deliberate, you know. Whoever did this intended to frighten or harm my charges. I’d like to know who set it.” She braced herself, knowing she was unlikely to get an answer to that statement that she would like.
“Well—this is really something that the Elemental Masters should deal with, Belle,” came exactly the reply she had expected. “We do try to police our own.”
Run along, little girl, and don’t bother your pretty head about it. The old Isabelle would have snapped something rude at her old friend. Over the years, although diplomacy did not come naturally to her, she had been forced to acquire it.
“It isn’t precisely an issue internal to the Elemental Masters anymore, Bea,” she said gently. “Whoever did this mounted an attack on Talented children. My charges and my charges specifically were lured there and locked in to be attacked. Someone sent a cabby to the school to ask for them by name. Two boundaries have been violated, the one that says that the Masters are not to attack the Talented and vice versa, and the one that holds that children are off-limits. At the very least I would like to know why, if not who. There may be more such attacks, and I am the protector of these children; I have the right to know who I am protecting them against.”