I lifted my chin. “No, I did not. But it cannot matter that much. You believe that you know the source of the box. Surely you do not require the box itself.”
“That box is evidence, and I will have it.”
“I cannot think how,” I pointed out reasonably. “After all, London is a rather large haystack, and Magda such a small needle.” I gave him a feeble smile, which he quite rightly ignored.
He did not speak until we drew up in front of Grey House. He alighted and held the door, but just as I made to exit the cab, he pounced, thrusting his arm across the opening, barring my path.
“That needle has, I imagine, hidden herself in a very small, very specific part of the haystack,” he said, his voice low. “Do not underestimate me, my lady. I will have that box.”
He had not taken his eyes from mine, and I understood from that unflinching gaze that we were no longer partners in this endeavor. He would know exactly where to find Magda, of that I had no doubt. What I did doubt was his ability to recover the box with his limbs intact.
He stepped back sharply, dropping his arm.
“Good day, my lady.”
I gathered up my skirts and my dignity and swept past him and into Grey House. It was not until I had gained the privacy of my own home that I picked my skirts up into my hands and began to run.
Through some miracle that I still cannot credit, Valerius was at home. I found him in his room, his nose buried in a book, idly feeding the raven titbits from the tip of a pencil. I burst in without apology.
“Val, you must help me. He’s going to the Gypsy encampment on Hampstead Heath. He’ll be killed, I know it.”
Val rose, sending the raven scuttling off irritably to the bedpost, where it glared down at us, muttering. Val put an arm around me, leading me to a chair. I did not sit.
“Julia, calm yourself. Who is going to the Gypsy camp?”
I took a deep breath, pressing my hand to my corset. “Mr. Brisbane.”
Val’s eyes widened, in fear, I thought. “Nicholas Brisbane? You know him?”
“Yes,” I said, throwing off his arm impatiently. “He was here the night that Edward died. Father met him. He is investigating a matter for me. I stupidly gave a piece of evidence to Magda and now he means to get it back. She’s gone to her people, and if he goes there and tries to take it from her, or to make trouble—”
I did not have to finish. Val knew the Roma as well as I did. Any infringement of their freedom by the English was met with hostility at the very least. More than once we had witnessed exchanges of some violence when they had been interfered with by villagers who should have known better. We had left them largely alone and they had been good to us. But I had always suspected that if we pushed them too far they would turn on us as well. Their friendship was like the good will of any wild thing—a gift not to be taken lightly.
“We must go, Val. It will not be dark for a little while yet, but we must hurry.”
I was tugging at his coat, but he held my hands fast.
“You cannot go like that,” he pointed out, taking in my extravagant costume with a glance. He was right, of course. No one with a scrap of sense flaunted their wealth in a Gypsy camp. To do so was to invite robbery—or worse. Smart visitors dressed discreetly and did not wager large amounts at their games. If we meant to blend in, we would have to do the same. I think the idea occurred to us both in the same instant, for no sooner had I looked at him than he was rummaging in his wardrobe, tossing out garments that might serve.
Within moments I had gathered them up and disappeared behind the screen to transform myself. It took me ages to wriggle out of my clothes, but in the end I managed, tearing only a few of the costly ruby buttons off in the process. I retrieved them, taking a few precious seconds to tuck them into my pocket. It would have gone much faster with Morag, but I dared not take her into my confidence. She would have insisted on coming along, and I was dubious enough about accepting Val’s help.
A few moments more and I stepped out, rigged as a boy, from proper tweed trousers to choking necktie. Val had slipped into my room and fetched my own boots and a hard black hat. He gave me his wide woolen scarf to wind about my chin and stepped back to appraise the effect.
“At least you have a crop, so we do not have to worry about your hair giving you away,” he said finally.
I scrutinized myself in his glass, rubbing at Fleur’s rosy salve with my handkerchief. “Passable, I think. With any luck it will be full dark by the time we arrive. Get some money, will you?”
He scooped up his notecase and gloves and we departed, slipping down the stairs and out the study door, into the back garden. In a very few minutes we were through the gate and into the mews. I was breathing a little easier then, wondering if we might actually get away with our deception. We scurried around the corner and into the street where Val hailed a hackney. I muttered a little, wishing he had found a speedier hansom, but there was no help for it.
“Where would you and the lady like to go, sir?” the driver inquired amiably.
“Damnation!” I said softly. “What gave it away?”
“If you don’t mind my saying, love, it’s the walk. All hips and bum, nothing like a bloke at all. Where to?”
“Hampstead Heath, the foot of Parliament Hill,” I muttered, and subsided into a sulky silence. All during the lengthy, creaking drive I tried to imagine how I was supposed to walk without using my “hips and bum,” but at length I gave up. Darkness had fallen and we were climbing, almost to the Heath, when Val spoke.
“Julia, I wish you would confide. What is this all about?”
