“I didn’t know either,” Mrs. Buchanan snapped. “Not until recently. A cousin informed me that it ran in the family.”
“Her family was in trade,” Mrs. Gordon added.
“Three generations ago!” Mrs. Buchanan huffed, frustrated. “My cousin told me a spell that he’d found in our grandmother’s things years ago. He and I both tried it and nothing happened, but when Juliette spoke the words while holding a woolen hat, the fibers strengthened. They became unbreakable. Neither a sharp pair of scissors nor a knife could cut them. She was excited by the discovery.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Gordon said tightly. “Her first letter to us mentioned it. A lot.”
“Did she have any plans to use her magic?” Miss Wheeler asked.
“Use it how?” Juliette’s mother asked.
“To start a business, or work in a wool mill.”
Mr. Gordon wrinkled his nose. “Good lord, no. She’s a young lady, not a factory worker.”
“Some young ladies wish to work to earn their independence.”
“Not my daughter.” Mrs. Buchanan frowned then added, “Not that I know of.”
“She wasn’t in need of money,” Mrs. Gordon said. “My brother left his widow quite well-off.”
Mrs. Buchanan echoed her sister-in-law’s words. “Juliette didn’t need money.”
Miss Wheeler watched Oscar as he knelt on the floor in front of the fireplace and peered up the chimney. “Independence is not always about money,” she murmured, somewhat absently.
A distant clock chimed the hour. Mrs. Gordon touched her husband’s arm and gazed up at him. “I have to go. Will you change your mind, just this once, my dear? For Juliette?”
He shook his head and turned away. “Anything, Mr. Barratt?”
“Nothing, but we haven’t finished yet.” Oscar signaled for me to help him move a chest of drawers.
Mrs. Gordon sighed. “I’m going to the kirk. There’s a special service to pray for Juliette’s return. And for the maid, too.”
The tension between the three seemed to ratchet up a notch. Ordinarily I’d mind my own business, but the situation was dire. I was extremely worried about both missing women and if the tension had anything to do with the disappearances, I thought it best to crack that particular shell and see what spilled out.
After moving the chest of drawers, I dusted off my hands while Oscar inspected the floorboards where it had stood. “You’re not going with your wife, Mr. Gordon?” I asked.
“No.”
“My husband and I don’t share the same faith,” Mrs. Gordon said, her voice snippy, “and my sister-in-law is a heathen.”
Mrs. Buchanan threw up her hands. “I am not a heathen, as well you know. I attend service every Sunday back home, but I want to be here in case there’s news of Juliette.”
“If you put your trust in God, He will bring her home to us.”
Mrs. Buchanan gathered up her skirts. “I prefer to put my trust in the people investigating her disappearance.” She spun around with a snap of her skirts and strode out of the room.
A moment later, Mrs. Gordon left, too.
Miss Wheeler helped Oscar and I with the search, but we found nothing. If Juliette brought the mysterious letters with her from Aberdeen, she must have kept them on her person. The letters had to be behind Juliette’s desire to come to Edinburgh, I was quite sure of it. The timing was too coincidental for it to be otherwise.
As we left the bedchamber with Mr. Gordon, I asked him if Juliette had met anyone since her arrival in Edinburgh.
“No,” he said. “She’d only been here two days.”
“Did she seem eager to go out? Did she often go for walks, for example?”
“Only the once before her kidnap, and not alone. The maid who accompanied her was questioned by us and the police and she assured us all that Juliette didn’t stop to speak to a soul. Why would she when she didn’t know anyone here except my wife and me?”
