“But you believe it was possible, once?”
I paused again. We were heading into peculiar territory, and I didn’t want to sound like a madman who ought to be committed to Bedlam. But these two were clear-minded, practical folk who’d seen more peculiar things than me. If anyone understood, it would be them. “Do you recall the myths about magic?”
They both nodded, but it was Matt who responded. “Where maps supposedly came to life, causing rivers to flow off the edges and into the real world, or the tentacles of monsters drawn on the maps of oceans reached out of the paper and pulled real ships under the waves."
“Not just maps,” India added. “And not just myths. Flying carpets are certainly real, as are giant pyramids, and possibly a watering system that could turn a desert into a lush garden.”
It was wonderful to discuss such things with clever, inquisitive people. They were the perfect couple to be patrons of the new library. It ought to be named after them. “If this tattoo ink magic spell existed at some point, it may have been so rare and old by the time of Mackenzie’s writing that many dismissed it as legend, just like flying carpets were dismissed. Or, it could be like the map magic, which I suspect is merely legend and was never actually possible.”
The butler entered carrying a tray with teapot, cups and saucers. Somewhere in the depths of the house, one of the boys gave an excited exclamation. Neither event distracted India as she continued to give me her full attention. “Either way, it’s an intriguing mystery, and I do so love a good mystery.”
Matt chuckled. “I take it you’re going to call on the owner of the Mackenzie book and offer to buy it off him for the library?”
“We are,” I said. “We hope to leave as soon as possible.”
India handed me a delicate china teacup that I’d once been told the manufacturer had used his magic to strengthen. “You and Oscar must dine with us before you leave. We’ll give you some funds for the journey and send you on your way with a hearty meal.”
“I’ll let Oscar know,” I said.
“Is he looking forward to the journey?”
“Very much. I believe the adventure will do him good.”
She frowned as she passed me the silver sugar bowl. “Is he still upset about Lady Louisa? I heard she got married to a carpenter magician, much to the surprise of Matt’s aunts.”
“Shocking, I think is how they put it,” Matt said. “Aunt Letitia was concerned for the health of Louisa’s elderly aunt after hearing of her niece’s downfall, as she put it, at marrying an ordinary man. My Aunt Beatrice laughed quite cruelly until her youngest daughter, my cousin Charity, declared she thought marrying a carpenter sounded amusing and where could she find one of her own.”
Matt’s extended family had always been an, er, eclectic group. Charity in particular had an eccentric streak that could sometimes be cruel. I refrained from commenting and answered India’s question. “Oscar hides it well, but I think he is upset. Not that he is still in love with Louisa. I don’t believe he ever was. I simply think his experience soured him on relationships altogether. I suspect he plans to stay a bachelor for the rest of his life.”
“Ha!” Matt barked.
His wife arched her brows at him in question.
He gave her a lazy smile. “You know as well as I do, my dearest, that sometimes that kind of plan goes awry.”
She returned his smile with a secretive one of her own.
I cleared my throat to remind them they weren’t alone. “Oscar’s focus now is on acquiring books and having adventures, not settling down.”
They both gave me indulgent looks. I felt as though I was misunderstanding something, as if they shared a joke where the punchline made sense to them alone. That was the thing about couples. They had a secret language that others didn’t understand. Part of me wished I could be understood to such a degree by another.
But mostly I was just glad I could pursue my interests without having to answer to anyone else. No wife would allow me to leave my safe career as a professor of history to go traveling the world to indulge my interest in obscure, old books.
For the first time since making the decision, I felt utterly confident about it. I knew deep in my bones that it was the right course to take, that the path I was about to embark upon with Oscar was my calling, not simply a task to tick off from a list. It would be the making of me—of us both—and the ripples of the decision would be felt for years to come.
I couldn’t wait to begin.
Chapter 3
I had never been to Scotland. I’d never even been out of England, only straying from the comfortable familiarity of London for the occasional seaside holiday to Ramsgate as a child. Most folk would say I wasn’t suited for world travel, and they would be right. My scholarly life and introverted nature had ill-prepared me for the challenges that came with venturing to another country.
Those challenges began on the first day and only grew worse as the day wore on.
Heavy traffic delayed our arrival at King’s Cross Station, but fortunately our train’s departure was also delayed by an hour, so we made it with time to spare. But our late departure meant I worried about arriving in a strange city in the dark. That worry, combined with the movement of the train, made me feel a little queasy in the stomach, so I didn’t eat the sandwiches I’d packed for the journey.
When I stood to alight from the train as it pulled into Edinburgh’s Waverley Station, I felt dizzy from the lack of sustenance and lost my balance. I toppled into the burly, bald-headed Scotsman reading a newspaper on the seat opposite. Thankfully he didn’t get cross. He merely chuckled into his red beard as he helped me to regain my balance. He commented in a strong Scottish accent about my inability to hold my drink.
“Oh, I’m not drunk,” I quickly assured him.
