Spirited Away - The Game

It is on an early November morning that Messrs Calstock and Broadhurst arrive in the village of Little Barnsthorpe. It is at least an hour before sunrise and the land is swaddled in mist so thick and cold, it almost reaches into the heart and soul and freezes them with its ghostly fingers; on the sides of the road the shadows of trees loom like the vague shapes of watchful giants; ahead the path disappears into the gaping hole between two stone pillars. There is no gate or sign, but if the directions the two travelers have received are correct, this must be the location of Little Barnsthorpe's coaching inn. But behind the pillars there is only the thick curtain of the mist. A fanciful person might suggest that there is no inn at all, only the promise of it luring the unwary traveler to step forward.

It is easy to see in such a morning how the stories of witches and goblins are spawned. In a cosy gentleman's club or a well-lit dining room one might hear boorish jokes about the quality of Mr. Tubbs's equestrian skills and sense of direction, or about the fading charms of Mrs. Tubbs being no longer enough to hold her husband. One might even laugh at such jokes and shake one's head at Mr. Tubbs's inadequacies. But the fact remains - the man Mr. Tubbs is missing and here, in the mist and the silence and the cold, Mr. Tubbs becomes a more tragic figure. Whether he has been dragged screaming and afraid into another world by his allegedly fairy coachman or - equally afraid - has perished in the cold of the night after falling into a ditch, it is for Mr. Calstock and Mr. Broadhurst to discover.

The horses snort and stomp the frozen mud. Unless this is indeed a fairy road, there is warmth and nourishment ahead.

Maximilian sits back in his seat in the coach, a thick fur coat wrapped tight around his slender form. He is thin, unsuited for the cold of such a trip, and he is tired, more used to sleeping through his nights in a comfortable bed than spending them riding in a coach, every shake and judder doing its part to keep the young gentleman awake.
When Edward announces their imminent arrival at the coaching inn, Maximilian dares to lean out into the cold wind to look ahead. "I don't see anything," he declares, his voice doing its best to sound firm despite the shiver of cold in it, so it carries to the coachman's seat and his servant and friend. "Are we sure we are in the right place?"

Edward pulls the reins to bring the coach to a stop just outside the pillars threshold.
"This indeed seems to be the place, Miss Adelaide. The directions were rather clear. But... I agree, there seems to be nothing ahead..." he replies turning to his passenger.
Pulling up the travel cloak collar against the chill, he adds, "...unless the inn is hidden from sight. By supernatural means, or... by a much more mundane turn inf the road."

He turns to observe the mist beyond the pillars. "I guess there is only one way to know for sure."

"Ha!" With an energetic jolt of the reins, he pushes the horses forward, driving the coach beyond the pillars, into the mist.

"It might just be this mist," Maximilian replies. He noticed the name Edward called him and while it was expected and in the privacy of the coach, it didn't matter much, he felt slightly bothered by it. Not enough to complain about it, however. "Keep going. Either we find the inn or something else. But if you say it should be here, then I'm certain it is."

Edward drives the coach very slowly, trying to follow the road in the scarce visibility.

His keen eyes scan the thick mist for lights or any sign of the inn.

As the carriage pushes forward, the main building of the inn reluctantly emerges into view, as if the mist is embarrassed to give it up - it is not an ancient tower or a haunted ruin which would have been more fitting, but simply a house. A rather diminutive one at that, for although it has the usual two storeys, it lacks the sprawling wings of other establishments situated near busier roads. There is a sign above the door, reading The Billy Goat in fresh white paint. All the windows are dark, but under the door there is a sliver of warm light. Someone must be already up and preparing for the day.

While the sight of the inn initially looks encouraging, the dark windows worry Maximilian. "Drop me off by the door," he tells Edward when he notices the sliver of light under the door. "I will send someone out to help you with the coach while I see about a room."

Edward is relieved to see there is an inn after all.
"As you wish," he answers, then maneuvers the coach so to align the passenger door with the inn entrance to let Adelaide get off.

He looks at the small inn waking up, musing. As they begin the day's activities after a night's rest, we will need to rest after our night's travels. Kind of back-to-front... Hopefully they won't object to such an unusual requirement.

Maximilian climbs off the coach, then closes the short distance to the door and gives a firm knock to announce his presence before reaching for the handle and attempting to open the door.

The door opens into a small entrance hallway, barely wide enough to accommodate more than three gentlemen, two even if they would happen to be wearing greatcoats. Right ahead there is a staircase leading up, and another one leading down to the right - to the kitchen perhaps, and it is from there where the light is coming from. A woman is climbing up the stairs, her petticoats gathered in her left hand and an empty wooden pail in the other.

"God, Mary and Patrick be with you," she greets in the sing-song cadence of her native Ireland. "And what may you be wanting? One to bring the colour back into your cheeks for a start. And for your horses, I wager, unless you have flown on the wings of an owl, which I doubt. Cormac!" she yells back down the stairs without waiting for an answer, and her voice is like that of a sailor hailing a ship half a mile away. "Cormac O'Mara, you ill-shaped thief, a gentleman is at the door and his fine horses be biting their golden bridles to be let inside as we speak!"

"My servant is outside with the coach. Some assistance with that would be appreciated," Maximilian confirms. "Something to eat would be nice as well, preferably hot. And a room with a fire. Two, better. We've been riding through the night and could use some rest and warmth."

"Up you go then," the woman ushers Maximillian up the stairs; once on the second landing they can feel by the air that they are in a larger place, probably the public room. Warning them to "watch your steps now", the landlady guides them to a chair. "Sit here now and wait for me to fetch us a candle. Ol' Fiona knows those stairs as the back of me da's hand, but your lordship can't be going stumbling in the dark now, can you." And she trundles back down the stairs. If there are any other guests at the inn it is very unlikely that they are still sleeping, but nothing stirs upstairs. It could be why the woman is so inconsiderate about her noise - or maybe she simply does not care.

---

Having exited the inn from a back door, the man the landlady had called Cormac O'Mara walks around the house to meet Edward. He is a big man and sways as he walks, like one whose joints are still creaking from the night's rest. He has hastily dressed himself, and only partially - despite the cold, which doesn't appear to be bothering him, he is only in his shirtsleeves. In his hand he is carrying a lantern and waves it around, indicating the manservant should follow.

"This way," he says without introducing himself and waddles further into the yard where the stables presumably are.

"Thank you," Maximilian replies politely. "And do watch your step." Once he hears the footsteps retreating back down the stairs, the young man gets up and begins exploring the room. Not that that is very easy given the darkness, but he tries to feel along the wall for doors and to open them, just to get an idea of the place. Fiona could hardly have a problem with that, right?

Edward has been busy detaching the two horses, Endymion and Selene from the coach. He now holds them by their bridles and follows the inn man. "Thank you. They could do with a shelter on their heads and hay in their stomachs."
And so could I, he thinks. Well, something better than hay, hopefully...

"Not an easy place to find, this inn. Even without this mist, I mean... No sign at the pillars, we could only find it following someone's directions. Do you get many guests, this time of year?"

Feeling their way around, Maximillian finds that they are indeed in a big hall - taking up most of the first storey of the building, if not all of it. Carefully navigating in the darkness, they encounter tables and chairs, rough and sturdy to the touch. There is also a cold fireplace, some coat stands and a heavy curtain, probably used to separate the room in two, should a company require some privacy from the other guests. Before Maximillian could explore any further, Fiona appears with a candle in a brass holder.

"Trying to break your neck, are you?" she scolds her young gest but without any real anger. "Did I not tell you that I'll be bringing a candle? Here, sit down, why don't you. If God be willing that you have patience, I'll bring you something hot to warm up your bones. Rooms are upstairs, but no fire yet."

---

"Not exactly a market town now, is it. Post passes, but they drink and shit and change their horses quick as you like. But we do as much as we can. Did the new sign meself, I did, didn't you see it? Above the door, like? I'll do one for the gate as well, when we gets the new gate. Which might be never, mind you. Fiona says, Cormac, don't you be spending money before we get the new lease with the big man at the house! And he's gone now, and his poor lady wife all demented with grief, no doubt. Here, to be sure your beasts will be as happy as can be!"

The man helps Edward bring the horses into an empty box where there's hay and water and fresh straw. The next box is occupied - as the men and the animals come in, they are greeted by sounds of excitement and two curious heads extend on long necks to inspect the newcomers. Cormac addresses them affectionately in Irish and pats and scratches their soft muzzles, and the horses push and nip at each other, jealous of the man's attention.

"You two behave now, don't be making me blush in front of the guests," he adds in English. "Soon there will be breakfast, praise be to God."

"I've been sitting this whole time during the coach ride," Maximilian explains. "I need to be on my feet for a bit or I will go mad." He thanks her for the candle, then says, "I would appreciate a hot meal for myself and Mr. Broadhurst. He is currently outside with the horses still, but I'm certain he will be hungry as well. And if you could start a fire in our rooms." He then waits until she's turned around and started leaving again before he says, "I was supposed to give my regards to a friend of my father's, a Mr. Tubbs. I believe he lives around here?"

"Yes, the door sign. Fine bit of craftsmanship that, Mr Cormac," he says trying to flatter the man.

"Oh I see... The owner of the land must have recently passed away, then? Sorry to hear that... Must be tough for his widow. A sudden thing, was it?"

"Our horses will be just fine here, you have our thanks. And in fine company too, looks like!" he pats one of the other horaes' head. "These are handsome fellows..."

Fiona turns and looks at her young guest with some surprise, as if Maximillian had just asked her to send their regards to the Queen of Thebes.

"Mr. Tubbs, is it? Well, news travels slow, to be sure; or it has passed you by as you've been travelling in the opposite direction. There is no Mr. Tubbs to receive your dear father's kind regards, poor thing. No one in the village has seen him for the best part of the week now, and that changeling coachman of his neither, and you don't have to tell me what that means. It is as clear as if it was written in the Bible, like."

---

"Passed away? No!" Cormac shakes his head and then leans closer to Edward and whispers, as if to spare the horses' sensitive disposition from the shock of what he is about to divulge: "Taken!" Having said that he moves away once more and nods, fixing Edward with a gaze full of significance, as if to say "You know what I mean".

---

Fiona Coleman and Cormac O'Mara might be savouring the sharing of their shocking news with their new guests, but it comes as no great surprise to Maximilian and Edward. It only confirms Mr. Norrell's fears which have brought them to this remote village in the first place.

"I have debated long and hard whether your involvement would be necessary or indeed wise," Mr. Norrell had written in his infuriatingly small handwriting. "It might be interpreted as me giving credibility to rumours that should instead be dismissed without notice; yet Childermass assures me..." It is a long-winded letter, of the kind that Mr. Norrell's agents have become quite used to. It stresses the importance of preserving Mr. Norrell's respectability and reputation, the greatness of his work and the magnitude of his cause for the restoration of English magic. Out of the pages and pages of dreary self-important monologues, Edward and Maximilian have managed to glean the actual purpose of their assignment - a wealthy landowner by the name of Tubbs has disappeared and a rumour has started to circulate that he has been abducted by a malevolent fairy disguised as a coachman. To Mr. Norrell's knowledge no one has even attempted to verify whether Mr. Tubbs has actually disappeared, passed away, or if he is simply ill and keeping to his bed. The keepers of The Billy Goat inn seem to be stout supporters of the most sensational of the hypothesis, but it falls to Edward and Maximilian to get to the bottom of it.

"Nobody has seen him?" Maximilian asks, feigning surprise at these news. "I do hope nothing has happened to him. Has someone tried to check on him at his home? Perhaps he has fallen sick. A week is not a very long time for someone to not show their face." He tilts his head in an approximation of confusion. "But what was that about his coachman? Is he remarkable in some way, to have his absence noticed? And what was it you called him?"

Edward gives Cormac a grave nod, signaling that he considers the implication that the man is suggesting as a very serious matter.

Taking his leave with thanks, he then leaves the stables and enters the inn to regroup with Miss Adelaide/Maximilian.

Fiona is not best pleased that her word is not being taken as gospel.

"Am I not telling you! Did I not speak to Mrs. Plaice at the bakery, and did she not hear it from Elsie Lesser, who is Mrs. Tubbs's own maid! And did she not say that Mrs. Tubbs is taken to bed with worry and that an old aunt is coming to care for her, the poor creature!" Maximilian is getting the impression that none of those are real questions and that answering them, especially in the negative, would not be the most wise course of action. "And is it not known throughout the village and perhaps as far as Leeds that Jack Starhouse is a fairy-child and a warlock and a confirmed horse-witch!"

Edward catches the tail of her lecture as he enters the house, and when Fiona hears the door close behind him, she suddenly diminishes, remembering she is not talking to a misbehaving child but to a paying customer.

"That must be your man, no doubt. I shall see to that breakfast now. I am busy woman, you know, I can't be sitting around answering questions all day." And with that she hurries down the stairs, passing Edward and informing him that "your lordship" is "upstairs and safe as a penny in a pocket".

"He's a bit old to be my man," Maximilian replies, counting on Fiona not understanding the quip and brushing it off. He then thanks her as she heads downstairs and he takes a seat as he waits for Edward to join him. Once the servant arrives, Maximilian gestures to an empty seat beside him. "The horses are well-cared for?"

Edward nods at the woman as they cross on the stairs. "And that's just how we like it. Thank you kindly."

Once upstairs, he sits with Maximilian, finding him in the gloomy room by the candles.
"Yes, the horses are sheltered and fed, Mila-... I mean, Sir."

"It is rather dark in here," Maximilian replies with a playful smirk on his lips. "I suppose I can forgive you for mistaking me for my sister in the gloom." He chuckles before growing more serious. "I got some information out of our hostess." His voice is quiet now, his body leaned towards Edward. This isn't something Fiona should overhear. "She is convinced Mr. Tubbs has disappeared, but I think it might not be the worst idea to pay a visit to his estate before anything else. She also believes his coachman is responsible. And that he might be something other than a good Christian Englishman."

"Yes, Mr Cormac mentioned something along the same lines, in the stables. Also added that Tubbs' wife is probably in terrible grief, alone in the house... We should be able to talk to her, at least."

He looks at the surroundings , leaning back in the chair, more comfortable than the coach driver's bench after their journey.
" It sounds like Tubbs owns this land, possibly the inn itself, and the inn folks were hoping to get a renewed lease from the man. "

"That matches what I heard," Maximilian confirms. "Oh, if someone asks, I told our hostess that Tubbs is an acquaintance of my father. Just so you don't contradict that." He looks towards the stairs and says, "I believe now we should eat, sleep and then pay a visit to the Tubbs estate and Mrs. Tubbs in the evening."

Very soon Ms. Fiona - or Mrs., she never introduces herself as either - returns with a bountiful breakfast. Thick slices of yesterday's bread toasted over a fire, butter, poached eggs, fried bacon, cold ham, and all of it topped with hot toddy which warms the travelers to the tips of their toes. Cormac in the meantime is busy bringing their luggage up the stairs, carrying the chest and bags over his shoulder with ease; also starting the fire in the public room. He is always accompanied by Fiona's chiding and it is curious to hear how many words there are in the English language to accuse someone of laziness. It becomes clear soon enough that the mistress of the house cannot be in earnest. Cormac gives the impression of a hard-working man and does not appear to take Fiona's words to heart nor resent them in any way.

There are only three rooms on the second floor, and small as they are, they seem even smaller as they are mostly occupied by the big beds - two in each of them - leaving space only for a small washstand and a dresser, the latter even partially obscuring the window in Edward's room. It is usual for travelers to rest two, or even three to a bed without complaint, but with Little Barnsthorpe not being a particularly fashionable destination, nor being situated on any of the major thoroughfares, Maximilian and Edward may luxuriate in their privacy, as long as their purse strings are not closed too tight. There is no actual fireplace in the rooms, but as the kitchen chimney passes through the shared wall, they feel comfortable enough.

"It is mutton for dinner," Fiona informs them before leaving them to their rest. "You can holler for Cormac should you be needing anything, and God be willing, he won't be sitting on his ears, the feckless goat. How long would you be staying at all, if you don't mind me asking?"

Edward is ravenous, and feasts on the simple breakfast as if it was the best meal in his life. The eggs and cured meats taste delicious -whether by the sheer effect of hunger, or by their good quality, he could not tell.
He follows the dynamic between Fiona and Cormac as he eats, and is grateful the man is bringing the luggage to their rooms, something he thought to do next.

Sipping the heart-warming toddy, he sits back for a moment before asking Maximilian, "is there anything else Sir would require of me, or can I be excused?..."

Max also digs into the food as soon as it is served, though his table manners are a bit more refined. He has been raised as a lady, after all, and that kind of upbringing isn't easily shaken. At Edward's question, he says, "I think we both will require some rest, so yes, you may be excused. I will go to bed in a minute as well." He takes another moment to think, then adds, "Perhaps you can think some about how we will approach Mrs. Tubbs this evening. I will do the same. Between us, there will have to be one good idea, I reckon."

Edward nods in acknowledgement and leaves the table.

Once in the small, bed-besieged room, he will quickly check his possessions.
Cormac seems honest, but... One never knows...

He undresses and refreshes, then attends to his cloak and boots, removing the worst of the mud splashes to make them once again presentable.
Luckily, Miss Adelaide's should not be muddy, having travelled inside the carriage.

Once his chore finished, he gets into bed and tries to catch some rest.

Maximilian enters his room and closes the door behind himself. He finds his suitcase lying on one of the beds and quickly opens it to make sure it hasn't been disturbed. There's some necessities in there, including his dress and jewelry, but it seems like that allegedly lazy man, whatever his name was, did not allow himself a peek inside, at least as far as he could tell. He undresses and changes into a nightgown that's comfortable but feels somewhat weird after the suit. He lays out his suit neatly on the bed to prevent folds, then lies down in the other, still free, bed, ready to catch some sleep.

They are both awakened by the light of the autumn sun streaming through the windows. It is a very different world outside, the fog has lifted, revealing the quiet, calm countryside. Despite the frosty mornings, some of the trees still keep their foliage and it shines golden in the sunlight. The village of Little Barnsthorpe is a short walk down the road and the first houses are visible from the rooms of the inn - low stone houses with tile roofs, painted windows and smoking chimneys. From a distance it seems like there is a certain laziness in the air. It can't be past noon yet, but the days are getting shorter and shorter and in a few hours the autumn sun will be setting.

For Edward and Maximilian however, the day has just began. Refreshed from their rest, it is time they busy themselves with their task.

Edward hastens to wash and get dressed, feeling much restored by the food and sleep.
The absence of mist in the view from his window is like lifting a weight from his heart. In the daylight, this place doesn't seem so god-forsaken, and superstitious thoughts don't surface so easily in a man's mind.

He goes to check Miss Adelaide's room, to see if she left her boots or other outside the door for him to take care of. In the absence of any immediate chores, he tries a discreet knock.
"Sir? Shall I prepare the carriage? Or would you prefer to ride, or walk? "

Maximilian opens the door for Edward. He's not yet wearing his jacket, but otherwise, he is fully dressed. "If it is not too far, perhaps a walk," he suggests. "It would perhaps give us a chance to meet some of the local people on the way, maybe overhear some rumors. Unless you think we would be better off in the coach."

"As you wish. Walking will do us good, and I'm sure Endymion and Selene will enjoy the rest, too."

He bows his head, steps away. "I will be downstairs."

Maximilian thanks Edward, then closes the door again and finishes preparing for the day. Half an hour later, he joins his servant downstairs. "I do hope that it will not be quite as cold outside as it was last night," he says. "But I am ready to go."

Edward tries to find Cormac to ask directions to the Tubbs' residence, to pay visit to Mrs Tubbs in her hour of despair, and to start looking into this baffling disappearance.

Cormac is more than happy to direct them, he even points out the house itself - beyond the village, up on a hill, hidden among the trees but the roofs are visible even from this distance. It is difficult to tell, but Edward can roughly estimate that it would take less than an hour of walking if they don't tarry on their way, and the weather is pleasant enough. It would take them longer if they stop at the village, but even then they would be able to reach the Tubbs residence long before sundown. With some luck they might even get invited to tea.

"I guess we will walk through the village on our way to the Tubbs house," he says setting off at a good pace, "we shall see if we meet any locals on the way that you might want to talk to..."

Out of habit, he memorises landmarks and details along their route, particularly at junctions and turns.

Maximilian walks by Edward's side towards the village, keeping his eyes open for anyone who looks like they might be interesting to talk to.

It is a wonderfully idyllic afternoon for a walk. That is, if one is not engaged in working the land for one's living - from the road the two investigators can see the people out in the fields sowing next year's crops. The road bears signs of being trodden by animals, sheep and pigs most likely, being driven to markets in neighbouring towns. The wind carries the faint sour smell of vinegar, as every housewife in the village is busy pickling everything that can be pickled in preparation for the approaching winter.

The road narrows as it enters Little Barnsthorpe and turns into a street. A few houses in it even turns cobbled as it leads to a small square with a well at the centre of it and various stores and workshops lining the buildings on each side. There is a grocer, a butcher, a cobbler, also the baker, where Fiona had allegedly received the news about Mr. Tubbs. There are a few women in front of it now, holding clay pots and gossiping as they wait around. The arrival of Maximilian and Edward causes a bit of a stir among the younger ones, who stare and giggle, and then pretend not to have been staring with little success.

"The bakery appears to be a place for gossip," Maximilian points out. "Maybe we should pay that a visit. And it would be quite a shame to leave those young ladies wondering about our identities, would it not?" He flashes a smile at the group of women in front of the bakery.

"We definitely should, who knows what useful snippets of information a couple of hot cross buns might get us..."

He looks around the small square to see if their presence elicits more than the girls' curiosity, then follows Maximilian towards the bakery.

"Good day to you, gentlemen!" the oldest among them greets after all of them have curtsied with varying degrees of success. She is a beautiful woman, although age and hard work have left their mark upon her skin, especially her hands, and she speaks with the confidence of one who has been married for some time and beautiful youths such as Maximilian are no longer an object for fascination. The rest of the girls have fallen silent and are attempting to look demure and dignified, which results in several rather comical expressions. "May we be of any assistance?"

Maximilian lets his eyes wander over the younger women's faces. He wonders if in some other life, he could have ended up as one of them, fawning like a fool over some handsome gentleman or other. He flashes them his most charming smile. "Maybe we are just curious to hear what there is to know in this lovely town," he says, the smile still playing around his lips. "My associate and I are from London and this rurality is quite unfamiliar to us. But it does appear quite lovely. Though when we arrived this morning, it looked rather uncanny in the fog."

Edward observes the scene staying in the background. His attire and demeanour, next to Maximilian's, will denote his subordinate status.
It isn't a butler's place, to interrupt their master.

I wonder if any of these women has the acumen or observational power to spot the true gender of this stranger... however confidently she seems to perform her masculine role.

He looks at each of the women in turn, in search of tell-tale signs of recognition.

Now that the two strangers have gotten closer, most of the women look down to their shoes and avoid meeting the gazes of the men. Only the older women look at them without shyness, but for the moment at least, they don't appear to see further than Maximilian and Edward's expensive clothes.

"Well... We are as you see us. You flatter us by calling Little Barnsthorpe a town, but it really is only a village." A few of the girls shoot her indignant glances, but none of them speaks up to reproach her for diminishing Little Barnsthorpe's charms in front of the strangers. "We work, and cook, and clean, and our husbands farm the land. There isn't really much to it."

"My father is a sailor on the Tartarus!" the youngest girl, who does not look to be older than thirteen finally pipes up. Apparently the claim that her father is a mere farmer proves to be too much of an insult.

"But he is not a sailor in Little Barnsthorpe, silly," another young lady admonishes her. "And he is not a sailor but a clerk, which is not the same thing at all!"

"It is so! He lives on the ship, doesn't he?"

"You may live on a ship and you would still be no sailor but just a snotty little girl."

"Quiet, you two!" the older woman manages to step in before the girls start pulling their hair. The younger one definitely has the look of someone who means to throw her clay pot at her opponent in lieu of a more civil argument. "Barking at each other like foxes! What would the gentlemen think of us! My apologies, sir," she turns to Maximilian again. "As I said, we are only simple people. There is nothing much to interest a gentleman such as yourself, at least not at this time of year."

"We don't even have a fairy anymore," woefully adds the youngest girl.

"A fairy?" Maximilian asks. He was amused before, now he's back on task, though he doesn't let his casual smile drop. "I'm pretty sure there haven't been fairies in England for a long time. Or do you know something that I do not?"

"It is that Jack Starhouse, from the big house!" scoffs another woman who had been silent until now. It quickly becomes apparent that they all have something to say about Jack Starhouse and none of it is flattering. He was odd, they say, unnatural, and they are lucky to be rid of him; and although it is surely a misfortune that poor old Mr. Tubbs has been taken (and their prayers are with Mrs. Tubbs), it is good that Starhouse has left before managing to cause even more mischief. The youngest girl recounts with some evident pride of an instant, when Starhouse had offered to buy her some sugar plums after seeing her looking wistfully at the grocer's window.

"I was mighty tempted, but I remembered Fiona telling me once at the Feast of St. Andrew, that I should never accept food from a fairy, nor any other gift, for I shall be taken away!"

"And what would a fairy want with you, you ugly little thing! They only take those who possess beauty and grace, or some other virtue, and you have none."

"It is you who is ugly, Phoebie Plaice, and you are stupid and mean too, and I hope your pie burns and your mother beats you for it!"

"Ladies! Ladies!" the door of the bakery has opened and a man stands there, tall and scrawny as a beanstalk. He wears a white cap and a white apron, and his hands are also white with four. "What is this now? Can you not wait quietly for two minutes while I prepare the oven?" Phoebie Plaice, who had been teasing the youngest girl lifts up her nose and pushes past the man without a word.

"We were only telling those gentlemen about the fairies and then she started telling lies and calling me ugly!" the child complains and wipes an angry tear with her sleeve.

"Oh, not that nonsense again," the baker groans and scowls at Maximilian and Edward, suspecting them as the cause of the commotion.

"Our apologies, sir," Maximilian says to the baker. "We're just on a walk through town and got into a conversation with these young ladies. We certainly did not mean to cause any unrest."
He does however turn to the youngest girl and lean in a bit. "Don't listen to that other girl, alright? You're a pretty thing and you'll grow up to be the kind of woman any fairy would be proud to kidnap. Now my sister Adelaide on the other hand..." He smiles conspiratorially at her, then turns his attention back to the baker.

The look on the man's face darkens.

"I don't much care for that talk of kidnapping, sir. I don't know what business you have here, but you better not be putting ideas into that girl's head. God knows, she doesn't need encouragement of that sort."

Edward bristles at the man's tone, and gives the baker a hard stare. "I believe my master has apologised already. Since when it is a baker's place to decide what people should or should not say?"

"And since when is it a gentleman's place to fill the heads of poor village girls with romantic nonsense? What, you think that just because you are dressed fancy you can come here and insult me and make free with our womenfolk? If so, then you have another thing coming!" The baker stoops to pass through the door and then unfurls himself again to his towering height. The effect however is somewhat diminished by his slight, willowy frame.

"See what you've done, you chit!" Phoebie has come out again, having left her pot inside. The other women are also filing into the bakery and leaving it similarly empty-handed, and in some hurry, not to miss anything. "Barely out of your swaddling clothes and already tricking men into brawling over you!"

"Now that's just vulgar, Phoebie, for shame!" the lady who had first greeted them steps in.

"There is nothing wrong with a bit of romantic nonsense in a young girl's head," Maximilian says. He throws Edward a look. Part of him appreciates the support, part is worried that his tone only made the situation worse. "A few stories and dreams never hurt anyone. But we did not come here to make any sort of trouble, so perhaps we should continue on."

He begins to turn as if to leave, then turns his attention back to the baker. "Although if I may ask one more thing," he suggests. "I swear it has nothing to do with fairy folk or magic."

Edward clenches his fists, his blood boiling at the baker's insolence. He takes a step towards the man, but intercepts Maximilian's look, and stops in his tracks.

Make one wrong move, insolent swine, and you will be baking from a hospital bed for a while... he thinks, trying hard to keep his rage in check.

He stays close in case things degenerate from there, observing the baker's reaction to Maximilian's request.

"You may," the baker replies, eager to be rid of the strangers.

Maximilian smiles his most polite smile at the man before asking, "We're on our way to see Mrs. Tubbs. She and her husband are friends of my father. You wouldn't happen to know if she has any preference in cake? Given the unfortunate circumstances, I would like to buy something to try and lift her spirits a bit."

He can see what Maximilian is trying to do. Very good, let's see if this brings that insolent dimwit back in his place... or if he still needs a punch or two as incentive...

The baker seems rather flummoxed by the question.

"I can't say that I'd know anything about that. Mrs. Tubbs has her own cook, so if there is something she fancies, she can surely have it as easy as anything."

"Miss Elsie Lesser, her lady's maid that is, once told me Mrs. Tubbs is partial to lemon Madeleines," one of the women suggests, but the baker shakes his head.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin with such a thing. Not to mention that there is not a lemon to be found in the village, for love or money. Next thing you'd be asking for pineapples!"

"Maybe you should buy her sugarplums," the youngest girl says dreamily. "If I were feeling low, I am sure to immediately feel better should someone give me some sugarplums. I can't think of a single person who doesn't like them!" A quiet murmur from the rest of the women follows that statement and not even Phoebie voices an argument. Only the baker is not convinced.

"A lady who is used to having lemon whatsits, and baked custards, and apricot ices is not to be impressed with sugarplums. Maybe you should have brought something from London, something from them pat... pats... them French pastry shops, but here..."

The lady who had been first to speak to Maximilian laughs at his objections and shakes her head at the foolishness of men.

"Surely it is the thought that counts, and this young man's thought is very kind indeed! Sugarplums should do very nicely for a lady, and maybe we could do something with some paper and ribbon, maybe dried flowers... Come, sir, let's leave this baker to his baking and see what the grocer has to offer."

"Why, who am I to argue with a lady about the tastes of women," Maximilian says with a deferential gesture to the woman. He turns briefly to the baker again and says, "Thank you very much for your advice and I apologize again for bringing such disorder to a quiet town like this. I will be certain to behave better from now on." There's a cheeky smile on his lips for a moment, then he gives a friendly nod to the rest of the women before turning to follow the woman who offered to lead him to the grocer, throwing a look at Edward to see if he has any objections.

Edward follows Maximilian, casting a last silent glance over his shoulder at the baker - a glance charged with unfinished business.

The village grocery, although nowhere near as opulent as those in London or Bath, proves to be adequately stocked with the small luxuries that make life more tolerable, should one have the money to afford them. There are the coveted sugarplums, also marzipan and various sweetmeats. The lady who has offered to accompany Maximilian and Edward on their mission (and who introduces herself as Mrs. Fowler) enthusiastically assists with the choice. It is to be suspected that she is picking the items that are to her own liking, but since there is no telling which particular delicacies are favoured by Mrs. Tubbs, there is not much place for objection. With the help of some wrapping paper and skillfully applied pieces of ribbon, the investigators end up with quite the pleasing little package.

"There. This is bound to cheer a lady up, a small bundle of kindness, if I say so myself. I suppose you would be on your way now to deliver it, and I need to return to my own chores. Would you mind sending my best wishes to Miss Lesser?" She directs her question to Edward, who has already identified himself as a servant and as such would not be improper to converse with Mrs. Tubbs's lady's maid.

Observing the proceedings led by Mrs Fowler in the grocery store does wonders to Edward's mood, that gradually turns from belligerant to amused.

He responds with a smile and a bow of his head to the woman's request, "I most definitely shall, Mrs. Fowler. We thank you for your assistance in this delicate matter."

"This is far more than I had in mind." Maximilian doesn't seem upset by this, more amused. He watches as Mrs. Fowler and Edward quickly exchange some words about the woman's friend, then he asks Edward to pay. "Your assistance has been invaluable, Mrs. Fowler," he tells the woman then. "Now, you will likely think me a superstitious fool for asking, but your friend in front of the bakery earlier mentioned something about a fairy in relation to Mr. Tubbs' disappearance, his servant I believe. Was that just the folly of a young mind speaking or is that a common rumor spoken in these parts?"

"Not 'common rumor', no! Common knowledge." Mrs. Fowler corrects him. "Jack Starhouse was a fairy, it was as plain as day! Everyone knew that, and Mr. Tubbs too, and he took special pride in it. And we knew some mischief was about to happen, but... Oh, but I shouldn't gossip," the lady says, despite the unconstrained pleasure with which she had been doing it until now. "It really isn't for me to talk about other people's private business. Maybe Elsie Lesser could tell you more, she resides in the house after all."

"How fascinating," Maximilian replies, pretending like this was all news to him. "And here I was thinking there were no fairies in England. It is the belief that's commonly held in London, and what I have heard Mr. Norrell claims as well. One would think that if a fairy was just living so openly among the people here, a powerful magician like him would have noticed it before now."

"Oh, I wouldn't know about that!" She thinks silently for a moment. "Maybe it is the weather in London which doesn't agree with them. It stands to reason that fairies would prefer the country air. What would the gentlemen in the city know? Mr. Norrell might be a very learned magician, but clearly he should go out more."

"London is also a very full city," Maximilian adds. "There just wouldn't be any room for something like a fairy road to suddenly appear. Do you have any of those in these parts? I assume this Mr. Starhouse must have come from somewhere."

he observes the woman, who seems to truly believe what she is saying.

A conversation with this Miss Lesser seems in order, he thinks. Luckily this Fowler woman gave me a good excuse to approach her.

Mrs. Fowler is a little surprised by the question about the fairy roads and admits that has not really heard of any in the area.

"But it stands to reason there would be some. Places people avoid without knowing why, strange stones and so on. There are some hedges north of the fields that always make me uneasy with how gate-like they look when in full leaf. And that disused road above Swithun farm. Oh, and... I am not quite certain, it must have been before my time, but I think I've heard that there was an old road long ago which got dug up when they made the canal. I think the canal lays straight on top of it, or very nearly, for at least two miles. There is a lock and a bridge over that way," she points vaguely to the north-east. "Since you are going to the big house, you would have to cross it."

Maxwell and Edward are not intimately familiar with the canal system which connects Leeds to Manchester and Liverpool and allows the transportation of goods across the country, but it is not surprising that an offshoot of some canal is passing through the village, or near it.

"That canal does sound rather interesting," Maximilian comments. "Though if it is a fairy road, it must be quite annoying to use, unless you don't mind getting wet." He gives a shrug, then says, "But that is not why we are here." It's a lie, of course. They are here for all matters fairy, though Mrs. Fowler doesn't need to know that. Maximilian just hopes that Edward remembers the details for them later. "Your assistance has been invaluable, Mrs. Fowler," the young gentleman tells her. "But I think it is time we make our way to the Tubbs' estate. We do not want to arrive inconveniently late."

Hmm... no shortage of strange places around here, by the sound of it. The folks seem quite gullible, we must see past the superstitions, to get to the truth... he thinks as Mrs Fowler lists the many oddities.

He nods his head with a smile, as they take their leave from Mrs Fowler.

Following Mrs. Fowler's directions, the two investigators take the road which leads them out of the village. Soon enough they reach the canal; from atop of the fine stone bridge which straddles it they can see the locks, maybe half a mile away, which allow boats to go up and down the hill. They can make out the roof of a small shack as well, probably the dwelling of the lock keeper, but there is no smoke nor any other sign of life. Following the road across the canal, the arable land gives way to pastures and then a forest. It is not particularly thick or ancient, but there is a certain wildness to it. Apparently it has not fallen victim to landscaping and the new fashion for lawns and straight lanes through coiffeured parks; and when the Tubbs residence emerges through the trees it is not hard to imagine that a fairy would favour it as a home.

Most of the people Maximilian and Edward had spoken to so far had referred to it as "the great house" or "the big house". Cormac had even called it "the castle" while giving them directions. The house is by no means a "castle" but there certainly is a lot to it which turns the mind towards more romantic times of knights, fair maidens and magical beings. It is old, probably from the time of the Tudor kings, with a ground floor of stone and beautiful timber-framed upper stories, white-plastered walls and steep roofs. The front yard is paved with a few garden beds on each side, currently occupied by unkempt thorny bushes. A stone wall with a big gate begins at the east side of the house and suggests a much more extensive inner yard with stables and other out buildings. The door of the house itself is narrow but very tall, made of ancient oak and studded with iron, with a heavy ornate knocker and a tiny lattice window.

Maximilian admires the building as they approach it. His father certainly has a couple of nice homes, but a country home like this would be a nice addition. But maybe somewhere where the nights aren't quite as creepy and noblemen are not known to disappear.
He approaches the door and gives a loud, steady knock to draw the attention of someone inside.

Edward waits by the door, one step behind his master.
He takes in the details of the unusual architecture.

Whoever had this built must have had a flair for the picturesque... Wonder how many servants it takes to upkeep a place like this...

His eyes go to the windows immediately above them, as if to catch the presence of onlookers.

It is not unreasonable to expect that above the front door a sitting room would be situated. It faces south-east, which would make the mornings there especially pleasant on a sunny day, while in the summer it would offer a respite from the heat in the afternoons. It also allows a view of the road, so one could see visitors coming; or if no visitors are expected, the trees surrounding the estate are pleasing to the eye in any weather. And indeed Edward glimpses someone peering out of the window - a slender woman with pale hair, not a lady as her dress is too plain, but neither is she wearing a servant's uniform. She lingers for a moment and then disappears, probably to announce the arrival of the strangers to the other occupants of the room.

Shortly after, the door is opened by a footman. The young man seems to be about Maximilian's age but taller, he has the round friendly face of someone who enjoys simple country revels and seems somewhat out of place stuffed into a tight gold-trimmed uniform. He appears to have put his livery on in a hurry and the collar is tucked the wrong way. He greets them with a wide smile, a grin almost, which would never be deemed appropriate in a London house, and asks about the purpose of their visit.

"A lovely afternoon, good man," Maximilian greets the man. With how untraditional he himself is, he kind of enjoys this man's appearance and the way that it would never be accepted back in London. "Maximilian Calstock. Mr. Broadhurst and I have arrived in this town from London this morning. I was hoping to speak to Mrs. Tubbs if that would be at all possible. I'm afraid we didn't exactly announce our coming, but perhaps she could find it in herself not to turn us away."

Hmm, interesting. We must enquire about who she could be. I suppose the Mansion is large enough to house more people than just Mrs Tubbs and her help...
The detail does not escape Edward's scrutiny. Very odd, that a footman would dress in haste at this time... he thinks. Maybe the services required of him include some unconventional ones.

He bows politely (just enough to be appropriate, addressing a footman) when Maximilian mentions him by name.

The footman invites them in the hallway and begs for their patience while he runs to ask his mistress whether she would be receiving visitors. When he returns, he has the diminished look of a child that has been scolded and his large face is red with embarrassment. His collar however has been fixed, which is likely the reason for his changed demeanor.

"You will be received," he says shyly, without looking the two guests in the eyes. An awkward sort of dance follows, as he clumsily takes their coats and hats and hangs them, and then leads them upstairs.

The steps creak as they climb, but seem solid enough. Just as the outside, the interior of the house is old-fashioned - the wooden paneling is dark, the ceiling is a bit too low, the steps on the staircase are a bit too tall, the hallways are a bit too narrow for a fashionable country estate. There are portraits of grim-looking medieval gentlemen on the walls, and scenes of dogs hunting deer and boar in woods which no longer exist. But although the house is old, it is by no means neglected - it is clean and well-kept, the owners taking pride in the relic they have inherited.

Having reached a door on the second floor - dark, as the rest of the house interior, with carvings of oak leaves and flowers that have no business blooming on an oak tree - the footman opens it and announces the visitors:

"Messrs Calstock and Broadhurst, ma'am. From London."

"Speak up, Henry! And don't slouch! Bring them in."

The footman - Henry - gives the two gentlemen a sheepish smile and invites them in with a gesture.

As the footman leads the two men into the building, Maximilian clears his throat to get the man's attention. When he turns, the young gentleman leans in and messes up his collar again, just a bit. "It's how they wear it in London," he says with a playful wink, then he falls back behind the man, letting him fix the collar again if he wishes.

As the two men step into the room the footman led them to, Max takes a polite bow. "Mrs. Tubbs," he greets the woman. "Thank you for inviting us in. It is rather chilly outside, and I'm afraid Mr. Broadhurst may be getting tired from carrying this little gift basket."

Edward smiles nodding his head, "Mrs. Tubbs, if we may..." and steps closer to the woman with their offer. He will step discreetly back once she takes it or once she shows him where to leave the gift.

He observes the woman, trying to find a resemblance to the figure he saw at the window.

The woman sitting on the couch in the middle of the room is not the woman Edward had seen from the window. That woman had been slender and plain. This woman is... expansive. Her bonnet could house half the homeless of London. Her skirts could propel a man-of-war. Her stays could armour the King's army. She is not a big woman, judging by her pinched face and thin, claw-like fingers, but the opulent fabric of her dress makes up for it - clearly she is not a woman to go unnoticed. Unless, that is, if she stands still and quiet in a room where she might be mistaken for a rather distasteful piece of furniture. She looks at the offered gift with her cold, steel-grey eyes and her lips press into a thin line.

"I would have directed Henry to see you off, but I doubted his ability to convey my meaning to you. I wished to make this clear myself. I do not know who you are, gentlemen, and I do not care to know. You are not welcome here. There will be no vultures circling this house."

Back at the door, Henry is nervously adjusting his collar again, with the look of someone who would very much wish to disappear into it like a great, gold-trimmed tortoise.

"Aha, but there you are wrong," Maximilian says with his most charming smile. "For you see, we are not vultures. We are in fact friends of a certain gentleman in London who has asked us to help you with your current troubles. And we also brought some sweets."

Edward keeps his smile, fighting hard to control the urge to retort the unflattering insinuations of the lady of the house. He reminds himself of his status, and bites his tongue.

Certainly wouldn't like to be in HER service, he thinks glancing at Henry, who seems to have endured the woman's abuses for quite some time, by the look of it.

"Vultures!" the lady repeats, the sound of the word evidently gives her grim satisfaction. "Well-meaning 'friends' and distant relatives crawling out of the woodwork to feast on a defenseless widow! Oh, I know very well the help you offer. Comfort and advice at first, and -- and sweets!" She waves her bony hand at Edward's charmingly wrapped offering as if she is swatting at a gnat. "And soon you propose to help with the estate's finances, no doubt! Ooh, I know what you are after, but you are mistaken, sirs! Mistaken!"

"I don't even handle my own finances," Maximilian replies in a tone of outrage. "Why would I ever believe I could assist with someone else's?" He deliberately misinterprets her meaning, though he doubts that will do much to convince her. "Believe me, I am not here to feast on you. Feast with you, perhaps, if you would share our gift basket with us. But no, we're actually here to help in looking for your husband. He must miss you dearly, wherever he is."

Edward looks closely at Henry to see his reaction to the mention of the missing Mr Tubbs, particularly when Maximilian says they want to help find him.

"You may take your basket! Let it be your consolation, because you will find no other prize here! Henry, see them out!"

Henry looks equal parts terrified and embarrassed. He attempts to straighten himself up a bit, show eagerness to see the two unwanted guests off; he doesn't move from his place by the door however, evidently hoping they would show reason and leave on their own.

"Well, that is just rude," Maximilian points out, somewhat rudely himself. "I'll make certain to inform Mr. Norrell of how we have been treated here. And after he gave us this letter to indicate his trust in us. To think that someone would slap away the hand of England's only practical magician - and a personal friend of the prime minister."
He turns to leave.

Edward withdraws the basket, so impolitely refused, and prepares to follow Maximilian out of the room (but lending his ear to the lady's reaction to the mention of Norrell).

Although it seems like the lady is more inclined to listen to her own voice rather than anything that Maximilian might want to say, Norrell's name pierces through the fog of her righteous indignation like the beam from a lighthouse. She stops, stunned, and then with equal vigour demands to see the letter.

"Produce it immediately!" she caws and after Maximilian presents it to her, begins to inspect it through her pince-nez. She turns the letter over several times and looks for something that might expose it as a sham, but finds nothing. "Why didn't you say so from the start! I took you for fortune hunters, confidence tricksters! It is not decent to lead one on like that, especially a lady! Why, you might have given me apoplexy!" Unwilling as she is to admit that she has been in the wrong all along, the visitors can see that she has mellowed. She hands the letter back to Maximilian.

"As it happens, I was not entirely truthful either. I told no lie! But you made assumptions about me, and as I thought you were thieves and scoundrels I did not think it necessary to disillusion you. I can do so now with clear conscience. I am not Mrs. Tubbs!" She makes the last pronouncement with pompous theatricality. "My name is Daphne Murgatroyd. I am Aramintha's - that is Mrs. Tubbs - aunt. I arrived this morning with my physician Dr. Amberly to tend to my niece in her distress."

Ah, the vulture trying to scare away other vultures, Maximilian thinks to himself. Out loud, he says, "Why, that is very noble of you, Mrs. Murgatroyd. Mrs. Tubbs is very lucky to have such a caring relative." He takes a meaningful look at the gift basket again, then adds, "But are you certain that your niece would not appreciate a little gift in these trying times?"

Ha. Maybe the slender woman I saw at the window was Mrs Tubbs after all... Do they keep her captive? Why would a physician other than her own need to be involved... This reeks foul play. he thinks, observing how the expansive woman's attitude has changed.

Mrs. Murgatroyd assents that her niece might indeed find the gift of sweets agreeable.

"It is very thoughtful of you. But if you were hoping to present it to her yourself, it would not be possible, at least not at present. Dr. Amberly is with her and is as we speak administering a powerful sedative, I believe. Poor Aramintha was in a state of great agitation when we arrived. You would need to ask him whether a visitation would be permissible any time soon. You may leave the basket with me and I will make sure it is delivered to her safely." She throws a piercing look at Henry, making it clear that she believes him capable of stealing from the basket if allowed the opportunity. "You may, if you wish, leave a card. I am sure that knowing the great Mr. Norrell has taken a particular interest in her would lift her spirits."

Suspicious of Henry, thinking he might not be a footman at all, Edward thinks of something that would put him to the test.
Surely a true footman would know, at this point, to step forward and at least offer to take the basket for her mistress - but she seems not to trust him. Let us see how he reacts to the visiting card. Any footman would know that the exchange of cards is a menial task that the help need to take care of for their masters...

Edward carefully puts the basket on a coffee table near the woman, with a nod.

He then steps back and produces one of Maximilian's cards from his waistcoat (careful to choose the one with the right gendered name), putting it in plain sight, but not offering it to anyone in particular.

Max looks like he wants to protest, but then Edward begins doing something and the young gentleman decides to let his servant do what he has in mind. Instead, he says, "I would be interested in speaking to this Dr. Amberly. I have great respect for the medical profession."

"You may do so, as soon as he is finished examining my niece. Maybe you would like to take a sit, have some refreshment in the meantime? That means tea, Henry!" the lady turns to the footman once more, the young man still fidgeting by the door. "Surely you can at least manage that?"

"Yes, ma'am," he stutters and shuffles out of the room. Once outside he breaks into a run - it is easy to hear, since he has left the door open, apparently without sparing a thought for poor elderly Mrs. Murgatroyd and the murderous drafts he might be exposing her to. The card and the gift basket sit untouched on the table.

"Honestly, those country servants are beyond anything I've seen!" Mrs. M complains and gestures for the two visitors to find a seat. "I don't know how my niece could live in such a household. Just before you arrived, gentlemen, her own maid was here and she informed me that she means to leave! And not only that, but she had the nerve to ask me for a recommendation! Well, I wash shocked to my core. I told her that if she means to abandon her mistress in time of distress, I would make certain she would not find employment ever again. Once Aramintha is sufficiently recovered, I will have a word or two with her."

Seeing Henry being ordered out, Edward sees an opportunity to get some servant gossip.

He leans discreetly towards the woman and clears his throat.
"Hut-hum... If I may, Milady... Perhaps I may be of assistance to your footman? I could share some tips for the proper high tea preparations... I am sure the lad will catch up fast..."

"Oh, I very much doubt that he will. I have half a mind to dismiss him, but sadly it is not my place. But if you would be so kind to take it upon yourself to see that he does not poison us in his incompetence, I would owe you a debt of gratitude, sir!"

Even though Edward is unfamiliar with the house, he has enough experience to know what to look for. And he finds it - an unassuming door on the ground floor, discretely hidden behind the main staircase. In the corridor behind it the rich panelling gives way to bare stone. Further ahead there is another door which has been left ajar and from it the warm smells of the kitchen fill the air. Edward can hear voices and although he can not tell what they are saying, the tone is unmistakable - the sound of servants grumbling against an unreasonable master.

Edward stops behind the door within hearing distance of the staff in the kitchen, hoping to hear a little more.

After which, he will make a few loud steps approaching, so they are prewarned, and knocks at the door.

"Mr Henry? My master Mr Calstock sent me down to help with tea preparations, with the agreement of Lady Murgatroyd, of course. You see, he is a very fastidious tea drinker, and he figured it would be quicker to send me down to help than for you good folks to try guess his... fussy quirks, shall we say. "
He will push the door to make himself visible, with a warm smile on his face.
" You know what they're like... "

As Edward leaves with Henry, Maximilian stays with Mrs. Murgatroyd. He approaches another seat but doesn't sit, hoping but not expecting for her to offer. "Shameful," he agrees. "Even the servants in London are getting lazier by the year but I could not imagine how bad it must be all the way out here. Certainly, the atmosphere is lovely, but if the servants aren't up to the task... Did this maid say why she wished to leave?"

Edward
Several pairs of eyes turn to stare at Edward as he walks in. The expressions are of mingled surprise and guilt; and small wonder - Edward had distinctly caught the words "nasty old bat" before entering the kitchen, and something about spitting in someone's tea. The offending voice had been female, belonging to one of three - a stout woman identified by her advanced years as a cook or a house-keeper (possibly both); a very young, awkwardly tall dark-haired girl with the raw hands of a scullery maid, and the mysterious lady Edward had glimpsed through the window upon approaching the house. Henry is sitting slumped on a chair, recovering from his encounter with Mrs. Murgatroyd and for the moment looks like he hasn't yet gathered the courage needed for returning to her.

"We know how to boil water, thank you very much," the lady from the window says sharply.

---

Maximilian

"Oh, she did not think it necessary to inform me. Not to get married - maids are always leaving to get married these days - or she would not have asked for a recommendation. Maybe she thinks there will be a scandal and is hoping to jump a sinking ship, instead of pumping to save her. Pump or drown, I say! I can't abide disloyalty." Mrs. M shifts in her seat, having worked herself into a state of agitation even further. Her shrill voice in conjunction with the sumptuous fabrics of her dress make her look like a fat hen. "I confess I am not best pleased that news of the family misfortune has reached London, but I believe that with Mr. Norrell's help everything will be resolved quickly. He has prepared his most potent spells, I trust?"

"Oh yes, he has provided us with a most exciting spell to cast," Max explains. "However I have left it in Mr. Broadhurst's hands. I'd be liable to lose it, were I to carry it myself." He then shakes his head. "Regretful, how the servants of today behave. Now, if you would like me to have a word with this maid, that could be arranged. Certainly, she must think she can find better employment somewhere else. Perhaps a city gentleman should explain to her that, as you so eloquently put it, jumping a sinking ship is not a trait well appreciated among potential employers. But speaking of horrible servants, I was told about a particularly strange one, a Mr. Starhouse. You wouldn't happen to know about him, would you?"

he nods at the woman, smiling. "Of course you do, I wouldn't dare suggest the contrary, milady. The thing is... my master is very peculiar in his habits... and his preferences for tea-taking are no exception. The amount of fussy details he expects... and the scoldings he gives me if something is not to his taste!! You wouldn't believe it. All I ask is to arrange his tea tray personally... " he asks politely.

"To avoid a scene, you see..." he adds.

Then he pats his forehead as if remembering something, "Oh! I almost forgot! Might any of you ladies be Miss Elsie Lesser? I am to present her the regards of Mrs. Fowler, from the grocery shop."

Edward

"That would be me," the mysterious - or rather, the no longer mysterious - woman answers, retracting her metaphorical claws when Edward mentions her friend, but still looking at him with some suspicion. "Kind of you to carry her regards all this way. Did you find her well?"

Edward seems to have been granted access to the tea and the stove, where a kettle full of water has already been set to boil. The cook and the scullery maid return to what they had been doing before the man's entry, namely scrubbing potatoes and paring apples.

---

Maximilian

"Yes, of course you would inquire after him. He is the villain who's orchestrated my niece's husband's disappearance. And before you ask - yes, I am aware what the rumours about him are. I'm afraid Mr. Tubbs was the originator of those rumours. He is a ridiculous man, Mr. Tubbs. I myself never approved of the match, by the by. As I said - ridiculous man. But Aramintha's father thought that as long as a man has land, money and interest, he may be excused some trifling eccentricities, so my opinion was not consulted." The lady's expression very clearly conveys that she considers it her niece's own fault, finding herself in this distressing situation by marrying a "ridiculous man". She looks Maximilian up and down, searching for signs of ridiculousness. "I say, you appear to be awfully young. In what capacity does Mr. Norrell employ you? Are you his secretary? His pupil?"

Edward nods in gratitude and busies himself. He will start setting a tray with fastidious precision, making a show of folding napkins in a certain unusual fashion, place cutlery and crockery in a very specific pattern and distance between them, all to support his claim. He will comment every now and then, cutting buttered white bread in fussy lozenge shapes and displaying them on a plate in a fanning arc.

He responds to Miss Lesser as he works.
"Oh, Mrs Fowler seemed quite well, yes. A formidable lady. She was very helpful to us... You see, my master wanted to acquire a present for Mrs Tubbs... Too bad we could not meet her. How is she, it must be a terrible predicament for her... I hope her health has not suffered too badly? "

"I don't think it's quite awful to be young," Maximilian argues before explaining. "Oh, I'm neither a secretary nor pupil. I'm a magician, in fact." He doesn't specify theoretical, because that would be a lie. Technically, the word magician itself might count as a lie. Norrell would certainly say so. But it sounds much more presitigious than charlatan. "And Mr. Norrell is employing me as an investigator. I will refer you again to the letter."
Changing the topic back to what is important, he says, "Now, I believe you were just about to tell me more about this scoundrel Starhouse. So you don't believe those rumors about him, but you still think he abducted your niece's husband?"

Edward
The innocent question earns Edward a disdainful "harumph" from Elsie. She does not appear particularly concerned for her mistress. The rest of the servants are watching Edward's handiwork with curiosity, and in Henry's case - with mounting horror, wondering if he'd ever be expected to arrange food in such an elaborate way. In the end it is the Cook answers instead:

"We don't think she is quite right in the head," she says in a low voice, as one does when sharing something that is particularly scandalous.

"Elsie thinks the Mrs. did him in," Henry blurts out.

"I... I never said such a thing!"

"You did, you said she's poisoned him!"

"I never did, I... She was acting very queer that day."

---

Maximilian
"You are certainly an odd young man," Mrs. Murgatroyd declares in a tone that suggests that "odd" is not as far down in her estimation as "ridiculous" but not quite proper either. "But I suppose magicians are allowed to have some oddities. You would, of course need more information in order to employ the right incantations." She thinks for a moment. "No, I do not believe Starhouse is a fairy. Mr. Tubbs believed it and for some reason considered it an excellent thing. I do not know whether Starhouse abducted him or... did something else to him, but it is clear as day that he is the culprit. After all, he disappeared as well, didn't he?"

"You are right that it is very odd that Starhouse disappeared along with Mr. Tubbs," Maximilian graciously agrees. "Unless, of course, they left together, in which case it would be less odd, though still curious." Suddenly a thought occurs to Maximilian and he asks, "So you would say that Mr. Tubbs was rather fond of Mr. Starhouse?" Attempting to make it look like an unrelated thought, though not exactly putting in the effort of properly disguising the connection between his thoughts, though he does assume Mrs. Murgatroyd would not pick up on it. "How did Mr. and Mrs. Tubbs get along? I'm sure she is far more proper than he ever was. Would something like that have led to discontent between them?"

Edward reacts to the gossip as genuinely as he can to gain the help's trust. He widens his eyes at the mention of poisoning, looking at Henry. "You don't say... " then turns to Elsie Lesser "Well, as they say, nobody knows a Lady better than her personal maid... so if you reckon she was acting strange... you surely are the best judge of that..." he nods to give his words the right respect.

He pauses a moment to adjust the arrangement of crockery on the tray, then slightly leans in towards Elsie and whispers in an intrigued tone, as if curiosity had gotten the best of him, "I heard my share of stories about eccentric mistresses - and my master is second to none in that regard, but... how queer are we talking, here? I hope she did not mistreat you, Miss Lesser, that would be unforgivable... "

Edward
"Oh, this is all so much nonsense," the Cook interjects before Elsie could answer. "They were both as proper as a man and wife could be, and very fond of each other. And she has been out of sorts ever since the master disappeared, it only shows how much she loves him."

Elsie's look could curdle milk, but she keeps her arguments to herself. Henry meanwhile points out that if there had been a murder, there surely should have been a body.

"Can you imagine, Mrs. Tubbs dragging a body out of the dining room. And then what? Digging him in the garden? Without any of us noticing?"

"Look you two, I do not care for that talk of poisoning and murdering in my kitchen! It is all so much nonsense," the Cook repeats herself. Her tone that of an undisputed mistress in her domain and all the other servants look down. If Elsie or Henry have anything more to say on the subject, they would not be doing it in front of her. "And with Mrs. M and a guest waiting upstairs for their tea, for shame! She might be a tyrant and a termagant, but you, Henry, have not been at your best either, and you would do best not to provoke her any further."

Henry mutters something apologetic under his nose and then looks hopefully to Edward: "Is the tray ready then?"

---

Maximilian
If Mrs. Murgatroyd has understood Maximilian's meaning, she never lets on.

"I suppose you could say he was fond of the man, as much as one might be fond of a prized possession. There is an acquaintance of mine, I do not like to name names, in Surrey, who is very much fond of a pair of imported oxen from Greece, or Albania, or some such place. Says he intends to improve the local breeds and that in a few years there will be cattle in England such as the world has never seen." In a very short space of time (although it feels much longer to him) Maximilian learns far too much of the shortcomings of a Surrey man of no consequence for the present investigation. As much as Mrs. Murgatroyd commends the Surrey man for his endeavours, she says, the breeding of livestock is not a fitting topic of conversation for polite company.

"Mr. Tubbs was the same, with his imps and sprites and so on. My niece had the patience of a saint with him, she would always try to prevent him from making a spectacle of himself. And never a word of complaint, although I could see it was putting a strain on her."

Maximilian's thoughts begin drifting only a few sentences into Mrs. Murgatroyd's story, but he continues to nod along and occasionally make appropriate noises of excitement or disbelief until she finally finished.

"Oh, I see," Maximilian replied, feeling affirmed in his belief that nothing the aunt had said had been very important, as he understood her point about Mr. Tubbs and Mr. Starhouse without having listened to any of it. "I can imagine that must have been rather frustrating for Mr. Starhouse, being treated as such a prized possession," he commented. "Not that I would understand what goes on in the head of a servant. And unfortunately, whenever I have been compared to an oxen before, it has not been in a flattering way, so perhaps I am misimagining his situation."

He thinks for a moment, then asks, "Mrs. Murgatroyd, if I may bother you with a little request. I have been given the details of what exactly happened here by rather unreliable people, I'm afraid. Would you be so kind as to repeat to me the timeline of events here. When exactly was it noticed that Messrs. Tubbs and Starhouse were missing? Who noticed their absence and who was informed?"

Edward nods, making the last fussy adjustment to the display on the tray. "It is indeed ready, apologies if in trying to second my master's manias I have caused a delay. We are ready to serve."

That said, he lifts the tray and looks at Henry, inviting the footman to make way.

To Elsie, he says "perhaps we can talk another time, Miss."

Edward
Henry leads the way, helpfully opening and holding the doors for Edward, but not offering to take the tray. As they climb the creaky staircase, they come face to face with an opulent middle-aged man wearing somber dark garb (which seems to be, however, of excellent quality), and an old-fashioned powdered wig which marks him as someone of the medical profession. Henry hesitates.

"Oh... Seems we'll be needing another cup then?"

"No, no, don't trouble yourself, dear boy. I will not take tea. I am to have a word with dear Mrs. M and then I intend to walk to the village, so if you would be so kind to bring my coat and hat? I am sure you do not need two people to carry a tea tray, I believe your butler can manage on his own."

Shamefaced, Henry finally reaches for the tray, intending to free Edward of its burden.

"He's not our butler..."

"No? Oh, my apologies. Who might you be then, sir?"

---

Maximilian
"Those are very good questions indeed! I commend you. Exactly the spirit of inquisitiveness I would expect of someone engaged in your profession." Having just found out about Maximilian's profession and still not understanding fully what this profession is does not stop Mrs. Murgatroyd from heaping praise on the young investigator. Praise, but not much useful information.

"I am afraid I cannot give you the answers. It was in Weymouth at a salon where I first heard rumours. Imagine my mortification to find my relatives' name attached to such talk! That was maybe a week ago. I am not quite certain, I immediately set off to be at my niece's disposal and I have been living on the road. Such a journey! We arrived at noon today, me and Dr. Amberly, who was kind enough to accompany me, and I was hoping to glean some information from Aramintha, but she was not in a fit state to answer any of my questions."

Edward lets Henry take the tea tray, then bows his head to the wig-wearing man.
"No apology needed, Sir. You are close enough to the mark, in your assessment. I am Edward Broadhurst, the valet of Mister Calstock. we arrived from London only today. My master wanted to pay homage to Mrs Tubbs, but I understand she is unwell? I hope it is nothing serious... Doctor...? " he leaves the phrase hanging to elicit a name from the corpulent fellow.

"Dr. Amberly followed you all the way here on the week-long journey from Weymouth?" Maximilian asks, trying to hide his skepticism behind admiration. "I wish there were still such loyal people in London. Many doctors are barely willing to do housecalls these days. I assume you have a professional relationship with the good doctor to inspire such loyalty in the man?" he suggests. Or, you're expecting some kind of payout here that you promised to share.

"Amberly is the name, Earnest Amberly, pleasure to meet you! Although it is a surprise also. As far as I have been lead to believe, Mrs. M came here with the express purpose of guarding the house against visitors. And yet here you are, with the tea tray! Your master must have breached the defenses! Shall we proceed then?"

The doctor energetically makes for the sitting room. Once at the door however, he stops to wait for the other two men, especially for Henry, who has turned purple with the effort of keeping the tea on the tray. He gives the young footman an encouraging smile.

---

"Ah, speak of the devil!" Mrs. Murgatroyd exclaims as the doctor enters, followed by the two servants. She had just been explaining to Maximilian that once one finds a competent physician, one should keep him close at all times. "Dr. Amberly, this is Maximilian Calstock. A magician from London! Seems Mr. Norrell has taken an interest into my family's plight and is sending his most valuable soldiers to our rescue. Mr. Calstock, this is Dr. Amberly. You may direct your questions at him."

Amberly makes the appropriate surprised noises at the revelation that Maximilian is a magician. He offers the young investigator his hand and looks at him long and hard; and although the pleasant smile never leaves his face, there is a spark of suspicion in his eyes.

"Doctor, very good to meet you," Maximilian replies to the man, shaking his offered hand. "May I inquire how the lady of the house is doing? I understand this is a very stressful situation for her. Which only makes your willingness to come all the way out here and tend to her more admirable and appreciated. Mrs. Murgatroyd was just about to tell me how she convinced a fine gentleman like yourself to undertake such a journey."

Edward observes in silence, taking poor Henry out of his misery by helping him set the tea, making a show of displaying Maximilian's tea with the utmost care and with the most fastidious precision.

He intercepts Maximilian's look at this behavior, and glances back in his best bear with me and play along expression.

"Oh, as to that, what she said was - correct me if I'm remembering it wrong, Mrs. Murgatroyd - what you said was 'Amberly, off we are to Barnsthorpe!' and that was that. I don't suppose that whenever Mr. Norrell, you being employed by him as you say you are, wishes you to go and act on his command, would suffer you to sit and debate whether you should or shouldn't go." It is becoming clear that Dr. Amberly doesn't seem to have much of a practice and Mrs. Murgatroyd is his sole employer. Serving a single lady and being paid as much (if not more) as if he was maintaining a regular list of patients must be worth the occasional inconvenience of traversing half the country at a moment's notice.

"My niece, Doctor, how is she?"

"Resting. It was clear to me that she hadn't had a proper night's sleep in some time, so I applied the tincture of Laudanum. I doubt she has been keeping regular meals either, but once she has rested I have no doubt it would be easier to induce her to have some thin porridge."

"I shall order it prepared then. And when is Mr. Calstock to be allowed to cast his magics upon her?"

The doctor seems a bit taken aback.

"I... I doubt that would be necessary. I know bringing ladies from the dead is Mr. Norrell's specialty, but I assure you, Mrs. Tubbs is in no immediate danger. Should the unthinkable happen, by no means, Mr. Calstock would be more than welcome to... to perform upon her, but until then simple medicine would be enough."

"Yes, yes, but would it not be more expedient if she could be cured immediately? I know from experience how dull it is to spend days and days in bed and sup on thin porridge. Mr. Calstock, what is your recommendation?"

"Well, I would have to see the lady before I could make a proper recommendation, of course," Maximilian replies without hesitation. He doesn't feel an immediate need to point out that he is not a practical magician of Mr. Norrell's caliber - even if he used to be pretty good at pretending he was before that kind of thing got outlawed in London.
"Perhaps if I was given access to the young lady, I would be able to help her, as Mrs. Murgatroyd suggested."

"In that case, you would need to wait until tomorrow!" the physician's tone is becoming sharper.

"Oh, don't be a bore, doctor!" Mrs. Murgatroyd chastises him. "I can't abide it when males start jousting for their territory. Mr. Calstock is no danger to you - and remember, my Aramintha's health is what is important here! Tomorrow Mr. Calstock shall have his consultation with her and I'll hear no quarreling about it. In fact, it is my wish that you two are to be friends. Here, have some tea. Oh, goodness me!" The lady finally notices Edward's arrangement of the tray and evidently approves of it. "I say, this is something else!"

"No, I don't think it is," Maximilian replies thoughtfully, his eyes on the tray as well. "It certainly looks like tea to me."

Hoping his humor hasn't cost him the good will of Mrs. Murgatroyd, he quickly swerves back to the previous topic. "Tomorrow it is, then," he agrees. "Though, if I may be so bold as to make such an inquiry, would it be possible for us to stay the night here? A guest room perhaps? It has been such a long walk here from the inn. I certainly don't feel like repeating it." While Maximilian enjoys some light exercise such as walking, Mrs. Murgatroyd doesn't seem like an outdoors type, so perhaps she would relate to his pretend plight.

Edward senses the Doctor's skepticism, possibly even hostility. We need to keep our eyes open around this one...
"Glad the arrangement is to Milady's taste." Edward bows his head graciously, acknowledging the woman's impressed reaction.

Let's hope we've impressed her enough to let us stay for the night, he thinks as he hears his master's plan. Despite his jokes, is his afterthought.

"I would be more than happy to accompany you as far as the village. I am sure with a company the walk would not feel so arduous." It would not be unreasonable to assume that the doctor is not making the offer out of the goodness of his heart. His suspicious demeanor has not changed. Mrs. Murgatroyd however does not like his proposition.

"I don't think it's an unreasonable request. And I do not like the thought of you leaving the house, Amberly. I know what you are like when you go out on your walks! And what if my niece's condition changes while you are away? Am I to be left alone to tend to the invalid? No, it is out of the question. Mr. Calstock, you are welcome to stay. Henry, see that there is a room prepared for Mr. Calstock!" She thinks for a moment. "But you haven't brought any luggage with you. I expected you to at least have a bag for your magical instruments. Doctors carry bags, after all." She is already speaking as if she has commissioned Edward and Maximilian to come and tend to her needs, rather than them turning out on her doorstep. "I assume it is all at the inn. Henry, I will have you bring Mr. Calstock's trunk from the inn! Hurry now!"

Henry, who might have at some earlier point in his life been a bright or at least promising young lad, but now appears to have adopted the expression of utter confusion as his natural state, doesn't seem inclined to hurry anywhere.

"Should I... The room first, or..."

"Oh, give me strength!" Mrs. Murgatroyd raises her eyes to the heavens in exasperation. "Hopeless, absolutely hopeless!"

Mention of his trunk at the inn gives Maximilian pause. He clears his throat. "Well, if someone were to pick up my trunk," he says hesitantly, "They would have to be very careful with it. Certainly not open it. There are, as you so smartly said, Mrs. Murgatroyd, magical instruments in there. If handled the wrong way, there might be mayhem." Though not as much mayhem as if Henry or any other servant discovers his dresses in there. He glances at Edward to see what he thinks on the matter.

Edward takes his cue, and steps forward. "Allow me to accompany Mr. Henry to retrieve your trunk, Sir. It will be an easier task, for two people."

Then turning to Henry, smiling at the man to reassure him, "let's go, my good man. We'll be there and back in a jiffy."

Edward
Although Mrs. Murgatroyd has evidently taken upon herself the role of the Lady of the House, she does not go so far as to allow a stranger to take out the Tubbs's coach, no matter their references. Henry is relieved by her decision to send him and Edward on foot, and he confesses as much as they walk the road back to the village in the deepening darkness.

"I look after the horses now," he explains. "Starhouse used to be the coachman, and groom too. You may laugh at me if you wish, but I daren't approach the coach now. It's bad enough how Admiral and Titus look at me, all disrespectful like. As if asking me who do I think I am. He used to have a way with animals, Starhouse did, and seems they won't recognise another master now."

---

Maximilian

With Henry gone, one of the other servants is sent to prepare Maximilian's room. Mrs. Murgatroyd has some more unkind words for the footman, as if it's the young man's fault that he can't be in two places at once. The lady delights in apologising for the staff's shortcomings and assuring Maximilian that had she been in charge of the household, she would have perished before embarrassing herself in front of guests in such a way. A rather convenient claim to make, since she doesn't seem to have servants of her own, Dr. Amberly comprising the entirety of her retinue, and so there is no definitive evidence of her superior management skills.

"But tell me, Mr. Calstock," the doctor interjects when after a quarter of an hour Mrs. Murgatroyed finally stops to take a breath between tirades, "are you truly here to cure Mrs. Tubbs, or is your intention to hunt for fairies? Forgive me, but I can't imagine Mr. Norrell has enough time to spare for every afflicted lady in the country, even if he employs agents to do his bidding."

Once out of the Tubbs grounds, Edward will try to use the comraderie among servants to get Henry at ease. "Sheesh... That Lady Murgatroyd surely is on your back, my dear fellow... What an unpleasant woman. I am sorry you have to endure her harrassment, it really is uncalled for..." he shakes his head, his words loaded with disapproval of the woman's attitude towards the help.
"Well, some horses have been known to develop a special attachment to one individual, for sure... " he replies. "Unless Mr. Starlight's charm over the animals was more than that? Rumour has it that the man had a mysterious reputation, possibly a magical aspect. How was the man, you must have had the chance to observe him up close... Did you ever see or hear anything to substantiate those rumours, I wonder?"

"Of course Mr. Norrell can't extend his interest to every sick lady in England, that is true," Maximilian replies. "But he takes great interest in any cases rumored to involve magic. And as there are rumors of such kind surrounding the poor Lady Tubbs, he has dispatched me to look into it all. It is my goal to both help out the lady, if I then can, and of course, to look into those strange rumors surrounding Mr. Starhouse. I, unlike you, am not a doctor, but if I can help in any way related to the lady's health, of course I will do just that."

Edward

"They just listen to him, the horses I mean. I've seen people who can impose their will on horses, usually with the help of a whip, but he'd just talk to them and they'd listen. Or sometimes he'd just give them this look, you know, like an old nan who's disappointed in you for doing mischief, and they would look all shamefaced and penitent. And it's not just the horses! You should have seen him with cats! He'd make those sounds," Henry tries to imitate the sounds Jack Starhouse is supposed to be making, but only a feeble whistle comes from between his teeth. "Oh, I can't make it sound right. But he'd whistle and they would jump and dance. It's not natural."

Having said that, the young man stares at the path ahead. The darkness is falling fast and the chill is returning, although not as bitter as it had been in the early morning. In the near distance lights can be seen in the windows of the houses.

"Even so," Henry continues, "he never seemed the type who'd harm anyone."

---

Maximilian

Mrs. Murgatroyd lets out a disappointed "oh".

"I thought you have come to cure her by magic."

The doctor however, whose hard look of suspicion had turned more thoughtful as Maximilian explained the purpose of his visit, intervenes.

"The disappearance of the husband does seem to be at the root of the wife's illness, I suppose. We could work together, as I treat the symptoms, you could..."

"I don't understand! Can't you just perform a spell to make her better? What else is there to do?"

"Now, dancing cats... That's another matter entirely. It leans heavily towards the man's magic abilities... Nobody can get cats do do their bidding, that's for sure."
"You don't think the rumors around him whisking Mr Tubbs away are founded, then? It wouldn't be in Mr Starhouse's nature?"
He frowns, and leaves a hanging, "then who would do something like that? And why on earth?..."

"I'm sure Mr. Norrell could," Maximilian replies to Mrs. Murgatroyd. He's not even lying. Norrell probably could. But he's not here and there's doubt that he ever would make the journey here. Maybe he doesn't need to mention that part. "Unfortunately, my own magic is a bit more limited. Still, perhaps I will be able to help your niece. And if not... Well, if I can prove that there is somethign fishy going on here, then Mr. Norrell will have to investigate himself. Of course, he would be able to help your niece even better than I could. And think of how the people will talk if someone like him were to attend to her. He is quite a bit more interesting than boring old me, I believe." He chuckles, then says, "But that of course is predicated on me finding anything of importance in my investigation."

Edward
"Truth be told, Mr. Tubbs himself wished to be taken away. Not forever, of course, only to visit, just as one might visit Bath or... Or Lemmington or some such." Not being the class of man to go visiting resorts and spas, Henry obviously needs to rack his brain to produce the names of those places. "A week wouldn't pass without him asking Jack about it. He'd constantly inquire what one would need for such a journey, or what the best time of year was for it; and Jack would always say 'I wouldn't know, sir' but Mr. Tubbs didn't believe him. People say Jack finally relented, or got angry and decided to do Mr. Tubbs some mischief. I think Jack only wished to be left alone with his cats and horses..."

As they reach the bridge over the canal, Henry stops and turns towards the lock-keeper's cottage. It had looked empty and abandoned earlier, but now there is a flickering light in the window. Henry waves his hand.

"Old Walt Peglar," he explains. "I don't know if he's watching, but I always stop to greet him, just in case. It makes me sad to think of him, all alone in that hut. He's a friend of Dr. Amberly, you know, from way back. I think the doctor meant to visit him, but that old harpy wouldn't let him."

---

Maximilian
Mrs. Murgatroyd shifts in her place, and her abundant skirts and petticoats shuffle with her, making her look like a restless hen.

"I suppose Mr. Norrell is preoccupied with the war effort," she concedes reluctantly. "If he has placed his trust in you, I must do the same. But I need your assurance that the moment you make your diagnose, you will write to him! If your magic is as limited as you say. Now drink your tea, sir, and gather your strength!" she takes a sip from her own cup.

"If I may be permitted, I would like to have a word with Mr. Calstock in private, ma'am," Dr. Amberly says, and as Mrs. Murgatroyd looks ready to protest, he adds: "One man of science to another. I would not wish to bore you with our technical language."

"Oh, if you must. I suppose I am to have my supper in solitude then, I know how you men are when you start your philosophical discussions."

"Oh, of course," Maximilian replies to Mrs. Murgatroyd about writing to Norrell. "He has an interest in in this case and expects news from me as soon as I can give them." In fact, Maximilian doubts Norrell will read any letter he might send. Childermass might actually read it, but he doubts that name would interest Mrs M much.
When the doctors asks to speak alone, Maximilian rises and politely excuses himself, then indicates he will follow Amberly for a private talk.

"Is that so? A curious choice of destination, for a visit, don't you find? I wonder why Mr Tubbs was so eager to visit such a strange and dangerous place... and what did Mrs Tubbs think of this wish of her husband?" he asks, trying to focus the conversation on the mistress of the house.

Looking at the lock-keeper cottage, "Oh. I saw that, on the way to the Tubbs residence, but... I thought it was abandoned? Why is Mr Peglar living all alone there? It doesn't look like a place one would be comfortable living in..."

Edward
"Well, he is the lock-keeper. Stands to reason he would be living in the lock-keeper's cottage," Henry answers sagely. "Not many boats pass through here, but he's always a his post. I don't know if it's his sense of duty, or if he simply doesn't like being among people. You know, Jack Starhouse used to visit him from time to time. I remember there being a big row about it, a year or so ago."

According to Henry, Jack had been in a habit of taking leftovers and kitchen scraps to the old lock-keeper. No one would have mentioned it if Jack had been donating only his share, but apparently the rest of the staff had been of the opinion that the coachman was taking more than was fair. One time Mrs. Tubbs had been feeling poorly and had not eaten her pudding, and it had been passed down to Elsie Lesser, her being the lady's maid and by right having the biggest claim. Elsie had been looking forward to enjoying the pudding, but by the time all her chores were finished, the pudding had been no more.

---

Maximilian

Dr. Amberly offers his room as the most convenient place for a private conversation. He talks nonchalantly while they walk there, praising the house for its age and stateliness and the area for its beauty and tranquillity, but it is clear that he is simply avoiding the topic of Mrs. Tubbs until they are out of Mrs. Murgatroyd's earshot. Once they are in his room - he has apparently not been able to unpack, but his bed has been made and there is a fresh pitcher and towel on the wash stand - his air changes again. He closes the door and leans against it, and peers at Maximilian with the same suspicious look he'd given him earlier.

"You are a fox, Mr. Calstock," the doctor says after a long, accusatory silence. "Or should I say a vixen."

The possibility that this is what Amberly's request to talk in private could be about had occurred to Max but he had hoped that he was wrong. And right now, he does not like that not only has the accusation been spoken, but also the manner in which it's being done. Amberly is blocking the door, the exit, by leaning against it, and Maximilian isn't sure whether that is casual and incidental or on purpose.

"No, you should not," he replies after a moment, keeping his tone as casual as he can manage. "Though I'm curious what made you say it."

Edward pretends to be out of breath and to need a moment. "Just a wee rest, my young friend. I was once like you, but my legs are no longer what they used to be, hehe..."

He reaches for his coat's inner pocket, producing the flask of Port he carries there. "Here, let's drink to your generosity towards Mr Peglar," he says, offering the flask to Henry

Edward

Henry refuses the flask the appropriate number of times, before allowing that maybe he could take a sip, just to help against the chill of the evening. The lad is naturally talkative - when he is not stunned by fear, that is - and the Port loosens his tongue even more. It takes some considerable effort on Edward's part to steer the conversation in the desired direction, and most importantly to keep it there, since Henry rambles a lot and seems prone to losing the thread mid-sentence. Even so, by the time the two men reach the inn, Edward has gleaned a few pieces of information.

The servants have unanimously diagnosed Mrs. Tubbs with "nervous disposition". According to Elsie Lesser, it is a malady peculiar to the higher class of person, since a servant, no matter how "nervous" would still be expected to earn their living. Henry finds that a little cruel of Elsie and thinks that Mrs. Tubbs is clearly grieving for her husband. She had been, Henry insists, a very reasonable and capable mistress, and only with Mr. Tubbs's disappearance she had collapsed into utter despair. Henry describes her as a woman haunted - pale and trembling. She would walk around the house, looking at the corners of each room, and behind cabinets, searching for something. She would stand at the door of the back garden for hours, as if waiting for Mr. Tubbs to appear from that direction. Then she would sit on her bed and weep. And what is most curious, she seems to have developed a particular dislike for cats - she would not have them in the garden, nor the barn or anywhere near the house.

On the topic of Mrs. Murgatroyd, Henry doesn't have much to say. She has only just arrived, and even though she clearly terrifies him, the guileless footman does not go so far as to suspect her of any ill intentions. He knows her doctor however, and declares him "a good sort" - he had been a local man and even though he had left to study long before Henry had grown into his first pair of breeches, no one in the village has a bad word to say against him.

As for the canal and the lock-keeper, there are plenty of stories of strange lights, and faces in the water, and the sound of wailing - or singing - on dark moonless nights. Henry himself does not admit to having seen anything himself, but he is firmly of the opinion that "here is something unnatural there". Walter Peglar would know more, the young man suspects - since he lives by the canal, he must have witnessed everything there is to witness.

"I'm sorry to say I won't be able to introduce you," Henry concludes. "I doubt I would have much time to go about with Mrs. Murgatroyd in the house. I fear she might prevail upon Mrs. Tubbs to dismiss me if I don't manage to improve myself. But you could go yourself - from the bridge you just take the towpath, it leads directly to Mr. Peglar's hut. I'm sure he would be glad of the company, and even more so if you bring that flask of yours."

It is completely dark by the time they reach The Billy Goat, but there is light in the windows and someone has brought out a lantern by the ruined gate posts. As they enter the inn itself, they are greeted by light, the warmth of a good fire and the smell of a good stew. The impression that they have entered the safety of cozy home is reinforced by Fiona Coleman, who addresses Edward as if he is a naughty child coming late to supper instead of a guest and a paying customer.

"Ah, there you are, God be praised! I was beginning to wonder... And would you look at this, little Henry too!" Henry turns red as the apple form the fairy tales upon being called "little". "And where is your Mr. Calstock? Don't tell me you've managed to lose him already?"

"He will be staying at the house, ma'am. We are here for his dunnage."

Maximilian

"I am a physician," Amberly replies, apparently of the opinion that this statement is enough explanation. "But... Very well, I shan't say it. For now. But it does make me wonder what else are you being deceitful about. I confess you intrigue me. Back there, you could have told Mrs. M what she wanted to hear, yet you let it be known that improving the health of Mrs. Tubbs is not your priority. Which, if you are a confidence trickster, as I suspect, makes you a really poor one. The truth now, Mr. Calstock. Why are you here?"

Amused by Fiona's light reprimand, Edward confirms what 'little Henry' is saying.
"Yes, Mrs Coleman, we have been invited to stay at the house, and I am here to retrieve Mr Calstock's luggage. We will take the carriage too, to carry the trunk to the Tubbs. But fear not: we will honour the days we promised we'd stay, and pay you in full for your troubles. And we might need your lovely inn and fine cooking again soon..."

He pays the agreed days to the woman, sure that his master (mistress) would not want to leave the Colemans out of pocket.

"And now, if you will, I am going to fetch the luggage in Mr Calstock's room, and my own."

Next he will retrieve Max's trunk and load it on the carriage, making sure it stays locked at all times. After doing the same with his luggage, he will groom and attach Endymion and Selene to their coach.

Despite his unfortunate position blocking the door, Amberly doesn't seem hostile about this revelation. Max still doesn't entirely relax, but he feels slightly less worried for the moment. "What if I told you I haven't lied at all to your mistress?" Maximilian says. "You likely won't believe me that it is entirely true, given the peculiarities of my person, but it is. Mr. Broadhurst and I have been sent by Mr. Norrell to solve the mystery around the disappearance of Mr. Tubbs and the rumored involvement of a fairy, namely Mr. Starhouse. It was entirely Mrs. M's conjecture that we would turn her niece into a second Lady Pole. As you noted, I could have encouraged her further in this than I did, but I stuck to our real reason for being here as much as I could without losing the woman's favor."

Edward

Mrs. Coleman refuses to let them go before she has poured some of her hot stew inside of them. Before Edward could object - if indeed he intends to - Henry has accepted the invitation enthusiastically, voicing his suspicions that there would only be cold leftovers for them back at the Tubbs residence. The delay is somewhat offset by Mr. O'Mara, who offers his help with hitching up the horses.

"It was very decent of you," Mrs. Coleman says as she sees them off. She does not elaborate, but it's clear from her tone that she means the money Edward has left her for the prematurely vacated rooms. "Here's something for luck, seeing how it is you will be travelling in the darkness. Keep it close and touch it if you should see any lights or hear bells where no lights or bells should be, and you go with my blessing now!"

And with those words, as if she is sending her first born son to sail for the West Indies, and not two strangers on a relatively short journey across the tame English countryside, Mrs. Coleman hands Edward an object wrapped in a piece of linen cloth. Upon inspection it transpires to be a large spike, almost a foot long and made of rusted iron. Iron, as any child knows, is meant to ward off magical influences. Non-magical as well, if one happens to have a strong arm and a true aim.

---

Maximilian

"And I trust you will be discreet with your findings. Mr. Tubbs is already known for being a bit peculiar. The family does not need a full blown scandal attached to it. Am I being clear, Mr. Calstock?" There is a very clear threat in Amberly's voice. "Mrs. M does not need to know any particulars. I know what to tell her in order to keep her happy. But you do nothing before consulting me first. And I will be present as you interview Mrs. Tubbs tomorrow."

"As long as you do not hinder our investigation," Maximilian replies. "I have no interest in ruining any man's reputation or even in getting involved in the local rumors and politics. My associate and I are here to figure out what happened to Mr. Tubbs and whether there has been magic or fairy shenanigans involved. I do not see our goals as being opposed, Dr. Amberly." He puts the same doubtful emphasis on Amberly's honorific as he had put on Max'. For no particular reason except distaste at Amberly's emphasis.

if you should see any lights or hear bells where no lights or bells should be...

The words of the woman keep coming to mind. He accepted the odd relic from her not to offend her - its weight pulling in his coat pocket. Country folk are very superstitious, I shouldn't be surprised.

Now he is driving the coach slowly, leading a well-restored Endymion and Selene gently on the country lane.

Good that the folks at the Inn didn't resent our early departure, just in case we find ourselves needing their services before this business is over.

In the waning light, he lets his gaze follow the gentle hills interspersed by copses of trees, and the pointy village spire. It makes him think of some watercolour landscapes he has seen in the windows of Belgravia's art galleries.

He glances at Henry on the coachman bench by his side. The footman seems contempt in his after-stew glow, and in no particular rush to go back to the Tubbs residence.
Can't blame the poor fellow, with that Murgatroyd harpy always on his back...

The coach continues around a bend, unhurriedly.

Maximilian
The physician catches the dig at his honorific but says nothing, only lifts a finger and shakes it in a perfect impression of Maximilian's old governess who had often used the gesture to dispel the very thought of misbehaving, before her young charge had had the opportunity to put his devious plans into action. It is not a very typical tool of communication between grown men however, and it gives Amberly a slightly comical air.

"I am curious, have you considered that you may have misunderstood your assignment? I have read a few issues of Norrell's publication and he is vehement that there are no fairies to be found in England. It seems more probable that he has hired you to ascertain that there are no fairies and magic involved; in which case you need not stay longer than a day. You may chant your spells and burn some herbs or what other mumbo jumbo it is that you employ and be on your way, leaving the family to deal with its private affairs."

"We all know what Mr. Norrell expects the outcome of this investigation to be," Maximilian replies. If he even personally knows of this case at all. "Does that mean my associate and I are not supposed to do our job to the best of our ability?" He tilts his head in a challenging manner. "If a patient were to come to you"—he pauses here as if that was the entirety of his hypothetical, implying that Dr. Amberly has no patients coming to him, before he continues—"expecting that there is no cure to their ailment, would you simply flip your books, mumble some mumbo jumbo and tell them they are right?" He smiles sweetly at Amberly, then adds, "You don't strike me as that kind of quack. So why do you accuse me of being one?"

The question earns Maximilian another significant look - the good doctor seems to have an inexhaustible supply of them - but rather than listing the many ways in which he finds Maximilian to be a deceitful, secretive and untrustworthy fellow, Amberly simply says:

"I am looking forward to being proven wrong. Let us shake hands then. You will agree to be discreet with your findings and mindful of the dignity of the inhabitants of this home; and I will endeavour not to hinder you in your inquiries." Amberly offers his hand.

"And you will keep certain peculiarities about my person to yourself," Macimilian adds. He waits for Amberly to give some kind of agreement before shaking his offered hand.

"And I will keep certain peculiarities about your person to myself," Amberly echoes, signifying that the condition is accepted. The men shake hands in uneasy truce, and Amberly steps aside, allowing Maximilian access to the door.

"A word of advice, since you are so determined to poke around. See to it that you interview Mrs. Tubbs's maid. I don't believe it is simple discontent that has incited her to resign her position - or attempt to." Mrs. Murgatroyd had indeed complained earlier of the maid's intentions and had denied her, probably threatening her with lingering unemployment. "The girl has witnessed something which has distressed her, or my name is not Earnest Amberly."

Maximilian's face briefly looks like he's about to quip something in response to the doctor's words, but in the end, he opts to simply nod and say, "Thank you. I will keep it in mind." He opens the door and steps outside of the room. After the initial moment where the doctor blocked the door and worried Maximilian with that gesture, the former charlatan already relaxed during the talk, not getting the impression the doctor means him harm. There is still a bit of relief at that exit now being unblocked for him.

He steps outside the room and then decides to leave the building entirely, catching a breath of fresh air in front of the house as he waits for Edward to return.

Meanwhile (provided they encounter no obstacle), Edward leads the carriage through the Tubbs' gates, expertly prodding Endymion and Selene to negotiate the turn and settling in the courtyard in front of the mansion.

Henry stays behind to close the gates after them, then regroups at the house.

"You have my thanks, Henry. Just one last effort. We can now bring Mr Calstock's trunk in the house."

They begin the unloading operations.

With his luggage and its sensitive content safely in his possession, Maximilian can finally settle himself into his room. Edward on the other hand needs to see to the horses' needs before his own. He is given a room as well, in the servant's quarters under the attic. It is the size of a generously proportioned cupboard, there are no windows and the bed has been constructed for someone a foot shorter than him, but at least he is afforded some privacy - a rare luxury for a servant. A basin and a pitcher of ice-cold water also have been left for him, to remove the dust and the smell of horses off his person as best as he can manage. By the time master and man-servant are free to reunite and discuss their findings, the night has properly settled over the house, all the occupants have retired to their rooms and the noises of people trying to go about their business as quietly as possible mixes with the creaking of the ancient beams.

When Edward returns from his trip to recover Maximilian's suitcase, the young gentleman informs his servant that they will need to have a conversation at the earliest convenience, which ends up being a bit later than Maximilian would have preferred.

The two men are in Maximilian's room, the door locked, when Max sits down on his bed. "What are your thoughts on Dr. Amberly?" he asks, initiating the conversation.

The butler stands in the room, hands tucked behind his back out of habit. "The man seems quite... astute, Sir. His demeanour makes one wonder if he and Murgatroyd are sincere in their intent with regards to Mrs Tubbs. And he is clearly wondering the same thing about us, Sir," he adds.

"Did you have occasion to mitigate the good doctor's suspicions, perhaps?"

"The good doctor appears to have noticed a certain peculiarity about myself," Maximilian says. "He asked to speak in private after you had left. We had quite the interesting conversation. He's certainly an intelligent man, witty as well." With a playful smile that Edward has has known means trouble since Adelaide Calstock had been a little girl, he adds, "If only he was a little more handsome."

"Is that so?" he chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, from my end I am happy to report we are in good standing with the Inn despite our shortened stay... I took the liberty of paying for the entire agreed period. The landlady even gave me this spike, for protection."
He unwraps the heavy bundle to show the old spike.

" I also heard of a lock keeper by the canal, Mr Walter Peglar, who seems a superstitious sort, and fond of the bottle. Since we heard mention of the canal as a 'fairy road', he seems the man to talk to about..."

"The good doctor seemed eager to want to get rid of us," Maximilian says. "I believe there is something he is worried we will find out. Not about any fairies, but likely something a bit closer to home. He did recommend we talk to the maid, the one who attempted to quit. He said something occurred to make her want that."

He reaches out and brushes the spike with his fingertips. "How kind of her," he says. He doesn't believe the spike will come in handy in any way, but it is a nice gesture nonetheless. To the mention of the lock keeper, he says, "Not a bad idea. Perhaps we can sway him with a bottle of wine to chat with us."

"What is our best course of action, I wonder. With the witty doctor's suspicions aroused, our every gesture will be under scrutiny. I can approach the maid, maybe. Witty or not, Amberly is unlikely to spend much time with the help. It would be below his stature. "

Edward proposes to make frequent visits to kitchen, pantry, maybe laundry room, under the pretext of carrying out his master's demands, continuing the 'fastidious master' pantomime.

"That would be a good idea," Maximilian says. "If I was seen speaking to the maid, it would only throw further suspicion on me, which may not be good for our duty here. Perhaps I can distract the good doctor a bit," he adds with a chuckle. More seriously, he adds, "Perhaps tomorrow in the afternoon, we can visit this lock keeper. Late enough that we can drink with him, early enough that he would still be lucid."

"Then be it. May I borrow one of your shirts, Sir - pressing it smooth would give me an excuse to spend significant time with the help, in the hope to learn something - or to spend time with the maid in question in a socially acceptable manner".

"I shall keep my eyes peeled and my ears open. If there is nothing else you require of me, I will seek my quarters for the night."

"Stand by the door so nobody can open it," Maximilian requests. Once Edward is in position, he opens his suitcase and, ignoring his dresses, pulls out a folded shirt, handing it to Edward before closing the trunk again. "That does sound like an excellent plant, though you know me. I will not object if you choose to spend time in a socially unacceptable manner either." He throws Edward a smirk, then says, "Good night, my friend."

Maximilian's wittiness has failed him.

The old house creaks in the night like a ship on a calm sea, which proves soothing to the senses. Maximilian gives in to it fully, sinking deep into undisturbed sleep.

Edward on the other hand, the ever watchful guardian, is more used to sleeping with one eye open; especially in places they are strangers to, full of persons with unknown motivations and gossiping servants. So when a door opens not too far down the corridor, he is immediately awakened. It is hard to tell the time in his tiny, windowless room, but his experienced senses tell him that it is far too early for the new day to begin, even for the help, who rise long before sunrise. So someone - one of the other servants who sleep in this attic - has curtailed their already short rest and is prowling about with some unknown purpose.

Edward sits up in his bed, and keeps the light in his room off. Treading carefully so not to make noise, he steps off the bed and close to the door. One step at a time, unhurriedly.

He opens the door cautiously, first slowly turning the handle, then pulling the door as smoothly as he can on its hinges. Until there is a slither of a gap between door and doorframe, to peek out in the corridor beyond.

He lets his eyes get used to the dark...

Someone fanciful would probably describe the figure in the corridor as "ghostly", clad all in white which makes the darkness around it seem even darker. Indeed it takes Edward several moments to recognise that it is a woman - a living, breathing one and not an apparition at all - in her white night shirt and bonnet. Edward can't distinguish her face, but she is neither tall nor stout enough to be either the scullery maid or the cook, which makes it reasonable to conclude her to be Elsie Lesser. Despite Edward's great care to make no noise she seems to have noticed him and is now looking at him unmoving, like a frightened doe surprised by a hunter.

Keeping his voice to the faintest of whispers, Edward opens the door more, and shows his hands in a gesture of non aggression.
"Do not be afraid. I heard a noise. Do you need help?"

He also scans the hallway to determine from what door the woman might have come.

There are only three rooms in the attic - two serving as dormitories for the male and the female staff; and one which would have been the private room for the butler had the household employed one, and which had been given to Edward for the time being. It is hard to tell which of the other two chambers the woman had come out of as she is standing midway between the two and facing Edward, having been startled by the sound of his opening the door. She takes a step backwards, and as his eyes get used to the dark, Edward can see that she is holding a large bundle in her arms. It is as white as her night dress, most likely wrapped in a bedsheet.

"Come no closer or... Or I'll scream!" she hisses at him and he can recognise her voice - she is indeed Elsie Lesser.

There are only three rooms in the attic - two serving as dormitories for the male and the female staff; and one which would have been the private room for the butler had the household employed one, and which had been given to Edward for the time being. It is hard to tell which of the other two chambers the woman had come out of as she is standing midway between the two and facing Edward, having been startled by the sound of his opening the door. She takes a step backwards, and as his eyes get used to the dark, Edward can see that she is holding a large bundle in her arms. It is as white as her night dress, most likely wrapped in a bedsheet.

"Come no closer or... Or I'll scream!" she hisses at him and he can recognise her voice - she is indeed Elsie Lesser.

There are only three rooms in the attic - two serving as dormitories for the male and the female staff; and one which would have been the private room for the butler had the household employed one, and which had been given to Edward for the time being. It is hard to tell which of the other two chambers the woman had come out of as she is standing midway between the two and facing Edward, having been startled by the sound of his opening the door. She takes a step backwards, and as his eyes get used to the dark, Edward can see that she is holding a large bundle in her arms. It is as white as her night dress, most likely wrapped in a bedsheet.

"Come no closer or... Or I'll scream!" she hisses at him and he can recognise her voice - she is indeed Elsie Lesser.

"I will not move from here. I will not call anyone. Do you need help?" he repeats whispering back, trying to sound reassuring.

He tries to assess from the bulk and weight of the bundle the woman carries, what its nature might be.
Has she packed her essentials, and is trying to flee this place in the middle of the night? he wonders.

It is clear that Elsie's threat of raising the alarm had been empty. She is fearful of being caught and waking up the other servants is the last thing she wants; she had chanced on Edward being instinctively startled by the threat of being caught with a girl in a compromising position and had lost. She looks nervously this way and that, as if expecting an ambush from one of the other doors at any moment.

"If you wish to help me, go back to bed," she pleads. "If you must tell on me, do it tomorrow. Tell them you've heard a noise, or..." She trails off.

Edward tries to play on the maid's obvious wariness. He opens his eyes wide. "I think I hear something! Come in here, I promise I won't harm you - quick!" he whispers in mock panic, nodding at the other doors of the corridor.

He opens the door more, and steps back into the room to give the woman space. He makes a hasty gesture of encouragement.

The maid hesitates and for a moment it seems like she is about to make for the end of the corridor, where the staircase is. Right this instant however, as if manifested by Edward's well-meaning fabrication, the sound of a mighty snore comes from one of the other rooms. It is the sound of a sleeping person, not one awake and prowling about, but it serves to startle Elsie, who hurries on tiptoes into Edward's room.

Edward gestures to the woman to close the door behind her, then turns on the light, staying a few steps away from the maid.

"Miss Lesser," he whispers when the noises outside are fainter. "are you in danger? Were you trying to flee the house?"

He looks at the bundle she carries with interest...

"I am not fleeing!" she denies indignantly. "I am leaving. And I have not stolen anything, if that's what you are thinking. You can check for yourself!" Despite inviting Edward to search her, she keeps pressing the bundle to her chest. It is clear it has been wrapped in a hurry and is in danger of becoming undone.

Edward restrains from inspecting the bundle, just nodding. Show you trust her, don't antagonise..

He continues to whisper, and keeps at a reassuring distance.
"Is that because of Mrs Tubbs' strange behaviour? You mentioned something about that. I hope she didn't put you in any danger? I heard stories about an obsession against cats, but not much else... Do you think she might have something to do with her husband's disappearance?"

"You ask me this! And after what Henry, that silly boy, told you!" She is struggling to keep her voice down. "Don't you understand that when your master summons us tomorrow and starts asking questions, I would be compelled to answer! Either that or attempt a lie, but you will know. And Henry will probably spoil everything again." Elsie is almost sobbing now in helplessness and anger. She lifts a hand to wipe her eyes, but the bundle begins to slip from her grasp and she catches it again. "How would you like to be stood up in front of people and be forced to confess that your master has murdered someone? Where would I go then, where would I find work?"

It is evident that the woman has constructed in her mind a scene of what Maximilian intends to do the next day, and it is enough for her to attempt slipping away like a thief in the night. Where would she go and why does she imagine it would be any easier for her to find work after this is a mystery.

Tread carefully now...

Edward takes a step closer, all his senses poised to read the woman's tone and body language.
"Wait... are you sure of this? Maybe we can help you. Have you seen your master... killing someone? Who??" he whispers, trying to impress the seriousness of her statement.

Elsie's words are almost drowned into a squeal:

"No, not him! Her..." She buries her face into the bundle and finally breaks down crying. Between the sobs and hiccups Edward can barely distinguish her saying "she poisoned him".

Maybe the poisoning wasn't servant talk after all... she seems sincerely shocked by all this. Leaving a maid position is a serious matter...yet she is ready to risk everything to remove herself from this predicament.

"Good Lord... then it is true..." he whispers. "You are sure of this, Miss Lesser? My master and I can help you, we won't tell on you. Tell me what you've seen."

He gently takes the hand of the distressed maid and leads her to the only chair in the room. He gets down on one knee, to make his tall figure less intimidating, and offers a handkerchief to Elsie.

It takes some time for Elsie to regain her ability to speak. She is deeply embarrassed by her outburst and she apologises profusely, assuring Edward that she is not one of those delicate, affected girls, "but it has all turned out so horrible".

Evidently things had been sour between Mr. and Mrs. Tubbs for some time, the cause being Jack Starhouse, or rather Mr. Tubbs's obsession with him. In company Mrs. Tubbs would stand by her husband and good-naturedly excuse his peculiar monomania, but in private she had been at the end of her tether, and she had often confided with her maid.

"They had an awful row the night before. Not like a village wife and a drunken husband might, I never heard them scream or curse, but I could tell, as they were sitting at the opposite ends of the table at supper instead of close together, as was their usual way. They'd barely speak, in fact my lady never said a word. Only Mr. Tubbs would and he'd refer to her as 'Mrs. Ormskirk'. Elsie, he'd say, tell Mrs. Ormskirk this, or pass Mrs. Ormskirk that. It was awful cruel, and in the end she got up and retired without finishing her meal."

Edward knows of the "Mrs. Ormskirk" character from his childhood. Apparently inspired by a real person, she is the embodiment of the nagging magician's wife who would always seek to hinder her husband, whether by stupidity or by malice. She is featured in many comedic plays and the audience loves to jeer and abuse her - it is truly a childish thing for Mr. Tubbs to have called his wife by that name.

"The next day was Cook's day off and it fell to me fill in her place. She had prepared the meals beforehand, of course, I only had to heat up and arrange things. I was in the kitchen, and suddenly Mrs. Tubbs arrives and tells me that she is to prepare the breakfast for Mr. Tubbs. I assured her that I could do it - but she told me rather sharply that I am to see to my other chores. I admit I was a bit miffed since there was no need for her to use that tone with me, also I had gotten up earlier than usual and it was turning out to be for nothing. Not to mention that I've never seen my mistress make so much as a piece of toast. But in the end I thought she was trying to mend things with the master, so I left..."

Elsie's voice gets thinner and hoarser as she speaks and for a moment it seems that Edward's handkerchief would need to be employed again; but the maid takes a deep breath and composes herself. "I was helping Henry with the silverware," she continues, "so I didn't really see what happened. I-- I was hiding, to tell the truth, I didn't want to witness the same scene as the previous night. But when time passed and no one rang the bell to call a servant to clear the table I started to worry and went up and... No one was there but the window was open and I could see Mrs. Tubbs in the courtyard. She was only in her morning gown, so I grabbed a shawl and ran down to her, but when I offered it to her she looked at me - white as a sheet she was, and her eyes were mad. It was as if she was looking straight through me. 'Elsie,' she said, 'Mr. Tubbs has left on business.' This is the last sensible word I heard from her."

Edward lets the woman calm down, getting his head around her account of the events.

"I believe you Miss Lesser. I beg you not to leave on account of my master or myself. We will not expose you or put you in a tight spot. But of course, if you made your decision, we won't stop you. Do think carefully, though, you are leaving behind a lot. What would you do, where would you go? Would you be able to find employment in the region?"

Elsie shakes her head and looks at the bundle which has now fallen to her feet. Part of it has become undone and in the dim light various articles of clothing can be perceived - the sleeve of a gown, a petticoat, the heel of a shoe. It is evident the maid's intention had been to sneak out of her shared room as quietly as possible and then, once she was certain she would not disturb the sleeping occupants of the house, put on what little she has before disappearing into the night.

"No. I was hoping, if I could outrun the scandal... Maybe in Scotland... But it was silly of me."

"You keep saying 'we'," she adds after a moment of contemplation. "You speak as if you have the authority to make promises in your master's name. Or do you really know his mind so well?"

"If there has to be a scandal, here, I doubt it will be about a maid accusing her mistress. You have done nothing wrong Miss Lesser... Why don't you sleep on it... As for my own master, I have no authority, but I know him well enough to ask him not to put you in any difficult situation. I will talk to him early in the morning."
He helps her consolidating her bundle, without prying into its contents.

Once she is sufficiently reassured, they check the coast is clear before opening the door.

The rest of the night passes without disturbance. The morning that follows is bitter and unpleasant - unlike the inn where the kitchen chimney had kept the guest rooms warm all night, the Tubbs house has no such comforts. Whether due to mismanagement or frugality, no fire is kept anywhere and it is up to the servants to get up early and make the rooms hospitable for the masters and mistresses, who wait in the warmth of their canopy beds until the tea and coffee are made, the bread is toasted and the water is heated for the morning shave.

Edward wakes up early, as he is used to.
He will prepare a breakfast tray for Max in the kitchen, then bring it upstairs to Max's room.

He knocks at the door in a practiced pattern the duo have established as an identifier. "Your breakfast, Sir...""I think the maid is overworried - all she's seen is Mrs Tubbs making breakfast for her husband, then telling her Tubbs had gone. And she surely doesn't risk her place for that... The poisoning angle might be her own construction, not much evidence supporting that.. But she is very jittery, and impulsive: best not to corner her, I think..."

"And to think I just slept through all the excitement," Max says. "Though maybe that wasn't a bad thing. You have a more delicate hand in such matters than I do and you did well convincing her to stay." He thinks about the statement, then says, "I understand where she is coming from with her suspicion, but it does seem a bit flimsy evidence to upend an entire life over. And even if true, it doesn't explain the disappearance of Mr. Starhouse."

"What are your plans for today, Sir?" he asks, in order to action the necessary preparations.

"You mentioned the lock-keeper," Maximilian says. "I figure we may take a stroll into the city, buy some alcohol and perhaps end up at his house in the afternoon for a chat. Aside from that, if we could find out which part of the courtyard the Tubbs' bedroom is overlooking, we could find out where exactly Miss Lesser saw the Missus that morning. I don't know if that would give us any clues, but perhaps, given your friendliness with the staff, you could arrange a visit to that room, or at the least find out where it is located exactly."

He nods, "that sounds good. I can enquire with the help. It also strikes me, Sir, that we seem to be intentionally kept away from Mrs Tubbs herself, on account of her allegedly poor health. Perhaps we should send her at least a written greeting, notifying her of your presence here. Break the good doctor's ringfencing of the lady, in case the lady herself was in the mood for receiving visitors regardless..."

"Perhaps, yes," Maximilian replies. "In your inquiries regarding what we discussed, perhaps you can also subtly ask about her state at the moment. If it comes to it, I'm certain I could distract Doctor Amberly so you could sneak in for a talk with the lady." Playfully, he adds, "The doctor and I have some rapport by now, after all."

"Oh... is that so?" he says wondering what conversation Max and the Doctor might have had.

"I will go downstairs and see what I can find out from the help. Please send me word of when you are ready for the stroll into town," he says, closing the door behind hi, as he leaves."This chilly weather cannot be to good for her. Which one is her room, I do hope she at least gets a little of the rare sunlight... some of the upstairs room are positively gloomy, due to their unfortunate exposure."

Edward

Edward has, unsurprisingly, found the female staff in the kitchen, busy with all sorts of small tasks. Henry, having the misfortune of being the only male servant in the household, is somewhere in the out buildings, seeing to the animals. Even though there is no longer a coachman his duties remain - someone needs to take care of the horses and the rest of the livestock.

Elsie seems quiet, reserved even. It is possible she is embarrassed by the previous night's encounter and she is avoiding Edward's eye. The Cook however seems to be in a chatty mood.

"Don't you be worrying about the Mrs. She has a fire and all the blankets and comforters she could wish for, and the doctor will be with her as soon as he's had his coffee, no doubt. And what do you mean by 'unfortunate exposure'? The mistress has the best room in the house, with the windows to the south-east!" This is not, as far as Edward can tell, the direction of the courtyard. If it is indeed "the best room in the house" it wouldn't be unreasonable to expect it to have a better view - of the hills, or maybe the front garden.

Edward respects Elsie's avoidance, and does not make eye contact either.

Edward notices that the Cook refers to the bedchamber as belonging to the mistress. It is possible that this is due to her husband's mysterious absence but house servants, especially in the country, are creatures of habit - he has witnessed in other occasion a footman mentioning "Admiral So-and-so's chamber" years after the admiral's unfortunate demise. It is not unusual for affluent married couples to have separate rooms without any reflection on the state of their marriage (one might argue that the convenience and privacy afforded to each party contributes to the strength of the relationship) and it is possible that such is the case in the Tubbs household. Which however makes it unlikely that the couple take their breakfast in their rooms; except in case of indisposition.

Hmm... we must take a look at the view from the dining or sitting room...

"I see, of course, south-east..." he humours the Cook admitting his mistake. "Oh well, I hope she is well, do you know how the mistress is doing?..." he lets the question hang, not directed to anyone in particular, to see if any -including Elsie who might have seen her this very morning- volunteer anything.

Realizing that at this point, perhaps it would be possible to speak to Mrs. Tubbs, Maximilian, after staying in his room for a while in the morning, leaves and begins his search for Dr. Amberly. The man insisted on being present, and given what he knows about this particular fox, perhaps Maximilian shouldn't disrespect his demand. If he comes across a servant, he will ask for the doctor's whereabouts to try and find him.

Maximilian

Maximilian finds the physician in the sitting room, accompanied by a pot of coffee which he seems to have emptied all by himself.

"Good morning! I would have saved you some," he gestures at the remnants of his breakfast, "but I've been informed that you are being attended by your own servant. Shall we proceed then?"

---

Edward

Edward has no luck with the servants in the kitchen. Elsie is tight-lipped and soon excuses herself, claiming she needs to see to Mrs. Murgatroyd. The Cook, while willing to chat, and indeed doing so on topics of little consequence, is woefully ignorant of what is happening upstairs. If anything, she seems hopeful that Edward would furnish her with news of any new developments.

Edward excuses himself and says he needs to check if his master is in need of anything, and leaves the kitchen.

He will wander around the accessible parts of the house, with the excuse of looking for his master's misplaced walking stick, if asked.
If he locates the sitting room, he will enter to observe what is visible from the windows, trying to imagine what Elsie might have been seeing from that vantage point.

Now, if I saw my mistress outside from here, from where would I go and speak to her...

"I am and I have already had breakfast," Maximilian confirms with a smile on his lips. "But I would not have refused an invitation." He gestures towards the door in an agreement with Amberly that they might as well get going. As the doctor gets up, Max asks, "Have you spoken yet with Mrs. Tubbs this morning?"

Edward

The windows are much smaller than what is usual in a fashionable dining room, but it has already become clear that nothing in this ancient house is particularly fashionable. Each individual piece of glass in the latticework is slightly bulbous and of a different thickness than its neighbours, turning the view outside into a patchwork of distorted lights and shapes. Still, by stepping close and peering through one of the straighter panes Edward can see the inner courtyard.

It is a square surrounded by low buildings. Edward can recognise the coach house and the stable, where Selene and Endymion together with the Tubbs horses are quietly breakfasting on hay and oats. Another must be a hen house, since there are several chickens clucking about and inspecting the ground for worms and other crawling things; and judging by the tubs and paddles and other implements resting against a wall, there is also a laundry. The centerpiece of the yard is a rather sad-looking stone well which doesn't appear to have seen much use in the recent years, as it is boarded up and the covering is weighed down with stones.

At the far end of the courtyard there is a section of wall with a small iron gate. It is impossible to see what lies beyond it; however during their conversation the previous evening Henry had mentioned a back garden. Unless the boy had been speaking of the small patch of wilting cabbages near the laundry shack, it seems reasonable to assume this is where the gate leads.

Edward looks for an access to the courtyard.

Once he finds it, he will step outside, with the slow demeanour of somebody taking in new surroundings. He looks back at the house, making a note of which windows directly face the courtyard.

Then he leisurely walks to the old well, looking at its covering, and the stones weighing it down.
hmm... Strange to find it in disuse. With that canal so close by, these should be water-rich lands. He then walks to the far end of the courtyard, and the gate leading to the alleged back garden, to see what the view is from there.

Maximilian
Dr. Amberly seems to be in a more jovial mood than the evening before and so there is no confrontation in his tone when he asks whether he is being suspected of underhandedly influencing Mrs. Tubbs against Mr. Calstock before the interview. He laughs, signifying that the question is merely in the spirit of friendly banter, and as such not requiring an answer.

"But you need not worry, you are in luck. I have been giving Mrs. Tubbs time to prepare and compose herself, it always takes ladies a considerable effort to achieve a look which suggests no effort has been necessary."

And he is perfectly right. As they enter the lady's chamber, Maximilian can see Mrs. Tubbs sitting upright in a bed with carefully arranged linen with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her hair is hidden under a fresh night bonnet and her face, although pale and tired, has been scrubbed of the undignified signs of sleep. Whatever is ailing Mrs. Tubbs - whether it is grief or guilty conscience - doesn't seem to have stripped her off her dignity.

"Madam, let me present to you Mr. Calstock," the physician begins an introduction after making a few polite inquiries after the lady's condition and praising the benefits of a good night's sleep.

Max chuckles along with Amberly at his not entirely - at least hopefully not - serious question, then lets the doctor lead the way. His first impression of Mrs. Tubbs is that she seems far more composed and herself than Mrs. Murgatroyd was claiming, though a conversation should reveal the truth of that.

"I have come here from London with my servant, Mr. Broadhurst," Maximilian expands on Amberly's introduction. "An associate of ours was concerned about the situation regarding your dear husband and asked us to offer our assistance in resolving the matter."

Edward
After exploring the courtyard, Edward discovers the reason for the well being left in disuse - there is a new, modern hand pump close to the kitchen door, too near the house to have been visible through the window. The well itself seems unremarkable enough. In a well-tended park or square it would have been a blemish, but since it sits in the middle of what is for all intents and purposes a farmyard, it does not offend the eye. It appears to have been covered a few seasons ago, or else the wooden boards must have been cracked and rotten even at the time - there are large gaps between some of them. This does not seem to deter the chickens, who - judging by their leavings - find it to be an excellent spot to catch the noon sun when the weather is clear.

The garden beyond the gate is a different thing altogether. It is as if the thin path disappears directly into the forest, only an observant person would argue that the trees and bushes are much younger and probably of more cultivated varieties. There is a haunted feeling about the place, and it is not only the melancholy that autumn always brings.

---

Maximilian
"Elsie warned me that the house is full of strangers. I do so wish to be left alone, yet I suppose a woman's grief is everybody's business when there is an estate to be divided. Am I correct in assuming that you represent an attorney's firm?"

Mrs. Tubbs studies Maximilian for a few moments then looks away again, her gaze stopping on a side table where the gift of sweets sits unopened.

"You do not look like an attorney, or a clerk. Yet I suppose you have not been in the profession long, young as you are."

Mrs. Tubbs herself is not a young woman - at least not as young as one might suppose her to be after conversing with her aunt, in whose eyes Mrs. Tubbs is still a fresh-faced debutante, not to be trusted with important decisions. It is hard to judge with precision but had the lady been blessed with children - of which there seems to be no evidence - the eldest among them might have been Maximilian's age.

"People often don't exactly look like what they are," Maximilian replies, his eyes very briefly moving to Amberly as if to share a knowing glance. "But in this case, I do not look like what I am not. I was not sent by an attorney's firm. In fact, I was sent by a gentleman you will have certainly have heard of before. Mr. Norrel, the magician of Hanover Square. He has asked my servant and me to help with this case and in the process dispel or confirm certain rumors surrounding it."

Seeing the close trees and bushes growing thicker past the gate, and feeling the haunted atmosphere that seems to emanate from it, Edward pauses.

Better not to venture in there without anyone knowing - and it might be worth asking more about this thick growth of trees, so close to the garden gate. Maybe one of the help can tell me something about it.

He walks back to the house, glancing once more at the windows above.
Once indoors, he looks for some of the servants in the kitchen, and starts enquiring about the garden.

"I took a walk in the back courtyard - not a bad day for it, if one is well-covered. Say, that garden at the back, past the gate... it seems pretty unusual. The trees and bushes grow so thick and close to the walls..."
He leaves the sentence hanging, to encourage some comments on the matter.

Edward
The Cook lifts her eyes from her work momentarily and gives Edward an indignant look, as if she is about to comment on London valets and their idle ways - taking a stroll indeed! - but she replies politely enough.

"It is how the master prefers it. In my opinion this garden is in need of some proper care, but Mr. Tubbs would not hear of it. He keeps the paths maintained well enough, but would not let us touch his shoots and thickets. The Mrs. has her own front garden, he says, where she can prune to her heart's content, so he should be allowed to have his Faerie forest." She doesn't go as far as to scoff, but it is implied in her tone.

Maximilian

"A magician?" Mrs. Tubbs exclaims in some distress. "What would a magician want with my husband's..." she does not finish, her eyes darting from Maximilian to Amberly and back in some evident agitation. The physician takes a breath to give explanation, but the lady suddenly lets out a quiet "oh" and settles back into her pillows.

"It is because of Jack, isn't it. Jack Starhouse, this is whom you are after."

Ignoring the bad look, Edward tries to press the woman on. "Fairy Forest? A curious name. So Mr Tubbs truly was a fairy enthusiast, huh? What's the place like? Does it deserve such name?"

"I do admit that the rumors surrounding Mr. Starhouse were what caught my associate's attention and why he asked me to come and assist in this terrible situation. What is your impression of Mr. Starhouse? Could there be anything to these rumors?" He lowers his voice slightly, conspiratorially. "Mr. Norrell of course believes any tales of fairies in England to be false, but you can never know, can you?"

Edward
"Well I wouldn't know about that, would I!" the cook answers sharply and by the way of illustrating her hands being full, she lifts the bowl with the mixture she has been beating with a birch whisk for the past few minutes, and then sets it back on the table with an angry thud. "In case it has escaped your notice, I have better things to do than to be wading through thickets and brambles. Why don't you go and see for yourself?"

---

Maximilian
"Then you can set your master's mind at ease. There are no fairy spirits here; or if there are, Jack Starhouse is not one of their number. I believe he ran for fear of being blamed for what... what happened to my husband. I would have reassured him myself that I bear him no ill will but it would be a lie if I told you that I am not glad he is gone. If I never hear his name again it would be too soon. That is all. You may leave now with my blessings, Mr. Calstock. I am sorry you have had a wasted journey."

"Mrs. Tubbs, what did happen to your husband?"

Until now the lady had been looking at the empty space, as if speaking to someone standing by the curtains of her window. At Amberly's question she turns to him, but quickly averts her gaze again.

"I know he was your friend and you feel that I owe you an explanation. But if telling you that he is gone is not enough, I fear there is nothing I could say at present that would satisfy you. I am sorry. Please, leave me now."

"And what makes you so certain that he is truly gone?" Maximilian asks, throwing a brief side glance to Amberly before focusing on Mrs. Tubbs again. "Is it something you saw on your walk in the courtyard, the morning he disappeared?"