A Hanging at Lotus Hall Read online

  A Hanging At Lotus Hall

  The Steampunk Detectives, Book 2

  Corrina Lawson

  Copyright © 2019 by Corrina Lawson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For Christine and Liz, who listen to my trials and tribulations each week.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Also by Corrina Lawson

  About the Author

  Excerpt: Warriors of Seneca

  Chapter 1

  Joan Krieger had fought hard to have choices of her own. But, she reflected, having those choices definitely had complicated her life.

  Take the offer that the Headmaster of the Isca School, John Moriarty, had just presented to her, one that seemed too good to be true.

  “You do me great honor, sir,” Joan said, playing for time, and set her teacup and saucer on the table next to the chair. A quite comfortable chair, she reflected, upholstered with velvet cushions. It matched the rest of the office of the headmaster, furnished in dark woods and burgundy couches and chairs of the softest fabric. It was a place designed to relax the peers of the realm, who sent their sons to Isca to hone their mage talent.

  It had the opposite effect on Joan, setting her teeth on edge. She suspected Moriarty knew that.

  How much did he know about her semi-illegal activities with magic?

  She folded her hands in her lap to cover her reaction. It was worrisome, of course, that she had gained the attention of the highest official of the Metaphysical Society. But surprising that the headmaster had asked her to teach girls gifted with magic.

  Her pleasure was tempered by cynicism. There must be a catch. Again, how well was Moriarty informed of her covert efforts with magic in her detective work?

  “Would it be fair to say this would be a massive change in your school’s position that only men can properly handle the power inherent in the mage gift?” she asked.

  “The world changes and we must change with it, Miss Krieger.”

  “Indeed,” she agreed.

  He caught her gaze and held her full attention, something few people could do. It spoke to the power contained in his unassuming form, power that she sensed, even though he kept it leashed. He resembled a clerk with his drab (but well-fitting) gray suit and pants. His hair had receded, revealing a large forehead that showcased his alert brown eyes. Moriarty had the reputation of being able to calm the most rambunctious mage-gifted peers’ sons.

  Joan suspected Moriarty missed nothing, from the laces of her fine leather boots to the perfect fit of her self-made dress, this one in gray to match the businesslike, perhaps even somber, occasion. He’d started off by offering her a carrot. Where was the stick?

  “In these times, the smallest change is often greeted with suspicion,” Joan said. “This is a great change, not a small one. Is your staff supportive of it? And the Metaphysical Society?”

  In other words, what was she getting into if she agreed to take the position? Trouble, of course, and that was interesting in itself. But she wanted specifics. It was always possible Moriarty could be an ally.

  Moriarty pursed his lips. He’d expected her to jump at his offer, not question it. She waited for him to say more. After all, he’d asked her to his school, to his office. That meant he needed her, in some form. “Possess the soul in patience,” went the old play, as Gregor was fond of quoting. Good advice in this situation.

  “I cannot claim the idea to teach girls to hone their mage talent is without opposition, that’s true. I’m prepared for objections on that score,” Moriarty said.

  “Are you, truly?” Did he realize how widespread the wrong-headed perception that women were too flighty and weak to handle the mage gift was?

  Moriarty sighed and placed his teacup and saucer on the coffee table with the ornately carved feet. “Those objections are why, for now, I propose only a single course, and that for a limited time, to teach the girls the basic foundations of magic.”

  “And what do you propose for later, sir?” Joan sipped her tea. Moriarty was taking his time, leading her down a path by doling out his offer in bits and pieces.

  “Once we begin to teach the girls, it will be obvious that some of them will need to continue their education.”

  “Naturally,” she said.

  “And at some point, depending on how fast they come along, we will need a mage school for girls.”

  Oh, she well knew of this need. If she’d attended a mage school or if her mother had, her life would be utterly different.

  But for now, only boys who were peers of the realm or sponsored by peers of the realm were allowed to openly learn magic. That law wasn’t strictly enforced because, well, the Empire needed mages.

  “And do you propose to teach girls of all classes?” she said, baiting him.

  “It is for only noble girls,” he replied, “But, think on this: if a mage school for girls eventually receives the sanction of the Isca School and the Metaphysical Society, you would be able to take in some scholarship students. If you were the headmistress, that is.”

  The approval of the Metaphysical Society meant official sanction.

  It wasn’t an easy thing to convince anyone to entrust their mage-gifted children to a stranger. Damn it all, she could not even convince her own family to let her test her cousins for the gift. But with the stamp of approval from the Metaphysical Society, girls would be lining up to learn. By dangling the possibility of scholarships at the potential school, Moriarty would give Joan the power to make dreams come true, even for common girls.

  “Establishing a mage school for girls is several steps ahead of simply teaching one course, and none of those steps are certain.” She stood, her skirts rustling as she walked to the window of his office, which looked out upon the quad. At this time of day, it was empty, the pupils hard at work in the brick buildings surrounding the quad. The boys were either from the “best” families or approved by them. The feeling was that the “lesser” classes, like all women, either lacked the mage gift or were too stupid to learn how to use it properly.

  She was proof that both assumptions were wrong.

  “Why approach me? I would not be qualified by gender or rank or ancestry to be a pupil in your classes, never mind a member of your faculty, Mr. Moriarty, facts I’m sure you’re aware of.”

  She turned to face him. He’d risen too and she was surprised again at how tall and thin he was, as if the magic absorbed into his very cells had burned away all excess form.

  “Of course I’m aware.” He nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “But, if I may speak…bluntly?”

  Here came the stick. “Please do.”

  “You are one of the few women who are well trained enough to teach a class at all. There are some who’ve been taught by fathers or brothers among the lord
s of the realm but none that are suited to teaching a class or, well, would lower themselves to the level of teacher.”

  She grimaced. “I am trained and I will not view teaching as a step down, is that it?”

  “Bluntly, yes. You must agree that your choices are limited. The laws and customs stand against you just now. Strictly speaking, you should not use your mage gift at all.”

  Oh, watch me. “So I’ve been told, Mr. Moriarty.”

  “I’m sure you have. And you choose to flout those laws because you have a protector. That will work for now. But, in the long run, it helps to have allies.” He smiled. “I’m the grandson of a lowly knight, Miss Krieger. My noble connections were just enough to qualify me for training but, for the most part, I’ve had to make my own way in the world. I’ve done what I hope is a fair job of it. I’ve done it by accepting help when I needed to do so.”

  She detected a slight trace of a working-class accent in that confession. And a tiny bit of resentment.

  “And now I’m welcome in any home in this realm for my skills, not for any accident of birth,” he added.

  “And you think I can eventually be accorded the same respect, if I work with the Isca School and the Metaphysical Society?”

  “Your people are quite learned and your background as a dressmaker means you know well how to deal with the nobility. You know proper manners. I think you can do well, smashingly so. With our help, of course.”

  Much to unpack in that statement.

  “Your people,” he’d said. Jewish people. They’d ceased to claim Joan, even her father, and yet she still claimed them. Judaism was not a thing one could shed, even if she wished. And she did not.

  As for coming from a family of talented dressmakers and haberdashers, true, and she knew well the manners needed to interact with the highest levels of society. But she’d not worked as a dressmaker since the destruction of her family business, Krieger & Sims. A magical explosion, caused by a curse that killed her mother and destroyed an entire building, was not exactly a ringing recommendation to new customers.

  She settled on the veiled insult that bothered her most.

  “I suspect that my being a Jew is a bigger obstacle to your proposal than any other, Mr. Moriarty.”

  Allowances could be made if she had power. And she did. But she’d always be other, different.

  Joan resisted the urge to tap the lotus pendant set under her dress. That pendant, a gift from Gregor, protected others from discerning the scope of her mage abilities. It allowed her to be somewhat of a mystery to Moriarty, even in person. Most of the time, being underestimated gave her the advantage.

  But she was also tired of not being given her due.

  “Your being Jewish can be overlooked because of your newfound fortune, which is also proof of your significant mage gift,” Moriarty finally replied. “Money and, now, power, has always been a great leveler.” He paused. “I have one Jew on staff already.”

  “That is something, I suppose.”

  Unexpectedly, he smacked a fist into his open palm. “Blast it, Miss Krieger, you have been violating the letter of the law. That makes your position precarious. My offer gives you a chance to continue your own studies, under the sanction of the Metaphysical Society, even while you teach others.”

  He’d lost patience with her. Good, now she’d see the real Moriarty. “And if I refuse?”

  “I would not wish to speak of that yet, only say that there are many pitfalls in the mage gift. You lack the experience to handle them, at least right now, and your teacher is not a mage, not in the usual sense. I’m concerned about the damage you can do if your power is mishandled. As your mother mishandled her talent.”

  A low blow. Joan fought a wince. Her mother had turned her mage gift to evil. As Moriarty knew. “I see.”

  “Are you turning me down, Miss Krieger?” He raised a pencil-thin dark eyebrow at her.

  “I’m thinking it through.” Turn him down flat and he had the influence to send the law after her. “For her own good,” he’d claim.

  Stall for time, she thought, and talk it over with Gregor before giving Moriarty an answer.

  Gregor had been right to be suspicious of this meeting, damn him.

  “Your offer is not without pitfalls, Mr. Moriarty.” He would not back her up if she made mistakes training the girls, she guessed. Perhaps he even wanted her to fail so he could put the matter aside, and her with it.

  “You seem like a risk-taker, Miss Krieger. You have not become what you are by avoiding problems.”

  She had become what she was because she’d been determined to uncover what had happened to her father’s health. Now, with the death of her mother and her unsteady relationship with her father, some paths were closed, others wide open.

  Once, she’d dreamed of the riches she now possessed. But those riches came with a power that still caught her unaware at times.

  “Tell me, are you a follower of Jeremy Bentham, Mr. Moriarty?” she asked, to buy more time to mull the offer.

  Bentham’s followers believed the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, and those few be damned. She’d come to believe the only way to save anyone was one person at a time.

  “Like Bentham, I believe anyone, under the right circumstances, can be educated, and he was a great supporter of women’s education.” Moriarty lifted the teacup to take a dramatic sip. “I’m surprised to hear that you don’t hold him in high esteem.”

  “His ideas were, for the most part, good ones, but the way they’ve sometimes been implemented has dismissed the humanity of many people. Including my people, at times, and the Irish.”

  “Well, the Irish are the worst of the uneducated and, besides, not truly Englishmen. You may be Jewish but you are also English, through and through.”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Her voice was dry enough to crackle into dust and fade away. Fine. Now she knew where Moriarty (and Isca and the Metaphysical Society, by extension) stood.

  He finally scowled. “Come, Miss Krieger, acceptance of my offer is the only good choice for you.”

  Ah, it must be frustrating to him to continue to treat her as an equal. He’d thought she’d jump at the crumb he offered. However, crumbs could be built into a mound. How far could she trust Moriarty?

  “This would be a change in the direction of my life.” And her life’s goals. “I’d like time to think it through.”

  “A fortnight,” he said. “I can only give you that. That should be plenty of time, especially as there is something I must ask of you first.”

  Aha. Finally, he would stitch the pattern together instead of laying out the pieces separately. “Yes?”

  “I must know your limits as a mage, Miss Krieger. I’d like to test you.”

  What kind of test? “What do you mean?”

  “All teachers at Isca undergo an examination to make certain of the limits of their mage gift.”

  “And you want a demonstration of my abilities?” Perhaps she should set his tie on fire. That would be satisfying.

  “Not in the way you’re thinking.” Moriarty pursed his lips again. “We’ve learned ways to place students in a light trance so we can direct their abilities the proper way, without injuring themselves or others. A few lessons controlling them is all that’s needed to teach them to control themselves. We do something similar with teachers at the beginning as well, place them in a trance so we can determine the strength of their abilities. We have to know everyone’s limits to work together effectively.”

  “You are asking me to open myself magically to you, to trust you with everything that I am?” The only person she’d trust with that degree of intimacy would be Gregor. “Would you do the same for me?”

  “What?” His teacup clattered against his saucer.

  “Would you allow me to put you in a light trance so I can observe the strength of your gift, Mr. Moriarty? After all, I have to know the limits of the people I’m going to work with.”

&
nbsp; “My abilities and my integrity are not under question here!”

  “And mine are?”

  She finally noticed that one of his eyes was slightly larger than the other. The larger eye seemed to glare at her, like the one-eyed Cyclops of legend. She’d shocked him. Good.

  “Yes, well, hmmm…” He sighed. “But this is a test of the ability to work together.”

  With men, men who had reason to doubt her ability. Men who wanted to control her. Men who thought her inferior. “Hence, my question about whether I could test you,” she parried.

  “Careful, Miss Krieger. You sound like one of those radical suffragettes, who believe women can do all things better than men.”

  “Can’t they?” She smiled. “Though the suffragettes, whose goals I fully support, don’t believe women are better than men. They simply believe that they are equal to men.”

  Moriarty visibly winced, either at her ill manners or the temper in her voice. He wanted change but not too much. He certainly wanted some sort of control over her. Or his Metaphysical Society did.

  “And does Lord Gregor Sherringford, your mentor, a duke’s son, treat you as an equal?”

  “That is a personal question, is it not?” Ah, she hoped he would ask the question about her rumored sexual relationship with Gregor. It would be fun to see if he could put aside his politeness to ask her about such a delicate subject. She was comfortable with her desire for Gregor. It was the rest of the world that was not.

  “Perhaps I should ask him about you,” Moriarty said.

  “Perhaps you should.” If that was supposed to be a threat, it was an empty one. Gregor was more than the equal of this man. She walked to the door and set her hand on the knob. “This has been a fascinating afternoon, Mr. Moriarty, but it appears we have nothing else to say to each other at this moment. I’ll give you my answer in a fortnight.”