"No. I kept that part of me hidden. The church don't look kindly on magic, Miss Steele. Mark my words, some of 'em think the devil's in us magicians. Be sure and keep it a secret from any religious folk."
"I will," I assured her. "But are you saying that you never worked with silk while you were a nun?"
"Silk ain't common in a convent, but there was one time. A silk handkerchief were donated by a toff lady. We got donations from time to time that we sold in our little shop for extra money. Well, the handkerchief were a bit frayed so I offered to fix it up all nice to sell." Her face took on a glowing reverence, as if recalling a divine experience. "It were a fine piece and I loved feeling it. It had been an age since I'd touched silk. I knew about my magic but I didn't think I'd miss silk until I could no longer feel it. I missed it so much that I wasn't all that upset when the reverend mother threw me out. I just wanted to work with silk again, see. But no one at the convent knew about my magic. No one saw me fix that handkerchief, and no one there could even recognize magic heat since they were all artless."
"Are you quite sure?" Matt asked.
"Y-es. I think so."
She didn't sound all that sure to me. "You don't think that's why Mother Alfreda disliked you?" I asked. "You say she hated you for no reason, but perhaps she knew, somehow, and thought you did the devil's work."
"Then why didn't she say? Why didn't she throw me out? It was Mother Frances who threw me out, not Mother Alfreda, and because of "my mistake," as she called it, not my magic. No, I don't think she knew. I don't think anyone knew."
But she didn't sound positive.
We thanked her and she re-entered the shop while Matt returned the glasses and spoons to the ice cream seller. They were in the midst of a conversation in Italian when Matt paused. He stood on his toes and peered over the heads of passersby. Then he suddenly ran off.
I lifted my skirts and followed. Or tried to, but he was too fast. I caught a glimpse of him through the crowd ahead before he vanished. Had he gone into a shop? Or into the side street? I was about to enter the nearest shop, a millinery, when I heard him call my name.
He hurried toward me from the side street, caught my arm and walked me briskly back past the ice cream seller.
"You saw Payne?" I asked.
"I saw a fellow lounging against the wall," he said. "I can't be sure, but his stature reminded me of Payne. His hat was pulled low over his face so I couldn't see it. You shouldn't have followed me."
"You shouldn't have tried to confront him."
He wisely kept his mouth shut.
We avoided narrow back streets and kept to the busier thoroughfare as we walked home. I wondered if Matt would have been as cautious if he were alone. I didn't ask, not wanting to stoke the embers of our argument.
Instead, I steered clear of sensitive topics altogether. "Do you think it odd that Sister Margaret drew our attention to Abigail Pilcher in the first place, considering they were such good friends?"
"In what way?"
"She mentioned Abigail's departure out of the blue when we spoke to her at the convent. She didn't have to, and if they were friends, I'd expect her to protect Abigail from our prying questions. Yet she set us down the path of seeking Abigail out. Why?"
"Perhaps she was genuinely interested in her friend's welfare and couldn't check on her herself."
"There's no reason Sister Margaret couldn't visit Abigail."
"Visiting a disgraced former nun is probably strongly discouraged by the mother superior. Putting that aside, what are you suggesting? What would be Sister Margaret's purpose in setting us on Abigail's trail? To find answers that she couldn't give us? If so, it wasn't a successful strategy. We didn't learn anything about Phineas's disappearance, or that of Mother Alfreda."
"Or was Sister Margaret's intention to send us on a wild goose chase, perhaps to throw suspicion onto Abigail and away from the guilty party?"
He frowned at me. "So…they weren't friends?"
"It seems you don't know as much about women as I thought you did."
"I'm hardly the expert, India. The female of the species manages to constantly surprise me, and you in particular. So explain what I've missed."
I wasn't entirely sure if he'd paid me a compliment or not. I decided not to dwell on it. "Women are not always kind to those who've broken the bonds of friendship, and I do believe the bond that existed between Sister Margaret and Abigail was broken when Father Antonio began to take notice of one and not the other."
"Ah, jealousy. That I understand. But you think Sister Margaret would set aside their friendship out of jealousy? Jealousy over a man who could not belong to either of them, I might add."
I sighed. "I don't know. Perhaps. But it does feel a little as if Sister Margaret deliberately steered us toward Abigail to put us off."
"Or to help us. She didn't know Abigail was pregnant. She may have thought she left for a reason related to Mother Alfreda and the babies' disappearances."
I wasn't convinced that Sister Margaret and the other nuns were oblivious to Abigail's condition. With very little else to do in the convent except gossip and observe, it seemed likely the more observant of them would have guessed.
"The real question is," I said, "did anyone at the convent know Abigail was a magician? She didn't think so, but perhaps she was wrong."
"In particular, did Mother Alfreda know? Was that why she hated Abigail?"
"And if she did know," I added, "how did she find out? Because she was a magician too? Or because someone else was and told her?"
Matt's pace slowed and I glanced at him. He appeared lost in thought, his gaze unfocused.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm trying to work out what connection there might be between Abigail's magical ability and the disappearances from the convent. I can't think of one. If Abigail knew Phineas was magical, then perhaps she let it slip to someone who then squirreled him out of the convent, but she says she didn't know."
"She may have lied to us."
* * *
We decided to visit the convent after lunch and yet another rest for Matt. I no longer had to order him to retire to his room in the middle of the day; he simply went after using his watch's magic. That meant he must be exhausted. The others noticed too, and a heavy silence weighed us down as we waited for Matt to wake and rejoin us. I couldn't settle and found no joy in reading. Cyclops, Willie and Duke, being more active, also couldn't sit still. The men finally left to go to the stables, where they could at least do something, but Willie remained in the house. She paced into the entrance hall and back up to the sitting room again, over and over. I realized after half an hour that she was waiting for the mail.
"Have you heard from your grandfather, India?" Miss Glass asked while Willie was out of the room.
"No, nor do I expect to. It's too much of a risk for him to write. While I don't expect the police to monitor my correspondence, it's something Chronos would expect them to do."