Chapter 2: In Which John Segundus and John Childermass Discuss the Works of Jane Austen
October 1817
"Are you in here, Mr Childermass?" said Segundus, peering into the library of the Starecross School for Magicians. "Mrs Pleasance has prepared a little supper for those of us who remain tonight."
Childermass closed the book he had been reading from with a snap and looked up, grinning. "I have found you out, Mr Segundus."
This was not reassuring. Segundus reached out and took hold of the doorframe for support, wondering what on earth was meant by this extraordinary assertion. "How do you mean, sir?"
"I would never have guessed you to be a reader of three-volume novels, but the evidence cannot be denied." He held up the book in. "Pride and Prejudice, by the author of Sense and Sensibility...so well-thumbed! So full of bookmarks!"
Segundus breathed freely again. For a moment he had thought - well, no matter what he had thought. "Those are remnants of Lady Pole's time with us here," he said, coming the rest of the way into the room. "It was one of the ways we had to keep her somewhat occupied - we would take it in turns to read aloud to her. Nothing remotely magical or romantic would suit, you understand. She favored the strictly realistic novels in which the greatest obstacle to be overcome was the prosaic struggle of how to get through life without being desperately poor or unhappy."
Childermass put the book back in the case with its companion volumes and stood up. "Perhaps not such a prosaic struggle, sir, and one which we all face. But I can well understand why the gloom of The Mysteries of Udolpho might not have appealed to Lady Pole. Was Pride and Prejudice more to her liking?"
"As much as any thing ever was while she was under the enchantment." Segundus smiled. "I grew rather fond of it myself, I will admit. Miss Austen has a shrewd wit which I find pleasing."
"She certainly takes joy in skewering the shortcomings of the less intelligent. It is one of my favorite pastimes as well." Childermass's dark eyes gleamed with humor. "Now, I believe you mentioned dinner?"
"Ah yes. Nothing out of the ordinary, with almost everyone gone for the holiday, but it will be hot at least. Shall we?"
"After you."
They proceeded to the dining room, where only one end of the table had been laid for dinner. There were four places set.
"Who else will be joining us?" said Childermass, pulling the tureen of steaming stew closer and inhaling appreciatively.
"Possibly Mr Levy, but I am not sure - he said something earlier about not wanting to break off in the middle of an interesting experiment. Something to do with two-way communication through mirrors..."
"Ah yes, I remember him - one of Strange's old students, you got him to come teach here. He was working on the mirrors the last time Vinculus and I stopt here. No success?"
"Not yet, but he feels he is near a breakthrough. I hope he achieves it soon, as it is beginning to interfere with his tutoring schedule. Ah, thank you, Mrs Pleasance!" The housekeeper had come in with a loaf of her famous bread, still warm from the oven.
"Just the thing to go with stew, Mr Segundus," she said happily, setting it down in front of him. "Will your companion be at table, Mr Childermass? I did lay a place for him," she added, with slightly less enthusiasm. Childermass shook his head.
"No, Mrs Pleasance, he's gone for a walk. I don't expect we'll see him again until breakfast." Mrs Pleasance, aware that gone for a walk meant gone to raise Cain in the village, looked relieved, bobbed a curtsey, and left the room.
"Have you made any progress with the translation?" Segundus inquired courteously, when they had eaten with silent attention for some minutes.
"A little," said Childermass. "I am chusing to get the symbols copied down first. I have a feeling it will be easier to concentrate on a text that does not move about of its own accord and complain that it needs a drink."
"Oh! So you do not agree with the theory that the Book should remain only in its original form? That is to say, on Vinculus and no where else? I have heard some people worrying that perhaps the Raven King did not intend the general public to have access to his writings."
"I've heard the same. One way or another, I need to be able to read the d-d thing before I can tell anyone whether the contents are suitable for all and sundry."
"Of course," mused Segundus, "the original Book was written in the conventional format, so the Raven King isn't opposed to the concept outright..."
When they had finished their stew, bread, and conversation, they removed to the library, where the fire had been built back up into a comforting blaze. Charles, Segundus's manservant, brought them coffee. Segundus read over some of his old letters from Jonathan Strange and made notes for the biography he was planning to write. Childermass got out his cards but did not lay them out, preferring to turn the deck over and over in his left hand as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips with his right, staring into the flames all the while.
Some time later Segundus set down his pen, cleared his throat and said: "Did I ever thank you, Mr Childermass, for bringing Lady Pole here?"
Childermass looked startled. "Why would you? You were nearly undone by living in such close proximity to the enchantment for so long."
"No, not for Lady Pole specifically," said Segundus, shaking his head. "But for keeping your word and remembering me - us - after our initial purpose was...disrupted. I had assumed you were merely trying to placate us with empty words. I was never more surprized or - or - moved than when you wrote to ask if we would be Lady Pole's keepers."
"Well," said Childermass, laughing, "as I told you at the time, I am a very fine fellow. Even if I don't look it."
Segundus smiled. "There is nothing wrong with how you look. One simply has to get used to the idea that some people appear as though they just stepped out of the pages of a Gothic romance or a bad play."
Childermass was shaking with mirth now. "Such flattery! I wasn't too sure of you at first either."
"Oh? In what way?"
"You must remember that the only magician I'd ever spent any time with was Norrell. I assumed all magicians were as secretive, arrogant, and deceitful as him...and me. You appeared modest, and gentle, and kind-hearted, so naturally I assumed you were simply better at disguising your true nature than most."
Segundus looked flustered. "Dear me! How alarming! It sounds as though I must be either a villain or a milksop. Which am I?"
"Neither, sir, neither. I was reluctant to believe it, but years of careful observation and study have convinced me that you are actually as amiable and good as you seemed at first acquaintance. This makes you entirely unique in my experience." He raised his coffee cup in a half-ironic salute.
Segundus covered his flaming face with one hand. "You make it sound as though I am a laboratory experiment. What am I to believe, that you routinely consulted your cards about me and took extensive notes?"
"Actually..."
"Actually what?"
"That is exactly what I did."
Segundus sat up straight and stared at the other man, his self-consciousness overpowered for the moment by astonishment. "I beg your pardon?"
Childermass waved the cards of Marseilles in the air. "I consulted the cards about you at regular intervals and recorded the results. I knew from our first meeting that you had a sensitivity to magic almost equal to my own, and the cards told me that you had some important part to play in the restoration of English magic. I did not wish to draw Norrell's attention to you, so I was obliged to keep an eye on you in my own way." He smiled his sideways smile. "Are you offended?"
"Well - I - that is to say - " Segundus was fairly spluttering by this point, half-suffocated by the amount of things he wanted to say, most of them furious and indignant. His native good manners and restraint prevented him from saying precisely what was in his heart, however, and he settled for standing up and striding back and forth across the library, running his hands distractedly through his mop of greying hair. Finally he halted in front of Childermass's seat and glared down at him. "I cannot pretend that I am pleased by this news, Mr Childermass," he said. "But I will wait to hear more. Were you - spying on me? What on earth could you have learned about me from those confounded cards?"
Childermass leaned back to meet his gaze more easily. He did not sound particularly contrite as he said: "Nothing to cause you any distress. The cards tend towards the absurdly broad or the ridiculously specific, depending on the questions one puts to them. I was chiefly interested in your magical activities, and also in your character. I learned that you continued your magical studies as best you could in the circumstances, and that you were almost entirely free of guile and ambition. Nothing I couldn't have discovered by interrogating your landlady, but as I said, I had to be discreet."
"But you said you have carried out this reprehensible program for years! What could possibly have held your attention for that long? I am sure that aside from the incident with Lady Pole's finger I must have possessed the dullest, dreariest fortune ever told. You must have some deeper purpose, sir, that you have not yet revealed to me. I demand that you tell me your true reasons for this - this - monstrous breach of propriety." Segundus's gentle nature was dissolving in a tincture of mortification and outrage. He was horrified to realize that his eyes were prickling with tears of pure fury and he turned abruptly away.
There was the rustle of clothing and the sound of slow footsteps. Childermass stood at his side. "I can only repeat what I have told you already, John Segundus," he said. "I had no sinister motive. At first I merely wanted to keep track of your actions during a delicate stage of my master's career, but as time went by I found that I was simply interested in you for your own sake - because I found you interesting. You are the best man I have ever known. I watched you because I could not help myself."
Segundus was aware of an odd ringing in his ears as he stared unblinkingly at the section of wall between the door and the ceiling. Do not say any thing, he sternly admonished himself. He cannot mean what you think he means. Do not say one word. His resolve was badly shaken when Childermass lowered his voice and added: "In vain I have struggled. It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." Segundus turned to look at the man beside him (Did he really just quote Mr Darcy at me?), searching his dark face for any sign of mockery or jest. He found none. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and then nearly bit his tongue clean off when Tom Levy came dashing into the room, brandishing a shaving mirror and shouting "I've got it! I've got it! Take a look at this, chaps!"
Segundus stept quickly forward with exclamations of greater excitement than he felt, endeavoring to conceal the thunderous upheaval taking place within himself. Childermass, too, bent over Levy's mirror with every appearance of interest. "Well?" he said. "I can see Mr Hadley-Bright."
"Yes, but can you not see he is looking at us?" said Levy. "He knows we are here! He can see us in a mirror of his own!" He gesticulated at his friend in the mirror, and Hadley-Bright waved back, saying something that they could not hear but looking every bit as exultant as Levy. "We have made these two mirrors answer to each other! Is that not fine?" He beamed at the older men, then resumed his attempt to communicate with the magician in the glass.
"Next you had better find a way to get sound to pass through the mirror," observed Segundus, "otherwise it will be more like a long-distance game of Charades."
"Come now, don't be a wet blanket, sir!" said Childermass. "Let him have his moment. This is a new achievement in magic, as far as I know. You are to be congratulated, Mr Levy."
"Thank you! Thank you!" said Levy, executing a few steps of a jig in his jubilation (he was apt to express emotion in this way when words were insufficient). "Hadley-Bright!" he said loudly, forming the name with exaggerated care so that the other man could read his lips. "Can you read this?" He held up a note and Hadley-Bright squinted at it. Then he shook his head. "Backwards," he mouthed, and Levy nodded vigorously.
"Of course - mirror writing is reversed," he said, and sat down hurriedly at the nearest writing table to try his hand at writing like Leonardo da Vinci.
Childermass and Segundus left him to his scribbling and retreated to their seats by the fire. Childermass's words hung between them like an invisible cloud, waiting to be dispersed by the next person to speak. Both men were reluctant to do so, instead gazing into the fire or at the soot-smudged hearthrug. Finally Segundus raised his head.
"Mr Childermass," he said, so quietly that he could hardly be heard. The other man leaned forward, his ragged hair hanging like a curtain on either side of his face. "You have not respected my privacy. You have said things to me that could endanger both of our reputations and possibly our freedom. If we were in one of Miss Austen's novels, this is where I would give you an outraged lecture and send you away."
Childermass snorted. "Yes, and then I would be obliged to compose a lengthy letter explaining myself, and we would spent the next few months in mutual agonies until all misunderstandings were corrected and all difficulties overcome."
"Exactly. I am pleased to see that you have read the whole book and retained its salient points," said Segundus, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "For good or ill, sir, I think we both prefer a more direct approach." He glanced at Levy to make sure that they were not overheard; the former dancing-master was grimacing and making gestures at the mirror (presumably for the benefit of the magician at the other end) and had no attention to spare for anything else. "You say that you have done these things because you...love me?"
"Aye," said Childermass, his voice a growl. "You have my life in your hands, John Segundus. Do with it what you will."
"Always so dramatic, John Childermass," said Segundus. "I suppose it comes of being one of Mrs Radcliffe's creations." He leaned forward, closing the distance between them until their foreheads touched for the briefest of moments, before sitting back in his chair. "Do not be afraid. Even when I thought you were the Ruin of all my Hopes and Dreams personified - I loved you. Since we are letting Miss Austen do the talking for us this evening: I cannot fix the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun. And I love you still."
Childermass blinked at him, his face transforming as a smile - a real smile - spread across his features like the sunrise. "Thank God," he breathed. "I knew I had to tell you, but I did not know what would come of it."
"Those blasted cards again, I suppose?" said Segundus, lifting his eyes to the heavens, and Childermass nodded. "We are going to have to come to an agreement about them, sir. They give you a distinctly unfair advantage over me."
"Ah, no, I need all the help I can get," rejoined Childermass. "These are dark paths that we are going to tread. I, for one, welcome a bit of extra information."
"In spite of my misgivings about them, I confess that I wonder ," said Segundus, hesitating, "do they say what happens? To...us?"
"Let us find out," said Childermass. "Circumstances have altered somewhat since the last time I asked them that question." He laid out the cards on the occasional table beside his chair, then turned them over one by one. Segundus watched him ponder the battered cardboard rectangles, his heart beating hard, waiting to hear their fate. Then Childermass swept the cards into a stack and tucked them away in their accustomed pocket, his usual expression of wry amusement back in place.
"Well, sir?" said Segundus. "Is this - venture - doomed before it starts?"
"I do not think so," said Childermass. "The cards do not tell the end of any story, for that is always changing. But they say that whatever we do, whatever we are - we shall do it and be it together."
Segundus exhaled. "Then that is good enough for me."
"And for me."
They regarded each other silently, two men on the wrong side of the prime of life, one with the quiet air of a scholar, the other with an aura of authority that contrasted oddly with his mode of dress. Then, as though in response to some signal, they both reached out and clasped hands.
Tom Levy gave a crow of delight from the other side of the room. "Ha! I have just shewn Hadley-Bright a note telling him that the weather continues fine here and he has shewn me one of his own informing me that the fog is heavy in London tonight!" He swiveled on his chair to share his triumph with the other two. "I say, what sort of bargain are you two striking over there?"
"We are congratulating ourselves upon our excellent taste in literature," said Childermass. "Are you familiar with the works of Miss Jane Austen? I can recommend them most highly."
Notes:
I know absolutely nothing about tarot cards. Everything I write about them is 100% made up.
"Pride and Prejudice" was originally published in 1813 as a three-volume novel.
"The Mysteries of Udolpho" is the most famous of Ann Radcliffe's Gothic novels.
