“So I told her that she would be able to visit, and I don’t like the idea of breaking my word. I know this puts you in a difficult situation, but I believe the damage done to the connections I have to the troupe would be severe if I don’t follow through,” Beck explained.

Nora, Amelia and his uncle all stared at him over the breakfast spread. The last time that he’d visited the troupe at Fielding’s behest, Beck had been sent to suss out a spy who was working for the Stranger, which had seemed a wild premise. However, he’d once thought the same of the Reverie, so against his better judgment he figured his uncle’s company had some way of knowing where their enemies were located in the waking world.

And after his latest visit to the circus grounds, the idea of someone there having ties to the Reverie didn’t seem as far-fetched. The matron he had talked to seemed cordial enough, but her reluctance to talk about esoteric matters cast suspicion. If the Reverie was as old as Patch alluded to, then surely it wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by those seeking out arcane knowledge? And if she was truthful about abandoning such pursuits, what of her protege, Florence? Or Florence’s brother?

Regardless, the fortune teller introduced Beck to the matron at the cost of allowing her to visit the Barclay estate. Which is why he needed to tell his superiors about the agreement, even if it didn’t sit well with them.

His uncle set his mug of coffee down. “This is an excellent development, very good Beckham!”

Not anticipating that response, he gave his relative a puzzled look. “Isn’t it a bad thing to let a potential enemy into our dwelling?”

“The manor is more than equipped to handle those who have ill intentions. It had better, with all of the rivals Rowan makes,” Nora grumbled. “Anything that would be valuable are locked away, so all you’d need to be careful of is not handing out invitations to the Reverie like candy.”

“Even so, I fail to see how this is anything except an inconvenience,” Beck said. “How is this helpful to us? If the people I’m bringing here do happen to be in cahoots with the Stranger then they more than likely already know who you are, and by coming here they’ll realize that I’m working for you.”

“The hope is that your intuition is correct and you are bringing the spy here,” Rowan said.

Beck’s confusion deepened further. “Why on earth is that?”

His uncle grinned, a spark of excitement igniting in the man’s eyes. “It is beneficial if they are aware of us, but do not know that we know who they are. When someone thinks they have an advantage over the other, that’s when their guard is lowered and they have the highest chance of slipping up.”

“Are you sure you aren’t a tactician, uncle?”

“The Reverie is my main priority, but I still am a psychologist, and analysis of behavior comes with the territory,” Rowan said. “Now, we might as well have a correspondence sent over to your friends at the circus so that they are prepared for your arrival.”

He let out a sigh. “I suppose this means this is happening today, then.”

Nora scowled. “Today’s the Sabbath, it’s not a day to have guests over.”

Beck ignored the housekeeper. “Pray tell how you plan on getting mail over to a group who have no residence?”

“I have my ways,” his uncle said, the mischievous smile remaining on his lips. “Just let me know who to send it to.”

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“I don’t like this one bit, dear,” Nan said.

The midday sun was beating down on the encampment, baring its heat down on trouper and guest alike. Even away from the crowds and inside of their wagon the temperature was still oppressive. Florence couldn’t believe that her matron still wore her full regalia while she herself was burning up with a vestment cut at the elbows. But perhaps that was why Nan was being more uncompromising than usual.

“I’m sure everything will be fine, Nan. From my conversations with Beckham his uncle is not the most socially adept, they probably didn’t know this would come across as forceful,” Florence reassured.

The matron’s wrinkles became more pronounced. “That’s a charitable way of putting it. The letter was more like a demand than an invitation.”

When she had gotten up in the morning, said invitation was waiting on the steps of their wagon. That in itself was out of the ordinary since the last time she had received mail – Well, there wasn’t a last time. It was from a man who she assumed was the notorious uncle of Beckham, one Rowan Barclay, who wrote to her on Beckham’s behalf. The letter stated that an escort was coming to bring her and Zayne to their home and that they should be ready by the early afternoon. It seemed the assumption was that they were already on board with visiting that very day.

“I understand your concern, but this is something that I requested to do,” Florence said. “You aren’t the only one skeptical about the subject of this man’s studies, and I wanted to assess the situation for myself.”

The old woman clasped her hands in front of her. “That was an impulsive decision, but it is said and done now. I do not fault you for looking out for the wellbeing of others, but it is wise to be discerning with who you involve yourself with, and I fear that Beckham and his family are more trouble than they are worth. When these escorts arrive, you can simply tell them that you have changed your mind.”

“Helping people with their problems is our profession,” Florence pointed out. “You’ve brushed shoulders with the elite of the cities we’ve visited, at least one must have confided something terrible to you. Would you have just let it run its natural course until disaster struck? If it were me, I couldn’t in good conscience let that happen.”

Nan closed her eyes, and Nora could see the wrinkles in her mentor’s face slowly shift. When her pale eyes opened again, she had her answer. “When you are requested, either as a performer or a guest, you are the representative of our entire company. Even if you must step on someone’s ego, you must do so with an air of dignity and grace.”

“Oh Nan, thank you! Thank you!” Florence wrapped her arms around Nan’s neck, who pulled her into a hug.

“This is your first headline act dear, I can’t help but overthink and worry over everything that could happen,” Nan said, her head resting next to Florence’s ear. “Promise me you won’t let yourself be dragged down by them.”

The night that Beckham returned, there was a certain fanaticism that wasn’t there when they first met. The curiosity was still there, but it had blossomed. To her it had seemed the man was chasing a world of expanding opportunities, and between their meetings he had somehow found it. The closest Florence had gotten to that was the discovery of her muse, but one could only be so enamored with something inside oneself. She too desired the same freedom that he had found. So to reassure her matron she lied, “I promise.”

Across the way, Zayne emerged from the entrance of their wagon. He was still buttoning up his shirt, likely only getting ready now after having been asleep well into the morning, much to their matron’s consternation. All of his preparation must have gone into his hair, which was slicked back with enough oil to make it shine. He glanced up and noticed them sitting on the other side of the green, and put on the toothy smile he always wore in public.

“And please make sure your brother doesn’t cause too much trouble,” Nan added quietly.

“Of course,” she said.

Zayne approached them. “Still on time,” he said proudly.

“Don’t push it, you were nearly late,” Florence commented.

“It seems he came just in time,” someone said. She looked over, and Beckham was walking up to their tent. He was in casual attire, most likely to it being the weekend, but Florence and Zayne were dressed to perform. They didn’t have the luxury of pretending to be normal.

“Mister Beckham,” Nan said in a curt greeting.

The man nodded. “Madame. I will make sure everyone returns safe and sound.“

The matron pursed her lips but said nothing. The most effective reassurance was the one that didn’t need to be said.

Beck made a sweeping gesture. “Shall we be off, then?”

“Yes, let’s,” Florence said.

“Off to adventure!” Zayne exclaimed, spreading his arms wide.

Beck put on a forced smile. “I’m afraid it won’t be too exciting, but I’ll leave that up to you to decide.”