But (when so sad thou canst not sadder)

Cry;—and upon thy so sore loss

Shall shine the traffic of Jacob’s ladder

Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross.

—Francis Thompson, “In No Strange Land”

Matthew wore a brocade waistcoat, and a new silk hat was clutched in his hand, though his head was bare, his curls tousled. Shimmering stones glittered in his tiepin and at his cuffs, and his signet ring gleamed on his hand. “Anna, you won’t believe—” He broke off as he saw Cordelia. “What are you doing here?”

Cordelia was not sure such a rude question deserved an answer. “Having tea.”

His gaze scanned the room. His eyes were a most peculiar color, clear green in some lights, darker in others. “I don’t see Anna,” he said, sounding astonished and a little suspicious, as if he suspected Cordelia of having hidden Anna in the teapot.

“She’s in her bedroom,” said Cordelia, as coolly as she could manage.

“Alone?” Matthew inquired.

“Matthew!” called Anna from the bedroom. “Don’t be awful.”

Matthew went to lean against Anna’s bedroom door, turning his head to speak to her through the crack. It was clear he didn’t care whether Cordelia overheard him. “I have already had a maddening day,” he said. “James has been slandered by Tatiana Blackthorn and my rotten older brother is backing her up to the hilt; James has gone off to rendezvous with Grace. I am here to get squiffy and try to forget what a foolish thing my parabatai is doing.” He glanced at his watch. “Also, I have to be at Fleet Street by midnight.”

Anna reemerged, looking spectacular in a black velvet coat, matching trousers, and a white silk shirt tied at the collar. A monocle dangled around her neck and her boots were shimmering black. Between her and Matthew it was hard to say who looked the more as if they had wandered out of an illustration in Punch regarding the glamorous youth of today.

“A dreadful tale,” Anna said. “Shall we go?”

“Certainly,” said Matthew. “Cordelia, it was lovely, if surprising, to see you.”

“There is no need to say farewell,” Anna said, drawing on a pair of white gloves. “Cordelia will be coming with us. That was why I invited her here in the first place.”

“I thought you wanted to have tea!” objected Cordelia.

“No one ever just wants to have tea,” said Anna. “Tea is always an excuse for a clandestine agenda.”

“Anna, Cordelia is a proper young lady,” said Matthew. “She may not wish to risk her reputation by sallying out with Downworlders and reprobates.”