“Yes?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
The woman’s nearly white eyes flickered over his bright waistcoat as her mouth gaped mutely and her gloved hand surged forward with a half-crumpled letter. Her thin voice faltered as she said, “I— I need to speak to Mrs. Rhodes, sir.”
“I’ll take it to her.”
“No!” she cried and shrank back, pulling the missive to her breast. “My master wants me to deliver it to her personally.”
Nadir’s eyes ran between the little woman and the letter in her hand. Peeking from under her shabby wool coat was the white lace collar of a maid’s uniform. “Wait here. I’ll get her.”
He stepped out of the way to let her inside, but the maid stayed rooted on the cobbled path. Closing the door on her, Nadir walked upstairs. For a moment, he considered going back to his room without saying a word, but the woman had piqued his interest. Plenty of women or their servants sent calling cards to Leona or Argus, yet none came to the servant’s door or refused to relinquish their message. If only he had snatched it from her and slammed the door in her face when he had the chance.
At the parlor curtain, he hesitated and cleared his throat. “Leona, someone’s at the door for you.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know. She said she would rather wait downstairs.”
Even without seeing her, he could sense his cousin tense on the other side of the wall. Nadir backed down the hall and watched as Leona stormed out of the parlor, her needle whipping on its fabric tether. When she reached the servants’ hall, she pulled the door shut behind her, but Nadir caught it and waited until she reached the kitchen counter before creeping down the steps behind her. Staying just out of sight on the landing, he watched the smaller woman cower as Leona wrenched open the door.
“What do you want now, you little toad?”
The maid’s eyes widened as she held out the letter. “Mr. Nash sent me to give this to you, mum.”
Leona ripped it from her hand and unfolded the note. From the stairs, Nadir could only make out her back and the side of her face, but skimming the page, her gaze hardened. As she refolded it, he swore he saw her hand tremble. “What if my husband had seen this? Does he have no consideration or shame?”
“He said I had to give it to you and only you. I never would have given it to Mr. Rhodes.”
“Oh? And how would that have looked?”
She straightened up, gaining back what little height she had. “What should I tell him, mum? He told me not to leave without a reply.”
“Tell him the devil can have him.”
His cousin reached to shut the door when the maid put her foot in the way, wincing when the wood collided with her instep. “Please, I need an answer—a real one. He’ll be cross with me and just make me come back if you don’t respond properly.”
“Let him know that I will meet him in the usual place at the usual time. He will know what that means.” For a moment, she seemed to deflate, but her voice sharpened as she asked, “Did you read it?”
“No, mum.”
“Then, you have your answer. Now, get back to your master, Pilcrow, before I call the constable.”
The maid’s eyes flicked onto the shadow on the stairs, but Nadir ducked further out of sight before his cousin could see. He listened as the door shut and a chair squealed as it was pulled away from the table. Nadir chanced a look. Leona sat with her forehead resting against her fist, watching the grey little maid through the kitchen window as she disappeared into the village. When she sat back, he noticed that she held the letter against the bodice of her dress. He had never seen her upset, let alone angry, yet any emotion that had been there before already seemed to be seeping away. She reread the short missive, her face impassive.
With silent strides, Nadir returned to the top of the steps and bounded down them again. His cousin looked up at him with a start and tucked the letter under her needlepoint, which she promptly picked up and began to work on.
“Who was at the door?” he asked as he moved back to the stove.
“No one. A woman looking for work.”
“I could have sworn I heard voices just now.”
She shook her head and carefully added another stitch. “You must have heard me muttering about the mess you left.”
With a shrug, Nadir returned to the coffee grinder.
Dropping the fabric and pinning it under her elbow, she turned to watch him. “You were quite rude to Lady Dorset. You know they live in London.”
“So?”
“They know people. They could help you, and you decide to be flippant. You’re not a fool, Nadir. You know how important first impressions are.”
Clunking the grinder against the counter, he barred his arms across his chest and faced her. “What do you expect me to do now, Leona? Beg forgiveness? Lady Dorset didn’t seem too put out. The earl probably didn’t even notice that I snubbed him.”
“You’re just lucky Argus was entertaining him. Tomorrow, I want you to go up to Brasshurst and bring her a signed book. Apparently, her brother is a fan of yours... if she hasn’t already written to tell him how rude you are.”
“And what if I don’t have a book to spare?”
“You told me you always carry one, in case you run into some spinster or eligible lady you want to impress. Bring Lady Dorset a book tomorrow, or I will write to your parents and tell them to cut you off again.”
“I’ll have you know, I haven’t asked my parents for money in two years,” he cried as Leona picked up her needlework and letter and headed up the stairs. “My books are wildly popular, but you would know that if you actually read them.”
“Bring her a book, Nadir!” she called from the landing.
Shaking his head, his eyes traveled back to the broken beans in the grinder. He inhaled its warm, bitter aroma, his mind perking at the familiar scent. If he was to follow Leona to her secret meeting, he would need it to be strong.
***
Nadir sat in the darkened dining room, fighting his body as it grew lax and heavy before snapping alert at the slightest sound. Tucking his coat and scarf closer, he fortified himself against the cold and took a swig from his flask. The brandy coated his throat, warming his chest from the inside out and making his head swim. From his perch in the furthest corner of the dining room, he could watch the front door and the servants’ stairway, but in the shadows, his cousin wouldn’t see him. Stretching and straining, he could just barely make out the face of the mantle clock in the moonlight. Two forty-five. Maybe she had been bluffing after all. He moved to stand but froze as the top step creaked in the foyer. Leona's plump form, swathed and veiled in black, appeared in the doorway. Nadir leaned further into the shadows as she opened the front door and slipped out into the night. Watching her through the dining room window’s undulant glass, he waited until she rounded the corner at the end of the road before following.
The streets of Folkesbury were empty. Nadir rubbed his ears, unaccustomed to the silence, as he crept behind her, darting from doorway to doorway. Even at that hour, London had never been this desolate. Fog rolled in from the beach, trapping the flickering glow of the streetlamps in luminous clouds. Leona’s silhouette bobbed through the mist, her heels tapping down the cobbled path as she moved away from the stone and thatch houses and into the brush. Out of the town’s dim glow, Nadir could barely make out her form among the scruffy trees and long grass. His boot-soles slipped on the cool, salty spray of the fog as it lapped and whirled against the weatherworn stones. Perhaps brandy wasn’t the best idea.
Fifty feet ahead near a copse of oaks, she stopped. Nadir knelt behind a tree as she looked over her shoulder and opened the shutter on her lantern. In the harsh light, he couldn’t be certain if she really was his cousin and not some fae leading him into another realm. What could the letter have contained that would have brought her out in the middle of the night? Maybe he had fallen asleep in the dining room chair or maybe he was slumped over his desk
and the maid’s arrival had been a dream.
With the lantern lit, Leona picked up the pace, marching along the rickety fence at the cliff’s edge. Wind whipped off the bay, catching Nadir’s scarf and blowing through the wool and silk of his coat like it was not even there. As he took a step forward, his scarf tightened around his throat. When he slowly turned, he found his scarf had tangled in the branches behind him. Cursing under his breath, he tried to unwind the knit fabric from the tree while keeping his eyes on his cousin. The light grew fainter until finally he ripped the scarf from the tree with a sharp snap. Staggering back on the dewy stones, Nadir’s foot slipped from under him and he collided with the road, crushing the bush behind him with a crack.
“Who’s there?” Leona called, her brown eyes wide as she walked toward his hiding place.
Her lantern’s beam swept across the road only feet away from him. Nadir held his breath, fingering the bead in his pocket for luck. What would he say if she caught him? She would know that he had spied on her and that he followed her from the house. Then again, what cousin wouldn’t be concerned if his closest relation left in the middle of the night?
“Nash, is that you?”
His ankle and tailbone throbbed, but he turned his head away to muffle his cry. A night bird warbled and was answered by its companion near the shore. In the stillness, waiting to be found, Nadir listened to the ebb and flow of the waves below and shut his eyes.
“I must be hearing things,” she murmured. Her skirts swished and her footsteps retreated down the path.
Letting out a silent breath, Nadir stiffly climbed to his feet and padded behind her. As the hill rolled closer to the beach, the light around his cousin grew brighter but more diffuse. She moved as a ball of light like a will-o’-wisp, but when she stepped from the path, the light went out.
Nadir blinked in the sudden darkness. Groping forward, he reached for his cousin and met only the cold, chalky wall of the cliff-face. He rubbed his eyes, his heart pounding in his ears with panic. She had been there a moment ago.
“Leona?” he whispered before repeating himself a little louder. “Leona!”
With hesitant steps, he pushed through the brush, feeling for ahead of him for her skirts or a hidden door. There was nothing but the scratch of grass and the rustle of unseen creatures. She was gone.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there in the oppressive blackness waiting for her lantern to reappear, to prove that he wasn’t dreaming, that she hadn’t vanished. The damp soaked into his clothing, wracking his body with shivers as he stared into the void. He couldn’t wait there all night.
Overhead, the moon blazed, illuminating the inky ripples of the sea and the fog coating the lane’s shining cobbles. Limping up the hill to return home, Nadir stopped at the summit. On the cliff above him lit like a lighthouse was Brasshurst Hall. For the first time, one of its upper rooms twinkled with firelight. His eyes traveled from the glass dome of the manor to the space in the mist where his cousin had disappeared. Maybe he could spare a book after all.
Chapter Five
Ghosts of Brasshurst
Pulling a cog from the washbasin, Hadley polished its smooth, brassy surface until it shone. With her brows furrowed in concentration, she carefully brushed on a coating of her father’s special oil before putting it aside with the others, which had been piled on a tea tray like a stack of gold coins. She sat back, looking at the pieces of the emptied grandfather clock, and wiped her hands on a clean cloth. At least now it should work again, once she replaced all the pieces. She drew in a deep breath and held her knees over her brother’s hand-me-down trousers. The house was coming along nicely. Leaning back, she closed her eyes as the sun rained down from the skylights and warmed her cheeks. Now that the ivy was gone and the sheets of cobwebs removed, the rooms were airy and bright, as if they had never been shut up. While she set to work fixing the lifeless clock, she had sent Eilian to see what the other rooms still needed done and she hadn’t seen him since.
Despite coming home from the Rhodes’s house the day before with a smile on his face and Argus’s paper in hand, he had been quiet all morning. She woke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed. His prosthesis had already been assembled and in his hand was the chunky ring that had once belonged to his father. The gold band caught the light as he turned it over to reveal the family crest etched in minute detail on the metal’s surface. She reached out and ran her hand down the smooth flesh of his back. Just for a moment as he turned, she caught the heaviness in his eyes, when the grey of his irises held the gravity of all he didn’t say. Before she could speak, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. Pulling back with a smile, he asked, “So what are we to do today?”
She thought that would be the end of it, but as they were eating breakfast, she caught him staring past her at the portrait of his great-grandfather and his children hanging above the fireplace. He brought a few forkfuls of sausage and eggs to his lips and then let the rest grow cold. That was not like him. Once he was given his orders to look for things to repair, he went off without a word. Sighing, she decided that if he was still in a funk when she finished with the clock, she would determine what the matter was.
Hadley gathered the last stack of clockwork parts and loaded them into the nearly naked hull. Reaching for the next batch, she paused, listening to the doorbell peal through the stillness. For a moment, she waited to see if Patrick would get it, but when it rang again, she wiped her hands on a fresh rag and answered the door. Standing on the other side was Nadir Talbot gazing at her from under long, dark lashes. In his fern suit and yellow cravat, he looked as if he could have sprouted up in the orangery.
“Mr. Talbot, what a pleasant surprise,” she said with a smile but in a tone flat enough for him to understand her true meaning. “Please come in.”
“I hope I didn’t come at an inopportune time.”
As he followed her into the great hall, she could have sworn he leaned on his walking stick more than he had the day before. His cardamom eyes traveled over the stone walls and ancient tapestries before falling on the disassembled clock. With the end of his stick, he reached to nudge the nearest pile.
“Don’t touch that.”
Nadir looked up at his hostess, his eyes drifting to her grey trousers. They weren’t jodhpurs or bloomers but men’s trousers. “My apologies, I did not realize you were trying your hand at horology, Lady Dorset.”
“Trying my hand? Is that what you think I am doing?”
“Surely a lady of your esteem does not dabble with a broken clock when she could easily bring in a clockmaker to repair it.”
The redhead scoffed and shook her head, a wayward tendril escaping her bun. “Mr. Talbot, you write books about women who are queens, pharaohs, courtesans, women who hold power, yet you don’t think I can fix something as simple as a clock. Do you truly believe that your women are only intelligent because a man created them?”
“The women I write about are fictitious.” He swallowed hard, watching the countess regard him with raised brows and crossed arms. “I have never written or met one who was capable of doing so.”
“Well, now you have met a real one. Make no mistake, Mr. Talbot, I am the Countess of Dorset, but first and foremost, I am the owner of Fenice Brothers Prosthetics and Hadley’s Hobbies and Novelties. A clock is nothing compared to what I create on a regular basis. Just because women choose not to, doesn’t mean they can’t. Now, what business do you have here, Mr. Talbot? While I’m sure you are a very charming person, I have work to do.”
Nadir winced at the sting of his own words being used against him. “I do hope you will forgive me for making assumptions about your character, Lady Dorset. I came to bring a peace offering for my rudeness yesterday, but I probably should have given it to you before I misspoke.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a book decorated with filigree flowers and stars. “Leona told me your brother was a fan of my work, and I thought he might like an autographed copy. I have yet to ins
cribe it as I did not know his name. But if you don’t want it, I can leave.”
Hadley’s temper ebbed as she exhaled. “That is very kind of you, Mr. Talbot. My brother’s name is Adam.”
Sitting on the edge of the sofa, he balanced the book on his knees and withdrew a fountain pen from his breast pocket. He signed his name with a flourish and watched her from the corner of his eye. Despite her deservedly cutting him, he found he liked Lady Dorset. It was refreshing to meet resistance rather than a demure tight lipped smile. She reminded him of his impertinent heroines. With her vibrant red hair and contrasting blue eyes, she was a striking figure. She wasn’t beautiful, not in the classical sense as his women always were, but the air of power was evident in her upright bearing and charged stare. The women he met in London would titter about how they saw themselves in Cleopatra or Boudicca, and he never understood how when he could never picture them giving impassioned speeches or leading anyone to victory. In Lady Dorset, he sensed a different sort of woman.
“I was rather surprised to hear your brother was a fan. Most of my readers are women. I can’t remember ever seeing a man at a reading, apart from my friends and the ladies’ husbands, of course.”
“Adam... Well, he’s a romantic sort. As I told your cousin, he loved Lotus on the Nile. He will be delighted to receive this.”
The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set Page 57