The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set

by Kara Jorgensen

  There would be no turning back. Stretching his arms out to touch both sides of the wall, Nadir closed his eyes. This darkness was his own, and in it, he steadied his pounding pulse by reminding himself that the shaft had stood for hundreds of years and there was nothing to worry about. Thus far, he hadn’t found any rubble or heard the creak of imminent destruction. He promised himself that if he didn’t find a way out by the time he counted to a hundred, he would follow the wall back to the coast.

  “One... Two,” he called, his voice echoing away endlessly in the void. He swallowed hard and kicked through the water. At fifty, he still saw nothing, yet it felt as if the outlines of the tiles were growing more distinct and that the ceiling had lifted away from his scalp more than once. Suddenly he blinked, realizing he could see his hand at his side smeared with grime. Nadir picked up the pace. His eyes burned as light streamed in from the tunnel’s crumbling end. Outside trees obscured the entrance, but when Nadir emerged, furiously shaking the cobwebs from his hair with dirt-stained hands, he found that he was surrounded by tall swaying grasses and ornamental yews. The tunnel fell away into half-stacked walls with piles of diamond-shaped bricks strewn around them before disintegrating into the grass.

  Panic lanced between his ribs as he stopped mopping at the teal fabric of his suit and looked around him. Where was he? At the thought of going back through the tunnel, his fear of cave-ins and creatures surfaced once more. If he had to, he would, but if he could find someone he could pay to drive him back to Folkesbury, he would choose that instead. Anything to not go back in. Following a trail of dirt no more than a deer path, he froze at the top of the hill. He recognized this place.

  As children, he and Leona had stalked this house. They had wiped the film from the lower windows with their sleeves and gathered bouquets of flowers from the overgrown garden to play wedding. It had been abandoned then with wisteria climbing the chimney pots and along the heads of the yew trees, but now, it breathed with life locked beyond the Gothic panes. An old man with the face of a horned owl moved within, fretting irritably between the windows in the back parlor without ever seeing the young man standing in his yard. Around the corner of the house, Nadir spotted a familiar gravel path.

  Walking back toward the beach past Brasshurst, his brows furrowed. What did Leona have to do with the dower house that she wouldn’t want her husband or cousin to know about? Whatever Nash wanted with her, it wasn’t right.

  Nadir would have to have a word with him.

  ACT TWO

  “Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting.”

  –Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

  Chapter Twelve

  The Countess and the Cad

  Hadley smiled as she glanced up from her breakfast to find her husband’s eyes bright again. He sat with a book propped in his prosthetic hand, his eyes locked on the page while his left hand brought forkfuls of meat and egg to his mouth. Occasionally he would set down his fork to jot down a line in his notebook, but he never wavered from his project. Perhaps she should have been annoyed that he was ignoring her in favor of his work, but she wasn’t a morning person and had very little to say at that hour. It was comforting to see him return to his old self.

  “Anything wrong?” Eilian asked, finally pulling away from his book on ancient plants when he felt her eyes upon him.

  “No. I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

  His cheeks and neck burned. He wanted to ask her if she was sure about that. There were too many aspects of life in which he was acutely aware of his short-comings. Instead he smiled. “I am the lucky one.”

  “Is your research going well?” she yawned with a smile, pouring herself another cup of coffee.

  “Not sure. I can never be certain whether medieval philosophers are telling the truth or speaking in riddles. Thus far, I still believe our silphium is the real thing. I have no evidence to the contrary. I only wish I knew for sure.”

  “What’s so important about this plant? From the looks of it, it isn’t ornamental.”

  “It seems to have been medicinal. At the peak of its use, Rome was prospering, yet their population didn’t grow despite that there weren’t any plagues or wars. This plant is the reason.”

  Hadley’s sleep-addled mind perked at the thought. “Imagine how useful that would be today.”

  Before he could reply, a mop of white hair appeared through the panel in the wall. Patrick carried in a silver tray laden with envelopes. He placed a stack in front of Eilian before giving the remainder to Hadley. Her eyes skimmed the handwriting on the front of each letter. A few were cards congratulating her on her marriage from those who couldn’t attend their nuptials, but at the bottom, she found two she immediately recognized. One bore Eliza Hawthorne’s neat script while the other, which was written in ornate arabesques on prim stationary, could only be from Eilian’s mother. Fearing what Eliza’s might have said, she dropped it into her lap to read later and tore open the other letter.

  “Is that from my mother?”

  Hadley’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even gotten it out of the envelope yet. “Yes, how could you tell?”

  “I tend to recognize what I dread most. At least she only writes to invite me to parties or to tell me about family business. Which is it this time?”

  “A party, but I brought it on myself. I asked her if I could borrow some of her staff.”

  Watching her scan the lines of looped script, Eilian ground his teeth at the sight of a matching letter in his own stack. “And?”

  Despite the panic curling like smoke in the back of her mind, Hadley smiled. “She’s willing.”

  ***

  Hadley drifted down the cobbled street. Her eyes flitted over shop windows and the weathered signs swaying above them though her mind was far away. What had she done? She had asked her mother-in-law for extra servants, and the dowager countess had agreed. Somehow she had hoped the woman would refuse, and she would have to call off the party. She still could.

  In front of a cockeyed building shoved between a draper and a butcher shop, Hadley stopped. Despite its tilted windows and mossy roof, the building radiated warmth and the cloying scent of Earl Grey and scones. On the sign beside the door, a tea pot with a banner advertised Billings Tea Room and Bakery. Hadley fingered her clutch, hearing the familiar clink of coins within. There were plenty of errands to run, but she had time for a cup and a cake.

  The bell jingled as she slipped inside. Passing the empty tables, Hadley eyed the counter laden with sweets, petit fours, and scones beneath glass domes.

  “May I help you, ma’am?” the young shopkeeper asked as she carried out a batch of steaming crumpets.

  “I would like one of those, please, and a scone, and half a dozen petit fours.”

  “I assume you would like those in a box,” she replied with a cheeky grin and a tilt of her head.

  “Yes, they are for my husband. He would love this place. Leave the scone, please. I will have that here.”

  As the girl turned away, the bell rang and a sweep of cold air rustled Hadley’s skirt.

  “You have seen her?”

  “Oh, yes, at the beach. Ghastly creatures, no decorum at all. She’s certainly dragging the family down with her poor-breeding, though the husband isn’t much better. She hasn’t even paid me a call.”

  “How impertinent.”

  “Is the countess at least pretty?”

  “She’s young. Now, where is that girl? She knows we come in the same time every week, yet she never has a tray ready.”

  Hadley resisted the urge to turn around. She knew who it had to be. It was Wednesday after all; when the Society of Visiting Ladies met at Billings. Tears burned the back of her eyes.

  “Miss,” Hadley called, suppressing the tremor in her voice, “please put the scone in the box. I— I forgot that I have an errand I have to run.”

  The shop girl nodded. She said the cost of the order, but Hadley barely heard her.

 
“Apparently she’s thinking of throwing a party while they’re here,” Rubella continued. “I hope we receive an invitation.”

  “Oh?”

  “If she’s going to make a spectacle of herself, I want to see it.”

  Dropping a handful of coins into the girl’s palm, Hadley drew in a tremulous breath and snatched her box from the counter. She hesitated, pretending to rearrange her clutch. To leave, she would have to face Mrs. Nash and her friends. Hadley cleared her throat and straightened her back. She wouldn’t let them get the better of her.

  Her boots clicked across the floor, but when she reached their table, she stopped. Raising her gaze, Hadley locked eyes with Mrs. Nash. The older woman paused mid-sentence but didn’t betray any regret she may have felt. The other women of the Society of Visiting Ladies looked from Hadley to Mrs. Nash, waiting to see who would strike first.

  “I do hope you come to the party,” Hadley said with a smile. “A woman of your esteem would be greatly missed, Mrs. Nash.”

  Before the woman could respond, Hadley turned on heel and marched out the door toward the cottage with the walled garden. With adrenaline shaking her hands, Hadley rang the doorbell. The stone-faced Barnes let her in, but before he could fetch her, Mrs. Rhodes appeared at the parlor curtain in a fine pink dress and a matching flowered bonnet. Her face blanched as she realized that the countess had come to call.

  “Lady Dorset, to what do we owe the honor?” she said, her tight voice betraying her welcoming smile. She reached for her hat before letting her hand sink back to her side. “I was just on my way out to have lunch with Mrs. and Miss Campbell, but you are welcome to join us. I’m sure they would be pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “I don’t want to keep you, Mrs. Rhodes,” Hadley began slowly, her eyes trailing up the stairs to where she imagined Mr. Talbot to be hiding. “I actually came to ask you for a favor. I know we don’t know each other very well and it’s a lot to ask, but I wanted to know if, one day, you would be willing to help me compile a list of everyone in town. In a few weeks, I hope to throw a party, and I don’t want to miss anyone. As I said, it’s a lot to ask, and if you are too busy, I would understand.”

  Leona watched the redhead fidget with the white bakery box dangling from her hand.

  “You can borrow my address book; it should have everyone. Barnes, please fetch it for her. Is there anything else you require?”

  “Is Mr. Talbot in? I was hoping I could speak to him.”

  “Let me fetch him.” Nadir? What could she want with him? she thought as she mounted the steps and knocked on his door. “Nadir! Nadir, darling, someone wants to speak with you.”

  “I told you I am not to be disturbed! Tell whoever it is to go away,” he yelled through the wall.

  “It’s Lady Dorset.”

  His chair scraped across the floor followed by a series of bumps and thumps. After a moment, the door whined open and her cousin appeared looking much more put together than he did when she last saw him that morning. When he had been furiously writing and berating her for bothering him, he had only been in his shirtsleeves, but for Lady Dorset, he had donned one of his bright suits and matching cravats. He buttoned his cuffs and was about to saunter past his cousin when she sunk her nails into his arm.

  “Ow! What is your problem?” he hissed as she dragged him away from the stairs out of earshot.

  “Is there anything going on between you and the countess?”

  “What? No, of course not.”

  Her full cheeks flushed with anger as she grabbed the tender flesh on the underside of his arm and pinched through his suit. Nadir tried to wrench his arm away, but Leona held it fast.

  “Stop that! Do you think I’m that much of a rake?”

  “I have heard plenty of rumors, Nadir. You had better not be involved with Lady Dorset.”

  “Can a man and woman never be friends?”

  “No.”

  He rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated groan. He grasped his cousin by the shoulders and met her dark gaze. When their byzantine eyes met, she pinched her lips until they nearly disappeared and glared at him. As he cocked a black brow and grinned, Leona’s resolve faltered. Her lips curled against her will, but she quickly stifled her smile with a half-hearted scowl.

  “Please tell me there is nothing between you.”

  “Nothing but friendship,” he replied softly. “She seems to want a companion, and I like her. She’s... eccentric. You know how I enjoy the company of interesting people.”

  His cousin wrapped her fingers around his upper arm, ready to pinch him again. “You promise that is all?”

  “Yes! Really, Leona, how can you think I’m such a cad? I would never get involved with another man’s wife. Their daughters, on the other hand, are a different story.”

  “You’re horrid.” Leona slapped his arm before looping her own through it. “Hurry up, or I will be late to the Campbell’s house.”

  “You’re the one holding us up.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Lady Dorset waited with the leather address book clutched to her chest. A grin brightened her countenance as her eyes roamed between Leona and Nadir. While the shapes of their faces and lips differed, it was clear from their expressive almond eyes and matching noses, which began narrow and gradually widened into an arrow at the tip, that there was a family resemblance. Nadir had the rich golden brown skin of the men Eilian worked with in Palestine and the striking angular features that caught women’s eyes no matter the man’s skin color. His cousin could have easily been an Italian or Greek, maybe even a dark Englishwoman. By her countenance, Hadley assumed that, unlike Nadir, at least one of Leona’s parents was of English descent.

  As they reached the lower steps and Leona released her cousin’s arm, her booted foot caught the carpet-runner. Nadir watched her fall, but before he could catch her, she hit the steps. Instinctively throwing her arm across her stomach, she slid down the last three stairs and came to rest on the wood floor in a heap of silk and crinoline. The countess darted over as Nadir ran down the last few steps. Leona quickly pulled herself to her feet using the banister and steadied her panicked breath.

  “Leona, are you hurt?” Nadir asked, reaching for her arm but was quickly shaken off.

  “I’m all right! I’m perfectly all right!” she cried as she fought against her shaking limbs to slip on her gloves and walk to the door. Nadir and Lady Dorset watched her with wide eyes, poised to administer any aid she could need, but she brushed off their concern with a shake of her head. “I promise I’m fine. Now, I really must be off, or I will be late.”

  Before either Londoner could stop her, Leona bustled out, leaving them alone.

  “Is she all right?”

  Nadir shrugged. “Who knows with her? She’s probably embarrassed to have fallen in front of you. Let’s go in the parlor and—”

  He pulled back the curtain blocking the parlor only to find his cousin’s barrel-chested husband snoring softly on the sofa. Tugging the drape shut, he turned back to the Countess of Dorset and lightly guided her down the hall.

  “On second thought, it’s a lovely day. It would be a shame not to sit outside.”

  Leading her by the arm, he walked her out the back door and into the little walled garden. It was barely more than a patch of cobbles with enough room for an iron table and two chairs. In each corner stood a terracotta pot of half-dead petunias. Nadir sneered at the shriveled brown flowers sitting amongst sprigs of weeds. If Argus was going to loaf around all day, the least he could do was keep the house presentable. He made a note to pay a visit to the florist after the countess left.

  As Hadley thumbed through the address book, skimming the names and addresses with mild interest, Nadir gracefully seated himself on the hip-high wall. For a moment, he considered mentioning the dusty tunnel running beneath her house, but he thought better of it.

  “My cousin was under the impression that you came to see me and not her.”

  Hadley clo
sed the book and folded her arms over it. “I hope I didn’t offend her. To be honest, you were the one I came to see.”

  His sharp brow arched.

  “My mother-in-law has agreed to let me borrow a handful of servants from her when I throw my party in a few weeks.”

  “That’s wonderful. Now, I can finally wear my new tailcoat.” He paused, noting how the redheaded woman fiddled with her clutch and gloves. “Somehow I doubt you walked all the way down here to tell me that.”

  “No,” she began slowly, “I wanted to ask for your assistance with throwing the party.”

  “I doubt a woman like yourself needs my help.”

  The countess’s face fell as she smoothed a lock behind her ear. “A woman like myself has never been to a real party... apart from my wedding.”

  “Oh.” Sinking into the chair opposite her, Nadir cocked his head, regarding Lady Dorset with a frown. “What about Lord Dorset? I’m sure he could help you.”

  “He’s not the sort who enjoys large parties. While he would never stop me, he isn’t much help. Eilian can’t even remember the names of different canapés or wines he’s had.” She released a nervous laugh. “My title may be countess, but I’m brass with just enough polish to pretend I’m gold. I had hoped that someone with your experience would be willing to help me sort some of this out. I’m sure you have hobnobbed with plenty of people.”