The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set

by Kara Jorgensen

  Opening the drawer without taking her eyes off the door, she withdrew her derringer and slowly slid out of bed and into her slippers. She crossed the boards on soundless feet, cracking the door enough to peer into the darkened hall. Light streamed from the bedroom but was drowned beneath the deep shadows at the other end. The only noise came from the faint hiss of the gas lamps behind her and the steady thrum of the engine in the orangery. In the stillness, it clanged and rattled as she inched toward the doors at the darkened end with her gun pointed ahead of her.

  A scant glimmer of light shined off the polished floors and wood-lined walls as she crossed the empty hall to the row of guest rooms. Her eyes swept over the doors flanking either side for any sign that someone might be hiding in one, but when she opened the first door, she found her husband sprawled across the bedspread sound asleep. Two springs had unhooked from his prosthesis during the night while the rest remained assembled and tucked around a pillow. Her gaze softened as she reached his face, which was already peppered with stubble and lay lax against the sheets. Reaching out, she shook his shoulder.

  “Eilian,” Hadley called, patting his side and cheek, “wake up!”

  “Is it morning already?” he mumbled into the blanket, but when his vision cleared and his eyes came to rest on the glinting derringer, he snapped into consciousness. Scrambling to his knees, his heart pounded as he fumbled with his prosthesis. He looked toward the window to gain his bearings, but all he could make out was the pre-twilight blackness.

  He drew in a constrained breath as his grey gaze traveled from Hadley’s knit brows and tight lips to her gun. “What’s going on?”

  “I heard something. I thought maybe it was you, but obviously not.”

  He shook his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Want me to go look? Maybe one of the servants dropped wood or a bucket.”

  “At this time of morning?”

  “Right.” Eilian pulled his dressing gown over his pajamas. “Let’s look. It’s probably nothing.”

  “Maybe thieves broke in or Nash.”

  “If it’s the latter, feel free to shoot, but please refrain from killing my staff,” he yawned, plucking the iron shovel from the edge of the hearth.

  Eilian followed his wife down the hall, but as they flung open each door, ready to attack any intruders, they found the wing of bedrooms empty. The only footsteps or breaths they heard were their own. The hard fear in Hadley’s eyes ebbed when the last door closed. She could have sworn she heard something, but when searching the upstairs revealed nothing, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had been dreaming after all. But if she was mistaken and someone remained in the house…

  “Shall we go downstairs?” Eilian asked, his voice reverberating in the gloom of the upper arcades.

  “Ssh, keep your voice down! They might still be here,” she whispered, glaring at him over her shoulder.

  With a renewed resolve, she raised her firing arm and crept ahead. Eilian stayed at her side as they peeked into the statue and vase-filled niches along the arcades of the great hall. Moonlit fog filtered in from the skylight, illuminating the spectral furniture in the room below. As the shadow-drenched staircase came into view, Eilian put his hand on Hadley’s arm. She stopped, her mouth poised to reprimand, when he put his finger to his lips. Her light eyes widened as quick steps crossed the boards, growing louder until a figure emerged from the hall below. Eilian and Hadley leaned back from the pillared arches while the man crossed the room. His taper flickered in his hand, casting queer shades dancing on the family crest and lion’s mouth of the hearth. When the stranger disappeared into the dining room, Hadley met Eilian’s gaze.

  “You distract him,” she whispered, cocking the gun’s hammer. “I will go downstairs.”

  He caught her arm and pulled her back to his side. “No. There could be more of them. We will do it from up here. I would rather have him run out the door than go after you.”

  Releasing a tense breath, Hadley nodded and trained her gun on the dining room door. Shadows roiled and drifted in the blackness below the arcade. Her heart drummed in her throat as she waited with her finger on the trigger. Drawing in a deep breath, Hadley released it slowly. She had to calm down or she would shoot him the moment he appeared. As she readjusted her hand, candlelight drifted back into the great hall. Eilian locked eyes with her, and with a nod, her gaze sharpened as she stared down the barrel at the man below.

  “Identify yourself!” Eilian yelled.

  The man below jumped, looking around before raising his gaze to the upper arcade. His white hair and silver-rimmed spectacles glistened in the scant light of the flickering candle as he spotted them leaning behind the wooden pillars. “It’s me, sir! I thought I heard something.”

  Hadley exhaled and dropped her arm. She had never been so relieved to see Patrick. Quickly descending the staircase, they joined the butler in the great hall. Standing amongst the covered furniture in the dark, the house took on an otherworldly hue. The blackness beyond the hall leading to the gallery and library were absolute.

  “Why didn’t you turn on the lights? Hadley nearly shot you.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I didn’t want to wake the whole house. Did you hear it, too?”

  “I heard something, but I’m not sure what. Are all the servants accounted for?”

  The butler nodded. “I woke Charlotte, and she said the other girls are in bed and haven’t moved all night. I’ve been going room by room, checking the windows, your ladyship. I thought maybe a tree or branch broke through a window, but they’re all closed and the doors are locked, too.”

  “That’s good, at least. You didn’t happen to see anyone while you—?”

  Hadley froze as the unmistakable crack of shattering glass erupted behind her. They slowly turned, their gazes trailing to the pitch-black hall. There was no question; someone was in the house.

  “Stay behind me,” Eilian whispered as he held the shovel like a cricket bat and crept toward the gallery.

  Fear inched up Hadley’s form, sending a tremor down her arm as she held the gun ahead of her with both hands. She drew in a constrained breath. With the disorienting pulse of the pool’s engine, it was nearly impossible to tell if the noises she heard were footsteps or merely an offbeat churn of the weathered cogs. As Eilian flipped on the gallery’s lamps and illuminated the generations of nobles, her body relaxed under the familiar glow. The room was empty.

  At the library’s pocket door, they readied themselves for an ambush, but when it was thrown open and the light turned on, it appeared as if no one had entered it since Eilian cleaned it. That only left one possibility.

  “You checked the back rooms, Pat?”

  “Yes, sir. The parlors, the back drawing room, the morning room, the kitchen, the servants’ quarters. I didn’t go upstairs though.”

  “We did.”

  Eilian and Hadley exchanged strained looks. Neither wanted to go into the orangery. With the fog from the pool and the cover of the foliage, anyone could be hiding in there and they might never find them. Eilian swallowed hard. For once he hoped to find Nash lounging beside the pool with another bottle of champagne.

  “Should I fetch the police?” the butler whispered, his eyes running between his master and mistress.

  “Not yet. We need you to keep an eye out by the door. If you see anyone, yell.”

  At the library’s double doors, Eilian waited, watching Hadley’s chest rapidly rise and fall. “Had, you don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.”

  “I do. I just need a moment.” Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath and focused on the piece of steel in her hand. It would protect her. She believed in her skills and knew what she was capable of. Hadley swept her hair behind her ears and cleared her throat. “Ready.”

  Eilian opened the door a crack and gazed into the darkness. Inching along the wall with his hand, he searched for the switch that would turn on the auxiliary lanterns he had seen hanging on the metal armature th
at held up the massive dome. He ripped the stray vines from the switch and with a sharp click, the lamps exhaled to life. One by one the globe-sized bulbs alighted, radiating an eerie green light through the moss-coated glass. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make out the overgrown path that cut through the trees. In the alien glow, the fog churned, creating faces and shadows between the trunks, but as Eilian and Hadley stepped through the mist, the nightmares disappeared only to be replaced by darker shades once they left the safety of the library door.

  Hadley’s eyes darted across the brush, searching for any sign of movement. Every curl of mist caught her eye, but nothing appeared. The deeper they moved into the darkness, the louder her heart pounded. A little voice whispered that no one was there. Maybe a hedgehog or rat had broken into some forgotten cupboard and shattered a glass. As they rounded the corner where the mosaic floor lay, something caught Hadley’s foot. Before she could catch herself, she stumbled forward and hit the ground hard, knees-first. She held her breath as her derringer skidded away, hoping that it wouldn’t go off.

  “Are you all right?” Eilian whispered, rushing to her side. “What happened?”

  “I tripped.”

  Climbing to her feet, she brushed off her nightgown and glanced down at what caught her foot. She had expected to find a stray root or misplaced shovel but instead found an overturned iron candelabrum. It was one of a set she had brought down from the attic for the party. As Eilian righted it, she frowned thoughtfully. The candelabrum weighed over fifty pounds and had a wide decorative base. The vibration of the engine couldn’t have knocked it over. Fear curled around her ribs at the implication.

  “This must have been the noise Patrick and I heard. Where’s my gun?”

  “It’s right here,” he answered as he retrieved it from the edge of the path. “I really don’t think anyone is here. We haven’t heard anything or seen anyone. If they made this much noise before, I don’t think they would be able to keep quiet for this long.” He gently rubbed her arms, but she continued to clutch her gun and eye the gardens around them for the intruder. “Maybe they broke in, realized all of the doors were locked, and left.”

  “But I heard this first! I know I heard it. I was still awake. We need to keep looking, Eilian. I can’t go back to bed without knowing for certain that no one is here.”

  “All right. Let’s circle back. If we don’t find anything, Pat will go and bring the police back. How does that sound?”

  “Fine.”

  She crossed her arms and stared at the path ahead of them. Her thoughts churned in an infinite loop of fear that would only break and capturing the thief or the sun rising to chase away the unknown. Then, the shadows would recede and everything would be as it once was. Eilian wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer, reverently kissing the top of her head. Against her better judgment, she allowed him to draw her forward around the path toward the pool. She huddled against Eilian’s side, shivering as a biting breeze cut through her cotton gown. Her eyes narrowed as Patrick came into view again.

  Slipping away from Eilian, she broke from the trail and cut through the thin patch of trees between the girders and the pool. The wind tousled her hair as her eyes locked onto the shattered pane. In the spectral green glow, she could make out the sea breaking against the bluffs in the distance and the spray of shattered glass across the lawn. Hadley backed away from the window to allow the moonlight to shine onto the orangery’s floor, but no glass was left beneath her feet.

  It didn’t make any sense.

  When she emerged from the brush, she found Eilian standing beside the pool with Patrick’s candle in his hand. His grey eyes were wide as he stared into the patch of earth where orchids and birds of paradise sprouted. Even when she reached his side, he didn’t stir. She followed Eilian’s gaze, but the spot was empty.

  “What’s wrong? Did they take anything?”

  He raked a hand through his hair and swallowed hard. “The silphium is gone.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A Sleepless Night

  Hadley and Eilian watched from the chaise in the library as three policemen paced through the greenhouse under Mr. Bernard’s watchful eye. The sun shone into the glass globe, revealing every errant footprint and wilted flower. Patrick had been sent to fetch them in the early morning hours, but when the police refused to come until daybreak, he drove to the mechanic and returned to Brasshurst with a large sheet of metal. Careful not to disturb the broken glass, Hadley and Eilian had welded the metal over the frame where the pane of glass once stood to keep the delicate plants from dying in the spring chill. A few hours after dawn, the police finally arrived bright-eyed and smelling of breakfast while the Sorrells glared at them with weary scorn. After waiting hours for them to arrive without going back to sleep or having a bite to eat, they barely cared if the culprit was caught. All they wanted was to have their lives and house back.

  “I know I said this already, but I am so sorry this happened, Eilian,” Hadley said as the sergeant gave one of the younger men orders and walked toward the library door.

  “At least I saved some seeds. It isn’t gone, not indefinitely yet. Hopefully the one I planted will grow.” He sighed. “Imagine what we could have learned from it. If the other doesn’t take, all of my research was for nothing. If only Nash hadn’t been such a stubborn fool. Now, we will never know what it could have done.”

  The library door squealed open, letting in the overpowering scent of musky cologne before revealing the well-groomed Sergeant Purcell. His mustachios had been perfectly trimmed and waxed to fine, curled points. Despite being in his late-forties, his military baring and blue eyes gave him a semblance of youth. Hadley could see why Mrs. Nash would have preferred his company to that of her husband. The sergeant gave them a curt bow and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

  “You’re sure all they took was the— what did you call it?”

  “Silphium, and yes, from what I can tell, that is all they took,” Eilian snapped. He knew where this was going. The sergeant had already tried this line of questioning twice.

  “And you say all of the doors were locked from the inside when you came in?”

  “Yes, I told you before that my manservant checked. Did you find anything?”

  Purcell licked his thumb and flipped back through his notepad. “I want you to think hard about this. Is it possible that one of your servants unlocked the doors, stole the plant, and locked up again?”

  “Why do you insist that one of our servants is a thief?” Hadley scolded.

  “It’s the most probable outcome, your ladyship,” he began, his voice honeyed. “You never really know—”

  “Don’t patronize me, sir. I will have none of it.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead, her eyes narrowing to a fierce sliver. “I have been up half the night because someone broke into our home, and you and your men didn’t have the decency to get out of bed and figure out what happened or at least give us some semblance of safety. Now, you come into my house and accuse my servants of mischief. I will have none of it.”

  “Lady Dorset, if all of the doors were locked, then how did the thief get into the greenhouse? Hmm? It had to be an inside job. You said yourself that the broken window was shattered from the inside.”

  Hadley’s hands curled into fists at her sides, but at Eilian’s reassuring touch, she let out a puff of hot air and gritted her teeth. “As I mentioned when you first got here, we think there is a trap door or false panel in the orangery, but we haven’t found it yet. The thief could have gotten in and out through there without having to unlock a thing.”

  “A trap door, right. Then they just happened to break a window. If you have it all figured out, do you have a suspect in mind, Lady Dorset?”

  Eilian wrapped his arm around his wife, shielding her from the sergeant as much as he was protecting him from her. Before she could answer, he replied, “Our servants have no reason to steal from us. None of them even kno
w what silphium is, and besides it has no real value. There are only two people besides us who know—”

  The words died in his throat as his eyes fixed on the window to the orangery. Up the path from the drawing room came Nash’s gaunt form. His grey head swept over the pair of constables standing amongst the plants before coming to rest on the library window. Eilian was on his feet and out the door before Sergeant Purcell could figure out what was going on. Meeting Nash at the pool’s edge, Eilian blocked him from reaching the patch of dirt where the policemen and gardener stood watching them.

  “Out of my way,” he spat as he attempted to step past the earl but was matched step for step.

  “Why? Have you come to look at your handiwork, Mr. Nash? I know you didn’t want me to study it, but to tear it from the ground, so no one could have it— Are you that daft?”

  Nash’s brows furrowed as his grey eyes narrowed and his legs rooted in place. “What are you talking about?”

  “The silphium, Mr. Nash. It’s gone. I’m assuming I have you to thank for that and my broken window. You are the only one who frequents our greenhouse uninvited.”

  Pushing Eilian’s prosthetic arm away, Nash marched over to the edge of the garden. As Bernard moved to stop him, Eilian raised his hand for the gardener to let him be. At the sight of the empty patch in the dirt where a dozen disembodied hair roots still reached for the light, Nash’s eyes lost their cold intensity and faded to silent consternation as his mouth hung open. For a moment, Eilian feared the man might swoon or have a fit and fall into the algal pool, but he caught himself, staggering back a step and clenching his eyes as if absorbing a blow. Eilian stood at his side as the older man’s mouth worked in half-formed phrases.

  “Mr. Nash, do you know who did this?”

  “It’s gone. She said she would,” he said to no one, his voice trailing into a whisper. “I should have— I should—”

  Eilian laid his hand on his arm, and Nash whipped it from him as if he had been stung.