by Laura Powell
‘An automaton, I think.’ Pattern spoke more calmly than she felt. She needed to set a professional example, after all.
‘A whaty-what?’
‘A kind of self-operating machine. Like a wind-up doll or a clock.’
‘Then that must be the key to the contraption.’ Nate pointed to the girl’s neck, and the little gold charm in the shape of a key she always wore. It was much smaller and more delicate than the key Pattern had wedged in her back, and was inset with tiny diamonds. ‘Hey now – if we take the key, does that mean she’ll wind down and stop working sooner or later? That’ll put a spanner in Lady Hawk’s plans.’
This was an excellent idea, and Pattern felt a prick of annoyance that she had not thought of it herself. ‘I am sure Lady Hawk will keep a spare key somewhere. But it is a start.’ Pattern undid the clasp of the necklace and put the little key in her pocket. She glanced at the clock and was surprised to see their misadventures had only taken twenty minutes. ‘Poor Captain Vyne! I fear he is lost to us.’
‘What happened behind the mirror?’
Pattern briefly described the maze, and Nate explained his own misadventure.
‘Miss Hawk, as soon as she saw the open door, went to close it, and when I tried to stop her, that’s when she turned on me. Her eyes flashed with this cold blue light. And her hands! Like being grabbed by iron pincers, it was. Even so, I’m right sorry for having to pull the thread.’
Pattern was sorry too, but she could hardly hold it against him. ‘We have made real progress,’ she assured him. ‘Disabling Miss Hawk may well be the first step on our way to rescuing her suitors. But now we must set things to rights and get out of here before her mama or anyone else comes looking for her.’
They spent several minutes tidying the study and removing all evidence of their tussle. The doll continued to jerk and twitch, but did not move from her position and was otherwise passive. She put up no resistance as Pattern tidied her hair and straightened her dress, even managing to quickly re-sew the tiny buttons on the back of her gown using the threads in Miss Hawk’s sewing basket. However, Pattern was fearful about what would happen once she removed the key. Would the doll go into spasms and break down completely? Or would she move to attack them again?
Nate was armed with a brass candlestick in case they needed further defence. Yet once her mechanics were un-jammed, the Miss Hawk doll merely smiled at them. ‘I must go back to my mama,’ she murmured.
‘Is everything well, miss?’ Pattern asked hesitantly.
‘Quite well, thank you.’
‘Were you, er, looking for something?’
‘I was going to meet the Captain. I see he is not here. That is as it should be.’ She glided to the door. ‘Goodnight.’
Pattern and Nate exchanged glances. The doll clearly had no memory of what had just taken place. There was no visible damage except that her head was tilted ever so slightly to the left, and there was a faint, very faint, clicking sound as she walked. But even if Lady Hawk did not notice these signs of injury, she would be sure to miss the charm from round her so-called daughter’s neck. It would not be long before she realized that someone was working against her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It is impossible for a dishonest person to be a good servant.
S. & S. Adams, The Complete Servant
They may have fought off an automaton, but Nate and Pattern’s work was not finished for the night.
‘Nate, Penny, what d’you think you are doing, idling in the hallway in plain sight? Penny, I would have expected better from you. From both of you, in fact. Get back to your work!’
It was Mr Perks, with an expression of severe displeasure. With mumbled apologies, Nate and Pattern were forced to go their separate ways. Pattern’s took her past the drawing room. As Alfred went through the door with a fresh pot of coffee, she could hear both Miss Hawk and her mama among the voices within.
Soon the evening’s music-making would begin; Pattern had very little time to act. If Lady Hawk kept a spare key to operate her doll daughter, then it was most likely in her bedroom. Pausing before its threshold, Pattern felt almost more nervous than when she had stepped into the mirror maze. Her next actions would amount to a declaration of war when found out.
The room was very tidy, which was a relief, as it meant Miss Jenks had already turned it down and would not be up again until it was time to get her mistress ready for bed. The only sound was the thumping of Pattern’s heart. Her blood seemed to be filled with pins and needles. After a moment’s indecision, she went to the ivory jewellery box on the dressing table. But, glancing at the mirror there, she had a dreadful shock, as Captain Vyne’s face suddenly appeared like a ghost behind the glass. He wore a very anguished expression. Pattern blinked, and the image vanished, to be replaced with her own frightened reflection.
With renewed determination, Pattern opened Lady Hawk’s jewellery box. The treasures inside were dazzling: ropes of diamonds and pearls, brooches crusted with crystals and earrings dripping with gems. If the key was the same as the one that Miss Hawk had round her neck, it would look oddly plain among these extravagant baubles. Pattern moved to the bedside table and opened the drawer. It contained some monogrammed handkerchiefs and a box of throat lozenges.
Did witches suffer from sore throats?
She rattled the lozenges. Nestled among them was a small gold and diamond key.
‘What do you think you are doing?’
It was not Lady Hawk, but it was almost as bad: Miss Jenks.
She was standing in the doorway with a pile of petticoats, staring at Pattern and the open drawer. Pattern had started when Miss Jenks spoke; did she look as guilty as she felt? Pattern thanked her lucky stars she was not standing anywhere near the jewellery box, and that she had taken care to shut the lid.
Even so, she knew how suspicious the scene appeared. Any moment now, Miss Jenks could accuse her of theft and summon the authorities – starting with Mr Perks and Mrs Robinson, followed by Lady Hawk and ending with a magistrate. Many servants had been left to rot in the country’s gaols as the penalty for pilfering from their employers. Although Pattern’s predicament was not as grave as being lost in a maze of mirrors, or hunted by a pack of wild beasts, it was still trouble of a high order.
Pattern gave a timid smile and opened the palm of her hand to reveal the throat sweet she was holding. The key was tucked into the cuff of her sleeve.
‘Please, I’m very sorry, but my throat has been painfully sore, and I thought taking just one of the sweets wouldn’t do any harm.’
Miss Jenks’s naturally haughty expression grew haughtier still. ‘You thought rummaging through milady’s personal effects, stealing her property, was harmless? No. I know where these things lead. It starts with the filching of a throat sweet and ends with grand larceny. Why are you in her private chamber, anyway?’
Pattern’s thoughts raced as rapidly as her heart. ‘I . . . I was returning this handkerchief –’ she pointed to one of those inside the drawer – ‘which I found dropped on the stairs. Since I was passing the room, I thought it easiest to return it myself.’
‘You are the lowliest of the housemaids. You should leave the thinking to your superiors.’
‘I’m very sorry.’ Pattern hung her head. ‘I did not mean to get above myself.’ She twisted her hands. ‘Please don’t get me into trouble. I’ll make amends, I swear.’
Miss Jenks was enjoying herself. She made Pattern wait before giving her answer. ‘Very well. I have seen that you’re good at needlework, so you can do all my mending for the rest of our stay, as well as giving that horrid little pug its daily bath and walk. Then – as long as you continue to be quiet and respectful and keep to your place – I will agree to say no more about it.’
‘Thank you. Oh, thank you, Miss Jenks!’
‘Now be off with you, before milady arrives.’
Pattern hurried away to find Nate in the boot room, feeling a little shaky at her narrow escape. She
felt shakier still when she imagined how Lady Hawk might react when the time came to wind up Miss Hawk’s mechanisms and no key could be found. Though she knew it was a weakness in a secret agent, she was in need of a kind word and a friendly face.
‘Nate . . . what if Lady Hawk casts some kind of spell to find the keys?’
Pattern was fretting now.
‘Then we’ll just have to put them beyond use.’ Nate produced a pair of pliers and the hammer used for small household repairs and set about bending and twisting the gold out of shape. ‘Don’t worry – I’ve a good hiding place in mind.’
‘Have you? Where? Are you sure you—’
‘Leave it be,’ he said, more sharply than she had heard him speak before. ‘I said I’d deal with it.’
A booming musical note was heard: Mr Grey had taken to striking a gong when it was time for the house to gather to listen to Lady Hawk’s harp. Bed would immediately follow, and Pattern had little choice but to go on her way. Besides, her head was too cloudy with tiredness to think straight. The sooner this day was over, the better.
But rest was in short supply that night. Pattern was woken in the early hours of the morning by the sound of slamming doors and raised voices.
‘Out of bed, both of you, and stand in the hall,’ cried Mrs Robinson, crashing into the room Pattern shared with Elsie. They had never seen her looking so stern, even though her hair was in curl-papers and eyes groggy with sleep.
‘W-whatever’s the m-matter?’ Elsie stammered. ‘Is it burglars? Or fire? Heavens! Is it pirates?’
‘There’s a thief in this house,’ came the grim reply. ‘Every servants’ room is to be searched. Stay here and don’t move an inch.’
All the female servants were lined up outside their rooms, shivering in their shifts. Pattern’s heart hammered wildly in her chest. She was even more uncomfortable when she saw Lady Hawk herself, fully dressed but with flashing eyes and dishevelled hair, stalking the corridor.
‘I want all the beds stripped and their mattresses overturned,’ she commanded. In her agitation, her accent was stronger than usual. ‘Every seam and stitch of clothing must be undone if necessary! Tear up the floorboards; tear down the walls! I will not rest until my property is found and the culprit punished.’
The way she spoke was blood-curdling.
What had Nate done with the keys? No doubt Mr Grey and Mr Perks were searching the menservants’ bedrooms right this minute. Even though Pattern knew quite well that the stolen property was not in her possession, she had an illogical fear that Lady Hawk would be able to sense her guilt. Indeed, she had played the part of faithful servant for so long that part of her did feel guilty. To steal from one’s employer was the ultimate sin. She could not quite shake off the shame of her transgression.
Besides, there were items in her possession that might not bear up to close inspection. These included a spy-glass, a pair of steel knitting needles sharpened to knife-point and a cleaning spray that could fell a man at ten paces.
By the looks of it, she was not the only servant to feel exposed. Elsie had gone very pale. Jane was chewing her nails. Miss Jenks was trembling. Did they all have secrets to hide? Or was it just the frenzied nature of the search that alarmed them? Thumps, crashes and curses could be heard as Lady Hawk and Mrs Robinson began the hunt. So far, only Mabel and Ellen’s room had been turned over, revealing nothing more incriminating than a dog-eared Magazine of Marvel and Curiosity. Then—
‘Thief!’ came a cry. ‘Villain! Traitor!’
Lady Hawk surged out of Miss Jenks’s room and cuffed her maid on either side of the head. Mrs Robinson followed after her. She was holding a handful of trinkets: silk ribbons, lace collars, a pearl hairpin and a sapphire ring. They were the kind of knick-knacks that a gathering of fine ladies might mislay without immediately noticing. Yet Lady Hawk cared for only two items, which she now thrust into Miss Jenks’s face. It was too dark to see what she was holding, but Pattern knew what they were. A pair of little gold and diamond keys, bent out of shape.
‘Wicked, shameless girl! Did you really think you could hide them from me?’ Lady Hawk’s eyes flashed. There were spots of colour high on her cheeks.
The maid was glassy-eyed with shock. ‘I-I don’t . . . I c-can’t . . . I—’
‘Lucky for you they were found so quickly, else I would have used my powers to flay the truth from your bones.’
Miss Jenks had begun to snivel and shake. ‘But I n-never saw them b-before . . . I did not take them . . . N-never ever . . . I swear it!’
‘Liar!’ Lady Hawk, always so serene and gracious, was an entirely different creature: one of fire and fury. ‘You are not only a thief, but a vandal, for I see you have beaten the metal down to try to prise out the stones. You have no idea of the damage you’ve done . . .’ She paused, eyes glittering feverishly. ‘Or have you? What do you know? Who is behind this?’ She took the maid by the shoulders and began to violently shake her.
Miss Jenks’s mouth gaped. ‘N-nobody,’ she stammered. ‘N-nothing. I know nothing, milady, I swear. I don’t know how the keys got there. I – I don’t know how any of these things got into my room. None of it! I am innocent! Someone is framing me! There must be another thief –’
Her eyes slid towards Pattern.
But then Jane stepped forward. She had spied something glinting in the heap of stolen trinkets Mrs Robinson had put on the floor, and outrage gave her voice. ‘Why, that’s my silver thimble, the one my grandmother gave me. I’ve been hunting high and low for it these past two days! And isn’t that Mrs Palfrey’s Sunday-best brooch?’
That decided the matter. ‘So you not only rob your mistress and her friends,’ said Lady Hawk, ‘but you steal from your own fellows too.’
Miss Jenks continued to protest her innocence, but much more weakly. ‘It is a plot, a lie, a terrible mistake . . .’
Lady Hawk curled her lip. ‘Your guilt is written all over your face. It is plain to see what you are: a common, sneaking, lying thief. And, though you do not know it, the injury you have done me is far graver than mere robbery.’ She turned to Mrs Robinson. ‘Take her away and lock her in the coal-hole. First thing tomorrow, she leaves the island.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Our comfort requires us to be patient with other people . . . you know not how you may irritate.
S. & S. Adams, The Complete Servant
Miss Hawk came down for breakfast as usual, but her movements and speech had slowed, and there were very faint creaking noises from within her person. Although the two gentlemen were oblivious, the ladies noticed that something was amiss.
‘Are you quite well?’ Pattern heard the aged Dowager enquire, as she served tea to the ladies in the morning room. ‘You seem a little out of sorts.’
‘I am perfectly well, thank you,’ Miss Hawk replied, though her eyebrows and fingers continued to twitch.
The Lane sisters exchanged arch looks, and Miss Blunt smirked into her sleeve. What a relief to find that even the perfect Miss Hawk had her flaws! Only Miss Smith’s spirits did not seem raised by the discovery that Miss Hawk was not feeling her best. She was tucked in a corner with a book and engaging as little as possible with the conversation.
Lady Hawk, too, was unusually silent, pacing by the window, a preoccupied frown on her face. Even if she was satisfied that her maid was an ordinary thief, she was still faced with the problem of what to do once her ‘daughter’s’ mechanisms ran down completely. Her eye fell on Miss Smith. ‘What are you reading, my dear? That does not look as if it comes from my library.’
The book was, indeed, as old and shabby as the rest of Miss Smith’s belongings. ‘It is Tales from Ovid, my lady.’
‘Ovid! I would have thought a dusty old poet made for rather dull reading.’
‘I have always found the Greek myths very interesting, my lady.’
‘Then perhaps you would be so kind as to allow me to take a look?’ But Lady Hawk did not give her much choice in the matter.
To Miss Smith’s bewilderment, and the other ladies’ amusement, she plucked the volume out of Miss Smith’s hands and tucked it under her arm, before striding out of the room.
Pattern found the confiscation of the book most intriguing, but, trapped as she was with the teapot, she was not in a position to see where Lady Hawk had taken it. Besides, she was anxious not to do anything that might attract her mistress’s attention. The servants’ hall talked of little else but the scandalous Miss Jenks, and it was assumed that Mr Grey had arranged for her to be taken away by boat at first light to be delivered to the local Cornish magistrate. Pattern hoped this was true, and that Lady Hawk had not found some more unusual punishment for her faithless servant.
As for handsome Captain Vyne, he had vanished from people’s memories as completely as the vicious Lord Charnly. Nobody else seemed to notice that every mirror in the villa contained a blurred and distant image of the Captain, screaming soundlessly, and banging his fists against the glass.
‘However did you know Miss Jenks was a thief?’ Pattern demanded at her first chance to speak to Nate in private. She had been itching to talk to him since breakfast, but somehow there were always other people in the way, or other tasks to be done. She found him washing down the passageway outside the pantry – one of the tame wolves that had taken up residence at the villa having left a pile of droppings there.
‘I saw her pinch a coin from Lady Hawk’s purse once,’ Nate said, without looking up from the floor. ‘And, back in London, she had these handkerchiefs that had somebody else’s initials sewn on ’em. It weren’t hard to find where she stashed her loot; I just peeked beneath the mattress and there it was. So I shoved the keys down under the other end, and figured that if someone uncovered one lot of stolen property, they’d be bound to find the keys soon after.’
Pattern frowned. ‘It was fortunate Lady Hawk did not inflict some terrible punishment on Miss Jenks, as she did with the two gentlemen. Framing her was a reckless move.’