The Shadow Revolution

by Clay Griffith

  “I have no idea.” She shrugged with a bemused smile. “My father built it.”

  “Amazing. Did he build those mechanical insects as well?”

  “The lampflies? Yes, one of his favorites. You’ll see many things around Hartley Hall that he crafted, Mr. Archer. He was an engineer of extraordinary talent. But his mind could run swiftly. He would sometimes build and abandon.” Kate looked around the library. “Where’s Mr. Barker?”

  “He’s taking a stroll in the gardens.”

  “Oh.” She said with a tinge of alarm. “That may not be safe.”

  A man’s shout came from outside. A figure appeared through the glass, running headlong toward the house with something large loping behind him.

  Kate rushed to the French windows and threw them open. The man raced gratefully past her into the library, while Kate faced outward and threw her arms wide. A gigantic shaggy grey beast bounded at her, all legs and teeth. Simon started for her side.

  “Aethelred!” she shouted. “No!”

  A huge wolfhound crashed against her, wide paws on her chest, its massive head above her shoulders. She wrapped herself around the lumbering dog, straining to hold him. He crashed back to the ground, nearly taking Kate with him. The dog went placid instantly, slapping the doorframe with his gigantic tail. Kate took a deep breath of relief and pounded the beast’s shoulder lovingly. She stepped back into the library, with the dog pressing her to one side.

  Simon let out a breath and looked askance at Nick. “It’s just a great puppy. No doubt quite harmless.”

  “Oh no,” Kate said. “He’s extraordinarily harmful.”

  “He didn’t even bark,” Nick sputtered. “Luckily, I turned and saw him charging.”

  “He never barks before he attacks.”

  Nick slid from the shelter of Simon, muttering, “I don’t know why you feel the need of attack horses.”

  Kate laughed as she muscled Aethelred back outside and closed the door. The dog stood breathing mist onto the glass, following his mistress’s every move. “Don’t let Aethelred’s rudeness overshadow my gratitude for your efforts. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for Imogen, and for me.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” Simon leaned over the keyboard of an aging pianoforte. Out of habit, Simon took the key from his waistcoat and began to twirl it idly between his fingers.

  Kate’s eyes locked onto the key and she came quickly from the window. Simon tightened his grip out of instinct as she reached for it, saying, “Where did you get that?” She took hold and stared intently at the bow of the key, where the filigree flared into a symbol, a stylized compass.

  Simon exchanged a curious look with Nick. “It belonged to my mother. Why do you ask?”

  “Wherever did your mother get it? May I see it, please?” She tugged on the key, which he had yet to relinquish. She gave Simon an exasperating frown. “I’m not going to steal it.”

  “Well, the way you charged at me was a bit unnerving. Did you learn that lunge from Aethelred?” He released the key and let Kate lift it closer to her eye. “Why do you ask, if I may ask?”

  She didn’t reply but started for the door. Simon leapt to his feet.

  “Here!” he called after her. “You said you wouldn’t steal it.”

  “Oh, just come with me.” Kate called over her shoulder and rushed from the library, followed by Simon and Nick. She strode down the main hall to the impressive grand staircase. Without breaking stride she swept up. Servants parted, some trying to ask questions, but were quickly left in her wake. Hogarth caught sight of her and followed silently.

  Kate led the small phalanx of the curious toward the rear of the house, down a corridor where the lamps were set low. She paused before a door and reached into her pocket to remove a ring of keys. She unlocked the door.

  The room beyond was a sizeable study filled with books and papers and more curios. In any other country house, this would have been an admirable library in and of itself. Simon followed Kate inside, then realized that most of the books on the shelves were, in fact, bound journals with written symbols on the spines.

  Kate went to the far wall and began to pull books from the shelves, stare behind them, then slip them back into place. She shoved skulls aside and even shushed a dangling shrunken head before relocating it to a tabletop. Finally, she shifted a glass bell jar containing a small skeleton of a creature that resembled a bird with three heads.

  “Aha!” She held the key out in front of her, comparing it to the wall behind the weird bird. “I knew it!”

  Nick muttered, “I’m a bit frightened.”

  Kate stepped aside and pointed at the wall. “Look here, Mr. Archer. Don’t just stand there. Look.”

  “Careful,” Nick warned softly, which caused a crease of annoyance to appear in Kate’s brow.

  Undaunted, Simon joined her at the shelf and peered at the wall. There was a strange mark in the plaster. It appeared to be a scorch mark. It was the same compass design that was on the top of the key.

  “Odd,” he said.

  “Odd?” Kate actually swatted him on the arm. “Your understatement staggers me. That symbol has been incised on this wall for years. I can’t remember exactly the first time I saw it. And here it is on this key. My father’s key.”

  Simon started. “Your father’s key? I beg to differ. It was my mother’s, and I received it when she died. She had had it for years.”

  Kate huffed in annoyance and began to scan the journals around her. “I’ll show you.” She ran her finger along the spines and read labels. “Eighteen eleven. Seventeen ninety-seven. Paris. The talking hound of Silesia. Just wait, I’ll find it.”

  Simon looked at Hogarth, but the servant didn’t betray any uneasiness or curiosity about his mistress’s behavior. Nick leaned against a desk with arms crossed, looking confused.

  She continued to lay hands on journals. “Where the hell is it? Automatrixes. Feasibility of an Arctic Canal. Damn it!”

  Simon said, “We could help you look if you’d tell us what you are looking for.”

  “If I knew that, I’d have it by now. Why don’t you stay the evening, gentlemen? It’s far too late now to leave for London regardless.”

  Nick hesitated. “I think we should get back.”

  Simon contemplated Kate’s request, then shrugged at Nick. “There’s nothing we can do tonight. Tomorrow is soon enough. Miss Anstruther, we would be honored to dine in Hartley Hall.”

  Hogarth coughed lightly. “Shall I prepare rooms, miss?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Kate waved a distracted hand. “Show them to their rooms and we’ll reconvene at dinner. I’ll have it by then.

  “Would you mind if I had my key, please?” Simon inquired quietly.

  “Your key?” She scowled and thrust it back at him. “Here, if you must.”

  Simon raised a bemused eyebrow at her frustration. The woman was a panther when vexed.

  Hogarth bowed slightly and extended an arm toward the door. “Gentlemen, follow me, please.”

  As they departed, Simon glanced back over his shoulder to see Kate scrambling on top of a desk to peer at journals on higher shelves. She cursed loudly.

  Nick muttered, “Maybe we should’ve left both of the Anstruther girls in Bedlam.”

  Simon laughed and twirled the key. “I think this is turning into an enjoyable jaunt in the country.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Simon and Nick were provided dinner clothes so perfect they might have been tailored for them. As they both descended to the dining room, they noticed a lampfly zip past.

  Simon laughed. “Remarkable place.”

  Nick shook his head. “How hard is it to have someone light lamps?”

  “Saves on servants,” Simon said. “I haven’t seen nearly as many as a house this size should have. I’m sure there are tremendous labor-saving devices all over the estate.”

  They continued down with Nick muttering about pointlessness. He had balked at shavin
g, which scored him disappointed glances from the butler in the dining room. Both men were surprised to see Imogen present. She wore a fashionable flowered gown of muslin with balloon sleeves. She curtsied, seeming only slightly disconcerted, and stared at Nick with hard eyes, but she said nothing. Then she appraised Simon with an approving smile and clutched the back of the chair where she was to sit next to him, as if someone would move it out of the room.

  The dining table was long but set with only four places at one end. Tasteful flowers accented the array of glasses for water and wines and the arsenal of silverware next to each of the fine china plates. Menus rested in each spot. Simon perused his and was much impressed, particularly given they’d only had a few hours.

  A side door opened. Simon glanced up from the menu and his eyes widened. Kate entered in a gown of dark velvet that clung to her narrow waist and expressive hips. The pale skin of her strong bare shoulders shone beautifully above the rise of her breasts. Her auburn hair was twisted in a fetchingly wild tangle on top of her head, framing the strong cut of her cheekbones. Her green eyes covered the room, lingering a moment on Simon as he bowed, sweeping past Nick to settle with concern on Imogen. Kate approached the table, and only then did Simon see one of her father’s journals in her hand.

  “Please, everyone sit,” she said graciously, her attention focused on Imogen’s pale features. “There’s no formality among us, despite the setting. It’s merely been a long time since we’ve had visitors at Hartley Hall.”

  Kate sat at the head of the table, with Imogen settled at Simon’s right and Nick on her left. Legs were barely under the table when oysters where placed before everyone. Simon lifted his small glass of white wine and stood.

  “If I may offer a toast to our hostess, Miss Anstruther, and to her lovely sister, Miss Imogen. We thank you for your hospitality. It is a great honor to pass an evening at Hartley Hall.”

  Kate nodded and sipped, and before Simon could sit, she had opened the journal, her face alight with the excitement of discovery. “Here. Look.”

  Simon made a show of setting down his oyster fork with an indulgent smile. The yellowed pages of the journal were covered in scrawls, some legible, some not. Some words. Numbers and formulas. Symbols he had no familiarity with. He did see several detailed drawings of what appeared to be the very key nestled in his waistcoat. He removed the key to compare. The drawings were clearly the very thing.

  “When was this written?” Simon asked.

  “The journal is dated seventeen ninety-nine, but there are loose sheets of papers stuffed in there that I believe are from even earlier.”

  “Thirty years ago. Curious.” Simon handed the journal to Nick, who was more interested in the oysters. “I suppose it’s possible that your father knew my mother and gave her the key as a gift. She certainly never mentioned having the acquaintance of Sir Roland Anstruther.”

  Kate said, “I don’t think that likely.”

  “Why?”

  “From what I can read of my father’s notes, the key isn’t just a keepsake that he would hand off. Unlike many of his creations, he was quite focused on this one.”

  “I don’t see anything particularly extraordinary about this key.”

  “Good God,” Nick breathed. He was holding a ragged sheet of parchment he had pulled from between pages. His eyes were wide. He turned the sheet and held it up.

  Simon recognized runic scribing on the page. Magical symbols, similar to those he used. In fact, disturbingly similar.

  He snatched the sheet from Nick’s hand and stared at it. His breath grew short. More sheets were held out to him. He took them from Nick and laid them on the table, stymieing the servants who sought to remove the oyster course and bring the soup. Simon went from sheet to sheet, running his fingers along the symbols, comparing them. Even in his intense concentration, he noted the faint scent of Kate’s perfume as she came to his shoulder.

  “Those are magical runes,” she said.

  “They’re more than that.”

  “In what way?”

  “I am almost certain they were written by my father.”

  “Your father?” Kate exhaled in shock. “Your father was a magician?”

  “He was a scribe. Like myself. I recognize his style from notes of his that I have.” Simon looked at Nick with a slowly spreading grin. “These are spells written by my father.”

  Kate asked, “Why would my father have them?”

  “I have no idea, Miss Anstruther. I have no idea at all. But it’s damnably exciting, isn’t it?”

  She laughed honestly for the first time since he’d known her and put a hand to her breast. “Can you tell me what sort of spell is written there?”

  “No, not yet. It’s beautiful though. His hand was so elegant.”

  Kate returned to her chair and took a long drink of wine. “I can tell you that from what I’ve read in the journal, the key you are holding is an object of extraordinary power.”

  Simon and Nick and Imogen all looked at the key. It caught the golden light of the candles.

  “What sort of power?” Simon asked.

  Kate sat forward dramatically, resting on her elbows. “I have no idea.”

  Simon waited for a better answer, then realized she was done. “What?”

  “My father was a man of secrets too. He didn’t just write a simple note about the thing.”

  Simon held up the key in front of his face. “Then how do we know it does anything?”

  Kate sipped wine. “Would two such men work together on a mere piece of jewelry?”

  “Well, I see clear evidence,” Simon said, “that they knew each other, and that your father has some of my father’s runic scribbling. But that they actually worked together on this key? We can’t say that for sure.”

  Nick then grunted and held up one final sheet. It was a rough sketch of the key with runic symbols drawn on it.

  “On the other hand,” Simon added.

  It was a long dinner of animated discussion that provided no further clues to their parents’ association. Kate and Simon went through the journal page by page, continually exclaiming at notes and facets of Sir Roland’s work. She did notice that whenever the conversation went to Simon’s father and his life, particularly those years when he might have worked with Sir Roland, Simon would divert to another topic. It was deftly done, but Kate knew equivocation when she saw it. Clearly, he wanted to maintain secrecy about his father. At the end of it all, there was no consensus on what the key was or was not.

  Finally, after many hours and candles nearly burnt to the silver sticks, Kate received word that Mrs. Tolbert needed to discuss certain issues. Kate suggested that Imogen should go to bed, given the stressful events of the day, but her request was ignored. The young woman seemed unaware of any stress and continued to hang on Simon’s every word with tired, drooping eyes. Simon recommended with a knowing wink that Kate attend her business, and he would entertain Imogen.

  Kate rose from the table as port was poured for the two gentlemen. She found Mrs. Tolbert waiting patiently in the Blue Room. “We could go over ledgers later, Mrs. Tolbert.”

  “It isn’t ledgers, miss. I need to know about Miss Imogen’s condition, so I can know how best to help her and you. You told me precious little when you brought her home.”

  Kate felt the truth in the woman’s statement. “Of course, you’re right. This is not to go any further.” The housekeeper nodded. “Imogen has had a difficult time. It is likely that she has been ill-used by Colonel Hibbert.”

  Mrs. Tolbert grew hard, eyes narrowing with anger. “If you’ll pardon my saying, your father would have something done about the man.”

  “Something has been done. Colonel Hibbert is dead.”

  The housekeeper regarded Kate with a look of respect but didn’t say more, merely waited.

  Kate continued, “Our goal is to keep Imogen comfortable and calm. I have a special draught to relax her when needed. Treat her as you always would, but alert t
he staff that her behavior may be a bit odd.”

  “Yes, miss. We’ll do everything needed for the poor angel.”

  “I know you will, Mrs. Tolbert. Hartley Hall is likely to be a bit upside down for the immediate future. I appreciate all your efforts.”

  “No matter, miss.” The housekeeper pushed her hands into her apron pockets. “It isn’t as if Hartley Hall hasn’t seen its share of upside-down days before.”

  Kate watched the solid old woman trundle from the Blue Room and she felt as if the house was once again set right, as much as it could be. She returned to the dining room with a somewhat lighter heart and opened the door to an unexpected scene.

  Simon stood in front of Imogen, who perched on her chair in complete concentration. He held a top hat upside down by the brim and waved his right hand over the open hat. He held it low enough that Imogen could peer inside. Beyond him, Nick leaned back in his chair, draining a large glass of port, with one foot against the table. Two serving maids, along with Barnaby the butler, stood behind Imogen’s chair, watching Simon with the attention of a hawk.

  “Completely empty?” Simon waited for Imogen to peer deeply into the hat and nod in agreement. He smiled mysteriously and placed the hat on his head. He swept his hand along the brim and tapped the crown. His eyes flicked quickly to Kate, and he said, “And since a lady has arrived, a gentleman always tips his hat.”

  Simon removed the top hat and something moved in his hair. He gave a shallow bow toward Imogen, who squealed with delight, while the servants laughed and clapped their hands.

  “What is it?” Simon cried with mock alarm. “Is there a beast on me?”

  Imogen laughed and hesitatingly reached out to him. Simon moved a step closer in invitation. She scooped a hedgehog off Simon’s head and cradled it in her hands. She held it up to show the other girls.

  Kate laughed at the ridiculous scene. “What exactly is happening here?”

  “Look,” Imogen said. “Mr. Archer produced a hedgehog out of thin air. It’s a miracle.”

  “Yes,” Kate agreed, giving Simon a pleasant smirk. “He’s quite the wonderworker.”