He paused to consider his next actions. He would write to the bank, compose a letter arranging for Gribble to visit on the morrow then meet with the attendants again for another rehearsal in the ballroom. And all the while he would try very hard not to think about the empty space on his desk.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Marie
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, after her earlier meeting with the valet, Marie watched from the drawing-room window on the ground floor, as Regington approached the house. The light was soft and kind to his skin. He was undoubtedly a handsome man, and he was certainly of superior intellect to Philidor. But how would he manage this next move she planned on executing? He walked boldly up the steps, and she met him at the front door, extending her hands to clasp his.
‘We are alone?’ he ventured. Did he think that this was the opportunity to take her to bed?
‘Philidor is down in the ballroom, meeting with the attendants to prepare for the next show and rehearse. The village men are captivated by his tricks and you know he cannot resist an adoring audience.’
‘And His Grace?’
‘In London with the valet this afternoon, the final sitting for his portrait to become a peer. It will hang in the gallery in the House of Lords I believe. And it’s Cook’s day off so the maid is preparing all the meals.’
‘Then we have … some time?’
She smiled slowly and nodded. Yes, he did want to use this opportunity for intimacy. But she would not invite him to her bedchamber. She had considered it earlier but had decided upon a different course of action. One that would further her plan more swiftly. One that was … less complicated.
‘Shall we take tea in the drawing room?’
‘Perfect.’ He followed her through.
She walked with confidence, as if daring someone to discover them. She knew he would be appraising her from behind and the scent of her lavender parfum trailed in her wake would further his desire. The bay window was open; the curtain wafted languidly in the breeze. Harriet had ensured the tea was ready and waiting. This tete-a-tete would not be disturbed.
‘You look well,’ he began, taking the armchair opposite hers while she poured the tea.
She did. She had taken more than usual care before this meeting to ensure her toilet was impeccable. At that time she was still deciding for herself what she would offer in this encounter. ‘I am most well, monsieur. This place, these grounds, the country air are most kind to me. How are you finding your lodgings at Baker Street?’
‘Druce is exactly as you described her, as are the rooms. But they will suffice for now, given the short notice I had to vacate my previous abode – I believe my landlord was in debt. It is fortuitous that you could recommend me to Druce. I have set up my bedchamber in the very room that yours occupied.’ His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and she realised she had flushed in response. ‘Your invitation to call upon you this afternoon was welcome indeed. Your letters have sustained me, but the wait to see you always feels so long.’
The mention of Druce summoned up her face and Marie felt the repugnance swell. Was Druce offering herself to Regington as well? Had he succumbed? She pushed the image away, now pleased with her earlier decision to avoid the bedchamber although he still must think she was available. ‘For me as well, my dear,’ she said.
‘The show! Let us talk of the show! It was brilliant. You must be so pleased. It was particularly exciting when that man appeared with a sword. Your idea, surely?’ The way he flattered was so natural. His charm was so strategically beguiling. She needed to be careful she did not say more than she intended but enough to affect her plan.
‘Please do not share this with anyone, but he was an unexpected visitor.’
‘Oh! Who was he?’
She stirred her teacup slowly, feigning solemnity. ‘The duke.’
‘What the devil was he doing?’
His appearance had been a surprise to her as well, but even this she had been able to use to her advantage in the ever changing moves in the game. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps he was under a delusion of some sort. He is unwell. How he will manage being a peer is questionable. But no harm has come of it.’
‘Ah, so you have used this incident to orchestrate my private visit today.’
She smiled. Back again to the possibility of the bedchamber. ‘Yes, the conditions of our stay have changed, partly because of that. And I have been made aware of additional information that compromises His Grace, which I’ve also been able to use in my favour.’ She dangled this bait and waited for him to take it.
‘Another secret?’ he said. He leaned forwards, his knee brushing the saucer. He was eager and not hiding it very well.
‘A terribly big secret. It has the capacity to destroy Philidor’s plans completely while allowing me to break free of him.’ The use of Philidor’s name was an added enticement.
He leant further forwards and the saucer rattled as it shifted across the table. He didn’t register the noise. Or his careless lack of restraint that revealed his emotions. He should know better. ‘Destroy his plans?’
‘Oh yes, what I have discovered will ruin him if used correctly. His reputation in London is already compromised by what happened at the Lyceum and now, if I take Antoinette and this new … secret with me he will lose all his money and the second cancellation of our well publicised show will ensure his name is thoroughly besmirched. No one of any repute will hire a premise to him or wish to be affiliated with such a risk. He will be exposed for what he is, a charlatan. Unfortunately the duke may be effected as well.’
He sat up and crossed his legs. He was trying to contain himself now. ‘And what is he to you?’
‘That I am still deliberating on.’
‘So-,’ he uncrossed his legs and reached for the cup and saucer, drawing it towards himself to fiddle with the cup. He did not look at her. ‘Will you tell me this secret?’ Only then did he raise his eyes to her, the appeal in them was strong. For a moment, just a moment she thought: What if she did? What if she told him all her secrets? All her plans? Could he be her partner? Could she then take him to her bed? She looked at his hands, so carefully manicured, so soft and white. The small indentations at the bottom of his fingers. A relationship built on deception from the start was not to be trusted.
‘No,’ she said, looking at him calmly with her hands folded in her lap. She would proceed as planned. ‘I will show you.’
They moved up the staircase and crossed to the pink-walled, echoing emptiness of Cavendish’s wing. She led Regington along to the study door. ‘One box for incoming letters, one for out,’ she whispered.
‘Mad,’ he breathed.
She indicated the keyhole. ‘Now, hush and look through here.’ ‘Spying?’
‘For now.’
He bent to peer through the hole. ‘Yes?’ he said, pulling away. ‘The commission, I presume?’ Good, good. This was going well.
‘She is my secret. And the duke’s. You see, she is the first.’
‘The first what?’
He was intrigued. Wondering about the significance of what she was showing him. Here it was. ‘The first thinking automaton.’
He immediately turned back to the keyhole. How would he respond to this revelation? ‘Isn’t she just the same as Antoinette?’
Still disbelief. She would press further. ‘This one has an active mind, and she moves of her own accord.’
‘Are you saying she’s alive?’ he said, with a glance up at Marie. She returned his gaze levelly.
‘Watch her, monsieur. Can’t you see how she breathes?’ She had suggested to him what he might see. Would he see it?
He returned to the keyhole, placing each hand flush against the door to steady himself. She saw him hold his own breath. ‘Yes, yes! I see it now, she’s incredible, I grant you that. I have never seen such a wonder. But how?’ He withdrew again to face Marie. ‘How is this possible?’ There was wonder on his face. It appeared without artifice. Almost endearing. And she ima
gined that for an observer who did not know of her invention, to see a purported wax automaton breathing would be almost otherworldly.
‘I don’t know, yet. But I plan to break from Philidor and take her to use in my own show, but it must be our secret. If Philidor finds out about her, he will take her for his own first.’
Regington said nothing but returned to watching the girl. It would not do to linger here. He might want to try the door, go inside and touch Elanor. This was not to be allowed. She made a thump against the door. He leapt back, his eye watering in pain from being pushed against the metal.
‘What on earth?’
‘Quick, we must go – I stepped back against the door in fright, I thought I saw something down the end of the hallway. It may be the valet back from London early and he must not find us here in Cavendish’s wing. Hurry!’
They returned downstairs to the drawing room.
‘That creature’s truly a wonder,’ Regington said as he sat back down. ‘A miracle of science, of engineering, of…well I don’t know what else truth be told. I have seen automatons before obviously and Antoinette herself, she is extraordinary but to breathe! I understand why you want her for yourself my dear, she will ensure your reputation spreads to the finest courts all over the world!’
‘That is the plan.’
Oh, clever Regington! He had decided to play along. He was looking composed – and watching her carefully. Trying to ascertain, she was sure, just how far he should go along with her perceived fancy.
‘And she’s pleasing to the eye.’
Marie raised her eyebrows before she could help it. She quickly recovered herself. ‘She is a miracle, you are right,’ Marie announced. ‘And it is a show of my trust in you that I reveal her.’
Regington smiled, even as she saw, behind his eyes, his mind calculating this new information and how it could benefit him. He was excited by Elanor – exactly as Marie had hoped for him to be. ‘We must act swiftly,’ he said, and took her hands.
‘Precisely.’
Now she just needed to ensure he made it to the front door without them visiting her bedchamber first.
‘What’s important is that you don’t panic,’ said Marie, taking Elanor’s right hand as they sat opposite each other in the armchairs in front of the fireplace. So intricate were the carvings. Such devilish figures with such ugly countenances. Why Cavendish would choose this unsightly piece as a feature yet strip the rest of the house of furnishings most assuredly showed his lack of taste. She averted her eyes. ‘It was just a gentleman friend of mine who wanted to see you but he is gone now.’
The girl nodded her head once, the gears ticking as they ground around the wheel at the base of her skull. Her glass eyes stared unblinking at Marie, large with questions.
‘Has His Grace been back?’
A shake of the head and a click in the negative.
‘How could he not like you, my dear? It’s just that he’s changed, perhaps, from the boy you once knew. But I have an idea. What if I could look after you all the time? I could take you out, away from this place, and we could travel together.’
The girl’s chest rose and fell as she breathed.
‘And when the duke is well again, I’m sure he will send for you. No harm will befall you while you are under my care,’ Marie said firmly. ‘I promise.’
She heard a faint whirring, as the clockwork inside the girl’s head was being propelled by thoughts, questions and ideas. And emotions. ‘Think on it, my dear. You and I, we could leave this place, and all I would ask in return would be for you to appear occasionally in a show I am putting together.’
The girl’s head cocked on one side. Was she intrigued?
‘It would be a type of exhibition for well-bred and well-paying customers. Nothing coarse or vulgar, you understand. Simply a display of the creatures and sculptures I have made. And you, my dear, could be the main spectacle.’ Marie patted Elanor’s hand and released it. ‘Think on it. I have another job to do now – I will return to you soon.’
After taking her leave, Marie wound her way down the stairs then over to the wing she shared with Philidor. She knocked on his door. Surely he was back in his rooms now. ‘I need to see you. It’s urgent.’
The door opened. ‘What is it?’
‘I cannot tell you, I have to show you,’ she said. ‘Follow me.’
CHAPTER FORTY
Philidor
‘I MUST CONFESS,’ MARIE said to him, as they walked towards Cavendish’s study, ‘I have seen something.’
‘Yes?’ Perhaps this was it – she would reveal the information she had about Cavendish.
‘A man has been lurking around the grounds, in the shadows beneath the trees that face my bedchamber window, for what purpose I do not know.’ He looked into her face, waited til her eyes met his and tried to detect if there was any madness there. No, she looked calm, composed and rational. This wasn’t a hallucination then, but there must be a simple explanation.
‘Probably one of the villagers. Daring each other to trespass and see if they can glimpse Cavendish.’ Oh, surely it wasn’t the Collector. ‘What did he look like?’
‘Tall, broad. Dark. Not dressed like any of the ground staff. Well dressed in fact, looked like a London gentleman actually.’
Not one of his attendants then either, who he thought may have been intrigued by the ballroom and wanted to see more of the grounds. It could only be the Collector; Gribble must have lied to him. The Collector had taken the gold tobacco box with the ring, and now he wanted more. Surely Philidor’s debts were not quite that substantial; surely he could ask for more time – but the Collector didn’t negotiate.
Something was amiss. This was not the Collector’s usual way of doing things, and why would Gribble have betrayed him? No, he wouldn’t. Not when he was upholding his end of the unsaid agreement, that of providing access and opportunity for Gribble to analyse Marie.
‘Perhaps,’ Marie conceded. ‘But there is something else – I am afraid that the valet may be spying on us. The papers on my desk have been disturbed. More than once, I have returned to my chambers to find things moved, and not for dusting. My notebook has been opened, my drawings placed out of order. Drawings for new designs, attractions – I had the most wonderful ideas that I wanted to present to you, but now …’
‘What?’
‘Now I wonder. This man in the shadows could be paying the valet to spy on us.’
Yes, that made sense: the valet could be conspiring with the Collector. But would the young man do that, after their recent discussion when he had seemed so pleased with the terms agreed upon? Could he be that duplicitous?
‘You surely have enough secrets of your own,’ remarked Philidor.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Whatever you know about Cavendish was obviously enough to scare him. You said in your letter this morning something about him conceding to honour the arrangement for the next three months? No man would concede so readily if he wasn’t scared.’
‘Possibly. But here we are.’ They had arrived outside the study door. ‘You must peek through the keyhole,’ she whispered. ‘No talking, just look.’
‘What exactly am I looking at?’ He matched her whisper. ‘Just look,’ she insisted, and he did.
It took a long moment before he withdrew his eye. ‘Elanor?’ His palms were damp. The desire was immediate.
‘You do not see anything remarkable about her?’
He pressed his eye to the keyhole again. Oh, how enticing she was. ‘She looks perfectly ordinary.’ He kept his tone light but inside he was recoiling to see her there, locked up, wasting away when she could be the most marvelous of spectacles sharing in the adulation, the applause. Afterwards, alone with her, he could explore what she was really capable of.
‘And yet that is the very thing you should notice. Her skin has the wax pallor because her skin is the wax … but she breathes for herself.’
‘She has the device in her chest that yo
u made,’ Philidor said.
‘But it wound down, and I have not wound it back up. And Cavendish has not been anywhere near her. She breathes now of her own accord. And moves. I have seen it myself, she walks around the room unaided.’
‘Impossible,’ he shot back. ‘What sort of trick is this?’
‘What sort of trick?’ hissed Marie. ‘You think I brought you up here, took you into my confidence and shared my discovery only to have you accuse me of deception?’
He gave no answer but returned to the keyhole. His hands snuck up either side of the hole, applying pressure to the door as she noticed his desire intensifying.
Marie touched his arm, and signalled to leave. ‘Forgive me, monsieur for a hasty departure,’ she said when they were out of earshot. ‘But I felt a bit faint. I have not been sleeping well because of this man in the forest, and I may have swooned.’
Philidor regarded her closely. Had she seen his desire? Or was she really unwell? ‘And now?’
‘Just a moment still, monsieur, and I will be fine. But the duke is mad, don’t you see? He doesn’t want her for himself. He wants to lock her up.’
‘But that’s … well, that’s ex—’ He stopped but the word continued in his mind. That was excellent. If Cavendish didn’t want her and Marie was removed then Elanor was his without question.
‘Yes, I find myself not liking this idea, monsieur. If he doesn’t want her, he must be persuaded to give her up.’
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