by M C Dulac
“Now you know why I didn’t tell you.”
“I never thought I’d see magic in the flesh, but that day in the cellar Miss, when your eyes were shining in the dark,” Ed shivered. “And they said in the village you had lived there for twenty years, even though you don’t look a day older than me. Then that morning in the fields, I saw your eyes glow again. You did give me a fright. It was an enchantment, Miss, like the faery folk back home.”
“And you told Wyatt?”
Ed bowed his head. “I believed then that he would do the right thing. I told him that your eyes glowed and that no one remembered you arriving in the village. I am sorry, but you did spook me. I thought Wyatt would know what to do. Instead he kept saying he had found an alchemist’s apprentice.
“He demanded I take him to your house. When we arrived you had gone and Wyatt flew into a rage. He said you must be caught. But that made me nervous, for my Gran always said it was bad luck to catch a faery. Even if they aren’t quite like us, faeries must always be free.”
“An alchemist is not a faery,” Elise said, with a smile. “But thank you for your concern. So Wyatt has seen my conservatory?”
“I’m sorry, Miss, the maid let us in the next day. Wyatt had a good look around. On the way back to London he was going on about Price’s laboratory. I thought he wanted to ensure it was destroyed, as any decent, responsible man would. Instead he kept wondering how much remained. He kept talking about the green book. He said if Price wanted it, it must be important. His features changed, Miss, as if he had seen the gold right there in our carriage.
“When we reached London, he ordered his men to keep searching for the book and for you. Your maid said you had spoken about going to London, so he wanted every coaching inn searched. He sent his men to every place the French gathered in London.
“Wyatt declared that if you were here on false papers, you should be arrested. His magistrate friend would arrange it.
“I didn’t think you were evil or bad. I thought it was your master who was the bad one. You weren’t a forger. Instead you were running away. That’s why I spoke to you in the park that day. I wasn’t threatening you, but warning you. I still believed if you went to Wyatt we might be able to clear this up. I felt guilty that Wyatt was on a dark chase that I couldn’t stop, and that I had set him on this course.”
“If it wasn’t Barnabas Wyatt, it would have been someone else. Once people learn about alchemy, it changes them.”
Ed glanced at her nervously. “So, Miss, you are an alchemist?”
“I don’t know if I am a real alchemist,” Elise reflected. “It is a long journey and only deserving people reach the end. All that has happened to me is by chance. Recently I am not as fit as I was, and I feel pain and hurt. I wonder if the elixir of life is wearing off or whether I was never mean to drink it.”
“Did you know Albert Price?”
“I did. Many years ago.”
Ed’s eyebrows shot up and he clutched his beer.
“Albert Price was a true alchemist. He bore a heavy burden knowing that the world saw him as a magician, a source of gold and potions. He wanted to reach the higher levels of alchemy.”
“Like the stars, Miss.”
“The stars and beyond, Ed.”
“So what do you think of this green book?”
“I think it is important. I know this book was brought to London and left in safe hands. The people Price entrusted to look after it were good people with honest hearts. He would have felt it was safe with them.”
“So he had a laboratory in London?”
“The laboratory does not matter. You could not do anything with my garden in Little Bingham although the plants to make every potion are there. The knowledge is in the mind of the alchemist. If Wyatt finds the pots and pans, he will be none the wiser. But if he finds the book he will find the instructions.”
“Wyatt would not be a good alchemist.”
“As you said, you don’t know who you conjure up when you deal with magic.”
Ed went pale, beneath his healthy tan.
“That is why I must stay in London until I find the book.”
“Let me help you. After what I’ve seen, I’m certain Wyatt must not find this book.”
“No, Mr. Fitzgerald - no, Ed. Bad things happen when you get involved in alchemy. Already you have lost your livelihood.”
“Old Wyatt was going to get rid of me sometime or other. It’s for the best.”
“Then I wish you well.”
Ed lowered his head. “I know I’ve caused trouble, so I’d feel better if I can help. Is there anything I can do?”
“You have already rescued me tonight.”
“I rescued you after I put you in danger, so we aren’t quite even. Can I help you get away from London?”
Elise bit her lip. “I do need to go to Hampstead.”
“Hampstead?”
“It’s possible the book is there.”
“How will you get there?”
“By carriage. I am going to hire one tomorrow from the coach house.”
“From the coach house?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever hired a carriage before?”
Elise frowned. It seemed a bad idea, now she thought about it. And how would she pay, now she had lost her coins?
“Wouldn’t it be better,” Ed said, breaking into a grin. “If you knew a friend who had a horse and carriage who could take you there in the morning?”
“Do you have a carriage?”
“No, but my mate Jack does. And he owes me a few favours. He can lend me a horse tomorrow and I can take you where you need to go. It’s the least I can do. And I am truly sorry, Miss. I never knew there would be so much trouble. Things got out of control so quickly.”
“That is the nature of alchemy,” Elise said. “You never know what will appear in the flames.”
Ed looked wary. “I’ll leave the alchemy to you, and you leave the horses to me. Let me escort you safely home, and tomorrow we’ll go looking for that book.”
Chapter Sixteen
The lamps burnt low when Elise and Ed returned to Cramley Court.
“I’ll meet you at the end of the street, nine o’clock tomorrow,” Ed said. “If that isn’t too early.”
“Not at all. I’d like to go as early as we can.”
“Very well. Good night Miss.”
He bowed his head and disappeared into the descending fog. Elise entered the house and climbed the rickety stairs to her attic room.
When she woke the next morning, Georgia and Rosie were in the courtyard below, filling a pitcher of water from the pump. Georgia’s steps were uncertain, and her willowy figure swayed as she walked. She raised her face to the grey sky and took several deep breaths. The colour had returned to her cheeks and the circles under her eyes had disappeared. It would be a few more days before she was completely recovered, but the fever was retreating. The elixir had done its work. Georgia put her arm around Rosie and mother and daughter returned to the house.
Elise made her way to the main thoroughfare. Shortly after nine, Ed emerged through the crowds driving a horse and carriage. The horse was sturdy, with grey speckles on its soft nose. Ed gave the horse a pat as he leapt down and helped Elise into the seat.
“Jack has leant us his oldest carriage and Christabel his oldest horse. She’s due to retire soon, but she’ll enjoy being on the Heath today.”
The carriage lurched through the London traffic, narrowing avoiding carts, omnibuses and pedestrians. Gradually the tenements of the city gave way to smaller houses and Elise saw grassy hillsides in the distance.
“Hampstead Heath,” Ed gestured. “Wyatt made me deliver a letter there once.”
“It is a woodland,” Elise said. “It almost like the countryside. I can see the sky at last.”
The wind rippled the leaves on the trees. The grasses twitched on the open hillsides and sheep nibbled on the slopes. Ed turned the carriage onto a narrow
road and the trees formed a high arch overhead. The light was dappled green. They drove further and further until London was a smoky mirage in the distance.
“Your friend’s house is near Hampstead Village,” Ed said, turning down a rustic road. They slowed their pace to a trot. The noise of London had finally receded and only birdsong filled the air.
Ed drove along a leafy lane, coming to a stop before a red brick house.
“This should be it,” Ed gave the tall house an appraising glance.
He leapt down from the carriage and opened the gate. They walked along a shrubbery path to a grand front door. A manservant opened the door, nodding as Elise handed him Young Mr. Jasper’s note.
“The master said you would be coming,” the servant said, giving Ed a quick look. Whatever he thought, he kept to himself. “I understand you are searching for a book. There are books in the library and in the study upstairs. Do you know what it looks like?”
“It is a green book,” Elise said. “Of some antiquity.”
The servant nodded, although his forehead crinkled with deep lines. “Then I’d suggest you’d begin in the library, Miss.” He hobbled away.
Elise and Ed entered a large room lined with ceiling-high bookcases. A ladder reached the upper shelves.
“Talk about finding a needle in a haystack,” Ed muttered. “All right then, let’s begin.”
Elise took one side of the room and Ed the other. They opened the bookcases and traced their fingers along the spines. Mr. Jasper’s father had an extensive collection. Once or twice Ed thought he had found the book, but Elise examined it and shook her head. It seemed the green book was not there.
“Find anything, Miss?” Ed asked, after an hour had passed.
Elise looked up from the cabinets and shook her head. “I don’t think it’s in this room.”
“We’ll search upstairs then,” Ed said.
Elise followed Ed into the hall and Ed bounded up the winding staircase, taking the steps two at a time. The study was off the hallway. The servant had unlocked the cabinets and Elise knelt down to search each cupboard. Some books had fallen behind the others. They pulled out all the books and laid them on the rug, until the books covered the floor.
Although old, none of them were Price’s books.
“That’s it then,” Ed scratched his head, putting the last book aside. “Now I suppose we have to put them back.”
It was after midday when they finished tidying the study. “I wonder if there’s any hiding places,” Ed said, running his hands along the walls. “Not in this type of house, I fear.”
“Maybe there is an attic.”
“The stairs don’t go any further.”
“But maybe they do.”
Elise opened each door on the landing and glanced inside.
“The servants’ staircase. See it keeps going upwards. There is another floor,” she smiled.
Ed bowed his head as they climbed the narrow staircase. Their feet clicked on the wooden stairs. The staircase twisted under the low roof and ended at a worn door. Ed pushed his shoulder against the door until it budged and flew open in a cloud of dust.
The room beyond was dark and musty. Grit crunched under their feet. Long abandoned spider webs thick with dust festooned beneath the rafters. The corners of the room were shrouded in deep shadow.
A tiny window, streaked with dirt, looked over the heath. Clouds were rolling in from the south, rising into high charcoal-coloured mountains in the sky.
“Rain is coming,” Ed noted. “Hope the storm doesn’t break before we get back to town. This room seems pretty bare. Do you think there’s anything up here?”
“Only old furniture,” Elise pushed aside a broken table.
“What’s that?” Ed’s eyes lit up. He crossed to the end of the room and dragged a packing case into the weak light.
“It’s locked,” Elise’s heart quickened.
“The lock is rusted. I might be able to -” Ed picked up a piece of wood and knocked the lock several times. The lid budged. Elise held her breath as the case clicked open. Clouds of dust flew out and they both coughed as they waited for the dust to settle.
They exchanged hopeful glances and Ed grinned.
Elise lifted the first cloth. It was an old dress, once fine but now worn and tattered. Beneath the dress was another. Elise took out each dress but there was nothing hidden among them.
“That’s all,” Elise frowned, seeing the empty bottom of the trunk.
Ed rubbed his chin. He glanced around the rafters. “There’s no other hiding place here.”
Elise replaced the dresses and sensed Ed’s disappointment as they left the attic.
“Perhaps Old Mr. Jasper destroyed the book,” Elise said.
“Do you think so?”
“It isn’t in his city house and it’s not here. He had received a letter that Albert Price was never coming to collect it. Destroying the book would be the safest thing to do.”
“If that is the case that solves our problem,” Ed said as they reached the main hall.
“He kept all of Albert Price’s other books though,” Elise went on, unconvinced by her own theory. They reached the library and she looked again at the shelves, wondering if there was something she was missing. Maybe the answer was here somewhere.
“Didn’t find anything then?” the servant said. He stood behind them, glaring out from beneath bushy eyebrows.
“No,” Elise said.
“Shall I get you some tea, Miss, before you return to London?”
“Thank you.”
The manservant walked slowly away. The window had a view across the Heath and down to London, where grey clouds shrouded the city.
The manservant hobbled in, pushing an urn of tea. He poured the cups and lay them on the table with a shaking hand.
“Did you come up from London?” Ed asked.
“Me, sir? Oh no. I live in the Hampstead Village now. Young Mr. Jasper sent me a note to open the house. Since my wife passed away, I live with my sister. Long time since I’ve been in this house.”
He walked unsteadily toward the door then turned around.
“Did you say it was a green book, Miss?”
“Yes,” Elise took a sip of tea.
The manservant gave them both a piercing look. He was silent, as though debating what to say. His inner torment seemed to subside, and his shoulders relaxed as he began to speak.
“When the master, the old master that is, came up here in the summer of ’35, he had with him a book. He sat in that chair there and read it each night. At first, we servants thought nothing of it, but then he began to forget to eat his supper and left his sherry untouched. We got used to him staying up late. Each morning, I’d find him in his dressing gown with the book on his lap. I’d tell him to get dressed or eat, but he was in a daze. He’d change clothes if I insisted, but then he’d return to that chair and kept reading that book as though it contained life itself.
“One night I was turning down the lamps and found the Master reading in the dark, sitting as still as a statue. Gave me an awful fright he did.”
The old man shivered and patted his thin strands of hair. “He’d sit there, concentrating on a page for hours. He’d cover the page with his hand if we came in and had quite a temper. He’d never been that way before. When he didn’t eat for a week, the cook and I became worried and didn’t know what to do.
“Just when we thought we’d have to write to the young master, we saw Old Mr. Jasper get up from his chair and cross to the window, whispering to himself.
“The cook and I were frightened, thinking the master had gone mad. Then he walked past us without saying a word and went upstairs. When he came down, he was wearing his coat and cravat. We thought he was going out at last and went back to our chores.
“But as the maid was cleaning the study, she cried out. We looked through the windows and saw the master out on the Heath. I’ll never forget the sight,” the manservant shook his head. The blo
od drained from his face and his eyes were glassy. “Not as long as I live.”
A minute ticked by. Only the sound of the grandfather clock filled the room.
“What did you see?” Ed asked.
“The master’d taken a shovel from the yard and was digging on the Heath, tossing dirt over his shoulder like a gravedigger. The maids were terrified and I wasn’t much better myself. All we could do was watch. The moon had risen and the light was uncanny, seeing his silhouette against the lights of London. The master had a box with him, and when he’d dug a hole, he’d put the box into the earth and covered it over. Then he leant on the shovel, like a man exhausted. The master returned to the house and we all scattered. He went upstairs to bed. When he came down the next morning, he was back to his old self, at ease and cheerful, as though nothing had happened. He ordered his carriage to take him to London and we heard he’d gone back to his townhouse in Portman Square. He was perfectly normal, the servants in London said, going out to his club and to dinner just as before. Nothing about him had changed.
“He lived a good five years after that and never again did he behave like he did that summer. The wife and I thought it had something to do with that book. Mary was certain he buried it on the Heath,” the old man shook his head. “Still sends a chill through my bones, when I remember that night.”
“Do you know where exactly he buried it?”
The old man nodded and crossed to the window. “It’s by that oak tree, under that branch. But I’d be careful. There’s something uncanny about that book. I can see I can’t persuade you to give up. Come this way, I’ll show you where we keep the shovels.”
Ed selected a hoe and a shovel and carried them both across to the Heath. The servant stayed in the house, watching them with a wary eye. Elise and Ed reached an oak tree on the top of the hill, with a view to the domes of London below. A branch stretched overhead like a beckoning arm. Ed turned and squinted at the house.