by M C Dulac
“If the servants saw the old man from the downstairs window, this seems like the place,” he said. He tossed his jacket onto the grass and began digging.
“I am glad you are here,” Elise said, as Ed continued with gusto.
“As I said Miss, we all need a helping hand sometimes,” Ed said. “I’d rather be digging up this dirt than digging up dirt for Barnabas Wyatt.”
After ten minutes he hit something firm, but it was only a tree root. The first flicks of rain hit Elise’s cheeks. The storm was coming in a great veil across the valley. The mist turned to droplets then great soaking drops. Elise pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and blinked away the raindrops from her eyelashes. Ed rolled up his shirtsleeves that now stuck to his strong muscles.
Ed had made a big hole. He rested his boot on the side. “There’s something here,” he grinned. “It’s a box.”
Elise helped him clear the dirt away and Ed used the hoe to lift the box out of its resting place. The box was wooden and about the size of a book. The wood was beginning to decay and splinter and the metal clasp opened easily.
The sky was dim and it was hard to see what lay inside. Elise ran her hands across the sides of the box and felt only the surface of worn wood.
“What’s in it?”
“I think it’s empty.”
“Empty?”
Elise’s finger touched something damp and she recoiled.
“What is it?”
Elise swallowed and carefully reached into the box. “There’s a note.”
She pulled the spotted paper out of the box and unfolded it. The paper was almost stuck together and the writing was barely legible.
Ed gently took the note and read it aloud, his deep voice resonant in the quiet atmosphere on the Heath.
“What you seek is in London. I shall leave it among others for surely it is not fit for human eyes.”
“He buried a note,” Ed added with disgust. “He really was going mad.”
“The message is very strange. But he must be referring to the book,” Elise’s eyes roamed the paper.
“It’s a riddle. What does that mean?”
Elise frowned. The note did not seem helpful. Mr. Jasper had left no more clues. He was guiding them into that overwhelming metropolis at the foot of the hill again, searching for a book that could be anywhere.
“Among others,” she said. “Maybe that means among other books.”
“There are a lot of books in London.”
The rain was falling. Elise sheltered close to the tree trunk. There was no doubt the book had been here in Hampstead. Old Mr. Jasper had not destroyed it. But he had taken it to another place and left only the most frustrating clue.
“I don’t think even Wyatt could find this book,” Ed shook his head, as he began filling in the hole.
“We are certainly being led on a chase,” Elise frowned. “But if the book still exists, I have to find it.”
“Don’t get obsessed, Miss,” Ed said. “Look what happened to Old Mr. Jasper. Even Wyatt has changed since he started looking for that book. There’s something strange about it. You don’t want to go mad too.”
“It will not send me mad,” Elise said. Although maybe Ed was right. Old Mr. Jasper had teetered on the edge of madness because of the book. Barnabas Wyatt was tearing London apart to find it. She felt a sense of duty to find and protect it, despite the danger to herself.
Elise re-folded the note. “There’s something on the back.”
Ed took the note. “It’s just a few pen marks.”
“No, it’s too detailed. It looks like a symbol.”
Ed blinked the rain out of his eyelashes. He stared at the drawing again. “A symbol you think? In fact I’d swear I’ve seen that before. But hurry, Miss, we better get out of this rain. You take the box and I’ll carry the shovel and hoe.”
The manservant frowned as they returned. “You are all wet,” he said. “I’ve lit a fire in the kitchen. You’ll have to dry off before you go home. Did you find it then?”
“We found a box. But it’s empty.”
The manservant took the muddy box from Elise’s hands. “It’s the box where old Joe kept his rabbit traps. He said it had gone missing. We all thought he’d left it out on the Heath. The master must have taken it that night. But you say there was no book inside?”
“Only a note.”
“A note?”
Elise showed him. The old man stared at it like it was an unholy relic.
“He went mad, I tell you. I’m glad he recovered. Never good working for a master who’s gone mad,” he tapped his head. “So does the note help?”
“I don’t think so,” Ed said.
“Are you sure you never saw the book again?” Elise asked.
“Never and I’m glad I didn’t. I believe the master took it with him to his London house.”
“We’ve searched there. Young Mr. Jasper told us to come here.”
“Funny business,” the manservant muttered.
“And you are sure he didn’t burn the book or destroy it?” Elise said.
“I wish he had. But no Miss, I didn’t find any ashes in the fire. We cleaned this room thoroughly after the master left, and there was no trace of that book at all. I remember it so well, sitting on that table. I was glad when it had gone. When Young Mr. Jasper said you were coming to look for a book, I worried it might be that one. It’s my firm belief though, it left this house long ago.”
The manservant poured out some hot tea.
“And since you seem to know enough about it not to think me mad, I’ll tell you one more secret. For many years afterwards, whenever I crossed the hall in the dark, I swear I saw that table - the table on which that devilish book lay - glow in the night,” he took a deep breath and turned his eyes upwards. “The book wasn’t of this world, I told Mary. Not of this world.”
Chapter Seventeen
Although their clothes were almost dried by the fire, they were caught in another downpour as they drove along the Heath. The road into London was clogged with traffic and the carriage slowed to a trot when it was able to move at all. Elise suppressed a sneeze by the time they reached Cramley Court, where the smoke mingled with the clammy mist.
“I’ll have a good think about that note. I’m sure I’ve seen those symbols before.”
“Thank you for taking me to Hampstead Heath.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Elise. Although this book has led us on quite a chase. First the letters and now this note. Let’s meet at the coffee house tomorrow and think it through.”
Elise nodded, turning away as she felt another sneeze coming.
“I better get Christabel back to the stables or she’ll catch a fever,” Ed said, patting the horse. He raised his collar to keep off the descending rain. “You better dry off too, Miss. I shall see you in the morning.”
Cramley Court glowed with warm lights. Elise skipped over the puddles, glad to reach the doorway. As she dried her hair upstairs, she realised she had not purchased fresh food for the second day. It was too rainy to go to the markets now.
She came down the stairs, stopping by Georgia’s door.
“How are you today?” she said as she peered inside.
“Much better, thank you,” Georgia said. She sat upright in an old chair. A solitary lamp lit the room and a pile of hats lay next to the table. Rosie sat on the floor, folding ribbons. “I have almost finished my day’s work.”
“Be careful not to overexert yourself, you have not fully recovered yet.”
“Now the rent is paid and I am working again, there is a great weight off my mind. And Rosie can stay with me from now on. You won’t have to sell flowers on the streets ever again. Although at least Lydia looks after you. You must have seen Lydia,” Georgia went on. “The older girl. Joe sends them out to work together.”
Whoever Joe and Lydia were, they did not accompany Rosie when she was on the streets. Rosie’s eyes darted back and forward as though fearing she was
in trouble.
“That’s all over now,” Elise said, reassuringly.
“Read daddy’s letter to Elise,” Rosie said, running across the room. She took a piece of folded paper from the dresser. “About the horses.”
“It is from my sister-in-law in America,” Georgia said softly. “Now Rosie, I am sure Miss Elise has things to do.”
“I would love to hear about it. Perhaps after supper,” Elise looked around Georgia’s rundown room. “Try to get as much fresh air as you can,” she added. “The remedy I gave you is strong and will continue to work, but it is best to get away from here.”
“Hopefully we will have enough money for the voyage soon. And I will repay you as soon as I can.”
“The money does not matter.”
“Of course it does,” Georgia said. “I can never thank you enough.”
“Seeing you get better is more than enough.”
Rosie had picked up a needle and was enthusiastically stitching a hat. Georgia gently took the needle away and Elise left them together.
Mrs. Bell was in the yard, talking to an oyster man. The hawkers who sold on the streets had constant customers in this part of London. There were no cooks or private kitchens in which to prepare food. Supper in Cramley Court that night was roast potatoes, oysters and a cold green liquid, which Mrs. Bell said was pea soup.
Mr. Pinpott, the law clerk, arrived in the parlour with his own meal of freshly caught eels.
Rosie came down to collect a bowl of soup for Georgia and Elise helped her carry it upstairs. Georgia was now sitting up in bed, looking pale. The hats were finished, but Elise feared the effort had taken a lot of her strength.
After Georgia had finished the soup, Rosie climbed onto a stool and found the letter, placing it by her mother’s side. Georgia’s eyes flickered.
“I am too tired to read tonight.”
“Can you read it, Elise?”
Elise glanced at Georgia, who nodded.
“It is about the farm in America,” Rosie added helpfully.
The letter was in English, written in an elegant hand. Georgia’s sister-in-law wrote of rolling fields and apple orchards, of frosty winters and golden summers, of autumn forests and snow flurries. Georgia drifted off to sleep, while Rosie sat cross-legged with her chin in her hands, cheeks glowing. Finally Rosie yawned and Elise tucked her into bed beside Georgia.
She blew out the candle. The golden light faded and grey shadows filled the room.
A few weeks ago Elise had a pile of gold and silver coins. She could have paid for Georgia and Rosie’s passage to America. Now she was trapped in London, just like them.
Elise climbed the stairs to her room, shivering in the draught. She washed her face with the cold water from the basin. She swallowed and her throat was sore.
She had never been ill for thirty years. Now she felt clammy shivers across her neck and limbs. She lay on her straw bed and hoped the feeling would pass.
Rain poured from the eaves all night. When she woke, the sky was pale and curls of mist floated around the rooftops. The air was chill and at the same time humid, so thick with smoke and moisture she could feel it pressing on her skin.
Elise made her way to the coffee house. Ed was waiting near the muddy steps. His easy smile lifted her spirits. When they got inside, they sat in a high wooden booth, brows furrowed as they stared at Old Mr. Jasper’s note.
“Did you have any thoughts?”
“None I’m afraid. Kept me awake all night. But let’s put our heads together and look at it again. The old man wrote that he had hidden the book ‘among others’.”
“Do you think he means a bookshop?” she had seen several places that sold books in the city.
“That’d be hard to find. And not very safe. Someone could easily buy the book and take it away.”
“A library perhaps?”
“That’s more likely. There’s a lot of private libraries in London though. Don’t know how we’d find the right one. The note must mean something. Why else would he go to the trouble of burying it?”
Both of them stared at the markings.
“The sketch must be the clue,” Elise chewed her lip.
“But what is it?”
“It isn’t a word,” Elise reflected.
“The old man might have just been scribbling.”
“No, it’s too precise for that. It is not precise enough to be an illustration, but maybe Mr. Jasper wasn’t an artist. But I think he wanted to leave a message to whoever found this note.”
“Maybe it’s a cross,” Ed turned the paper around.
“You think it means a church?”
“Maybe, but,” Ed paused and his eyes lit up. “I think it’s a sword, an upright sword.”
Elise’s heart quickened. “Yes, a sword. But what is the other drawing?”
Ed turned the note around several times. Elise looked at the shape in the centre. The serrated edges reminded her of something. As Ed moved the note, the oval image became clearer.
“It is an elm tree leaf,” Elise said, her eyes widening as the marks made sense. “This is a drawing of a sword and a leaf. Could it be a statue? A statue under an elm tree?”
“I’ve never seen a statue like that. There’s a lot of swords in London, and trees, and books.”
Elise rested her head in her hands. There must have been some reason Old Mr. Jasper drew the picture. The book was hidden among others, somewhere near a sword and an elm tree.
She sighed and gazed through the dusty window.
There was a commotion outside. A carriage had stopped as men rolled a barrel across the street. The driver was shouting at the men to get out of the way. Several children and a dog were looking on.
A wealthy man peered out of the carriage and roared. The children jeered and the dog barked, as the men slowly rolled the barrel. The wealthy man angrily banged on the side of the carriage, calling to his driver to get moving.
“London,” Ed remarked and shook his head.
Elise leaned forward. On the door of the carriage was a symbol.
She thought of the family crest on Champillon’s letters and looked at the note again.
“Do you think the picture is a noble’s crest?”
“A coat of arms,” Ed raised his eyebrows. “Maybe, Miss Elise. You might be onto something.”
“What crest is this?”
“No idea. But Mr. Wyatt used to send me to a bookshop on Regent Street. They sold all sorts of books on the nobility. This was when he thought his family might have a title.”
“Do you have the book?”
“No but I know which one to look at.”
“Will they recognise you in the bookshop?”
“I doubt the owner would remember me.”
“Regent Street is where Madame Rochelle shops. Her dressmaker is there. She might see me. I don’t want to endanger her again.”
“You can stay here and I’ll go to the bookshop now.”
Elise nodded. She was glad Ed did not want her to come, as she was too tired to walk to Regent Street. She did not want to tell Ed how weak she was feeling, but her bones were sore and her eyes ached. She had to sleep.
Ed finished his coffee and escorted her to the door. “I’ll meet you here same time tomorrow and tell you what I’ve found out.”
Elise nodded. Walking alone to Cramley Court, she glimpsed her pale face in a window and winced.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a fever?” Mrs. Bell sighed, when Elise reached the front door. “Just when Georgia’s got better. Running an infirmary I am these days.”
“I am just tired, Mrs. Bell,” Elise said.
“Will you be in for supper or dining out?”
Elise swallowed. Her throat was dry and the smell of the sour puddings made her feel worse. She must try to get to the vegetable markets. “I will get my own meal tonight, thank you.”
Mrs. Bell shrugged. Elise climbed the stairs to the attic and lay down. The room began to spin. She did n
ot know if it was the fever or the fading elixir. She closed her eyes and hoped to feel better.
When she woke it was daylight. She had slept the entire night and had no dinner. She had missed breakfast, and it was time to meet Ed again.
Elise ran down the stairs, almost falling over Rosie who was sitting on the doorstep with another girl. The girl was around twelve, with brunette hair and eyes ringed with dark circles. She had a childlike face, but the weariness of an adult. A box of wilted flowers sat on the step next to her.
Rosie’s face lit up when she saw Elise.
“This is my friend Lydia, Miss Elise. Lydia can’t go out again today,” Rosie explained. “Rain ruins the flowers. Lydia couldn’t sell anything yesterday.”
“I usually take Rosie with me,” Lydia said quickly. “But it is harder when we work together. So I work up near Euston Station and Rosie gets the churchgoers. I always look after her.”
Lydia’s eyes had the shiftiness of someone used to making excuses and the wariness of a child used to getting in trouble.
“We have to pay Joe, you see,” she added, and a glimmer of fear was added to the complex emotions of this child who was old before her time.
“Where are your parents, Lydia?”
“I don’t have any. I stay with Mrs. Harris, in the house over there. But I earn my keep.”
Elise felt in her pocket. She had one shilling, the leftover change from Wyatt’s speech at the assembly rooms.
“Then I will buy all your flowers today,” Elise said. “We will put them in your mother’s room, Rosie.”
Lydia gave Elise a sly glance. She took the coin and nodded, handing the blooms to Rosie. “Thank you, Miss,” she attempted a curtsey.
“You can stay home today out of the rain,” Elise said.
Lydia nodded, but instead of returning to her lodgings across the Court, she skipped out through the archway into the main street. She had a confidence in her step and a swagger in her walk.
Elise shook her head.
Rosie was clutching the flowers and dutifully accompanied Elise upstairs. Rosie found a jar and Elise arranged the flowers on Georgia’s windowsill.
“You have different flowers today, pansies and snap-dragons.”