The Alchemist of London

by M C Dulac

  “Mrs. Bell won’t mind,” she said confidently.

  Elise began grinding the herbs and petals together. They were so dry they quickly turned to powder. Rosie finished off by thumping the petals with her tiny fist, so enthusiastically that Elise feared her mother would hear.

  “Now the rose petals.”

  The rose was curling and some petals were brown. The flower man had probably given it to Rosie because it was not good enough to sell. Usually a flower like this was of no use to an alchemist. But Rosie’s face was so hopeful, Elise gave her a painful smile and crumbled the petals into the water. Rosie added the ground herbs.

  “We need fire,” Elise said.

  Rosie moved the weak candle closer.

  “And moonlight. There is no moon here.”

  “Yes, there is,” Rosie said, running to the window. She stood on a chair and wiped the grime off the glass. “There is the moon.”

  Above the rooftops was the dimmest glow of a yellow circle.

  It was a sickly imitation of the moon that shone over the gardens in Little Bingham. Tattered clouds drifted over the surface and the edges were faint. The only light that reached the attic was a square inch on the windowsill.

  Elise carried the cup over to the window and placed it on the sill. By now her hands were thin and skeletal. The original elixir had almost drained away.

  There was no point to this charade, except to make Rosie happy. But how would the child react when she realised that the elixir did not work? Elise shivered and her breath came in rasps. Her eyes were so sore. She must make peace with the world. She put her arm around Rosie’s thin shoulders and stared up at the moon.

  “You have done so well, little one,” she said. “The fault was all mine.”

  She closed her eyes. A chill breeze had risen and she suppressed a shiver. She was so tired. She must return to her bed.

  “What are we waiting for?” Rosie’s tiny voice came through the dark.

  Elise murmured. “The moon will find the energy in the plants and it will inspire them to dance and swirl. The water will embrace the elements. All of nature will embrace life and it will transform the liquid into an elixir.”

  Rosie’s soft cheek brushed her arm. The breeze was cold. If they stayed here much longer, Rosie might fall ill as well.

  “The elixir will capture the moonlight and turn blue, blue like the sky on a cloudless day, blue like the sea and the lakes,” Elise murmured. “Blue like the sky that gazes on the green fields and God’s creatures.”

  In her mind she saw all these places. The fields of France and the meadows of England. She imagined herself walking through the grasses. Grasses with feathery tips as soft as Rosie’s hair. Walking toward a golden sun, knowing her time had come, to join all the other alchemists. To join Albert Price.

  “It’s happening, Miss!” cried Rosie.

  Elise opened her eyes. The liquid in the cup was swirling. In disbelief she watched the petals rise and dive. The liquid changed colour. Even in this squalid room, the elixir was forming. From the corner of her eye, she saw Albert Price’s book on the chair.

  The elixir of life could be formed from the tears of a child and the wilted flowers of the streets. She gazed with open eyes as she recognised the last stages of the transformation.

  “You must drink it, Miss.”

  Elise picked up the cup. Was it really formed? There was danger in tinkering with alchemy. As more pain racked her body, she had no choice. Under Rosie’s incredulous stare, she picked up the cup and drank the elixir.

  The chill left her bones. The ache left her head. Her hand was smooth and her throat no longer sore.

  “Your eyes are blue again!” Rosie said. “Like a cat.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t tell anyone that,” Elise smiled, blinking. She could see the room in sharp detail. It was like the last few hours had been a dream and now she had woken from a deep sleep, refreshed and calm.

  “Can you help mama again?”

  “Of course. Do we have any leftover petals? We will need a fresh glass.”

  Rosie disappeared again and returned with another cup.

  “This will cure the remaining infection,” Elise ground up the petals.

  “You’ve forgotten the morning-kiss,” Rosie said.

  “I don’t think your mother needs that,” Elise said with a smile, feeling her strength return as she mixed the herbal remedy. She did not think Georgia would appreciate drinking the elixir of immortality.

  Rosie leaned forward, propping her chin on her palms. Elise hoped Rosie wouldn’t remember everything. Like Anne Milton watching Albert Price, children were neutral observers. Childhood was a strange time when magical goings-on could be easily accepted.

  They set the potion on the windowsill.

  “It’s not blue.”

  “No,” Elise examined it. “For this, we only need the ingredients to settle.”

  When the medicine was ready, Rosie proudly carried it downstairs. Georgia was sitting in the parlour near the fire. She looked up in surprise as Elise entered.

  “My dear, you are well again.”

  “Here is a draught that will cure your infection.”

  Georgia looked at the draught.

  “It’s for you, mama.”

  Georgia looked stunned but drank the medicine. The colour heightened in her cheeks. The last trace of fever faded from her face.

  “Why Miss Elise!” Mrs. Bell exclaimed, appearing in the hall. “I thought you were done for. Yet here you are right as rain!”

  Rosie beamed as she sat by Georgia’s side. Elise took a deep breath, feeling better than she had in a long while.

  There was a noise in the courtyard. Ed flung open the door and stared at the scene in the parlour. His eyes widened as he saw Elise.

  “I came by to check on you. Jack doesn’t know any doctors who come to this part of town and they all want gold before they’ll even think of coming. But I can see you are better already,” his eyes went from Elise to Georgia and then Rosie.

  “It has been a special night,” Georgia said.

  “Well I never,” Mrs. Bell was still in shock.

  “Strange things indeed,” Ed observed, as his eyes drifted to the attic.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was so late that Mrs. Bell insisted Ed must stay the night. Elise found him snoozing in a chair the next morning. Mrs. Bell seemed to have got over her disapproval of gentleman callers, as she was bringing a plate of fresh-cooked muffins, a pot of tea and a cold pie into the parlour, a better breakfast than Elise had ever seen before in Cramley Court.

  “So good to have a strong man about the house,” Mrs. Bell said to Elise. “The way he carried you up the stairs last night! And ran all over London trying to find a doctor! He’s a gentleman, I’d wager.”

  “He is certainly a good man.”

  Mrs. Bell tilted her head and folded her arms. “Well-mannered and strong. And a handsome one. It’ll be a lucky girl who lands him! Good morning, Mr. Fitzgerald!” Mrs. Bell cried out, when Ed appeared in the doorway. “Do sit down to breakfast.”

  Ed grinned and raised his eyebrows. They all sat around the table in the parlour as Mrs. Bell’s maid scrambled to find extra chairs. Mrs. Bell poured Ed a cup of tea.

  “Have you been long in London, Mr. Fitzgerald?”

  “Two years, Mrs. Bell. But I am soon to depart for Dublin again,” Ed said.

  “Soon?” Mrs. Bell looked disappointed.

  “I am to take up a position there,” Ed glanced at Elise.

  “A position?” Mrs. Bell asked.

  “I shall be working on an estate, managing the stables.”

  Mrs. Bell’s eyebrows rose approvingly.

  Georgia and Rosie appeared, followed by the myopic Mr. Pinpott, the law clerk who lived on the second floor. If Mr. Pinpott had noticed the commotion the night before, he did not seem to have any curiosity about it. He blinked at the breakfast table and took a pie and two muffins. Mrs. Bell frowned and
went to get more.

  “You look amazingly well,” Ed said to Elise after breakfast, as they stood together in the narrow hall.

  All his early arrogance and bravado were gone now. His strength was no longer threatening but protective.

  “I can see why people want that elixir of life.”

  “And also why it must never be shared.”

  “Can’t see old Wyatt regaining his youth,” Ed grinned. “Every snarl and frown has carved a line into his face. He’s burst every blood vessel in his cheeks with all those rages. Sometimes he goes as red as a beetroot. The thought of him living forever is scary.”

  “You never have to think of him again.”

  “I hope so.”

  “So you are leaving for Dublin?” Elise ignored a pang in her heart.

  “I got the letter yesterday. I had written home on the night I met you in Devil’s Acre. I know the gentleman well and he’ll be a fair master. I’ll be looking after his stables in Wicklow with only horses to worry about and I can visit my mother and sisters often. The more I see, the more I believe the city is no place for a horse or a man. And where will you go now, Miss?”

  A frown creased her brow. “I don’t know, but I must go soon. The warrant is still in place and Wyatt won’t give up looking for me.”

  “That’s true,” Ed ran his hand through his hair. He lowered his voice. “I will be in London for two more weeks. If you need help, you can find me at Jack’s stables on Fleet Street. We can take you wherever you wish.”

  “I think it is better that I go on alone,” Elise said. “The less you know the less danger you will be in, in case Barnabas Wyatt learns that you helped me.”

  “Are you sure I can’t arrange a passage out of London?”

  “I will be fine.”

  “I would feel better if I knew you were safe.”

  “I have looked after myself for a long time, Ed. So I thank you, but this is the best way.”

  Ed hung his head, conceding defeat. “Well, Miss Elise, I am here if you need a friend.”

  “I am afraid I will place a friend in danger. Albert Price warned me of this. For everyone’s sake, I will disappear quietly.”

  Ed seemed about to say something else, but then nodded reluctantly. He took a deep breath. “Well I am glad I met you, Miss Elise, and although I brought you misfortune, I hope that I have made up for it with some good fortune. And I did enjoy searching for that book.”

  “I enjoyed it too,” Elise smiled.

  Mrs. Bell was coming along the hall. Ed took his coat. “Farewell Miss Elise and thank you, Mrs. Bell for the fine breakfast and your hospitality last evening.”

  He cast them a final glance and made his way through the children playing in the courtyard, disappearing under the archway onto the thoroughfare.

  “Such a handsome lad,” Mrs. Bell grinned. “Do you think we shall see him again soon?”

  “One never knows, Mrs. Bell,” Elise said.

  “Now you had better rest. We’ve had too much drama in this house.”

  Elise climbed the stairs to her attic room. Her heart swirled with emotions. Memories of partings sent tiny arrows through her heart. One day she could reflect on the past and what might have been. But now she had to think of duty. The duty to protect the book and its secrets, and to escape London safely.

  And to think about the future.

  The warrant for her arrest was still in place. She could not return to Little Bingham. She could not go abroad, for she had no money. She could try to create a laboratory. But if people discovered she could make gold and silver, she would have never-ending trouble.

  She paced the room. There was no clear way forward. If only there was some sign to guide her.

  Her eyes fell on Price’s book, lying under her cloak.

  She dragged the chair to the window, sat down and began to read. The hours spun away as the words spoke to her across time.

  Mrs. Bell knocked on the door at midday, asking if she wanted lunch in the parlour. Elise shook her head as she turned the pages.

  Night fell. She read without a candle. The ink almost shone. Her skin tingled and her pulse quickened. The secrets seemed to flow up through her fingertips, igniting her whole being.

  A thought raced through her mind: This book was too precious to destroy and too dangerous to keep.

  Through the night came the clip clop of a horse. A hansom cab had come under the arch into Cramley Court. The carriage lamps cast bright shadows on the men who were lounging around the doorways. They lifted their arms to avoid its glare.

  Elise ducked out of the light that suddenly shone upwards into her room. The cab rolled away.

  As the shadows returned, the men who rested against the wall disappeared into the darkness. Elise had never noticed who else lived in the courtyard. But wouldn’t the story of the French lady who sometimes wore fine clothes and sometimes old cloaks, arouse suspicion? Even in a city where she never saw the same face twice, the gossip of cab drivers, urchins, hawkers and oyster men could easily reach Barnabas Wyatt.

  She had come to London to find the book and succeeded. Staying any longer would endanger everyone she knew. She could not live with herself if something happened to Georgia and Rosie. She must leave tomorrow.

  She put aside the book. Her appetite was returning. She slipped on her cloak and ran downstairs, crossing the courtyard to the pudding shop.

  The wind had turned that night. Over the general rumble of the city came the whistle of a steam train. Elise turned out of the wind. Next to the pudding shop, was a poster advertising the London North Western Railway. Her eyes fell on a point on the map. Warwickshire.

  The place where Dr. Barton and his wife, her friends in Little Bingham, had moved long ago. They said it was a beautiful, peaceful place.

  The distant steam train whistled again, like the call of the Sirens of ancient mythology.

  To buy a ticket, she needed money, but she had lost all her coins.

  She climbed the stairs to the attic and leaned her head against the dirty window. On the chair was the green book - the key to the greatest wealth in the world. Yet she had no money and no way of escaping London. She could not ask Ed for help again. Reality began to crush her.

  She blinked away a tear.

  Albert, she thought, help me.

  How many lonely centuries had Albert Price known? How many moments like this, knowing he was both the poorest and the richest man in the world?

  I wish I knew the way forward.

  The insipid moon appeared. At first she had resented it, comparing it to the bright and brilliant orb that shone down on the countryside. But the moon did its best in this dark and smoggy city, casting its beams on the restless, struggling inhabitants. This was Rosie’s moon, the only moon she had ever known. Rosie had recognised it last night, and it was that belief that allowed the elixir to form.

  The moonlight was seeping through the window, falling on the green book. Her cloak was draped across the chair. A weak moonbeam settled on a bulge in the lining.

  A coin-shaped bulge.

  Falling to her knees, Elise began to unpick the stitches.

  She pulled out the gold coin that she had sewn into the cloak in Little Bingham and held it up to the moonlight. A crown. Enough money to buy a train ticket and escape London.

  The wan moon looked down on her like a wise old lady. She had asked for a sign and here it was. Everything was going to be all right.

  * * * * *

  When she opened her eyes the next morning, she saw the attic more clearly than she had ever seen it before, as though mist had been cleared from a window. Her energy had returned, and with it the chill of fear. She had to leave London now and guard the book. A new era of her life was beginning, as uncertain as that might be.

  She left the black dress behind. She had no need for it and not enough room in her bag. She slipped into the midnight blue dress. The colours of her clothes had progressed like the course of night. She was not ready f
or dawn or daylight, but she was on her way. She hid the book safely under her cloak and closed the rough-hewn door behind her.

  Her heart was heavy as she knocked on Georgia’s door.

  “Are you leaving today?” Georgia said.

  “Yes. I have done what I needed to do in London.”

  “I cannot thank you enough for the medicine. I hope our paths cross again.”

  “I hope so too. One never knows. The world is a large place.”

  “Do you have to go?” Rosie said.

  “I’m afraid I do,” Elise knelt down.

  A look of immense sadness crossed Rosie’s face. “Then you must have a forget-me-not. So you don’t forget us.”

  She took a flower from the vase and presented it proudly. Elise fixed it to her dress.

  “I will never forget you,” Elise said, still kneeling.

  Rosie threw her arms around her. Elise felt her tiny heart beating.

  “Goodbye little one. Take care,” she said, hugging Rosie tightly and trying not to cry.

  Mrs. Bell, Georgia and Rosie watched from the door as she crossed the courtyard. She felt an unfamiliar emotion in her heart. It was the same feeling that she had when Ed had said goodbye. Far from the world being a terrible place, there seemed to be good people hidden among the bad, where she least expected it.

  She stepped out of Cramley Court and plunged into the chaotic streets of London.

  Euston Station lay north of Bloomsbury. Her heart pounded nervously as she approached. She entered a great hall and stood under a vast roof held up by slim columns. The columns were made of steel and some beams looked as delicate as lace. The energy from the steam engines rose up from the ground and the whistles were deafening. Great crowds moved to and fro. The air was thick with smoke. She felt she was in a new era, the era that Albert Price dreamed of when he experimented with his steam engine in Paris - a place that thrilled and scared her in equal parts.

  A train arrived, like a metal monster through the smoke. There were noises she had never heard, immense sighing and breathing, and then clanking of metal. Wheels scraped along metal tracks, which wound out of the station like parallel ribbons.