by M C Dulac
She climbed on.
Rosie. Georgia. Anne Milton and Young Mr. Jasper. Ed.
Ed.
Her chest was so tight she could not breathe.
The passage was sloping upwards now. But there was still no light. The air was so thin she could barely stay awake. But if she slept here, she would never wake up. This passage was her tomb. The coins in her pocket clinked against the stone, beating a rhythm. She must concentrate. Only she could do this, and she had to, or Wyatt would keep her prisoner forever, and alchemy would be part of the industrial age.
She had done so much alone. She whispered encouragement to herself to climb another inch. But her lungs were bursting again and she didn’t know how much further she could go.
Was there a breeze in the passage? She was so tired. No air. She had gone far enough.
She dropped her head, unable to go on.
Something was falling from above. In her confusion she reached forward. Rough hewn strands. A rope.
She held on. She didn’t have to struggle anymore. Someone was pulling her upward. Then she felt a strong hand on her arm.
“There you go, Miss.”
Her shoulders were free then her legs, and suddenly she was sitting on hay, staring into Ed’s eyes. A horse was nearby and its breath warmed her cheeks as it nuzzled her with its soft nose.
“That gave me a scare,” Ed admitted. “I couldn’t get the stable door open and then I couldn’t remember where the old trapdoor was. Wyatt built a new stall for his chaise and he was storing barrels over the entrance. I worried I’d sent you to your death down there.”
Elise rubbed her neck. “There were moments I thought that too.”
“Jessie,” Ed said with affection, patting the horse. “She’s glad to see me again.”
Elise patted the horse and gulped the air.
“I should have broken down the main door,” Ed said with concern.
“I thought I heard someone enter the cellar,” Elise’s eyes flashed as she remembered.
“I haven’t seen anyone in the yard. Take a deep breath, Miss.”
“I will recover. Thank you for your help.”
Elise’s heart thudded in her chest and she waited for her heartbeat to slow down.
A lantern passed by.
“It’s in the street,” Ed said. “Let’s go.”
He put his finger to his lips as he led the way through the stables. They stepped into the yard of Wyatt’s house.
“He’s awake,” Ed muttered, seeing a silhouette in the top window. “He never slept, the old monster. Composing some speech against the masses as usual, I bet.”
She followed Ed around the garden to a wall. He helped her over and they landed on cobblestones. They were at the back of the square, in a street lined by mews houses.
“Are you all right, Miss?”
“Just checking I still have my coins,” Elise said.
“So you did make gold for him?”
“There’s a huge vat in the cellar. But he won’t know what salt to add, so it’s just a big bubbling liquid.”
Ed grinned. He turned and knocked over a crate. The noise was the loudest bang Elise had ever heard. They both winced as another light glowed in Wyatt’s house.
They ran quietly along the street. London lay before them. She was free.
“What is it?” Ed said, reaching out his hand.
She had frozen on the spot.
“I’ve left it behind,” she said, with wide eyes. “I’ve left the green book.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Just when she was almost free, the green book had stopped her again.
The first rays of dawn were lighting the clouds above London. Soon Barnabas Wyatt’s household would be awake. When Wyatt discovered she was gone, he’d raise the alarm and all of London would be searching for her.
She had to run. But still she could not move.
Ed was reaching out his hand. “Come on. Wyatt might see us from his window.”
“But the book!”
Ed ducked down. Wyatt’s shadow had paused by the window.
“Come on,” he urged.
Slowly her feet began to move. Ed ran ahead then paused when he realised she had fallen behind again.
“I can’t. I must go back,” Elise said.
Before he could stop her, she ran to the stables.
Ed caught up and she sensed him breathing at her side. The house was now lit up, with figures moving up and down the stairs.
Lanterns flickered in the courtyard. Barnabas Wyatt was standing at the top of the back steps, barking orders and waving his arms.
“He must have seen us escape.”
“You can’t go back now,” Ed whispered. “Does he know where the book is?”
“He doesn’t know I have it.”
“In that case, he’ll be more concerned with looking for you.”
“I can’t let him find it.”
The servants had reached the stables. Lanterns flickered in the cracks between the doors and the horses were whinnying.
Ed frowned. “Maybe we can come back later.”
Reluctantly she followed Ed. He led the way out of Mayfair into an area of leaning taverns. Coachmen and boys stood around the early morning coffee carts, eating their breakfasts of a penny loaf and a pennyworth of milk.
Ed guided her under an archway and through a muddy passage. He stepped into a rundown coffee house. The windows were clouded with dust. The owner gave them a disapproving glance and brought a pot of tepid coffee.
Elise’s eyes fell to her once fine dress, now stained and bedraggled. She looked like every urchin in London, wearing the cast-off clothing of the rich. But she did not look out of place among the pale, drawn faces of the other customers - women who looked like they had wandered the streets all night and men who were down on their luck.
“No one will find us in this part of Soho,” Ed said.
“Can we go back to Cramley Court?”
“I’m afraid not. Here’s the problem. Old Wyatt got Georgia and Rosie released on the condition you were named as the source of the forged coins. He’s got another warrant now for your arrest and this one is far more serious. The way gossip spreads around those neighbourhoods, I think you should get away as soon as you can.”
“So Georgia and Rosie think I am a forger?”
“We all noticed there was something unusual about you, Miss. I am sure they don’t think badly of you. Besides Georgia and Rosie are well on their way to America now.”
“But Mrs. Bell might believe it.”
“She might turn you in, particularly if Barnabas Wyatt offers a reward. So I wouldn’t return to her house.”
She could not go to Anne Milton nor to Young Mr. Jasper. Even in Cramley Court she was not safe. Her hand went to her pocket. She took out a sovereign.
“At least I have some money now.”
“Then you better leave London today.”
Elise stared into the smoky dawn. Wherever she went in England, Wyatt would find her. He knew judges and magistrates and the police. When she had stepped onto English soil, twenty-five years ago, she knew it was only a temporary place. It was time to continue with her journey.
“The Americans had a revolution, didn’t they?”
“A while ago, now, Miss,” Ed said over the rim of his cup.
Albert Price had spent his life fleeing across Europe. But maybe it was time to visit these new worlds, America and Australia, where surely Barnabas Wyatt had no influence.
Ed put down his coffee and leaned forward. “I could get you a ticket on a steamer, Miss. Jack can take you down to Plymouth tonight in his coach. He’s doing an overnight run. I think it’s the only way. Old Barnabas won’t stop looking for you.”
Elise fell silent.
She could not go anywhere until the book was safe. Even if it meant placing herself in danger, she could not let Wyatt find it. There was too much unfairness in this industrial century. He must never have the power of
alchemy too.
“I can’t go without the book.”
Ed sighed. He took a deep breath.
“I had a look at it when you were ill. I couldn’t make any sense of it. Maybe it makes sense to you because you’re alchemist, but I don’t think any ordinary person can understand it. It’s all just symbols and letters that move around. It’s uncanny it is. It’s like magic protects it. Look what happened to Old Mr. Jasper in Hampstead.”
“You couldn’t understand it?”
“It was all nonsense to me.”
“Maybe the book is encoded.”
“Maybe. I think you should forget it.”
Elise gazed at her hands. The elixir had restored her youth. Georgia and Rosie were safe. She had cured Georgia’s illness and given them what they wanted. Hadn’t she completed what she had to do?
“Samuel will be having a hard time,” Ed added. “Wyatt’s terrible when he’s in a temper. They’ll have no idea how you got out of that cellar. At least Wyatt will have his gold.”
“The gold is not ready. He will not know what salt to add. The salt must be purchased fresh and I have not ordered enough. So all he has is a vat of bubbling metal. It is almost gold but it needs transforming, pouring and cooling.”
“So he has no gold and no alchemist. He’ll be in a rage.”
“I would not care, except that he has the book.”
“You really want to get it, don’t you?” Ed said. He glanced at a clock above the counter. “We can’t do anything yet. At nine the family have breakfast. At nine thirty the carriage takes Wyatt to his law chambers. He always goes to work, no matter what happens, and once he knows you aren’t there, he will probably go on as usual. In the morning the children have lessons upstairs or the governess takes them to the park. Mrs. Wyatt always rests in the morning. By eleven o’clock, the servants have finished the housework and take a break before preparing lunch.”
“Then we can go back at eleven?”
“Against my better judgment, but all right.”
Elise smiled, despite the bitter coffee.
“And Miss Elise, I might say,” Ed looked awkward. “Before we go anywhere you might get a new dress.”
Elise stared at her skirt, now ripped and stained. She glimpsed her reflection in the coffee pot, and noticed a smear of mud on her cheek.
“Are we close to Regent Street?”
“We can get there.”
“Madame Valerie lives on Regent Street.”
“Madame Valerie?”
“Madame Rochelle’s dressmaker. If we go early, maybe she can find me a new dress.”
Few people looked at them as they made their way to Regent Street, and any glances they attracted were disapproving, as though she and Ed personified the worst residents of Victorian London. The morning sun barely pierced the thick grey clouds. They turned a corner onto Regent Street where the grand houses rose like spectres in the morning mist.
Ed suggested she wait behind Madame Valerie’s shop while he rang the doorbell. Madame Valerie’s servant appeared and Ed introduced himself. He gave her several coins, explaining the problem.
The servant let Elise in through the side door. When Madame Valerie came down the stairs her hand flew to her mouth.
“What has happened to my beautiful dress!” she shook her head. “I will find you something else at once. I hope I have something.”
She went into another room. “Let me see. I have this one made already.”
She appeared with a pale blue silk dress in her arms. The surface shimmered like an ocean at dawn.
“Now come into the back room and I will see if it fits you. Monsieur Edmond, take a seat in the salon. My maid will bring you tea.”
Elise tried the dress on. Madame Valerie took charge, expertly pinning and stitching the panels until the dress fit perfectly.
With her face cleaned and her hair brushed, Elise emerged into the salon half an hour later. She stood before a full-length mirror.
“Very nice,” Ed nodded.
“All is well?” Madame Valerie asked.
“I think this will be perfect,” Elise said.
“Let me brush your coat, Monsieur,” Madame Valerie added, eying a patch of chaff on his lapel.
Ed slipped off his jacket and Madame Valerie’s eyes flew to a stain of mud on his side. “And perhaps a new waistcoat.”
“Must have happened when I moved the barrels in the stables,” Ed said, self-consciously.
Madame Valerie fitted him with a new waistcoat and looked pleased at their transformation.
At eleven o’clock, both dressed elegantly, they left Regent Street, returning to the mews behind Grosvenor Square.
The stable door was open. Jessie and the chaise were gone.
“That’s a good sign. He must have gone to his chambers.”
Ed opened the back gate and they stepped into the garden. Someone was shouting in the house.
“Wyatt may be home after all,” Ed frowned.
“The cellar door is open,” Elise ran across the yard and skipped down the steps.
Inside the cellar, the half-formed gold gurgled, casting shining beams around the walls. Her bag lay in the corner, just where she left it. She picked it up, but the bag was empty.
The ground shifted beneath her feet.
“He’s found the book,” she told Ed as she emerged from the cellar.
“You must forget it, Miss,” Ed said. “There’s no way you can go into the house. Come on, let’s go now.”
She stared into the empty bag. She had escaped safely. But Wyatt had found the book and she had failed. She had let down not only the alchemists, but the many people who would suffer as a result of him learning alchemy’s powers.
“There’s no one about,” Ed whispered. “Let’s leave while we can.”
“Ed?” a woman called.
Elise slipped behind a hedge.
“What are you doing here, Ed?” a hearty woman emerged from the kitchen. “You won’t get anything more from the master. And he’s in an awful mood today. There’s been very strange goings-on.”
“I was just passing by, Mrs. Collins,” Ed said, running his hand through his hair.
“Well I’m glad to see you Ed, but the master won’t be. You won’t believe what’s been happening.”
The cook began whispering in earnest.
The kitchen door was open. Elise slipped across the hearthstones and into the hall.
The atmosphere inside was dim and mournful. The lamps cast shadows on the dark wallpaper. But in a room ahead, someone was thumping about, shouting and wailing.
“I must find her,” Wyatt’s voice was hysterical. “You do not realise how important this is. Call the police, again.”
“We have called them, sir.”
“Get Samuel.”
Elise slipped behind the staircase as the male servants scattered into the hall. The tall servant called Samuel ran into the sitting room. Barnabas Wyatt’s voice rose to a high pitch as he berated Samuel with insults.
Elise crept further along the hall. The book lay open on the table in the parlour.
The words glowed in the shadows. It was a very strange book, Elise thought, even though she did not believe in enchantment. Half a bottle of sherry and an empty glass lay next to it. Wyatt must have been reading the book all night.
Elise crossed the carpet. She picked up the book, thankful to hold it in her hands once more.
“You must search London,” Wyatt’s voice came from across the hall.
“We are searching now.”
“I want every hotel, every coach house, every train station, every boat to France searched!”
“Yes, sir.”
“And get me mercury.”
“Mercury, sir?”
“Yes, mercury. It is a chemical compound, you fool.”
“How much do you need, sir?”
“As much as you can carry.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Immediately!”
<
br /> Why did he want mercury? That would reverse the process. Maybe he had misunderstood Albert Price’s instructions. Altering the course of alchemy may have all sorts of consequences. The book contained other secrets and potions that could be misused. Elise’s brow crinkled. If Wyatt continued making mistakes, he could wreak all kinds of damage.
Wyatt was ranting again.
Elise held the book to her chest. She crept backwards. She jumped as she heard two maids coming along the hall.
“She was in the cellar all along!” one whispered.
“That’s why the master ordered us to make extra meals.”
“And she disappeared last night. Through a locked door!”
“Gives me the shivers it does.”
Behind her the maids were getting closer. To the left, Barnabas Wyatt’s voice was getting louder. Ahead was a clear route to the front door.
Elise breathed steadily, placing one foot before the other. Her heart banged in her chest. The hall seemed unusually long.
Was the front door locked? Would she be able to open it without anyone hearing?
She was almost there.
Just when Elise was within feet of the front door, a large shadow appeared in the glass. The doorbell rang. The noise echoed like a sombre gong throughout the house.
A maid rushed out of the sitting room.
The girl kept her back to Elise as she opened the door.
“This way, please,” the maid kept her head down as she returned to the sitting room.
Two men in blue uniforms stepped into the hall.
“The police are here, sir,” the maid was telling Wyatt.
“At last!”
The police lumbered forward, staring straight at Elise.
They were tall gruff men, with thick sideburns and eyebrows. They walked slowly, their hands moving to the weapons on their belts.
Elise stood rooted to the spot. Her knees went weak. She could not move.
A smoky breeze came through the front door. Grey clouds sat over the trees in the square. The last air she would ever breath, the last glimpse of sky she would ever see.
The policemen were so tall. Their hairy hands remained on their weapons. They were feet away then inches. She could see the hair on their moustaches twitch. There was no way forward and no way back.
The men came onwards, their footsteps like an executioner’s drum.