The Clockwork Three (29 page)

“I remember her voice,” Frederick said.

“Lovely, wasn’t it? Like the most beautiful songbird in McCauley Park.”

Hannah felt like an intruder. She tried to ease herself away a bit and drew Frederick’s eye.

“This is my friend Hannah,” he said. “She’s the one that got me thinking about my mother, and made me want to find out what happened to her.”

Hannah curtsied. “Hello.”

“Hello, dear.”

“Do you know where she is buried?” Frederick asked. Tiny tears had lodged in the corners of his eyes, as if unwilling to fall.

“I think they laid her in the Old Rock Churchyard.”

Hannah had been there. She might have seen her tombstone.

“Thank you very much for your time,” Frederick said, and his voice caught. “I just had to know. For certain.”

“Of course,” the nurse said. “If I may add, she spoke of you often.”

“She did?”

“Nearly every day. I take it you’re not in the orphanage anymore.”

“I’m an apprentice clockmaker.”

“And he’s brilliant at it,” Hannah added.

“I don’t doubt it,” the nurse said. “You look well. Quite handsome. Your mother would be proud, I think it right to say.” She appeared to hesitate. “I don’t mean to add to your grief, but I think leaving you was the great sorrow of her life. Even more so than her husband’s loss at sea.”

Frederick stood for a moment, working his lips. Then the tears fell, one at a time, without leaving a trail. “Thank you again,” he said.

“My pleasure. It was very nice to finally meet you, Frederick.”

Hannah curtsied and Frederick led the way back out into the busy street. He wiped his eyes, and he was smiling. Truly smiling, wider than Hannah had ever seen, as though shutters had opened on the full light of
the sun. He was staring at her, pedestrians brushing their elbows, horses and carriages trundling by.

“What is it?” Hannah asked.

Then he hugged her. A sudden, warm, gentle hug.

“Thank you,” he said into her hair.

She put her hands around him and hugged him back.

The Old Rock Church

G
IUSEPPE HAD THE GREEN VIOLIN BACK. IT RESTED IN HIS LAP,
smooth and warm. He and Pietro lounged in front of the fireplace on the top floor of the old clockmaker’s shop. They had slept a bit down in the cellar, and upon waking found nothing to do down there and grew bored. The shop had proved more interesting, with things to look at but nothing they felt comfortable touching. Giuseppe viewed clocks with a wary eye now that he had seen Frederick’s creation, as though every wristwatch, mantelpiece, and cuckoo were a secret, living thing, hiding silent thoughts and biding time rather than counting it.

After exploring the shop the only place left to them was Master Branch’s living quarters, so they had prodded each other up the stairs and now sat with their feet kicked up, enjoying a fire from the comfort of the armchairs. Pietro sat so low in the cushions he bent at the neck. Giuseppe and he now spoke entirely in Italian when no one else was around.

“Do you think they’ll mind if we’re up here?” the little boy asked.

“Nah. Besides, they can’t expect us to stay down there in the cellar all day. Like we’re rats or something.”

Pietro shuddered. “Don’t talk about rats. I hate rats.”

Giuseppe spit into the fire. “I hate Stephano.”

They both fell silent.

“Where did you get the green violin?” Pietro asked.

“I found it floating in the harbor.”

“Where do you think it came from?”

Giuseppe looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. A place where they like to play music and change people’s lives.”

“I always wanted to hear you play it,” Pietro said. “Ever since I saw you hide it.”

Giuseppe rubbed his eyes. “Perhaps later.”

The fire burned itself out and neither of them moved to toss more wood on. They sat there without speaking until the door to the shop opened downstairs.

“Giuseppe?” they heard Frederick call.

Giuseppe switched to English. “Up here.” He did not rise from the chair.

Footsteps on the stairs, and then Frederick entered the room. There was something different about the way he looked. Perhaps it was in the way he moved. He stood taller and straighter, and his eyebrows were up instead of digging down into each other.

“How did it go?” Giuseppe asked. “Where’s Hannah?”

“She went to tell her family the good news.”

“What good news?”

“Mister Twine hired her back and gave her a promotion. He fired Miss Wool and gave Hannah her position.”

“That is good news.”

“Yes.” Frederick sighed, and sat down at the kitchen table.

Master Branch returned shortly after that with meat pies he had bought on his way home from the museum. The four of them sat down for lunch and the old clockmaker told them that Mister Diamond had accepted his offer. No charges would be brought against Frederick, and the museum would keep the Magnus head. Master Branch spoke in heavy tones, as though mourning the loss of the clockwork head for his guild. Giuseppe expected Frederick to show similar feelings, but instead of grief the apprentice only expressed relief and gratitude to his master.

The pies were still warm, and the flaky crust crackled as Master Branch cut slices on everyone’s plate. The dark gravy spilled out around chunks of meat, onion, and potato. Giuseppe could not remember eating so well. First the turtle stew and now this. Everyone but Master Branch had two or three pieces before the pies were gone.

After they had finished, the bell chimed on the door downstairs, and Hannah called up to them. Frederick hopped to his feet with a foolish grin and hustled down the stairs to meet her. Giuseppe smiled and noticed a similar expression cross Master Branch’s face. Pietro licked the leftover gravy from his plate.

A few moments later, Frederick and Hannah came upstairs. Once they stepped into the room, Hannah walked right over to Giuseppe.

“I have something for you,” she said.

Giuseppe sat up. “Oh?”

“Yes.” She reached into a pocket in her dress. “I owe you something, Giuseppe. Without your music, my father would never have been able to lead me to the treasure. So here.” She held out her hand.

Giuseppe lifted his, and she placed some money into it.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Mister Twine gave me some money for new clothes. I don’t think he knows how much a new dress costs, because he gave me more than I will need. But he said I earned it. So did you.”

Giuseppe tabbed through the limp bills. “There’s fifty dollars here.”

Hannah nodded. “Frederick tells me that’s enough for a boat ticket.”

“It is.” Giuseppe got to his feet and tugged his cap from his head. His mouth hung open in shock. “I don’t know what to say.” He reached out and hugged her. “Thank you.”

“No.” She hugged him back. “Thank you.”

He could scarce believe it. He had played and scrounged and saved for weeks, only to lose all his money to Stephano. And even though he had the green violin again, he had no idea how he would be able to play it on the streets, how he would be able to earn his way. But Hannah had given him a fortune, just like that, and suddenly he had all the money he needed to go home. Pietro stood up and peered into his palm. Giuseppe smiled at him, and then frowned. What would happen to the little boy now?

Frederick cleared his throat. “I think I’ll head down to the docks. There’s a ship leaving for Italy in a few days.”

“You’ll buy the ticket for me?” Giuseppe asked.

“It would be my pleasure,” Frederick said. Giuseppe handed him the money, and Frederick shoved it in his pocket. “After all, I’ve been there once for you before. I’ll be back soon.”

Giuseppe did not know if Frederick was really gone as long as it seemed, or if his excitement only made it seem like ages and ages. He filled the waiting with idle conversation with Master Branch and Hannah, but his mind kept turning to thoughts of home. Images of hills and pastures,
daydreams of hugging his brother and sister. During all of this, Pietro kept quiet. The little boy knew what was going on, but Giuseppe had no idea what to say to him about it. There was only enough money for one ticket.

Eventually Frederick did return, but he was no longer smiling. He clomped up the stairs, and his eyebrows had collapsed back into their normal argument.

“What is it?” Hannah asked first.

“He wouldn’t sell me the ticket,” Frederick said. “He knew.”

“Knew what?” Giuseppe asked.

Frederick slumped into one of the kitchen chairs. “I tried to buy passage to Italy, and the ticket man just looked at me. ‘One way?’ he asked, and I said, ‘Yes.’ And then he frowned and got all suspicious. Then he said, ‘Not many boys in this city wanting a one-way ticket to Italy, are there?’ I said I didn’t know about that. And then he said he had a message for a boy named Giuseppe.”

“I don’t understand,” Hannah said.

A sense of defeat grabbed Giuseppe’s stomach by the fist. “They’re all in Stephano’s pocket. Even the policemen down on the docks.” He bled hope and turned cold. He was so close, and had lost it all again. “Stephano knew I might try and leave. What was the message?”

Frederick looked at the floor.

“What was it?” Giuseppe asked. Pietro had come over to his side.

“He said —” Frederick started. “He said that if you want your reverend to remain unharmed, you’ll bring the green violin to the Old Rock Church.”

“Reverend Grey?” Giuseppe’s legs and arms went soft. “Ezio. Oh, no. I have to go. I have to give him the violin.”

“No,” Hannah said. “You can’t go.”

“We’ll summon the police,” Master Branch said. “That is what we’ll do.”

“That’s too risky,” Giuseppe said. “He could hurt the reverend.”

“The police won’t do a thing, anyway,” Frederick said. “Hannah and I already tried that.”

“I’m going,” Giuseppe said.

“No, you’re not,” Hannah said. “Frederick, tell him.”

“He doesn’t just want the violin,” Frederick said. “He wants you, and he’s using your friend to get at you. But wouldn’t Reverend Grey want you to stay safe?”

“Quite right,” Master Branch said. “This ruffian, Stephano, would surely know better than to assault a clergyman. You and Pietro are welcome to stay as long as you need until it’s safe for you.”

But it never would be. Giuseppe knew that. Did he plan on hiding out in the old clockmaker’s cellar for the rest of his life? He could not hide in McCauley Park with Alice, and he could not hide here. Not when a friend of his, someone who had only been kind to him, was in danger because of him. And Master Branch did not know Stephano. The padrone would assault a clergyman without any hesitation.

Giuseppe crossed to the window and looked out. He could almost feel Stephano’s cold rage seeping through the streets like a fog from the sea. No busker would be playing any corner tonight. Stephano would have them all out hunting. Giuseppe had the green violin, but what good would it do him? He knew what it would mean if he turned himself in. The padrone would beat him, hurt him, break him. But perhaps Stephano would not actually kill him. Not if Giuseppe brought him the green violin and played it to fill the padrone’s pocket. There would be no chance
of escape after that, no voyage home, no family, but those were things he could not let himself think about. Money would keep Giuseppe alive, and the reverend unharmed, and that was what mattered in that moment. But he knew Frederick and Hannah would never see it that way.

“Thank you for the offer,” Giuseppe said to Master Branch. He turned to Hannah and Frederick. “You’re right. I’ll stay put.”

The two of them relaxed and nodded. They passed the rest of the afternoon and evening playing card games, and then Giuseppe played the green violin for them at Pietro’s request. Master Branch applauded, Frederick smiled, and Hannah sighed, but to Giuseppe’s ear the music lacked something. He kept thinking about Reverend Grey, and the green violin felt heavy as lead in his hands. Rather than taking flight, the music seemed to thud to the ground, dragged down by a weight. But Giuseppe obliged them and played several tunes before making a show of yawning. Then, later that night, after Hannah had left for home, and Master Branch had gone to bed early, and Frederick and Pietro had fallen asleep in the workroom behind the shop, Giuseppe got up to leave.

In the darkness, he felt for the green violin and slung it over his shoulder. On his way past Frederick’s cot he stubbed his toe and let out a little yelp.

Frederick snored, but Pietro stirred. “Giu? What are you doing?”

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

He heard a rustling as Pietro got to his feet. “You’re going to the church, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I have to.”

Pietro grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave.”

Frederick mumbled something in his sleep and Giuseppe hissed. He grabbed Pietro and pulled him out of the workroom into the shop. “Pietro, I don’t have a choice.”

“But —” The little boy’s voice broke off in a sob.

Giuseppe went to the shop door, climbed up on a shelf, and held on to the bell. “The key is in the door. Unlock it and open it for me.”

Pietro did as he was told, and the door opened silently. Giuseppe hopped down. “Stay here. I think the clockmaker will look after you for a while. Hannah and Frederick will help you.”

“I want to come with you,” Pietro said. Tears brimmed in his eyes.

Giuseppe looked away, out the door into the night. “No.”

“Yes!”

“No!” Giuseppe cocked his fist. “Now get away from me.”

The little boy flinched and stepped back, eyes wide. His lip quivered. Giuseppe felt sick inside. “I’ll be back,” he said. “Lock up behind me.” He shut the door, winced when the bell chimed, and waited until he heard the turn of the key. Then he headed down the street.

He did not bother to raise his collar or lower his hat. He was tired of being afraid. The streets were mostly deserted, and he walked with purpose and speed toward the Old Rock Church. Along the way he felt eyes on him now and again, watchers from the alleys and around the corners. The buskers were out in force, but he did not care or cast one look in their direction. But he wondered if Ferro or Alfeo were among them.

By now, Pietro had no doubt roused Frederick. They would want to help, to stop him, and might even be coming after him. Which meant that he had to move fast.

He soon arrived at the Old Rock Church. Despite the late hour, a faint light came from its stained-glass windows, and the chapel doors
were open. Giuseppe did not sneak or wait to see if anyone was waiting nearby. He just marched straight into the street, up to the front doors, and walked right through.

“Reverend Grey?” he called.

The air inside the chapel smelled of old wood, with a hint of smoke and melted wax. The light in the stained-glass windows came from candles burning around the room in sconces. Apparently the reverend had never had gaslight brought into the church. The dim orange light melted from the walls over the pews and the floor.

“Reverend Grey?”

“Giuseppe?” The old man shuffled out of a side room. “Is that you?”

“It’s me. Hello, Reverend.”