The Dark Between (32 page)

Asher thought back to the tour Marshall had given him. “Yes. At the eastern end of the cloisters there’s a passage that will take us to New Court.”

“Let’s do that, then. The bridge looks clear, and I don’t see anything moving near the library. Follow me.”

As they crossed the bridge, Asher noted how noiselessly Kate moved, how still and low she kept her body, and tried to mimic her movements. When they reached the central iron gate, Kate put her hands on the lock and laughed softly. “This one is a cinch. They’ve added a padlock, but that’s no problem at all. Will you hold this?” She opened the tool kit and placed it in his hands. Then she chose a narrow bar and a pick. Within seconds she’d popped the padlock apart and opened the gate.

She waved him through and quietly closed the gate behind him, hanging the padlock back in place without actually locking it. “I’d lock it again,” she whispered, “but it’d be the devil to open from the inside. I’ve no idea where we’re going, so I suppose you’d better lead the way now.”

He smiled at the reluctance in her voice. How she
hated
to follow.

They stepped lightly along the stone floor of the cloisters. He’d crossed half the distance when he felt Kate’s hand on his arm. He turned to find her standing still, finger to her lips. After a moment she gestured frantically behind him.

Now he heard the clattering footfalls … and the low murmur of voices.

He glanced around—there was no alcove in which to hide. Perhaps that wall over there? He took Kate’s hand and moved quickly, pulling her to him as he flattened himself against the wall. His heart lurched into such a pounding that he wondered if Kate could feel it leaping in his chest.

Two men came into view, their stiff white shirts bright against their dark evening clothes. One, a portly man with his loosened tie flapping, staggered every few steps.

“You’ll see I’m correct,” he said, his words echoing in the cloisters, “and I’ll expect a bottle of the college’s finest port to be delivered to my room before tea tomorrow.”

“If I’m correct, and I know I am, you’ll be delivering that bottle to me.” His friend did not slur so noticeably. “Chaucer only mentions Philomene by name in
The Legend of Good Women
. In fact, I’ll wager
two
bottles on it.”

“No, no, no, I’m quite certain she’s named in
Troilus and Criseyde
, book two, when the nightingale sings as Criseyde falls asleep. I know it in my bones.”

“In your cups, you mean. You’re dead drunk.”

“Now that’s Cicero.
In thy cups, in the midst of thy revels!
”

Both men guffawed at that. There was a noise of jangling keys and muttered oaths as one unlocked the library door. Soon thereafter the door slammed shut and the corridor fell silent again.

“It’s safe enough now,” Kate whispered, slipping from his arms. “Do you think they noticed the open padlock?”

“Too drunk, I’m sure.”

“Are the Fellows always so jolly?”

“They do like their wine,” he said. “Why? Do you fear I’ll become a drunkard if I survive this night and become a Trinity man?”

She glanced at him. “You’re not that sort of fool.”

“What sort of fool am I?”

But she had paused again, this time to stare back at the upper level of the Wren Library. “Good Lord! They keep all the books up there? Look at those gorgeous windows. I thought the new Summerfield library was grand, but this place makes it seem quite ordinary.”

“We’re almost there—it’s just up this staircase. Marshall’s room is the first door on the left, so get your tools ready.”

Asher meant to keep an eye on the corridor as Kate studied the lock on Marshall’s oak door, but he couldn’t help admiring her concentration as she selected the proper tools and applied them to the lock. Soon enough he heard the satisfying click as the lock gave way.

Kate stood and opened the door. “What’s this?”

He reached for the simple handle of the green baize middle door and pulled it open to reveal the innermost door. “Only the outer door is locked.”

“
Three
doors?” She shook her head in amazement. “It’s like a fairy tale.”

“I’d never seen anything like it before.” Once inside he quietly closed all the doors behind them and lit a small study lamp. “Marshall’s research cabinet is over there.”

Kate stood as if frozen, staring about the sitting room. “Who would have thought a Fellow was allowed so much space? How many rooms are in this apartment?”

“He has two sitting rooms and two bedrooms. Apparently
Fellows are expected to entertain.” He pointed at the oak file cabinet. “Shall we get started?”

She glanced sidelong at him. “Marshall is in London, isn’t he? We have plenty of time.”

“Not enough to waste,” Asher said. “If we are caught, my chances of a place at Trinity College are ruined forever, so I say the quicker we’re out of here the better.”

She held his gaze for a moment. “Don’t worry, Asher.” After a moment she removed her hat and set it on top of the cabinet. “That thing is making my scalp itch. Shine the light over this, won’t you?”

He could see nothing that resembled a lock, but after running her hands over the decorative trimming at each side Kate flipped the panels open to reveal two centrally located keyholes.

“Just as I thought,” she said. “Almost as easy to open as a padlock. Gentlemen like Marshall should take more care to protect their secrets.”

Chapter 34

E
lsie stood at the sitting room window, watching the gas lamps flicker over Summerfield Walk. Asher and Kate had left not quite an hour ago, but already she fidgeted. Each second that ticked on the clock unnerved her. She forced herself to sit, but less than a minute later she was up again, pacing back and forth in front of the window.

What if they didn’t return? What was she supposed to do then?

“Miss, can I get you anything?”

Elsie turned to find Millie at the doorway, blinking sleepily.

“I’m fine, Millie. You should go to bed.”

“Begging your pardon, miss, but Mrs. Thompson told me not to retire until everyone was settled. You’re still up, and I heard Mr. Beale and Miss Poole leave earlier.” The girl stifled a yawn. “I don’t wish to catch trouble, miss.”

“Everything is fine, Millie. You’re asleep on your feet, so please don’t stay up any longer.”

Millie squirmed. “I can’t lose this position, miss.”

“And you won’t. Mr. Beale and Miss Poole will return soon
and we’ll all be safe in our beds before midnight. I will assure my aunt that you took wonderful care of us in her absence.”

The maid bobbed a curtsy, a grateful look on her face. “Thanks, miss.”

Once alone, Elsie turned back to the window with a sigh.

Her thoughts threatened to turn to Simon, but she was doing her best to circumvent them. Only last night she’d resolved to no longer allow her life to revolve around a man’s affections. Now that she was alone and listless, her resolve was fading.

That night at Stonehill—had Simon thought of her as he fell asleep? How long after he woke did he remember what had happened? What was his greatest regret—pushing her away, or letting her through the door in the first place? She
knew
he’d desired her. It wasn’t just a matter of using her to contact his lost love. Their connection was deeper than that.

Soon he would be gone, and so far out of her reach. He would forget her.

She nudged that thought aside, for she couldn’t bear to imagine the days and months that would follow in which she had … nothing. No one to love. Nowhere to go. Thoughts like that made her long for the dose.

The clock chimed eleven. The next hour would stretch into eternity if she kept staring into the darkness outside. She settled into a chair and picked up the embroidery she’d pretended to work upon for the past two weeks.

After staring at it for a moment, she tossed the hoop aside.

Throughout the day a possibility had flickered through her mind—a way of passing the time in an active way, but only once Millie had retired for the evening. It was a shameful action she was contemplating, and Elsie cringed at the
thought of betraying her family in this manner. And yet she needed to know.

Having grown up in a house of secrets, Elsie well knew how to read the body language of deception. The thought had been niggling at her for days, and now she firmly believed that her uncle was keeping something from them. He’d behaved strangely that day at the old lab, insistent that they not go inside. And earlier he’d been suspiciously vague about the key. Perhaps he had hidden it somewhere in the house.… If so, she would do her best to find it tonight.

She’d already looked through his bedroom dresser, but it merely contained clean clothes. Not surprising—her uncle was unlikely to hide anything secret there. So she started with his office, which was in its usual state of disarray. Hiking her skirts, she stepped around the piles of books and papers until she reached the desk. In this part of the house she shouldn’t be overheard by Millie, but she still took care to keep quiet.

Her uncle’s desk held nothing extraordinary. Inside she found papers, papers, and more papers, as well as pencils, thumbtacks, dusty bits of rubber for erasing, and other things typical to a scholar’s desk. Nothing the least bit suspicious. So she turned to the specimen cabinet next to the window. It had a maddening number of shallow drawers, but Elsie was determined to open each one.

Her skin crawled at the thought of tiny mammal skeletons and hairy moths splayed on pincushions. To her surprise, however, her uncle kept more sentimental items in his specimen case. One drawer held a brooch and a watch fob made of human hair. She touched them lightly, marveling at the intricate weaving. Other drawers held pretty rocks, pressed flowers, and folded notes written in French and Latin. She recognized
her aunt’s handwriting in the latter and was glad she couldn’t translate these private messages. She opened another drawer to find a delicate wren’s nest, perfectly shaped and holding a tiny papier-mâché egg.

The more drawers she opened, the more she despised herself for invading her uncle’s privacy. What had she been thinking? Uncle had bristled and scolded at the old lab because he was worried about their
safety
, not because he was hiding something.

She was close to putting an end to the horrid pillaging of the cabinet when she found the folded handkerchief containing a watch and a key.

The watch was very fine, fashioned of gold and intricately carved. She opened it with trembling fingers. Within she found the inscription she’d been dreading—
TO DEAR FRIEND AND PUPIL F. STANTON FROM O. THOMPSON
.

Kate had told her of this watch. Frederic Stanton had given it to her, the daughter he could not publicly recognize. Kate had given it to Billy, Billy had given it to his killer, and Uncle had somehow come into its possession after that.

Snapping the watch shut in her left hand, she turned her attention to the key, a clunky thing of dull metal that lay unmarked and untagged. She lifted it out of the drawer. Surely this was the key to the old lab. Why else would her uncle hide it with the watch?

Elsie stared numbly at the items, weighing them against each other as though her flattened palms were the pans of a balance scale.

If Asher and Kate could risk breaking into a Cambridge college, she could at the very least return to the lab and try once more to speak with Tec. This time she would ask him about her uncle and Dr. Marshall. And she wouldn’t leave without getting a photograph of that beastly induction coil.

The files were orderly and well marked—Kate had to give Marshall credit for being a tidy madman, at the very least. “We must be careful to put everything back exactly as we found it,” she told Asher. “Someone this organized would notice if anything was amiss, and we don’t want him to be suspicious. He might destroy important information if he thought it had been tampered with.”

Asher frowned. “But I thought we would take the important evidence with us.”

“We can take a piece or two, but not too much. Just enough for the police to take us seriously.”

“And how are we to explain how we came upon this evidence?”

She thought for a moment. “I’ll tell them Billy stole it and gave it to me for safekeeping.”

They found Marshall’s files from his student days at the bottom of the cabinet. But when Kate opened the first file, Asher shook his head. “They’re just papers written for tutors,” he said. “Can’t imagine you’ll find much there.”

Kate moved on to his collection of published articles, carefully dividing them and giving half to Asher before she settled into reading. With all the unfamiliar words and complex sentences, it certainly wasn’t easy going. She couldn’t contain a gasp, however, when she found an article with
electrotherapy
in the title.

Asher nudged her. “What is it?”

She glanced over the first paragraph. “I can’t make much sense of this one, but I think it’s about epilepsy.” She held up the pages for Asher to see. “Is that similar to Elsie’s condition?”

He took the article and paged through it. “This
is
pretty
interesting,” he said after a moment. “Marshall writes that epileptic states can be triggered in subjects using a pulsating current of electricity.” He paused to read silently.