The Time of the Clockmaker (10 page)

“Yes, well, still rumors. They could be all talk.” He sounded as if he was trying to console himself. “Just be careful.”

I promised him I would, and he looked reassured.

Once again I found myself pretending to be someone I wasn't, and once again Henley was helping me in my deception. I was grateful that Lord Empson seemed to be practically falling over himself to find a place for me and get me settled down, but my priority was the clock. I needed it to get home—wherever home was. Luckily, my mission and Lord Empson's seemed likely to coincide. I knew the clock wouldn't be lying around in any old village marketplace. The person who had attacked me wouldn't be prepared to hide away in the sticks, I was sure. My best bet was court, and Lord Empson was going to get me there.

“Here you are, my dear Eleanor,” Lord Empson said, as he gave me a hand into the carriage. He passed me a folded piece of parchment paper with a large wax seal on it. “And a letter to the countess as an introduction, of course.”

As I took the letter from his hand, he paused. “I will join you shortly. In the meantime, do look after Aunt Marian.”

I thanked him, and promised him I would.

He turned toward the handmaid, sitting across from me in the carriage. “Helen,” he said. “Remember to tend to all of Lady
Eleanor's needs. Absolutely every one of them. Goodness knows Niki can't live without the best for his daughter.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Lord Empson gave me one final nod before giving the signal to the carriage driver.

Soon enough, the steady jostle of the horse's movements evened out and Lord Empson was but a speck in the landscape.

“Would you like me to draw the curtains, my lady?” Helen asked, watching my gaze land on the window.

“No, thank you, Helen. I enjoy looking out at the countryside.”

I had decided that all carriage rides were the same. No matter what time period it was, they were all uncomfortable. Sixteenth-century carriages were actually quite similar to early-twentieth-century carriages. In terms of horse-drawn travel, not much had changed—or rather, will change. In any time, you simply had to acknowledge that carriages were uncomfortable. After coming to terms with that fact, the ride was always much easier.

As Lord Empson had said, the carriage ride was about two hours. Since Helen didn't look comfortable making conversation with me, I spent the majority of it looking out of the window. Though all carriages were the same, carriage rides were made different by the scenes that passed and were left behind. Instead of passing ice cream parlors and hat shops like I did on those rides with Henley, now all we passed were trees and more trees.

“My lady?”

My eyes opened at the unfamiliar voice. I sighed. It was only Helen. I realized that I must have dozed off, leaning my head
against the side of the carriage.

“My lady?” she said again.

“Yes, Helen?”

“We're here, my lady,” she said. “Welcome to the Palace of Placentia.”

When I looked out of the carriage, only a gasp left me.

So this was it, the home of the court, hopefully
my
home for a while. This was the Palace of Placentia.

NINE

THE PALACE LIVED
up to its billing. It truly
was
a palace, in all its grandeur. The stone walls went up as high as I could see, and as soon as we were past the gates there were dozens of people, all keeping themselves busy with their jobs.

“My lady,” a footman said, as he took my hand and helped me out of the carriage.

I wasn't yet used to all the people dressed in sixteenth-century garb. To see it again, on so many people this time, made me think of a costume party.

A small smile threatened to break out onto my lips.

“This way, my lady,” Helen said. I was reminded that Helen probably spent a good portion of every year at court, and therefore must know a lot.

I followed her up a short flight of stone steps and into several rooms. I knew we hadn't arrived at the front entrance, but the hallways I passed through were nonetheless lavishly decorated.
Tapestries and paintings dotted the walls. Wood carvings spanned the ceilings and flowed onto the backs of doors.

“The lady Eleanor Shelton is here to see the Countess Grenville, by request of Lord Empson,” Helen whispered to a young man who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.

I handed him the letter I had been holding the entire trip. “From his lordship.”

The young man bowed and slipped into the next room. Shortly after, the door opened for us.

“Lady Eleanor Shelton,” he said, announcing me, though the countess of course already knew who I was.

The countess was seated at a vanity at the far end of the room with her back toward me. I saw her cool blue eyes holding my gaze through her reflection in the mirror in front of her. In her hands, she held the letter from Lord Empson with the elaborate seal already broken.

“Lady Eleanor Shelton,” she pronounced, still eyeing me through the mirror.

The countess looked as if she had been a beauty in her youth. She wasn't quite old yet, but her flaxen hair shimmered with more strands of silver than blond and the corners of her lips were swallowed up in fine lines that began to span her face. What made her look older was the stiff black dress she wore. There was a bit of black embroidery along her sleeves, but compared with everyone else's, hers was the most spartan costume I had seen so far.

“Yes, my lady.” I wasn't sure what to do, so I bobbed down in a quick curtsey.

“You're the daughter of his lordship's business partner?”
The countess turned to look at me.

I supposed she meant Lord Empson, so I nodded.

“Are you mute, girl? There's always something wrong with the pretty ones.”

“No,” I said.

“No, what?”

“Um . . . no, my lady.”

“Very good, though that ‘um' was unnecessary. Never start a sentence with ‘um.' It doesn't do anyone good.” She gestured to the letter on the vanity. “It says here that you were brought up in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. That explains that terrible accent, but I would still expect manners from you. Your parents are English, are they not?”

“Yes, my lady.” I really hoped that she, or anyone else at court for that matter, didn't expect me to start speaking Lithuanian.

“And you had an English tutor? Or maybe governess?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Well, they did a dreadful job.”

The countess began to walk toward me, and with every step I could feel myself shrinking.

“I suppose his lordship expects me to take you under my wing. Guide you. Counsel you. Teach you some manners.” The countess stopped a few inches away from me and lifted my chin. “I was once a pretty little thing like you myself. But do you know what happened?”

I couldn't trust my voice. I wanted to shake my head, but I was trapped with the countess holding my face up to hers.

“Do you know what happened?” she repeated. “I was used.
By the likes of
all
those men. Lord Empson. The rest. They're all the same. I was used, and when I was no longer needed, I was discarded. Like a broken doll.”

I was uncomfortable, because of both what she said and how she held my face up to hers. Finally, she released me.

The countess glared at a young servant girl in the corner of the room. She stood so still that I hadn't noticed her before.

“You. Out.”

The girl quickly curtseyed and scampered out.

With no one else in the room, the countess soon turned her attention back to me. “I'll help you,” she said. “I'll do
exactly
as his lordship wants and take you under my wing as my personal gentlewoman.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Joan,” the countess called.

The young maid who had been kicked out of the room only a few seconds ago came rushing back in. I wondered if she was used to doing this sort of thing.

“Joan, show Lady Eleanor to a room and make sure it is kept to her liking.” She turned to me. “There will be a feast tomorrow. You'll be introduced to many important people, so wear your best dress.”

“Um, I don't have any.”

“Any what?”

“Any dresses.” I bit my lip.

“Any dresses? Well, that certainly is a problem.” The countess made a show of letting out an exasperated sigh.

“My luggage . . . got lost at the port.”

“The port! And now you're without a stitch of clothing?
Well, actually, this might be a blessing in disguise. I imagine things are done differently in rough, uncivilized Lithuania. How anyone survives that is beyond me! Joan, send for the dressmaker as well.” The countess waved us out. “The feast will be at noon.”

“Noon? Isn't that a bit early?”

“Of course not. This is court. Things are done differently here.”

I curtseyed out of the room, murmuring another thank-you.

“Don't thank me,” the countess called after me. “If I were a better person, I wouldn't help you.” She laughed, and only succeeded in further unsettling me.

“Here you are, my lady.” Joan rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, making it red. “If there isn't anything else you would like, I'll be off to find the dressmaker.”

“Very well,” I said, beginning to look about the room.

When I didn't hear the door close behind me, I turned to look at Joan. The mousy-haired girl was still standing by the door, looking at me. I realized she was waiting to be dismissed formally.

“You may go now.”

Joan curtseyed and left.

“What a strange woman!” I said, as I collapsed onto the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. The bed was a bit short for me, and my feet dangled off the end.

The countess, you mean?

“Yes, the countess. I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to kill me in my sleep!”

Oh, Rebecca, she wasn't that bad.

“That bad? You only say that because you weren't the one directly talking to her.”

I got up and walked a couple of steps to the bedside table. The table had a pitcher of water and a basin, and I decided to freshen up before I had to meet more people. The only furniture in the room, other than the bed and the bedside table, was a vanity, much like the one the countess had been sitting at in the other room.

“What do you suggest I do?” I asked Henley, changing the subject.

Play along until you can find the clock. Do you have any other choice?

I knew he was right.

“Where could the clock be?” I wondered aloud. “It definitely needs to be at court. It's such an elaborate object, no regular villager would have such a thing. It would stick out like a sore thumb.”

Not to mention there aren't too many clocks in this time period, even at court. They're expensive. That goes even more so with a gold one like that.

“Can we narrow down who at court could own such a thing?”

Certainly none of the servants.

“That goes without saying. Who of the gentry?”

It could be anyone.

I was afraid he would say that.

We don't know enough about everyone.

“Well, it's not as if I could go from person to person saying
‘Hello. Nice to meet you, your lordship. Do you happen to own a golden clock about this big? If so, would you please kindly hand it over?'”

All I could do was guess. It turned out that although Henley could see all time periods unfolding simultaneously, he couldn't always make sense of it.
It's like watching millions of tiny ants at once,
he said.
Impossible.
It was all guesswork for him too.

I think you should check the countess's chambers when she's out since they're right there. The killer must have either taken the clock and is keeping it in his possession, or he took the clock and hid it in someone else's possessions.

I didn't like the idea that the countess might be in league with Miss Hatfield's killer. And I couldn't even imagine her
being
the killer.

“Maybe they hid it in someone's possessions without the room's owner knowing?”

I can keep an eye out while you search the countess's rooms. At least then you can eliminate one person. And we have to start somewhere.

Henley was right. Though I hadn't paid much attention, the one room I had been in with the countess was lavishly decorated. It wouldn't be out of character for her to keep a large golden clock in one of her other rooms. Her bedroom, perhaps?

In the meantime, you just need to continue putting on an act,
Henley said.
People will treat you according to how they think you should be treated. If you show them that you're a force to be reckoned with, they will.
Henley laughed.
Besides, from what I remember, you're quite the actress.

I was going to reply with a smart response when I heard a
timid knock at the door.

Put on an act,
Henley whispered in my ear. I shivered, though his breath was warm against my neck. He would always have this effect on me.

“Come in. Do come in.” I tried to think of what the countess might say.

“I'm sorry to bother you, my lady, but I have Mistress Cobham here to see you.”

“Thank you, Joan.” I turned to the rosy-looking woman Joan left behind. “Mistress Cobham, I'm afraid I have quite the task for you today.”

“Whatever you would like, your ladyship.” She patted her gray hair back into her coif.

“I'd like an entire wardrobe.”

Mistress Cobham's hand froze. “An entire wardrobe?”

“Yes. An entirely new wardrobe.”

Mistress Cobham seemed to recover from her shock . . . or at least regain the ability to hide it. “Of course, my lady. Her ladyship did mention it . . . though I didn't think she was serious.”

I barely managed to conceal my surprise. The countess had seemed to want nothing to do with me. “She did?”

“Yes, my lady. She requested five linen smocks with thread-work, of course, scarlet petticoats, two kirtles. And gowns. Lots of gowns. All to be paid for by Lord Empson.” Her curious eyes bore into me, obviously wondering what kind of connection I, a foreigner, could have with Lord Empson.

“The Countess of Grenville is
always
serious,” I said in what I hoped was a haughty enough voice.

“I'm terribly sorry, my lady. I brought in only a small
selection of fabric for the gowns.”

“Well, let's see them. There's no use in leaving it all for another day.”

Mistress Cobham excused herself with a deep curtsey and momentarily left the room. When she returned, she had a trail of young men shouldering yards and yards of fabric. They slipped through the door, one by one, following her like ducks. There were seven of them in total.

“Here we have the silks and satins. I brought in the colors that are in fashion, my lady. I also have gorgeous linens and velvets directly from Paris. I've heard that all the ladies of the French court are wearing them.”

I nodded, overwhelmed by all the fabric and bodies in the room. There were suddenly eight people, not including myself, in the small room, and I found myself backed up against the bed.

“Green,” I blurted out.

“Green?” Mistress Cobham's entire face flushed as she began looking erratically around. “My lady, with green currently being out of fashion, I'm afraid I didn't think to bring—”

One of the men in the corner stepped forward with a bundle of green fabric.

“Yes!” Mistress Cobham said. “The green silk. It isn't as popular this season, I'm afraid, but—”

“I'd like to have a gown made in that.” I remembered Henley saying that he liked me in green.

“Are—”

“Mistress Cobham.”

She closed her mouth.

“And I would like one made of the blue velvet and one with
the black satin.” I pointed to two of the men. “And everything else, I'd like you to choose for me. My only request is that I would like them all as soon as possible.”