The Time of the Clockmaker (11 page)

Mistress Cobham opened her mouth to protest, but I took her hands into mine before she could say a word.

“Really, Mistress Cobham. I trust your judgment. You know what everyone's wearing.” I smiled. “Now I must leave you. I promised her ladyship that I would see her.”

The men packed up and filed out of the room, following Mistress Cobham. It was a lie, but I had to get them out.

You never were a girl for shopping. I never understood that about you.

I didn't know how he did it, but Henley always managed to make me smile.

“Can you see if the countess is in her quarters?”

She's not in.

“Perfect.”

I slipped out of my room, careful not to make a sound so I didn't attract the attention of Joan or any other servants the countess employed. I closed my door to make it look as if I were still in my room.

If only Henley could just look into all the rooms at once and find the clock. Everything would be so much easier!

Opening the first door I could find, and making sure that the coast was clear, I crept in.

Judging from a table with a chess set and another with a deck of cards, I guessed that this was a room the countess used to entertain guests. All the other rooms of hers must be adjoining.

There was no dust on the mantel—Joan had made sure of that—but there were no misplaced knickknacks or items lying around, the things that made a room look well used. With one look around the room, I was certain the clock was not here.

Continuing on to the next room, I was immediately struck by how warm it felt. It wasn't the actual temperature of the room that hit me; instead, the whole room emanated a sense of comfort that the countess's other rooms lacked.

The off-color red curtains had huge tassels weighting them down. The chairs around the fireplace were upholstered with a similar orangey-red hue. It was as if all that was lively and energetic about the countess had been poured into this room and sealed shut.

I had to continue looking for the clock before Joan or anyone else found me snooping about. I knew Henley would try to warn me if someone was coming, but with so many doors dotting the corridor, he didn't know which door they would open until they moved to do so.

Tearing myself away from the room, I decided to try the door on the other side. Peeking in, I saw that I had found the countess's bedroom.

The room was laid out in a similar way to my bedroom: a four-poster bed sat prominently in the center of two neatly kept bedside tables. Unlike my room, there was a wooden wardrobe standing against the wall on one side, and a few extra chests lying around. There was a single chair by the fireplace in this room, but no vanity—that was in the room where I had first been introduced to the countess—and that was it. Everything was made simply. Nothing was too elaborate.

On one of the bedside tables, I saw that there were two silver frames. They stood out as the only items in the room that were not made sparsely out of wood. A miniature painting of a handsome man was in one, while the other held a portrait of a little blond boy.

“Are you finding everything to your liking?”

In shock, I spun around and almost toppled over when I came face-to-face with the countess.

“I see grace is not something taught in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania,” she said. “But no matter. You'll be here long enough to pick
that
up, as well as a few other things. Maybe even a suitor or two. That's always the case with young girls sent to court.”

“I'm sorry, your ladyship,” I said.

“For?”

For snooping, I wanted to say. But I had a feeling she knew that and just wanted to hear me say it, so I held my tongue.

The countess smiled at my silence. “My husband would have liked your stubbornness. He would have said that you have spirit.” She trailed off as her gaze drifted onto the portraits on her bedside table.

“Is that him?”

“Yes. The Earl of Grenville,” she said. “Or rather, the late Earl of Grenville. And the boy who would have grown up to be the next earl.” She picked up the boy's portrait. “George was the only one who made it past his first few months, but even he couldn't withstand the plague.”

“I—I'm so sorry.”

“I'm not the only mother to have lost her child.” The countess
shook her head. “Lord Grenville took it far worse than I did.”

“And . . . his lordship? How did he pass?”

The countess swallowed.

“I'm sorry. I was intruding—”

“Nonsense,” the countess said. “It's been five years already. Seven since George's death.” She cleared her throat. “My husband . . . he died of the sweating sickness.”

“I'm so sorry,” I said again.

Instinctively, I took her hands in mine. I felt her stiffen, and thought I had overstepped my boundaries, but she did not withdraw.

The countess's slender hands felt small in mine, small and cold. I gave them a squeeze, since it was all I could do.

“Now, now,” she said, attempting to smile again. “I'm sure you don't want to hear about death from an old thing like me.”

I laughed. The countess talked as if she was in her nineties when she couldn't have been older than early forties. Of course, that was probably considered very old in this time. And when you factored in time travel, and the fact that I was technically not supposed to be born yet, she seemed far older to me than she could know.

But she couldn't know how little age now meant to me. If only she knew how much death I had already seen.

“I came to find you to give you something to wear to the feast,” the countess continued. “Mistress Cobham has come to see you, correct?”

“Yes, she has.”

“And you ordered enough dresses from her?”

“Plenty,” I said.

“Good. Good. It's the least his lordship can do to pay for them.” She sighed, and I could tell she was thinking of something else. “But since those dresses won't be ready for tonight, I thought we could have you wear one of mine.”

The countess crossed over to the wardrobe and opened it. I saw that it was filled with black dresses. She frowned, closing it, and opened a chest by the foot of the wardrobe.

“Here it is,” she said, as she draped a shimmering white dress onto the bed. “I hope this will do.”

I was speechless. It was all I could do to nod.

“I'm quite fed up with your nodding,” the countess said. “I hope England can knock this Lithuanian tradition of nodding out of you.”

“It's beautiful, my lady,” I said.

“Good. It used to suit me when I was younger. I'm sure it will look becoming with your youth,” the countess said. “Joan!”

Joan appeared. I wondered how thin the walls had to be for Joan to be able to hear the countess calling at any moment.

“Yes, my lady.” She curtseyed.

“See to it that Lady Eleanor is dressed in time for supper.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I hope you won't be late,” the countess said to me. She made to leave the room, but stopped. “Lady Eleanor, would you accompany me to chapel tomorrow?”

“I would love to.” I wasn't sure that I would, but it was the least I could do now that I had seen this other side to her.

TEN

ARE YOU READY
to do this?

I had come to notice that Henley tended to whisper into my ear only if I was all by myself or in the middle of a loud crowd. They were situations on opposite ends of the spectrum, but they were both times when no one was paying attention to me.

“I don't think it really matters if I'm ready,” I whispered under my breath.

True.
I could hear Henley's smile in his voice, but I wished I could have seen it.
You look beautiful in that dress.

“You can't even properly see me or the dress. How do you know what I look like?”

You always look beautiful. Besides, I can see a little glimmer of color. White becomes you.

Henley was always one for flattery. I didn't know if this was the way with all the men brought up in his time or if this was just him.

Henley continued.
You know I always dreamed I would one day see you in a white dress . . . though maybe not like this, going to someone else's party.

I felt the warmth rise to my cheeks, but I rolled my eyes at Henley's attempt to flirt and put me at ease.

I watched as yet another couple entered arm in arm through the large double doors in front of me. Did I ever do things
when I was ready
?

I took a deep breath and walked toward the doors. The men on either side opened them dramatically to let me through.

When my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, I was amazed by how so many people could fit in one crowded space.

The entire room was haloed in the light of candles. They were placed everywhere. They shone from tall candelabras standing at attention on either side of the room and sparse metal chandeliers that swung lightly, leaning in to listen to conversations below them. There were long wooden tables set up in two rows with enough room for dancing between them.

Still farther into the room was a large elaborately carved chair framed in drapes with a handsome man perched on the edge of the seat. He was engaged in conversation with a woman to his left, but his eyes periodically drifted to survey the room. Sure, he wasn't as fat as I remembered from his pictures, and his striking looks were something entirely new to me, but I knew that face.

I thought back to a memory from so long ago that it almost felt as though it had happened to someone else in another life. Well, in a way, it sort of had. I wasn't Lady Eleanor Shelton then. I wasn't even the seventh Rebecca Hatfield. I was eleven-year-old
Cynthia. It was 1954, the year I never got to finish living. I was in the school yard during recess with a textbook I had borrowed from an older girl who said I could look at the pretty pictures if I wanted. I remembered flipping through the pages, coming to a full-page photo of a painting. The painting had only one figure in it—a man. He stood with his hands on his hips, and even in black and white he looked so powerful, so sure of everything, that in that instant, I wanted to be him. I remembered that face. Henry VIII.

“I see you've made it to the banquet room without getting too lost.” The countess breezed up to me. She was wearing a black dress as usual, but had changed into another, grander one with a fuller skirt and silver embroidery. “I don't think I would have found you in this mess if you hadn't been wearing that white dress. Lord Dormer was positively beside himself, asking everyone the identity of the ravishing young woman in pure white.”

I quickly glanced around to see that though there were many other women in the room, some twirling their skirts on the dance floor and some already seated, they were all in richly colored gowns. I was the only one wearing white.

“It seems you've already bewitched your first victim,” the countess said.

I looked around for a man who could be Lord Dormer, but instead my eyes were drawn again to the man on the throne at the far side of the room.

“I see you've also found the king.”

I blushed, but I couldn't tear my eyes off him and how he moved. He bent down toward the young woman to better hear
something she said.

“All the ladies do it.”

“Do what?” I found myself asking.

“Stare.” The countess laughed. “Don't be ashamed. The king's oldest brother was born to rule. And the king—well, you can see what he was born to do. His brother's death merely forced him to do it more regally.”

“Countess Grenville, might I interrupt?” A slightly balding, pear-shaped man walked up to us.

“Certainly, Sir Gordon,” she said. “Might I introduce the Lady Eleanor Shelton, daughter of Lord Nicholas Reginald Shelton. This is Sir Anthony Gordon.”

I curtseyed as he bowed.

“I've heard quite a lot about you,” he said.

My eyebrows went up. “You have? Good things, I hope.”

Sir Gordon let out a rumbling laugh. I couldn't help but watch as his belly seemed to jiggle.

“Most certainly good things,” he said. “From the countess, as well as Lord Dormer.”

“Lord Dormer?” This time it was the countess's turn to laugh. “How like him to praise people he hasn't met.”

“Well, that should be amended, shouldn't it?”

The countess and I both turned to see a tall man with a red beard tinted with gray. He was impeccably dressed in red velvet and adorned in gold.

“My countess?”

I could have sworn I saw the countess blush as she made the introductions.

Lord Dormer flamboyantly kissed my hand, causing many
people nearby to turn. I knew they were already trying to figure out who I was.

“My lord Dormer,” Sir Gordon began. “We're quite thrilled to have you back from the French court, but if you're going to show us up with your French manners, we might have to ship you back.”

Lord Dormer's beard twitched with a smile. “I'm afraid the French won't take me back after witnessing my terribly English manners. Besides, then I'll miss having the pleasure of dancing with English girls.”

The countess frowned. “Didn't I tell you that Lady Eleanor was from the Grand Duchy of Lithuania?”

“Yes, yes. You've been sure to mention that more than a few times. I was talking of a different English lady.” Lord Dormer held out his hand to the countess. “It would be dreadful manners to turn such a kind gentleman down.”

I tried to stifle my giggles as I waved the countess off.

“Are you sure you won't need me?” she asked.

“A few dances won't hurt.”

“A few? Whoever said I would give him a few? One would be enough . . . maybe two.”

The countess's dark skirts whirled around her as Lord Dormer spun her away.

“Phillip's quite the charmer, isn't he?”

I had forgotten that Sir Gordon was still standing beside me.

“Lord Dormer? Yes, I suppose he is.”

“You should have seen him when he was younger,” he said. “There wasn't a girl who wouldn't fall for those fluttering eyelashes.” He patted his belly. “Then, of course, there were people
like me on the sidelines.” Sir Gordon roared with laughter. “But Phillip always helped me out with the girls. He's a wily charmer, but he's loyal.”

Sir Gordon grabbed two goblets filled to the brink with wine and shoved one in my direction. I quickly stepped to the side just as red wine sloshed over the edge of the glass. Given the pure white of my dress, that had been a close call.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the cup.

“While they're both having fun toying with each other, let's get you introduced to some people. Court is a ruthless place to be, and the only thing that helps is having friends in all the key places.” He took my arm. “Of course, having Lord Empson as an ally certainly helps.”

“I suppose we all need people we can trust,” I said, thinking of Miss Hatfield. I didn't know why Miss Hatfield came to mind. It seemed so sudden. Now that she was gone, Henley was the one confidant I had. I couldn't ever lose him too.

“Precisely so,” Sir Gordon said. He squeezed my arm. “Here comes Lady Simnel. Her husband was one of Prince Arthur's friends and she's one of the queen's ladies, so she's quite important.”

I followed his gaze to a short woman decked head to toe in gold.

“Lady Simnel!” Sir Gordon called out. “I didn't see you there. I must be going blind to miss such a stunning lady!”

I was amazed by how easily Sir Gordon switched on his enthusiasm. It was as if he came alive all of a sudden. There was no transition. It was effortless.

“Might I introduce Lady Eleanor Shelton? She's the Countess
of Grenville's lady. Freshly arrived at court. Perfect timing too, don't you think? It's high time we had a breath of fresh air!”

I smiled and lowered my head as Sir Gordon went on as if he had known me forever, and Lady Simnel and a few other women examined me with their flitting, birdlike eyes.

Sir Gordon carried me on his arm from person to person like a new prize. All his introductions went the same—he showed me off, I remained silent, and everyone else scrutinized me.

“Ah, there you are.” It was the countess who rescued me.

“Tired of dancing already?” Sir Gordon actually looked disappointed.

“They're about to start supper, and we thought we should be seated early,” she said.

The countess excused both herself and me.

“Sir Gordon didn't talk your ear off, did he?” she asked.

“More introductions than talking to me directly.”

For once, the countess looked sympathetic. “We're to be seated there.” She pointed to the middle section of one of the tables on her left. “I believe you're on my right.”

The countess began skirting dancers as she walked toward our seats.

“Look at them. All those young pairs still dancing. They'll dance till the last possible minute!”

I wanted to ask what was wrong with that, but the way the countess sniffed as she passed the couples told me it was something she disdained, so I kept quiet.

“Here we are.”

Two young men dressed in green-and-white livery pulled out chairs for us. I recognized the Tudor rose stitched onto their
chests.

“Oof.” The chair looked far softer than it was, and I slammed down into my seat.

“A lady does not make animalistic sounds at the table.”

I couldn't help but grin at how automatic the countess's reply had sounded. Maybe she was getting used to having me around?

While the countess sat and only politely chatted with her neighbors, I gaped openly at the countless flamboyant dresses, each more extravagant than the last. It was my first glimpse of court behind the strict rules and conventions the countess seemed to insist upon.

“My dear lords and ladies, please take your places.” The king stood at his place at the far side of the room and began a speech welcoming his court to the Palace of Placentia. “I hope you find the palace as bountiful in sensory pleasures and as abundant in simple joys as I have found in years past. . .”

“I don't suppose I've seen you here before,” a voice whispered, surprisingly close to my ear.

“I don't suppose you have,” I said.

“So you're new at court, then?”

My eyes darted up at the man now sitting next to me. He had a mop of curly brown hair that matched his day-old stubble. He reminded me of Sam, the Starbucks boy I had met in the airport. But somehow, I didn't think he owned any flannel, nor did he have skinny jeans in his closet.

“Is that a smile I see on the young woman's face? What a mystery.”

I unconsciously rolled my eyes at him and turned back to watch the king. He sounded so much like Henley.

“Oh,” he whispered. “Fire as well.”

I stayed silent, trying to listen to the king's speech but unable to focus on it.

“I had better be careful,” the man continued. “Beauty
and
fire. I might find myself quickly ensnared.”

I turned toward him again, but being inches away from him, I promptly forgot what I was about to say.

“Has something caught your tongue?” He smirked.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “No, it's obviously still here.”

I knew I was supposed to try to fit in, and this certainly wasn't appropriate court behavior the countess would approve of, but something about the man made me do it. I held my breath, wondering if he would be offended.

He laughed. “Witty too? Very dangerous.”

I let out my breath.

I tried to ignore him, turning again to hear the rest of the king's speech, but he was done, sitting back down. I made sure to clap along with everyone else.

“You don't fool me,” the man next to me said in a voice low enough that I was the only one to hear it. “You're not like everyone else. You're strange. Wonderfully strange and different.”

“A toast to the king!” someone was yelling.

“Hear, hear!”

The room dissolved in a clattering of goblets and raised voices.