The Time of the Clockmaker (15 page)

Watching Richard and being around him was the most fun I had had in a while. There was something easy about his manner. I didn't know if I took his cat-scratch explanation as truth, but there was something about him that made me feel normal. For once, this was someone who made me forget everything—immortality, the clock, the killer. Things were easy when I was around him. So when, after escorting me back toward my room, he asked if I'd like to take a walk with him, I said yes.

“Let me just change for supper before we go,” I said, running ahead of him in the hallway. I knew the countess would want me dressed and prompt, since tonight we were to dine together in her rooms.

I threw open my door and ran in.

“Helen!”

“Yes, my lady?” Helen ran in, red in the face. I felt bad for giving her such a fright, but I knew I had to hurry since Richard was outside waiting.

“I need a dress for supper.”

I struggled to throw off the dress I was currently wearing. Helen just stood there, appalled.

“Quick. Quick!”

That sent Helen scampering about the room, throwing open chests and digging through skirts. I nodded at everything she showed me. Raising my arms, I tried to help her strap me into various pieces of clothing borrowed from the countess. When Helen was done, I looked, surprisingly, maybe even more pristine than usual—certainly not like someone who had spent the last few minutes running around the room like a headless chicken.

“Tell the countess that I'll be back in time for supper!”

I patted down a loose strand of my hair and shooed Helen out the door. I was about to follow when Henley's voice stopped me.

God, Rebecca, sometimes you drive me insane!

“Sometimes? Don't you mean all the time?”

Henley ignored me.
You have a murderer after you, and here you are going to lunches and dinners and having polite conversation with people. You don't even know who this Richard is anyway.

On some level I knew Henley was right, but in that moment, I couldn't admit it. I hated to think of Richard like that. He couldn't possibly be in league with the killer.

“Are you jealous?” I said instead. When there was no answer, I smirked. “You have no reason to be jealous. Richard's just . . . Richard. And Henley, you might not understand this, but
this
is my way of dealing with the fact that someone wants me dead. For one thing, I need to remind myself that not everyone is like that, that I'm still alive.”

It's as if you have no sense of urgency whatsoever.

“And for another, if you have a killer after you, changing your behavior isn't going to help. But keeping things apparently normal will. Being around other people is good, because it's highly unlikely that whoever it is will try to murder me in a room full of people.”

Are you even trying to get back home?

I refrained from correcting Henley and telling him that as an immortal I had no home.

“Have some patience,” I told him. “If I learned anything while in your time period, stealing back Miss Hatfield's painting,
it was to remain undercover and wait for the right moment.”

I knew that as an immortal, there was a limit to that waiting. Time was slipping away from me.

Miss Hatfield didn't tell me much about what would happen if I were to be stuck in a time period for too long, until the uneasy feeling in my stomach grew beyond only being uncomfortable. All she had said was that it would consume me, drive me mad, and I would be nothing else but a vessel for that insanity.

“I need to learn to do things my way, and blending in is how I do it. Miss Hatfield's gone, and I'm all I have. Don't you think it's high time I start being a little more independent?”

You also have me.

I looked down, as if to avoid his eyes.

You know I'll always worry about you,
Henley said.
That came with the territory of falling in love with you.

I couldn't help but smile. “Oh, woe is you,” I said, finally eliciting a chuckle from Henley.

If this is woe, and misery is this sweet, I'm sure hell would be a very happy place indeed.

I shook my head at him, knowing he could see it, and opened the door. Sure enough, Richard was leaning against the wall.

“I've never known a woman to get dressed so quickly.”

I shrugged.

“I've also never known a woman to talk that much with her maid.” Richard smirked, and a sheepish laugh escaped my lips. I briefly wondered if Richard had overheard me speaking with Henley, but if he had, he didn't mention it. “Oh, look! You're not even denying it. You
are
a different kind of woman.”

Richard didn't know how different I was.

“So where to?” I said, changing the subject.

“I don't really know.”

“What do you mean? Weren't you the one who asked me to accompany you on a walk?”

“I didn't think you'd accept,” Richard said. “It's not every day a lady allows me to walk with her unchaperoned.”

“So you ask women every day?” I teased. “And here I thought I was special.”

I knew walking with a man unchaperoned was frowned upon, and probably something the countess wouldn't approve of, but I had figured that she didn't have to know. If we didn't go anywhere too public, word wouldn't reach her.

Richard looked at me intently, making me feel hot all of a sudden. “You know exactly what I think of you.”

Suddenly, things had gone beyond teasing. I thought of Henley watching this scene, and I grew increasingly uncomfortable. It was all we could do to walk in silence together.

“The gardens are my favorite place,” Richard said. “At night they're even more beautiful.”

“Isn't it dark, though?” I asked.

“Well, that's the point, don't you see?”

“Things are prettier in the dark?”

“There's no need to see the flowers. They detract from the beauty of the stars,” he said.

“Now you sound like a tired poet. All fluff and no meaning.”

“So is that how you see me?” he joked. “Besides, the dark is a nice retreat from the false people at court. They're always putting on one act or another. Everyone.”

I couldn't have guessed that that was how he felt about the people at court. “But you look so at ease.”

“I'm simply putting on an act myself.”

We made a turn that led us toward the back of the gardens, where tall hedges arched over us.

“I didn't know there was a maze here,” I said.

“There's a lot you don't know about court,” Richard said, but he took my hand and led me into the maze without me asking.

“I'm beginning to see that. Court seems to be its own world.”

“It has its own rules and ways of living. I'm sure it's different from the Grand Duchy of Lithuania.”

I smiled.

“What's that mysterious smile for?” Richard asked, but he was wearing a similar grin on his face.

“I never told you I was from Lithuania.”

He faltered. “News travels fast. That's another rule of court.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“My lady, you've caught me. Maybe I have asked a little bit about you. It's not like Lady Sutton needs any prompting.”

I was satisfied with his answer. “No, I like that you're curious about me. It puts us on even ground.”

“So it's safe to say that you've asked about me?”

I shrugged as I tore my hand away from his to walk farther into the maze. “I like to do my research on who I spend time with.” There was a short silence, and I looked back at Richard as he rounded a corner. “What?”

“Nothing. Just that you seem to be planning to spend time
with me.”

“And do you have a problem with that?” I planted my hands on my hips and tried to look stern.

“No, oh no! I find you refreshing.”

I looked at him, skeptical.

“It's true. I swear I wouldn't say it otherwise.”

“You wouldn't say it otherwise, but you're probably saying that to all the women at court.” I meant to say that in a lighter way, but Richard let it sink in.

He bit his lip, and I couldn't look away. “How do I make you see yourself—”

“By holding up a mirror?”

“You know what I mean.
Really
see yourself. See yourself the way I see you. You're not just a pretty face or a beguiling woman. There's something in you that I've never seen before, and it has an effect on me.” He coughed. “If all the people here—the women and men—were stars, you'd be the sun. With you here, I can't even see anyone else. And yet you're unapproachable. The same quality that makes you otherworldly makes you distant, alone. You can't be caught and made of this world. Sometimes I think you're fundamentally made of other stuff.”

“Other stuff like what?”

“I don't know . . . sunlight.”

The smile on my face had thinned during Richard's analysis of me. It had never occurred to me that he had been watching me—and further, trying to understand me—as I had been watching him. He understood a part of me that was impossibly hard to explain to anyone else. He understood that I was alone.

My pace quickened and I walked farther in front of Richard.
When I turned each corner in the maze, I would feel momentarily isolated on an island of my own. Feeling isolated had its own pain, but it seemed manageable compared to facing my insurmountable problems.

“I bet people don't try anymore.” I didn't have to turn to know that Richard had caught up and was right behind me again. “They don't try to reach you when they realize that you're distant and no longer in the same place as everyone else.”

I turned to face him, and I willed my lower lip to be still. “I like to be alone. I chose it.”

“You don't have to tell me everything. I'm not asking for reasons,” Richard said. “I just want you to know that I see through all this. You're not as isolated as you think.”

But there were so many things he didn't know. Sure, Richard didn't seem like the rest of the people at court. He certainly didn't sound like them, but it was wrong to think that he was anything more. Richard
was
them. He was precisely like everyone else. Clueless. Oblivious. And rightfully so.

My life . . . or existence—whatever this was—didn't concern him. As he had said, I existed in a completely different place. Unmoved and untouched by the likes of him. Richard couldn't change anything. No one could. I should know better. Immortality and my life were a destiny I could not escape or unwrite.

“I need to go,” I whispered.

I was about to use the excuse that the countess expected me for supper, which was true, but I didn't need it.

“You
should
go,” he said. He turned away from me, and started walking in the opposite direction. He soon rounded a corner, and left me alone between the hedges, leaving me lost again.

FIFTEEN

“
I'M PLEASED YOU'RE
getting along with people here at court.” The countess took a long sip of wine, as if waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I am. I'm very fortunate that you and Lord Empson have introduced me to so many people.”

Though the food hadn't arrived yet, the table already felt too small.

“Not just so
many
people. So many
powerful
people,” the countess corrected me. “Lord Empson”—she swallowed—“is at least making an effort on your behalf.”

“I guess my father did something right,” I tried to joke, but the countess looked as if she would have none of it.

“Lord Empson sees you as useful. Imagine if your future marriage was tied to someone he had introduced you to at court. He would be very pleased indeed.”

The food came and, luckily, I didn't have to reply right away.

I picked up something that looked like a puff pastry. “Was that how it was for you? Getting married, I mean?”

“It was the late Lord Empson who arranged my marriage, but generally speaking, yes.”

“And it was a good marriage?”

“Depends on what you mean by a
good marriage
.”

I wasn't expecting the countess to say something like that, especially given the previous way she had talked about her husband.

“But you loved him.”

“Yes, I did.” The countess picked up her wine goblet but, upon thinking, she put it down again. “But love is not all. It doesn't feed or clothe you. Love is just that—one word in an entire world of sentences.

“I used to think that love was different. It couldn't be like any other emotion. But I soon found out that it was. It's not enough to sustain anyone.”

The countess said all this in such a matter-of-fact way that I couldn't find it in myself to argue with her. Maybe she was right. Maybe love wasn't the end of all things and the reason for everything.

“You see, my dear Eleanor, having a wonderful dreamlike ending is meaningless, because it doesn't do anything. You still need to take care of what happens when you wake up from your dream . . . and that's something love doesn't account for.”

“What happens afterward?”

“All of this.” She threw up her arms. “When my husband died, I was nothing. Lord Empson couldn't use me anymore, I didn't have anything to my name, and I was left alone. All I have
is a title. It's not completely meaningless, but that's it.”

The countess closed her eyes and took a slow breath. “I don't know why I'm telling you this.”

“I asked,” I said.

“I just—want you to be careful.”

Her wording struck me. I knew the countess wanted me—or rather, Lady Eleanor Shelton—to avoid being viewed as useless and unwanted like she was. But she was smart enough to know that such an ending was almost unavoidable for a person like her or Lady Eleanor. Being careful was all you could do.

“And what of Phillip?” I asked. It seemed to me the countess didn't have to be alone.

“Lord Dormer.” She corrected me with a steely gaze. “I don't know what you're speaking of.”

I lowered my head. I saw my mistake in sounding too familiar, but I was confused. The countess would pull me into her confidence, only to push me away the next second. I didn't know what to make of it.

Supper finished in silence. It was a much simpler affair than the full-court feasts in the great hall, and subsequently ended much more quickly.

I abruptly stood up to leave, forgetting to excuse myself first. The countess looked at me coolly and stood up.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

I took a step back and my hip hit the low table behind me, which I had not noticed earlier.

“Ouch.” I bit my lip, hearing the sound of metal hitting the floor. “I'm so sorry.”

I looked down to see that a small clock, not much bigger
than a pocket watch, had fallen to the floor. The finely engraved metal cover had been scratched and dented, and part of the hinge looked bent. I bent down to pick it up, but the countess stopped me.

I realized too late. “It was his, wasn't it? Your late husband's?”

The countess took her time answering. She bent down and scooped the small clock into her cupped hands. The hinge seemed to dig into her palm, but she didn't seem to notice.

“I can get it fixed,” I offered. If there were dressmakers and jewelers, there had to be clockmakers at court.

The countess did not seem to hear me. She turned the small clock from one hand to the other, not caring if the broken pieces scraped her skin.

“I'll have Joan dispose of it later,” she murmured, placing the broken clock back on the table, and left the room.

I couldn't bear to see her like this, and without thinking I scooped the clock up.

What do you think you're doing?

“I'm going to get it fixed. And someone who fixes clocks probably makes clocks. I could ask him about the clock I was after.” I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it earlier.

And what makes you think you know where the court clockmaker is? I can see everything in this court, and even then I can't understand it all to figure out where the clock or this clockmaker is. It's like looking for one grain of sand. This place is bigger than you know.

I shrugged. “I'll just ask Richard.”

I could tell Henley didn't like the idea just from his pause before he answered.

So it's “Richard” now?

“I refuse to call someone Lord Holdings when they're my own age and a pain in the butt.”

And yet you're asking this pain in the butt for help . . .

“Who else am I supposed to ask? I don't know which of you is more of a pain sometimes.”

Henley didn't respond and I walked out the door.

I was careful to leave the countess's chambers without running into her. I wanted the repaired clock to be a surprise. It was the least I could do. For the same reason, I didn't want to run into Joan or Helen. Helen I was more sure of, but I didn't know if they would feel obligated to tell the countess the truth if she asked where the clock was.

I went down a few corridors that looked familiar, but I wasn't confident. Truthfully, they all looked the same. Old stone or wood panels with the occasional tapestry brightening the hallway. I had come to regard the tapestries dotting the halls almost like windows. The colorful scenes of princesses holding roses and saints with their heads bowed in prayer were a welcome relief from the gloom of this place.

I took another right and prayed I was going the correct way. By this hour, it was dark, and everything looked different in the evening than it did in daylight. I hoped that each turn I took would lead me into the gardens in which I had met Lady Sutton and run into Richard. I remembered that Richard had said that the gardens were his favorite place, especially at night. I just hoped he was there
this
night.

Thankfully the tapestry-lined corridor did end up giving way to the greenery of the garden. I must have approached from
a different entrance before, as I didn't remember the fountain in front of me.

“Richard?” I risked calling out. I figured no one else would be in the gardens this late at night.

Hearing no reply, I began to doubt he was here. I took a seat at the marble edge of the fountain, staring into the night, watching the marble boy pour water from his basket.

“Enjoying the half-naked boy?”

I rolled my eyes but was glad to see him.

“Or is it the terribly low water pressure that you're enjoying?”

“I've been looking for you.”

“Why, you sound so disappointed when you say that.”

I laughed. “Well, I am! I never thought I'd say those words.”

All signs of a smile disappeared from Richard's face. He stared at me so intensely that his honey eyes looked searing and molten. “I never thought you'd say those words either.”

“I-I came here to ask you about this clock.” I opened my hand to show him the dented cover and broken hinge. “Do you know where I could get it fixed?”

“The court has a clockmaker right in the village,” Richard said. “He should be able to fix that in no time.”

“Do you think we could go now? Even though it's nighttime?” I looked down at the broken clock in my hand anxiously.

“We?”
Richard's old grin was back. “You'd better be careful. I could get used to this ‘we.'”

He took my arm.

“Wouldn't want that, would we?”

I couldn't believe Richard had me on a horse. Scratch that, I couldn't believe I was seated behind Richard riding the same horse. I knew this was far from seemly behavior and that the countess would have a fit—no, faint on the spot—if she had seen me so close with a man.

I had refused to sit up front with Richard's arms around me to hold the reins, so here I was behind him, practically hugging him to stay on the horse. I didn't know if this was any more respectable—or why I even cared—but it was too late to turn back now.

With one hand, I carefully pulled up the hood of the cloak Richard had had the foresight to make me wear. It was fine for Richard to be seen riding with a woman, but people shouldn't know it was me.

As we rode up to the gates, I held my breath. What would the guards think of us creeping out at night?

Richard saluted the lone guard. At least I think there was only one. I was mostly looking at the ground in front of us, trying not to make eye contact with the guard.

Luckily, the horse never stopped. No one ever yelled out at us. Richard never left me.

“Do you make a point of going out on late-night rides with strange women?” I asked once we were out of earshot. “The guard didn't even stop to question us.”

I felt Richard chuckle under my arms. “I'm off most nights collecting something or other for the alchemy lab.”

“Things like?”

“Anything the master—Sir del Angelo—asks me to pick up from the village,” Richard said. Since he left it at that, I didn't
try to probe further.

“Still doesn't answer why the guard was used to you whisking off random women at night . . .”

“Is that grumbling I hear?” Though Richard was turned away from me, I could hear the smile in his voice. “Jealous?”

“I'm not going to dignify that with an answer.”

“Luckily, you don't have to, since we're here. This should be it, between the blacksmith's and the cobbler's,” Richard said as he dismounted. He gave me an arm and held my waist as I slid down the length of the horse.

His hand didn't leave my waist until we were at the door of the small lean-to shack.

“Excuse me,” he called in.

The door was open.

The clockmaker's shop was really more like a den. The room was dimly lit. The shop had a ceiling that sloped down so far that Richard had to stoop to enter. There were wooden shelves that went lengthwise along the room, but almost all of them were empty. The ones that had items on them had only a few boxes—some wooden, some metal. The entire room had a thin layer of dust, making everything look pale in the scant light. I wouldn't have been surprised if there had been cobwebs in the corners as well, but there wasn't enough light to see that far.

Richard coughed. “Is anyone in here?” he called. I felt the dust in the air we breathed.

We waited for a response. Shrugging, Richard turned to me. But just as he opened his mouth, we heard something.

“Yes?”

An old man hobbled out of the back, bringing a candle with
him. Most of his weight rested on the walking stick he carried. When he finally stood in front of us, he raised his candle and gazed at us with lost eyes. A milky film ran over both pupils, and I could barely see the original gray color of his eyes as he tried to focus on us.

“Are you the clockmaker?” Richard asked.

“The king's very own. Now, how may I be of service to you both?”

“We're not sure if you could—”

I cut Richard off. “I damaged an old clock and hoped you might be able to fix it.” I raised the clock to eye level so the old man could see, but he hardly glanced at it, so I decided to describe it. “It seems to be made of gold and have a mother-of-pearl face. I don't know exactly how old it is, since it isn't mine, but I brought it in because I hoped you could fix the dented case and the broken hinge.”

“I see,” the clockmaker said, but he didn't look at the clock.

“Would you like to see it closer?” I stretched out my hand. “So you could examine it?”

“No,” he said. “I remember it.”

The clockmaker ever so slowly turned around and started toward the back of the room. I looked to Richard, but his eyes were trained on the clockmaker. I guessed he wanted us to follow him.

Richard and I trailed slowly after him, so as not to rush him.