The Time of the Clockmaker (17 page)

“You're looking a little flushed, my lady. Are you sure you don't want me to call the physician? He's supposed to be very good.”

I assured her that that wouldn't be necessary, and all I needed was some fresh air and maybe even dancing.

“Only if you don't overexert yourself.” Joan laughed. “Those flowers really did put you in good cheer.”

My lips grew taut. “I'm sure it was lying down that made me feel better.”

“Whatever the case, I'm glad you're feeling better and are in better spirits, my lady,” Joan said. “I'll send Helen in to help dress you for supper.” She dipped into a final curtsey before leaving me.

I was beginning to see the upside of almost never being left alone—I didn't have to confront Henley.

Just as I pulled myself out of bed, a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.”

“I'm sorry to hear you weren't feeling well, my lady,” Helen said. Of course news traveled fast within the countess's quarters, especially since she didn't have as many servants as someone like Lady Sutton.

“No matter. I'm feeling better now,” I assured her. “Now, what should I wear to supper this evening? Any suggestions?”

Helen dressed me in a deep crimson gown. It was the color of blood and life. When I stood in front of the mirror, I almost
didn't recognize myself.

“The dress looks beautiful, Helen. Thank you.”

Helen had a sweet smile upon her face. “You do look beautiful, my lady. But I think you're thanking the wrong person.”

I fingered the surface of the mirror that held my face.

“Are you reminded of someone?” Helen asked. “Of course, I don't mean to pry, my lady. It's just—”

“No, it's not prying,” I said. “You're right. I am reminded of someone I used to be close to . . . well, as close as anyone was. She was a private person.”

“I understand. And now, when you look into the mirror, you see her?” Helen raised a necklace to my throat, clasping it behind me.

“Yes. I see her face instead of mine.”

“That's a good thing then, my lady.”

“Is it really?” I asked. “I feel like I can't shake her, wherever I go. It makes me feel as though I'm perpetually in her shadow.”

I watched Helen's face reflected in the mirror as she responded. “A part of her will always exist in you. You will never be able to shake her, because she is you. That's what happens when we touch other people's lives.”

I nodded. I suppose that was what happened. Lives didn't exist on their own in a vacuum. They coexist and overlap, so there is no gray space between them. And every touch, every graze, shapes both lives, so even when they move forward, they will never be the same.

I thanked Helen one final time, and waited for the countess in the sitting room.

When she appeared, she was dressed all in black as usual.
“Ready to go? I see Helen outfitted you with one of my favorite jewels.”

My hands rushed to my neck.

“It's all right,” she said. “Who do you think instructed her to give you it? The diamond and garnet look good with that dress.” She stepped closer to me on her way to the door. “You don't look too ill. Good.” She pinched my cheeks hard.

“Ouch.” My hands flew to my face.

“That's just for a little more color.” The countess smiled.

I was beginning to learn my way to the great hall. It was simple; all you had to do was follow the throng of people dripping with jewels. To anyone else, I knew I would look like one of them, but I wondered if any of the other people at court felt as lost as I did.

Since this was my second lavish full-court feast, I felt less preoccupied with the little things, with all of the social rituals around me.

I knew the drill now, and because I knew what my role was in all this, I had time to take in the intricacies of court dining that I had missed before. Since the food had yet to be served, I looked around.

I noticed little things, like how pairs of men and women milled about the room, leaning in to greet each other and be heard over the music and voices. How the younger ladies of the court tried to catch the eyes of the king and his men who sat up front. How the men started to dance more as their glasses emptied.

“Riveting, isn't it?”

I had heard that voice enough times to know who it was
without turning my head.

“Court is truly another world.”

I wondered if Richard would go away if I didn't acknowledge him. Henley's words were still fresh in my mind.

“My lady, you blow hot then cold. I don't know what to do with you,” he said.

“What about nothing?”

He coughed as if he had gotten something caught in his throat, but I figured it was another ploy to get me to look his way. Pretending I was busy, I looked up at the second floor balcony that wrapped around the great hall. Tall candelabras the size of two men lit up the balcony so that it was aglow. In that lighting, I saw the musicians were perched on one side, while the other side was milling with more servers and people socializing. I thought I saw Lord Empson with his wife there, but I wasn't sure.

“Ignoring me now?” Richard feigned hurt. “Cold. Very cold. Especially after I sent you flowers. . . . You tell me, aren't women supposed to like that sort of thing?”

I turned to finally face him, but luckily I didn't have to reply.

“There you are!” I had never been more thankful to have the countess swoop in. “We need to get you introduced to more . . .” She glanced at Richard. “To more
useful
people.”

Taking me by the arm, the countess led me around the perimeter of the room. It was so large and so full of people that one circle must have taken at least twenty minutes. During the whole time the countess didn't even look at me, for she was too busy scoping the room as one would search for vermin.

“Be patient, Eleanor,” she said. “I can feel your angst from
here.”

I wasn't sure if what she was feeling was my angst or hunger, but whichever it was, I knew she didn't want or care to know.

I heard the countess sigh next to me. “Oh, look who's making her way toward us now . . .”

I looked up and, sure enough, Lady Sutton was headed our way, or rather, headed toward me. In a canary-yellow dress, she was unmissable, shoving people this way and that instead of moving herself around the crowds.

“Oh, Lady Eleanor! Lady Eleanor!” she called above the music and voices.

Random people looked over to see who she was calling, and I could feel my face turn pink.

“Good to see you here at supper!” Lady Sutton eyed me over. “I do wish you'd take to wearing brighter colors. Thankfully this crimson is a step up from the black you wore the other day. Not that black doesn't suit you, but it makes it look like you've been spending too much time in
certain
people's company.”

Lady Sutton smiled at the countess as if she had only just noticed that she was at my side.

“Anyway, I must go and say hello to the French ambassador. I'm told he's brought lots of stories from the French court.” She gave me a nod good-bye, utterly ignoring the countess yet again. “Let's have dinner again some other time!”

“That woman . . . That's certainly some company you're keeping.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the countess cut me off.

“It's good, surprisingly. Lady Sutton is a pain, but she's a
pain with good connections. She's ruined people with her gossip, so it's better to keep her close.”

That old saying ran through my head:
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

“She's oddly refreshing,” the countess said. “Of course, that doesn't mean that I enjoy her company.”

“And why do you find her refreshing?”

“Court is a place where you can't trust everybody. There are cloaked snakes. Lady Sutton, on the other hand . . . there's nothing cloaked about her.” She smirked. “But remember, even the Devil was an angel once.”

The last thing she said struck me oddly. Sure, people do hide who they are, but sometimes people really do just change. I suppose that was scarier in a way. Pretty soon, you look back and no one knows who you've become. You don't even know yourself.

When we sat down to eat, I was pleased to see that Richard was, for once, nowhere near me. The countess sat across from me, while Lord Dormer and Sir Petley, who I had just been introduced to, sat on either side of me. Lord Empson passed the table but seemed to have thought better of sitting near the countess so soon after last night.

“Sir Gordon can't stop talking about his latest conquest. That was all he would talk about when we played tennis today,” Sir Petley said, at which the table roared.

“I'm surprised he has conquests period, much less a
latest
conquest. I heard he has some sort of large festering wound somewhere on his body from battle.”

“How disgusting!”

“The part
I
can't believe is that he plays tennis! Can that man even move?”

The table got louder as more wine was poured.

Seeing this sort of gossip as unseemly, the countess mainly kept to herself when others were making comments about the people at court. The exception to her silences was when Lord Dormer would make a comment. Then she was as giddy as the rest of them.

“Oh, Phillip,” she would say, before correcting herself immediately. “Lord Dormer.”

I saw that even a put-together woman like the countess got flushed at times.

“Lady Eleanor.”

I turned toward Lord Dormer, who was now pointing at a plate of meat decorated with cherries.

“Have some of the quail. It's supposed to be one of the king's favorites, and no visit to court is complete without it.”

I thanked him before he took my plate and began loading it.

“What about more venison?”

“Thank you, Lord Dormer, but I'm afraid I had a large dinner.”

“No matter. We need to make sure you have at least a taste,” he said. “More wine for the lady!”

I looked down at my goblet, expecting it to still be full. I could have sworn I hadn't drunk that much.

“No need to be shy, my lady. Everyone loves the wine at court. Only the best for the king and his people.”

Another server filled up our glasses.

“To the fine wine and company!” Lord Dormer raised his
glass, nodding to the countess. “Whoever said the French do it best has yet to see us!”

“Hear, hear.”

Sipping from my cup, I felt warm down to my neck. I closed my eyes. The music played on, swelling around us. People's voices rose and slipped under one another's, following the cadence of the violins. I tilted my head up to better hear them, and they swelled further.

Then there was a scream. It pierced through the music of the room. My eyes flashed open. They were met by the color of dark wood and bright candlelight.

It was one of the huge candelabras from the second floor. The whole thing was falling toward me. I couldn't move. I didn't have time. I clenched, squeezing my eyes shut. Every muscle in my body contracted, waiting for the moment of impact.

And waiting.

And waiting.

There was silence around me. The musicians had stopped. The voices had stopped. Hearing this, I opened my eyes. Slowly. One eye, then the other. Where was the impact? The candelabra was more than twice my size. With it falling toward my head—from the second floor no less—there was no way I could have survived it.

So was that it? Was this what death felt like? Painless and silent?

With my eyes fully open, I looked around. I was still in the great hall. The food was still on the table. The musicians still held their instruments. But no one played or talked. Everyone was looking toward me. Not
at
me. But above me.

My body was trembling so hard, I could barely lift my head.

“Jesus Christ,” someone said. It was a whisper, but in the silent hall, it echoed as if everyone had said it together.

Jesus Christ indeed. The wooden head of the candelabra, still mostly alight with flames, was less than two inches away from my head. It was frozen in place above me, as if the whole room had been frozen in time.

No person could have caught the candelabra. No human could have stopped it.

“Henley.”

With a groan, the heavy candelabra tipped impossibly back and away from me. It fell to the floor away from people, where some ushers immediately doused the flames.

No one else moved, and for a lasting minute, not one person dared utter a word.

“My Lord.”

I watched as one by one the ladies and gentlemen of the court made the sign of the cross on themselves. Murmurs grew as people began to say a few words of prayer.

I looked at the face of the countess across from me. Her eyes were brimming with tears. Her lips moved, but wordlessly.

“Miracle,” someone breathed. And I suppose it was. Just not the sort of miracle that the people in the great hall thought they had witnessed that day.

“What in God's name were you thinking?” I blurted out as soon as Henley and I were alone again in my room.

Funny you should use those words. God was probably on everyone's mind today.

“This isn't funny, Henley. Y-you crossed the line tonight.” I was conscious that I was erratically pacing the floor of the room, but I felt I would break apart if I stopped. “Do you know what could have happened in there? Do you know what you could have caused?”

I know exactly what happened in there.
Henley's voice was as smooth and unperturbed as I was distraught, and it made me pace even faster.
I saved you. For God's sake, without me stopping the candelabra, we wouldn't even be having this conversation! You'd be dead!

“I know, but—”

No you don't, Rebecca. Do you really think I can just stand there and watch you be killed?