The Time of the Clockmaker (20 page)

I couldn't respond.

“On the bright side, it often works out for the better when people take his suggestions.”

I wanted to reply that this wasn't a suggestion. He had given me a clock I hadn't ordered. This was a far more important matter than someone at court ordering a clock to please their sweetheart. However, she smiled sweetly and shut the door, and I had no choice but to take the pocket watch and put it into the small velvet pouch that hung from a belt-like fixture on my dress. I couldn't leave it around for Joan or Helen to find. With its minute and second hands, it barely looked like something from this time. I couldn't have them—least of all the countess—starting to ask questions. No, it was safer to simply keep the watch with me.

My nails dug into my palms. This couldn't be happening. Henley's words came back to me:
Well, it is what it is.

I wanted to scream.

I spent the next hours staring at the wall, waiting for it to be evening. The weight of the pocket watch in the pouch against my side was unfamiliar and caught me off guard whenever I so much as moved to close a door.

After another night of supper with the countess, I pretended to excuse myself to my room.

“I'm just feeling a bit tired today,” I said.

“My, my” was all the countess said, but she didn't move to stop me.

I slipped into my room, quickly pulling on a cloak I had set aside. I tiptoed right out once I made sure that Helen and Joan were busy and nowhere to be seen.

The cloak was one of the things the dressmaker had made for me. The countess had told me it was in fashion, and that the deep blue color would show my station, but it had never come in handy until now.

I felt like a teenager in one of those old movies, sneaking out to see her boyfriend. I remembered seeing a few of those movies with my mother, or rather, Cynthia's mother, before Miss Hatfield turned me immortal and I had to leave that life. After that, Miss Hatfield had taken the place of my mother, and she became the person who sat next to me on the bench when we watched movies in the twenty-first century.

I felt exactly like one of those, only I was dealing with a matter greater than life or death. Anyway, it was all the same, since the countess wouldn't approve no matter my reason for leaving.

I snuck out of her chambers and made sure I crept quietly, keeping close to the tapestries that covered the walls, even in the corridors. It was dark out, and the countess would have had a fit if she knew I was going out at night alone. I had to speak with the clockmaker. Changing his mind was the only chance I had for getting out of here, not to mention staying alive and sane.

Just as I found the clockmaker's door in the dark, I heard something.

I pulled up the hood of the cloak, so as to hide my face, and
flattened myself against the wall. I held my breath. The dark blue melded with the shadows, and I hoped that was enough to keep me concealed.

Someone was rummaging near the clockmaker's door. There were a few torches set far apart in the corridor, but the closest one was too far, and I couldn't see who it was.

The rummaging sound stopped.

“Show yourself.”

I froze.

“Lady Eleanor, I know it's you,” the figure said.

My heart hammered, but I stepped forward into the light of the nearest torch.

Upon stepping closer, I found out who the figure was. It was the clockmaker.

“Now, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“Looking for you, actually.”

I waited for him to unlock the door and let me in, but he made no move to do so.

“There's no need to thank me for your gift,” he said. “I do that often for clients I take a special interest in.”

“I did come to talk to you about your gift.” I hadn't been intending to call it a gift, but I wanted to stay on his good side. “I love it,” I began. “I think it's very beautiful. But it's not what I asked for. And you see, I really had my heart set on the gold clock exactly as I drew it.”

“I know you did, my dear. But this one better suits you and your needs.”

He was being stubborn, but I had expected that. I just had to be more forceful. “I know you believe that. But as the patron,
I'd like what I ordered. It's something I need.”

He didn't say anything.

“I'll pay more money.”

He studied my face. “You insult me, my lady.” He unlocked and opened the door. “Good night.”

The clockmaker shut the door behind him, and I could feel my hopes crashing to the floor.

I took the pocket watch out of the pouch at my side and again ran my fingers over the engraved cover. Glinting in the dark, it almost looked like it was ridiculing me. This stupid, damned watch.

He had to be the clock's creator. Hadn't the girl said that the golden clock looked like one of his designs? And yet, the clockmaker wouldn't make it for me. It had seemed I was so close to getting out of here and returning to whatever “normal” was for me, but in reality, I was no closer to getting back than the day I arrived here.

I pocketed the watch again and crept back to my room, knowing there was nothing I could do tonight except sleep. I resolved to go back again the next morning. The clockmaker would soon see I was just as stubborn as he was. This wasn't something I could give up on.

NINETEEN

THE NEXT MORNING
, I marched straight to the clockmaker's after Helen dressed me. I must have looked such a sight that neither Helen nor Joan said a word. They looked scared.

I rapped at the door and thought I heard voices on the other side.

“Lady Shelton, I won't be changing my mind.” I heard the clockmaker's voice from inside.

I rapped again. This time even more insistently.

“I just want to talk to you. This is very important to me,” I said.

“I'm sorry, my lady. But I don't want to talk.”

The door didn't open, and I stood there dumbfounded. I didn't know why he was doing this to me.

I stood with my back supported by the opposite wall of the alleyway, before I sank down to my knees. There went what I thought was my last and only chance. I was sure that the
clockmaker was the creator of Miss Hatfield's clock, and without it I wouldn't be able to leave this time. I was never going to get back.

“You look angry.”

I looked up to see Richard standing in front of me. “Not now, Richard.”

“No ‘Hello, Richard! Why, isn't the weather marvelous today'?”

“No,” I said.

“Well, I was about to say that you look beautiful, but in truth you look more angry than beautiful. Furious, even.” Richard took my hand and stood me up. “Now, if you don't have anywhere to be, come take a walk with me and tell me what's wrong. Fresh air will do you and your anger some good.”

He was right, and I didn't have any place to be. I took his arm as usual, and walked beside him.

I told him about the clock.

“Ah, yes, well, the clockmaker is famous for doing that for a few of his patrons,” Richard said, after listening. “I think that was the reason the king brought him to his court in the first place. You know the king . . . he likes to amuse himself with things like that.”

“Well, it's certainly not amusing for me.”

Richard smirked, but agreed with me.

“I was so specific with what I needed done! And he refuses to do it!”

“Eleanor . . .”

Richard startled me.

“. . . if I may call you by your first name,” Richard quickly
said, seeing the look that must have been on my face.

“Of course,” I muttered. “I told you that you could.”

“I feel we know each other well enough.” He smiled.

“Certainly.”

“Now, Eleanor, as I was about to say before I digressed, could you loosen your grip on my arm?”

I looked down to see that my knuckles were turning white where I was holding on to Richard. Embarrassed, I dropped my hand.

“You know you don't have to take away your hand completely,” Richard said. “In fact, I much prefer having your hand there.”

My cheeks must have flushed a deeper shade, as he brought my hand back up to his arm.

I tried to act as if I hadn't noticed. “What were you going to say? You just interrupted yourself.”

“No, that was it. I just wanted to still have a functioning arm after my stroll with you.”

I didn't think it was possible, but my cheeks went redder.

“You're even more beautiful when you're embarrassed.”

He didn't know that part of the reason my cheeks burned was because I knew that Henley could be watching all of this. Richard's words, my reactions—everything. It would be just like him to focus in on this moment and watch.

“Tell you what,” Richard said. “If this means so much to you, let me try talking to the clockmaker myself.”

“Be my guest,” I said. “But I'm warning you, he can be very stubborn.”

“I've been told I can be very persuasive.”

“By who?”

He looked away. “Lady Sutton.”

We erupted in giggles, and Henley flew out of my mind. He wasn't here—not really here in person, at least. Even if he was watching, he couldn't stop me from enjoying myself.

Things were so natural between Richard and me that it just felt right, regardless of whether we were talking, or walking in silence. It was all intuitive, with no hard explanations involved. I couldn't help thinking that this was what all human relationships were meant to be. And Henley . . . I wished my relationship with Henley were like this. I knew even forming that thought in my mind was betrayal, but I couldn't help it. Our relationship used to be like this—Henley always joking around, and me laughing with him. I missed that. And realizing that, I tucked that thought into the back of my mind, hoping it wouldn't spring up again.

“Tell me something I don't know,” I said suddenly.

“Like what I had for breakfast?”

“Anything you think I need to know.”

He thought for a bit before responding. “I believe in people.”

I smiled to myself. No one else would think to say that.

“I believe in their abilities. And that something pure exists somewhere in this world, whether it be religion or something else,” he said. “Is that good enough for you?”

“Yes.”

I saw him furrow his brow.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It's just that no one's ever asked me something like that before. I've always had to do the asking for myself, and even
then, I've never had to articulate what I believe in.”

Richard was someone from a different time than my own, with a background and experiences much different from mine, and yet I knew exactly what he meant.

No one asked me these questions either—at least not since I had left Henley's time. I was alone with my thoughts, and that became tiring after a while.

We all need someone. That is how we are built. We spend our entire lives trying to find someone we can connect with—who will ask us those questions—and fearing our loneliness if we don't find that one person. That's all anyone ever wants. That's all I ever wanted.

When Richard walked me to the door of the countess's chambers, he gave my hand a squeeze.

“I wish that walk was longer. Oh, why do you have to live so close?”

I chuckled and wished him a pleasant rest of the day.

“Pleasant? I think it'll be anything but pleasant without your company,” he said, and I walked into the sitting room.

“I don't know if I like that boy.” The countess was sitting by the window.

“R—Lord Holdings?”

“He is from an old family, I'll give you that. And they are wealthy. But not incredibly so. And he's not the oldest son either. He's a very nice boy, or so they say. But I think you could do better,” the countess said. “I'm sure your father would also want you to do better.”

“Lord Holdings is just a friend.”

“A lady does not have friends like that. And friends don't
walk unchaperoned.”

“I was asking him for a favor,” I said.

To my surprise, the countess did not scold me. “Do be careful” was all she said, disapprovingly, before waving me off.

After that strange conversation with the countess, I no longer told her when I was out with Richard. The fact that she hadn't criticized me affected me more than if she had. In fact, I almost wished she had scolded me! Anything would have been better than the cold disapproval in her tone.

I knew it was juvenile, but I couldn't help wanting to please everyone at once. In wanting to please the countess, it was easier to not tell her I was seeing Richard as much. I didn't outright lie to her. I just didn't tell her where I was going. Occasionally, when she asked, I told her I was wandering, which was true in some sense.

On one of our meandering adventures, we walked arm in arm through some of the more deserted halls of court. Richard seemed to know all the ins and outs of the palace.

“You seem to be fingering that pouch at your side quite often,” Richard said.

“I hadn't even realized it.” It was the truth. I had gotten so used to the weight of the pocket watch at my side that I hadn't realized I was playing with the drawstrings of the pouch.

“It's almost as if you're guarding something of great value.”

“Really?” I wouldn't have called the watch something of great value, but I thought it was interesting that he thought I was guarding something. Of course, Richard didn't know I had the watch in there. . . . I didn't quite know why I was hiding that
from him, but I figured he just didn't need to know.

Richard shrugged. “Only trying to figure you out, my lady. There's just so much to you.”

I didn't want him to figure me out. I didn't know how he would look at me if he did.

“So what is it like living at court?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Shouldn't you know the answer to that question as much as I do?”

“No, it's not the same,” I said. “I haven't been here as long as you have.”

“That's true, but you do realize I had a life before court as well, don't you?” Richard said.

“With your family?”

“With my family. I used to live in a quieter place than court.”

“I can imagine that almost any place would be quieter than court.”

“We didn't have that many festivities at home, no.”

“What was it like there?” I asked.

I was curious what “home” was to Richard. I wanted to know all of him. I couldn't shake Henley's words about the scratches on Richard's arms, even though I was sure he was wrong. I needed to prove to myself that Richard was exactly what he seemed.

“Pretty standard,” he said. “Mother. Father. Brothers. I've had a good enough relationship with all of them. I've been fortunate.”

“No sisters?”

“One stillborn. But that was before I was born. After that,
nothing. All boys,” Richard said. “I'm sure we drove my poor mother crazy, but my father loved it. He always said all that running around reminded him of his boyhood.”

“Do you still see them?” I wished I could have a family like that, but I tried not to let that show in my voice.

“Of course. I see my father and my oldest brother when they visit court to pay their respects to the king. My mother sometimes comes with them. They don't come too often, though. Father prefers it at home in the country. But that's fine by me. I'm learning to be on my own now. I think that's something everyone needs to learn at some point or other in their lives. Besides, I have Lady Sutton to keep me company. “

I nodded. Richard talking about his father reminded me of Henley and his father, but I was glad Richard had a better relationship with his father than Henley had endured with his own.

“And how about you? I've never heard you speak of your family.”

I thought about Eleanor Shelton and her father back in Lithuania. I thought about my own foggy memory of my—Cynthia's—mother. In a way, Miss Hatfield was the only real mother-like person I had. Or used to have.

“I-I'd rather not,” I said. “. . . It's a sore subject.”

I thought Richard would question me further, maybe even about my modern phrasing—did they even say things like “sore subject”? —but he let it go. That was one of the things I was growing to love about him.

“And the future?” he asked, catching me off guard. “Talk about the past is all well and good, since that makes us who we are, but what about the future?”

“I'm not sure,” I answered truthfully. “I'm not sure where I'll go from here.”

“That's a good answer,” he said.

“I'm sure you were looking for something a bit more concrete.”

“No. Just something honest,” Richard said. “It's normal not to know. That's all for the better. It makes you create your life instead of just choosing your path.”

I paused and let his last words linger. “I'm not sure I agree with that. Sometimes we're given choices we can't run from.”

“That's true. But that doesn't mean you have to take them.”

I let it go, as Richard had let go the topic of family for me. There were some things that even he didn't, or couldn't, understand.

“I almost forgot. Eleanor, I have a surprise for you,” Richard said, his cheerful tone returning.

I automatically looked toward his hands.

“No, no. I don't have it with me.” He laughed, opening his hands to show me they were empty. “I guess I shouldn't have called it a surprise since I had told you earlier. It's the clock you wanted commissioned.”

My legs almost froze, but I willed them to keep walking in pace with Richard. I couldn't show him how big of a deal this was.

“What about the clock?”

“I convinced the clockmaker to make it.” He said it so simply, but his words changed my world.

“Oh, Richard!”

“It makes you that happy? I can let you know when he's
done,” Richard said. “I mean, I had a feeling you would be pleased, but not like . . .”

I hugged him. He never did finish his sentence.

We walked in a comfortable silence, my body not much more than a foot away from his, before Richard spoke again.