The Time of the Clockmaker (22 page)

TWENTY-ONE

“
LADY SUTTON WOULD
like to invite you to dine with her this evening.”

Those were the dreaded words spoken by Helen the next morning. The invitation came out of nowhere, and though I wondered what had prompted it, I almost declined before rethinking.

I spent a particularly difficult day trying to ignore the pressing feeling of discomfort in my body. I didn't know how much more of it I could take.

“Do you have a specific dress you would like to wear for tonight, my lady?” Helen asked that evening.

Maybe Lady Sutton would serve as a welcome distraction.

“Something bright,” I said. I was sure Lady Sutton would approve.

Helen pulled out a lapis lazuli dress I didn't even know I had. I nodded, and she began dressing me.

“Did Lady Sutton say that she wanted to see me for a particular reason?”

“Not that I know of, my lady.”

This made me more nervous for some reason, and I hurried to get dressed.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Helen asked, seeing me start for the door.

“It's all right,” I said. I didn't need more to add to my plate, but at least Lady Sutton would keep my mind off the uncomfortable feeling growing in my stomach.

When I knocked on Lady Sutton's door, one of her servants greeted me. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Lady Sutton yelled, “Bring her in!” from within. I felt like I was about to be fed to the dogs.

When I walked in, Lady Sutton was lounging on the bright pink bench, fanning herself. In an equally pink gown, she almost blended in with the lumpy bench.

“Lady Sutton.” I curtseyed.

“Now, now. Sit by me, Lady Eleanor. And come talk to me.”

I looked around for a seat near the bench, since Lady Sutton was taking up all of it. One of the servants, the same one who had let me in, moved a chair close to Lady Sutton for me.

“Thank you,” I said, sitting down.

But if it was gossip she was after, I wanted no part of it.

“I've been noticing that you've been spending more time with my Richard,” she began.

I didn't know if she meant “noticing” or “hearing,” but something told me it was more of the latter.

“Yes, I've been enjoying Richard's company.”

As I said that, Lady Sutton's eyebrows shot up. I really did need to remember to call him Lord Holdings when I wasn't talking to him directly.

“So I've heard . . .”

“Would you prefer it if I didn't spend time with him?” I asked.

I hadn't the slightest intention of following through with not seeing Richard if she asked me to. I just wanted to sense where this conversation was going.

“Not at all! I think you're quite good for him,” she said, and I relaxed into my seat. “I haven't seen him this excited in months, since . . . You see, he's in a fragile state.”

“I know,” I said.

Lady Sutton sighed. “So he told you?”

“Yes, he did.”

“I suppose it's better that he told you himself, rather than me accidentally bursting out with it. You know I have a big mouth.” I wasn't going to deny that.

“I'm glad he told you,” she went on. “It wouldn't be right if you didn't know what you were getting yourself into.”

It did still hurt me when I realized how long Richard had kept such a big secret from me. He wanted me to know him and understand him to the point that he smuggled me into the alchemy lab, and yet he had tried to hide the fact that he was sick. I couldn't help wondering when, or maybe even if, Richard would have told me he had consumption if I hadn't caught him coughing up blood.

“How long has he known?” I had to ask.

“That he was ill? A while.”

My chest tightened.

“There, there. I know it's horrible to think of someone so bright and vibrant being ill, but he's learning to live with it.”

He's learning to live with it until it kills him. That was the part Lady Sutton was avoiding saying.

“He's strong,” Lady Sutton said. “Stronger than you or I give him credit for sometimes. When the physician first told me that he was ill, I cried for hours. And you know who consoled me? Richard. He came into my room with a glass of sack and brandy, telling me everything was going to be all right. Imagine that! I was the one comforted by him!”

Lady Sutton clapped her hands together and laughed.

I didn't know whether that was supposed to make me feel better.

“I know he's strong, but—”

“No buts. He doesn't want anyone to worry about him.”

“I can't help but worry about him,” I admitted.

“That's because you're a good person.” She patted my arm. “That's what he likes about you. I can hear it in his voice when he talks about you. We all worry about him. It's what people who care do.”

“He talks about me?”

“Oh, don't be silly. How can a boy in love not talk about his girl?”

I didn't realize it until then, but my eyes were brimming with tears.

“There, there. Aren't you glad that you two found each other before . . .”

She trailed off, but I knew what she was going to say. Before
he died. Richard was going to die. And I had to sit here and do nothing about it.

“I'm so sorry. That was insensitive of me.” Lady Sutton fanned her face more furiously than before.

It was insensitive, but that was just Lady Sutton.

“Were you ever married?” I asked.

“Of course I was. I still am!”

I was about to apologize for not knowing, but Lady Sutton cut me off.

“My Lord, the old idiot's still alive!” “Excuse me?”

“With the kind of lifestyle he maintains, I thought he would have died years ago, but he keeps on surviving.”

“He doesn't live with you?”

“Of course not. I wouldn't be able to do a thing with that man breathing over my shoulder,” she said. “It's better when we leave each other to our own devices. He has his life and I have mine. That's how happy marriages are kept happy.”

This seemed to me to be as far from a happy marriage as there was.

“And you don't ever wish to see him?”

“My dear young Lady Eleanor, the last I saw of him was about three years ago for a wedding. That was enough of him for a lifetime,” she said. “I'll be frank with you, Lady Eleanor, because I value frankness above all else—even loyalty. My husband is a good-for-nothing scoundrel. Simple as that.”

She said it so much like a matter-of-fact statement that I didn't know how to respond. I was about to try to change the topic of conversation, but Lady Sutton went on.

“Even at that wedding, or was it an engagement celebration? No matter, even at that event, do you know what he did?”

Lady Sutton looked at me expectantly. It was a few beats before I realized she was waiting for an answer.

“Umm, no?”

“Of course you don't, you sweet girl. You haven't been exposed to the horrors of this world. And I hope you never will be. Anyway, at this feast celebrating the engagement of the son of some dear friend or other of mine, he had the nerve to gamble.”

I tried to think quickly of a response I could give her to make it at least sound as if I was interested in her story. “My Lord, I can't believe he gambled!”

“It wasn't the fact that he gambled—that's fine, since I occasionally gamble too. But the difference is that I win.” Lady Sutton sat up abruptly. “Do you understand that?”

After reassuring her that I did know the difference, Lady Sutton rolled over onto her back again.

“Thank goodness somebody does!”

As she cackled, I wondered how much she'd had to drink before I arrived. I had noticed that the wine seemed to be free flowing practically from morning here at court. I wanted to blame Lady Sutton's behavior on alcohol, to give her the slightest benefit of the doubt.

“He lost so much money during the course of that one wedding that I could have bought a hundred dresses, not to mention a house to match them. And best of all . . . Do you know what was best of all?”

I shook my head.

“He didn't even show up to the actual ceremony itself.” Lady Sutton roared with laughter, slapping the bench arm. “He was too sick from the night before, since he drank so much! Can you believe it?”

I told her I couldn't.

“What a man . . . ,” she said.

We continued this same conversation as I ate her food, but eventually the dessert pastries came and went, so I felt I could excuse myself. I told her I had to get going, since the countess was probably expecting me.

When I was backing out of the room, Lady Sutton was still muttering to herself.

“What a man, what a stupid man.”

TWENTY-TWO

RICHARD AND I
often walked together through the court gardens.

There were rows upon rows of all sorts of hedges, varying in shades of green only, laid out in geometric patterns. There were also fragrant herbs and flowers in perfect garden plots that Richard would point out to me as we walked.

“Isn't that a beautiful carnation?” Richard pointed to a white flower growing by my side.

I remembered the white carnations Miss Hatfield used to buy from the farmer's market.

“What's this flower called?” I cupped a blossom in my hands.

“That's a gillyflower.” He sounded patient with me, as if teaching a child the names of objects.

I pointed to his side. “What about that one?” I said, as we walked on.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

I screwed up my face in mock horror. “I thought you knew all the flowers here! Every single one of them—in fact, every single one in all of England!”

He laughed.

I would do anything for that laugh.

“Aren't the gardens wonderful?” he said quietly. “The gardens are as natural as court will ever get with its fake people.”

Of course, I took that moment to remind him that every plant here was meticulously chosen, not to mention trimmed to an exact shape and kept a certain way.

“It's like you enjoy ruining my small pleasures,” he said, at which I wrinkled my nose.

Across the green of the garden, I could see there was another couple.

Richard looked in the direction of my gaze. “Another pair enjoying the gardens on a beautiful day?”

The way the light slanted down through the mosaic of trees in the gardens obscured their faces from me. All I could tell was that the woman wore a black dress, contrasting with the white flowers that surrounded that section of the garden, and the man wore a dark crimson cloak with gold trim that caught the light as he moved to every beck and call of his lady.

“I suppose it's days like this that people are brought together,” I said.

“But some people are meant to find each other, no matter what the situation. Sometimes it's just meant to be. You can't argue with
meant to be
.”

He chuckled, and I tried not to cringe as his chuckling
turned to wheezing.

There wasn't anything I could say or do but pat his back. Luckily, it didn't take long for him to recover.

“Are you sure you want to spend time with this invalid?” he asked.

“I do! Especially when this invalid needs me to even breathe.”

That brought a smile to his face, and I felt warm, as if staring into the face of the sun itself.

“Don't flatter yourself,” he said.

That was the Richard I had come to love.

We walked once around a statue Richard claimed was of the Roman goddess Diana.

“But couldn't it be of any Roman woman?” I pointed out. “There's nothing there that says it has to be Diana.”

“She's the goddess of the hunt, and there are arrows at her feet.”

“That still doesn't say anything.”

“You wouldn't be satisfied unless there was a plaque with her name,” Richard teased, but his teasing sounded halfhearted.

I looked up from the statue to see that Richard looked a bit pale.

“Do you feel all right?” I asked.

“Just because you know I'm ill now, it doesn't mean you have to ask how I'm feeling every two seconds.”

I felt bad and didn't want to push him, but his face looked a bit gray. “Are you sure?”

“Oh great, now you treat me like an old man. What's next? Asking if I remembered to pull my hose on this morning?”

Just as I thought he was right and I was being overbearing,
Richard interrupted me.

“Actually, maybe I should sit down,” he said. “Just for a bit.”

I led him to the closest bench.

As soon as the backs of his knees touched the marble of the bench, I felt his weight slump onto me.

I panicked. And screamed.

Richard, who had been talking until just a second before, all of a sudden wasn't able to say anything. In the back of my mind I knew he had lost consciousness, but in the fear of that moment, I couldn't access the logical part of my brain. I was so scared. I thought he had died.

And with the logical part of my brain nowhere to be found, I didn't know what to do. So I sat there, and screamed, and screamed. I clutched at Richard's body, pulling it close to me as if that would do something.

CPR. First aid. None of my modern knowledge came to me. It was as if a plug had been pulled when Richard lost consciousness. That plug turned me off too, and I couldn't function anymore.

I knew I had to snap out of it, but it took me far longer than it should have.

When I came back to reality, the first thing I saw was the man in the distance start sprinting toward me. The woman clutched at her skirts and ran after him, but he reached me first. It was Lord Dormer. I was so thankful.

“He . . . he just dropped.”

“We have to get him to bed and call the physician.”

I felt helpless, and grabbed at Richard's clammy hand. It was
turning cold quickly.

Just then the woman rushed up to us. I had to blink twice. It was the countess. It didn't make sense that she was alone with Lord Dormer, especially after she had told me that no woman went out with a man unchaperoned, but I couldn't think of that now.

“Good, you're here,” Lord Dormer said to the countess. “Keep his head propped up, so he doesn't choke on the blood, and I'll go and find someone.”

He ran off and the countess took her place at Richard's head.

Richard's body was slumped lengthwise across the bench. He was as white as ever, and I now saw what Lord Dormer had been talking about—at the corner of his mouth, a bit of red seeped out. His lips parted in the middle of his mouth, but the edges were stuck together with a rusty color.

If I hadn't screamed before, I would have at that moment. There was nothing left in me.

Two men dressed in livery took Richard away. I wanted to go with them, but the countess pried my hand away from his and told me I would only get in the way. I stood there, staring at the shapes her lips made as she talked at me. She held my hands, and sound was coming out of her mouth, but I could barely hear what she said.

“Let's get you back.”

I wasn't quite sure how the countess managed to get me back to my own room. Did my legs actually move? I wasn't sure of anything, but I was suddenly aware I was now sitting in my own bed.

As soon as the countess left the room, Henley took over. It didn't matter what he said, it was more the sound of his voice, and knowing that he was there, that comforted me.

He's going to get better,
Henley said.

“You can't say that. He's dying.”

I hated to admit that, but even Richard himself had said it. By finally saying it out loud, it made it seem all the more true. It was something I couldn't take back or change anymore.

He'll find a way to pull through. You'll find a way to pull through.

“You can't promise that. This is consumption. No one survives consumption. Not in this time, anyway.”

Henley was quiet, and I had even shocked myself with my bald statement.

I wish I could make him better.
But even I knew wishing wasn't enough.

I stood up. “I need to go and see him.”

Are you sure that's a good idea?

“As opposed to not seeing him? Miss Hatfield told me I have nothing to worry about in terms of getting sick or getting infected by diseases. Immortals can't get any of that.” I knew that wasn't what he was objecting to, but Henley didn't respond.

I walked out of the door, passing the countess on my way. She didn't try to stop me. I figured she knew where I was heading.

When I stepped outside into the corridor, it struck me that I didn't know where Richard would be. I had never been to his rooms, and didn't know where they were. I thought back to Richard's comment about how Lady Sutton was the only
family-like person he had at court. If anyone knew where he was, she would.

I walked with deliberate, sure steps. All the faces I passed in the corridor were turned toward me.
That's the girl who almost died with the candelabra,
they seemed to say.
That's the girl who's different.
I shrank away from their eyes.

My knuckles hit the wooden door with a thud. I felt almost too weak to knock. Luckily Lady Sutton opened her door herself.

“I had a feeling it was going to be you,” she said. “Hurry, come in.”

This time, when I walked into her parlor, the garish colors didn't faze me.

“Where's Richard?”

“I had the men bring him into my chambers. They're far more comfortable.”

I made for the first door I saw, but Lady Sutton laid a hand on me.

“The physician is attending to him,” she said. “We must wait till he's done. That would be best.”

I had to see Richard for myself, but I knew she was right. That was best for Richard.

I sat down on one of the brightly upholstered chairs near the window.

“You were in the garden when
it
happened?” Lady Sutton asked, taking a seat across from me on the bench Richard and I had sat on during our last visit.

I hated the way she said “it.” It made my blood curdle. “Yes.”

“I suppose you didn't know to what extent he was ill,” she
said. “Poor girl. I suppose no one did. Not entirely, at least. But have no fear, the physician is the best in the country. When Lady Boyle had complications with—”

“I-I'm sorry.” I didn't mean to cut her off, but Lady Sutton looked as if I had slapped her.

“What was that?” She pronounced her words slowly.

“I can't listen to that right now. The gossip. Not when Richard's going through what he's going through, and we're sitting here unable to do anything.”

“The gossip.” Her voice was low and somehow dangerous. “That's what people think of me, isn't it?”

I opened my mouth, but promptly shut it again.

“Do you think I don't know what people think about me?” She looked straight at me. “I'm not as much of an idiot as everyone thinks I am. I need this—the gossip, the news—to have staying power in this world. To not be forgotten. This is what people use me for, and yes, I'm conscious of the fact that they're using me, but it's better to be used, and know that you're being used, than to be forgotten. In a harsh world like court, I wouldn't wish that on anybody.”

I took a shaky breath.

The door behind me opened.

“If anyone would like to see the boy, I suggest they do it now. He's fatigued and should get rest.”

Lady Sutton nodded to me.

When I rose to enter the room, the physician tapped my arm. “Only a short while,” he warned. He didn't seem to mind that I was going in unchaperoned. Maybe he'd had lots of experience and knew how important this sort of visit was to someone.

This room was unlike most of Lady Sutton's other rooms. It wasn't flamboyant in any way at all. The only color in the room came from the walls, which were a robin's-egg blue. Everything else was white.

In the middle of it all was Richard, propped up on countless pillows and swaddled in white blankets.

“You came.” There was a sigh to his voice that was new to me. He was normally so lively and passionate. It hurt to see him bedridden.

“Of course I did.” I tried to muster up a smile.

Richard patted the side of the bed, and I walked over to sit by him.

“They have me so swaddled, I feel as though I've regressed to a baby.”

Richard looked lost in the sea of blankets and comforters. He needed me. I began to realize I couldn't leave him like this, clock or no clock. Maybe I didn't have to leave as soon as I obtained the clock? But this wasn't the time to think about this, so I pushed those thoughts out of my head.

Seeing the sweat on Richard's brow, I was about to ask if he was hot, but a violent chill ran through him. I settled for covering his hand, the only thing besides his face that peeked out from beneath the blankets.

“How do you feel?”

It was pointless, but that was all I could ask.

“I think you know the answer to your own question,” he said. “Remember, I see through you all the time.” He tried to laugh, but he started coughing, unable to catch his breath.

Richard turned away from me and covered his mouth, but I
could see the fresh blood that smeared his hand.

The physician rushed in, helping Richard sit up further while he coughed. He looked at me and gestured for me to leave.

“He needs his rest now,” the physician said.

Richard didn't even look at me as I left.