The Time of the Clockmaker Read online

  “Probably nothing. They’re the only shot I have to get somewhere.”

  You don’t even know where they’re taking you.

  “I don’t quite have a choice, do I? Anywhere is better than being left here. . . . Now hush!”

  We only stopped when the younger man found a particular lean-to. I was so preoccupied with everyone staring that I hadn’t noticed that he had been looking for something.

  I watched the young man emerge from the lean-to with a gruff-looking woman. Though they both gave me a look, neither moved to speak to me.

  The woman was heavyset and seemed to make the ground shake as she circled me. She pulled at her tightly curled hair so it straightened and sprang back into place over and over, making me more nervous each time. Though at first glance she looked like a hefty housewife, there was something pointedly predatory about her, and I felt myself shrinking in response.

  She turned briefly to mutter something to the young man before squinting at me.

  “Speak,” she demanded.

  “I’m sorry?” I didn’t know what she wanted.

  “Oh, she’s definitely not from around here. A foreigner. You’re right in that. There was a report of a flipped carriage early this morning . . . though where she got those rags, I don’t know.”

  “My garments and trunks were stolen.” I figured it was worth a shot.

  “Including the ones off your very back?” Her arched eyebrow made her face look all the more intimidating, and it took everything I had to maintain eye contact with her.

  “Like bandits. They made me change out of them and into these.”

  “An unusual twist in the story. If anything, it proves how foreign you are to these lands. That dreadful accent.”

  There was a pause, and I held my breath. Did she buy it?

  “You. Follow me,” she said in a gravelly voice that matched her appearance. The arched brow was lowered. And she started off toward the other end of the marketplace.

  Not knowing what else I could do, I followed her, and the old man did the same.

  “She’s definitely someone important. Someone higher up. Look at the way she speaks. Maybe a far-off duke’s daughter. Better yet, a foreign princess . . .” the old man was saying.

  After not more than a few steps, the woman stopped abruptly in front of me. She turned and looked down her nose at the old man.

  “I want the girl alone,” she clarified in her grating voice.

  I took the old man’s hand in my own. I realized for the first time just how cold it was and how it shook ever so slightly.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to him. “Thank you so much.”

  I gave the old man a kiss on the cheek, and even the young man gave me a last taciturn nod. I attempted to smile, and I followed the woman.

  I was uncertain of everything—where I was, the exact time I was in, who I was with—but I knew I had to do something. With the way people were dressed, I had to be in some far-off century—much earlier than even the time Miss Hatfield was from, in the 1800s. I had to somehow find the clock. I had to at least try.

  EIGHT

  “HURRY UP, NOW.” I suspected that the woman I was following was as tightly wound as her coiled hair. She tutted at me without even turning back when I lagged as much as two steps behind.

  “Come on.”

  I trained my eyes on the back of her head and willed myself to keep up with her. Though her legs looked stubby, they seemed to move twice as fast as mine.

  Henley had fallen silent in her presence. With just the woman and myself, his voice would have easily been heard.

  When the woman stopped to open a wooden door in the side of a large building, I almost ran into her. Sidestepping, I barely managed to regain my balance.

  Though the woman hadn’t looked at me for a while, she did so now. “We don’t have time for being clumsy.”

  I didn’t know why she was so short with me. I figured she was just that sort of woman, as I hadn’t done anything to her. I held my tongue and followed her through the door.

  I was immediately startled by how warm it was inside. On one side of the room, there was a large fireplace that three people could have crouched in. I saw a large pot in the fireplace, but even that looked tiny in comparison with the fire. The flames seemed to consume it entirely.

  Though the fire was the main source of light in the kitchen, I saw that there were small rectangles of light at the top of all four walls. Two on each wall. They were the only windows, and they couldn’t have been that big—maybe a foot long? There were also other people scampering around with armfuls of vegetables and heavy pots. I was surprised I didn’t feel claustrophobic.

  I watched as a woman took two live chickens from a cage and tucked them under her arms. They were still squawking as she made her way past me.

  “You.”

  My head rose quickly.

  “Less daydreaming. More walking.”

  I quickened my steps to show her I was making an effort, but she only muttered something under her breath.

  Exiting the kitchen, we entered a narrow hall with a few doors on each side. They were all made of the same dark wood and stood looming over me.

  “Wait here.” The woman disappeared through one of the doors before I could answer.

  Though the doors appeared thick, I could hear the voices behind them. The husky, abrupt voice of the woman, and a second voice. Definitely female. Not as throaty, but still firm.

  I couldn’t make out their words, but I knew they were discussing me.

  Minutes went by as I stared at the door. It didn’t have any intricate carvings on it. It was simply a door. But as I squinted at it, I began to see patterns and designs in the wood.

  I sighed, feeling the long hours since I had slept—properly or otherwise.

  The door swung open, and the burly woman stepped out with another woman.

  The second woman was wrapped in an austere dress. Her hair was plastered back along her scalp into a tight bun, and on seeing me she pursed her lips.

  “I see,” she said. Then, pausing, as if contemplating her next words, she looked me over. “Follow me.”

  The woman led me down numerous corridors filled with oil paintings of stiff and posed people and still lifes. I did my best to never be more than a step behind. Then we left the corridors and passed through a number of interconnected rooms. Because I didn’t have time to examine them closely, they all looked the same to me—square rooms with sparse decorations and furniture draped with white dust covers. Though there were lots of people working at the house, it looked like no one lived there.

  Finally, the woman stopped in a room where the furniture wasn’t covered by white sheets. A breeze from nowhere seemed to flip a single book open on the table.

  The woman stood by the door. “Who should I say is calling?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your name, my lady.” The woman looked annoyed, as if already regretting her decision to allow me into the house.

  “Oh!”

  My eyes darted around the room wildly. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but I needed a clue. Something. And quickly.

  Eleanor Shelton.

  “Pardon?”

  He had said it softly, but she had heard.

  I smiled, grateful that Henley had stepped in.

  “Eleanor Shelton.”

  The woman nodded and disappeared through another door. I was alone with Henley, at last.

  “Thanks,” I whispered, taking care not to speak too loudly. If there was one thing I had learned in 1904, in Henley’s time, it was that the walls always have ears. You could never be too safe. “But who’s Eleanor Shelton?”

  Someone you’ll need to know a lot of quite soon.

  Henley’s familiar chuckle echoed through the room. It sounded as if he was standing right next to me and across the room all at once.

  I turned to survey the room. There were two small cream-colored upholstered benches, one of which I
decided to sit on to avoid looking restless. From where I sat, I saw a wall of books and a small fireplace, complete with golden poker. I was close enough to the bookshelves to see that most of the titles on the spines were in foreign languages—Greek and Latin probably. I laughed quietly when I realized that most of the books looked unopened.

  There you are chuckling to yourself, while I’m hard at work, making sure you have a cover.

  My head snapped at the rustle of papers.

  “Henley! You scared me! What if someone comes in?”

  That’s what happens when you leave me to do all the work.

  I saw that Henley was shuffling through a pile of papers on the desk at the end of the room.

  A book from the shelf behind me flew past my head onto the desk. Its pages started flipping. It looked like there was a ghost in the room.

  I shook my head. I wondered if I would ever get used to this.

  Here we go.

  “Did you find something?”

  A whole lot of something, Henley said. I gave you the name Eleanor Shelton earlier because I saw some papers with her name. It seemed she lives rather far, so I figured that maybe he’s never met her before. It’s an enormous assumption. I know that much. But it’s all I had to go on.

  “So she’s a real person and not a made-up character.”

  Precisely. I figured it would make this Lord Empson want to see you a bit sooner.

  “And I’m guessing Lord Empson is the owner of the house?”

  Master of the house, Henley corrected me. Yes, and Eleanor Shelton is the daughter of his business associate.

  More papers and books flapped around my head. They traveled at such speeds that I was amazed that they didn’t make any sound when they landed on the table.

  “What kind of business?” I figured I should know my dear papa’s line of work.

  Fur trade. From Russia through Lithuania.

  “Lithuania?”

  The Grand Duchy of Lithuania, he corrected.

  “In this time?”

  Well, it’s only 1527.

  “1527? It’s 1527 right now?” I heard my voice start to rise. “Only 1527? What do you mean only 1527? And how do you know that?”

  I’m knee deep through his expense records and personal letters, so I’m pretty sure it’s currently 1527 where you are.

  I felt dizzy. I was thankful I’d had the foresight to sit down.

  It could have been worse, Henley said.

  “How? This is the furthest the clock turns. I don’t see how it can get any worse.”

  You could have been dropped off in a war zone or something.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I hissed. “I don’t even know anything about Lithuania. Twentieth-century Lithuania or the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. It sounds like a made-up fairy-tale kingdom!”

  Relax. And try to get as much of this information into your head as possible: You’re Eleanor Shelton. The daughter of Lord Nicholas Reginald Shelton. Your father is in a partnership with Lord Empson and trades in fur. The fur comes into the Grand Duchy of Lithuania from Russia, then is sent by Baltic trade to England, where it’s worn by terribly fancy women.

  I wanted to roll my eyes at him, but I was too preoccupied with trying to remember everything.

  “What kinds of furs?”

  The standard: mink, sables . . . you know.

  That was precisely it—I didn’t know. Henley had grown up with mink and sable, while I had grown up with plastic and nylon.

  As your father’s only daughter, it’s safe to say that you’re an heiress, but as a woman, how much of that money you’ll actually get is uncertain. You’ve never met Lord Empson before. I think.

  “And you got all of that from just a few papers?”

  A few papers and some educated guesses.

  I knew that if I could see Henley now, he would be wearing one of his smug looks.

  Before I could say another word, the loose papers and ledgers on the desk began to fly about the room. Books slipped into empty holes left in the shelves, and papers dove into stacks, quicker than they had first leaped out of them.

  I heard the doorknob turning as the last book slipped back into its place next to a dusty Latin tome.

  A slender man with a large silver chain around his neck strolled through the door. With each step he took toward me, the chain chimed.

  “My dear Eleanor.” He came toward me with his arms outstretched.

  “My lord Empson.” I bobbed down in the best curtsey I could muster.

  “No need for formalities.” Lord Empson stood me back up. “I feel as though I already know you.”

  I felt my eyebrows rise in relief. So he hadn’t ever met Eleanor Shelton. If he had, my deception would have been over immediately.

  “How are you transitioning to England? If I had known you were coming, I would have had people to meet you at the port. It’s just like your father to plan this last minute. You know, he was always like that.”

  “The weather’s quite different from what I’m used to, but it’s growing on me.”

  Lord Empson rewarded me with a smile through his thick, graying beard. “Certainly warmer here, especially in this season. My dear, you know your father always wanted to show you England. Ever since you were born. It’s his true home and country.”

  He walked over to his desk and I decided to sit back down on the bench.

  “This isn’t your first time in England, is it?”

  I hesitated. “No, it’s not.”

  “Good. Good. At least Niki hasn’t deprived you of that. I always told him that living in the East was a good idea to keep a closer eye on our business, but it’s still no place to raise a child. A daughter, no less. I told Niki that he should keep you here so you at least don’t develop an accent from the East. But I see it’s a bit late for that . . . and you know your father. He does what he wants.”

  I watched Lord Empson pick up a sheet of paper lying on his desk. He frowned at it, glancing at me, before placing it between stacks of paper. I hoped Henley had managed to put everything else back where it belonged.

  “Did you just arrive? I was hunting this morning; I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “Yes, I did . . . just arrive, I mean.”

  The corners of Lord Empson’s eyes crinkled as he tried not to laugh.

  “I just wish your father had given me a bit more notice; then I could have secured a proper place for you in court and made arrangements. You see, we’re quite in the middle of things, I’m afraid. But do write to your father to let him know you arrived safely.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just mutely nodded, hoping it would come off as looking thoughtful.

  “The court’s moving to the Palace of Placentia in Greenwich. Almost everyone is already there—in fact, my wife’s already arrived at court. Since it’s only about two hours from here, I thought I’d check up on the house and sort out some affairs before rejoining her. And I’m quite glad I did—look who I found!” He motioned toward me. “I promised Niki that I would find a befitting place for you in court, should you ever visit. It’s really my fault for not thinking that he would spring this on me, last minute, as with everything.”

  Lord Empson paced the floor in front of his desk.

  “You must be introduced properly, somehow.” He paused, spinning on his heel toward me. “I believe I can place you with my aunt, the Countess Grenville. That would be befitting your station till something else can be arranged . . .”

  From where I sat in the middle of the room, I could see Lord Empson’s mind working. It churned as he talked half to himself.

  Lord Empson suddenly drew close to me.

  “The Lithuanian court still remains very faithful to the pope, does it not?”

  “Um . . . yes?”

  “I thought so. You must be careful with your faith here. There are rumors about court that the king intends to break with his holiness.”

  I made my eyes big, hoping I
looked appropriately shocked. I knew what he discussed was scandalous, but I didn’t know what that entailed for me.

  “Yes, well, still rumors. They could be all talk.” He sounded as if he was trying to console himself. “Just be careful.”

  I promised him I would, and he looked reassured.

  Once again I found myself pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and once again Henley was helping me in my deception. I was grateful that Lord Empson seemed to be practically falling over himself to find a place for me and get me settled down, but my priority was the clock. I needed it to get home—wherever home was. Luckily, my mission and Lord Empson’s seemed likely to coincide. I knew the clock wouldn’t be lying around in any old village marketplace. The person who had attacked me wouldn’t be prepared to hide away in the sticks, I was sure. My best bet was court, and Lord Empson was going to get me there.

  “Here you are, my dear Eleanor,” Lord Empson said, as he gave me a hand into the carriage. He passed me a folded piece of parchment paper with a large wax seal on it. “And a letter to the countess as an introduction, of course.”

  As I took the letter from his hand, he paused. “I will join you shortly. In the meantime, do look after Aunt Marian.”

  I thanked him, and promised him I would.

  He turned toward the handmaid, sitting across from me in the carriage. “Helen,” he said. “Remember to tend to all of Lady Eleanor’s needs. Absolutely every one of them. Goodness knows Niki can’t live without the best for his daughter.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Lord Empson gave me one final nod before giving the signal to the carriage driver.

  Soon enough, the steady jostle of the horse’s movements evened out and Lord Empson was but a speck in the landscape.

  “Would you like me to draw the curtains, my lady?” Helen asked, watching my gaze land on the window.

  “No, thank you, Helen. I enjoy looking out at the countryside.”

  I had decided that all carriage rides were the same. No matter what time period it was, they were all uncomfortable. Sixteenth-century carriages were actually quite similar to early-twentieth-century carriages. In terms of horse-drawn travel, not much had changed—or rather, will change. In any time, you simply had to acknowledge that carriages were uncomfortable. After coming to terms with that fact, the ride was always much easier.