Legacy of the Clockwork Key (12 page)

“Always?” It was hard to imagine higher-ranking men like the baron would let go of formality.

“Usually. It forces men to rely on their wit and creativity to earn respect within the Order instead of the power of their family name, though certain members are more insistent on playing with a level field than others. And certain family names hold great prestige within the Order, though that has nothing to do with the gentry.” Lucinda offered me a crumpet and I took it gladly.

“Take Rathford for example,” she continued. “He rarely let anyone use his given name, probably because he didn’t favor it much, but even he wouldn’t dare insist someone within the Order address him as Lord. And for as powerful as some men are in political circles, the name Whitlock carries enormous weight within the Society. Reichlin did as well. I believe your mother didn’t want to subject you to
the pressures the Amusementists would have put upon you, Meg. In certain respects, I can’t blame her. The unspoken rules for the Society of women associated with the Order are—restrictive.”

“Are you an Amusementist?” Will’s question surprised me and I almost choked on the crumbling pastry in my mouth.

“No woman has ever been nominated to become one. We are only part of the Society through our association with the men. You could say I have been part of the Society since birth.” A hint of a wistful smile touched her lips. “Simon always claimed that was a shame. He once told me I was a more creative inventor than he was. He was lying of course.”

“Tell me about the competitions.” It was likely I would never know my parents’ full motives for keeping the Amusementists from me, but I needed to know more. I was curious about the drawings in Simon’s book.

Lucinda looked distant, as if remembering a fond holiday from long ago. “One person would issue a challenge to another, usually something whimsical, like make a clockwork rabbit. Then the men would try to make it. Over the years the clockwork rabbit turned into automaton fox hunts,
and eventually the machines reached ridiculous levels of complexity and wonder. No one man could make them. All those interested in participating in the Amusements proposed at a Gathering of the Order would break apart into teams, each team contributing with the best of their talents and resources.”

Will fully stepped into the room and took a crumpet, then retreated a pace, still unwilling to sit. “To what purpose?”

Lucinda sighed. “Fun, a challenge . . . to see if they could do it. Perhaps there was some pressure to impress the women of the Society. Occasionally a wager or two might have been placed.”

She took a sip of tea, then stared at the liquid in her cup. “The men formed very deep bonds when working together on an Amusement. The craftsmen enjoyed the exclusive patronage of the nobility, and the nobility enjoyed thoroughly unique curiosities and profitable business arrangements with the craftsmen. Sons and daughters of Amusementists tend to marry within the Order. This is why the murders are so troubling. Whoever did this, he has killed his own brothers.”

I didn’t know what to say. The thought troubled me to no end. Lucinda placed her hand over mine. “If your grandfather found a way to stay hidden, it’s because he had
to. These men know him too well.” She shook her head, a sad and unconscious gesture. “None of us knows whom to trust. There hasn’t been a Gathering of the Amusementists since the murders. No one is willing to risk it. It won’t be safe for Henry to return until the murderer is brought to justice.”

The confirmation of my greatest fear sat heavy in my heart. I didn’t know what the next step was. I only knew I had to unravel this mystery. It was the only chance of finding my grandfather alive, or returning to any semblance of my life.

“My grandfather and your husband believed Lord Rathford invented something dangerous.” I placed my tea on the table. “Do you know what it was?”

“No,” Lucinda admitted. “I knew nothing. I didn’t even know Simon was working on Rathford’s machine.”

“In the back of the book, hidden in the blank pages, there’s a message written near the binding. It says to begin with the raven. Does that mean anything to you?” I asked.

“The raven?” Lucinda visibly paled, then rose and hurried from the room.

She returned holding a large clockwork raven. Dark brass and copper gears swirled in the bird’s breast, just beneath
smooth dark wings. Two wheels instead of feet had been set on short brass legs. The body looked real, with real feathers, and the eyes were clear black beads. The brass beak had been so carefully crafted, the stately bird seemed as if it could come alive and steal the crumpet off my plate.

In the center of its chest was the flower medallion.

“
HAVE YOU TRIED TO WIND IT
?”
I SMOOTHED MY
fingertips over the fine feathers on the back of the bird’s wing. The craftsmanship was amazing. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought the bird hatched with brass and gears in its body.

“It can’t be wound,” Lucinda said, folding her hands in her lap. A look of resigned longing came over her face. “Simon’s key won’t work.”

“What does it do?” Will asked.

“I don’t know.” Lucinda ran her hand over the raven’s head. A hint of a smile played at her lips. It reminded me of the way my mother would smile at my father when he burned
the candles to stubs to keep fiddling with his gears for “just another moment.”

“I’d love to see it work,” the widow said and the hint of life and love that had come into her eyes died away again.

I lifted the raven into my lap. I was expecting it to be heavy, but it hardly weighed as much as a real bird. That alone was an astonishing feat.

Excitement rushed to my fingertips as I lifted the key from around my neck. I could bring the bird to life. I knew what to do.

I caught Lucinda’s eye as I cracked the key open. Her brow knit together as her gaze dropped down to the circle of silver in my palm. I slowly opened the key, letting the flower unfold its elegant petals. Lucinda’s eyes widened, and she brought her hand to her lips. “How extraordinary,” she whispered.

She had yet to see what was to come. I slid the medallion to the side and fitted the key into the raven’s chest, then bit my lip as I pressed the button. The notes of Papa’s song rang out.

Lucinda gasped. “What is that strange music?”

“Your key doesn’t play the tune?” I asked.

“No. Mine is a simple key, this is remarkable.” Lucinda leaned closer.

If none of the other keys played a song, then my key was
truly the master. My grandfather had given me a wonderful gift, the gift of a memory, a song, one that had the power to unlock the impossible.

The song halted, but no door opened to reveal the keys I had to play. Where were they?

I tipped the bird over, looking for the hatch, but found none. A rush of panic seized me.

What if I couldn’t get it to work? Where could the keys be hidden? As I turned the bird back over, my hand brushed the tail. I heard a soft
dink
.

Puzzled, I looked to Will. He nodded at me as if he knew what I should be thinking.

Of course, the tail!

The bird had twelve feathers, five short, seven long, in the pattern of a perfect octave.

I placed the bird on the table and stroked the tail feathers; each one rang with a tone that sounded like a spring being released. When I hit the final note, the bird blinked its eyes and let out a metallic caw. Pinwheels unfolded from the front edge of each of its wings as it spread them and lowered its head. A crank emerged from its back as it blinked again and trembled almost as if in anticipation.

“It looks as if it’s about to fly.” Lucinda’s voice was filled
with wonder. “How did he do it in something so small?”

“Let’s take it outside and see where it goes,” I suggested, lifting the bird by the chest, careful of the outstretched wings. I couldn’t wait to see it soar.

“Have you lost your mind completely?” Will pushed on the back of my chair. I turned around.

“This bird could lead us to the next clue.” I didn’t know what the bird was made for, but with each new step I unlocked, my path seemed to become clearer. If the bird was going to fly, I wanted to see where it led.

“It could lead us into a trap.” Will paced away from me, returning to the doorway. “Have you forgotten there’s a murderer out there? One that clearly wants you dead?”

“Will . . . ,” I protested. “We have to know.” I stood and looked Lucinda in the eye. “If we don’t unravel this mystery, I will have to live the rest of my days waiting for that man to kill me. This is the only way to discover his identity and bring him to justice. It’s up to us.”

Lucinda pressed her lovely lips together in an expression of pure iron. “I’ll join you.”

“No,” Will cut in. “This is madness. You’ll get killed.”

Lucinda turned to him. “I’m already dead. I have nothing left to lose.”

I took her hand. “Neither do I. I want to see this fly, and I’m going to follow it.”

Will let out an exasperated breath and rubbed his hands over his hair, then interlocked his fingers behind his neck. Lucinda squeezed my hand tighter. In that moment, I knew we were of one mind.

“Fine. I’ll hitch the horse. You can’t chase a bloody bird on foot.” Will snatched his cap out of his pocket and fit it on his head with a rough jerk.

My heart felt like it was growing in my chest. “Thank you . . .”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t thank me. You should’ve thanked me if I’d talked you out of it.” His accent thickened as he turned his back on us and stormed out the door.

“He can’t help himself, can he?” Lucinda tilted her head in bemused consideration.

“Can’t help being rude?” I had only wanted to thank him. If he didn’t want to be a part of this, he could return to the baron at any time. He didn’t have cause to lash out at us.

Lucinda chuckled then smiled as if she knew a secret. I didn’t like that look. I felt as if she were playing some sort of game but I didn’t know the rules. It left me with only one option: keep quiet.

“Come, Meg. Let’s collect our things. It seems we’re going for a ride.” Lucinda gathered her skirts.

“I thought you wished to be left alone,” I said, following her up the stairs.

“That was before I witnessed part of Simon come alive again. Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.” If the Amusementists were family, I hoped she could consider me one. I would have loved to have had a sister.

• • •

We met Will outside behind the mews, where he’d hitched a light two-wheeled calash to a pretty little chestnut mare. She tossed her head and fidgeted as if she wanted to dance.

Lucinda stroked the horse’s nose. “You ready to run, girl?”

I gingerly held the raven as I hunched my shoulder to keep the satchel from falling off my arm. It contained Simon’s book, and a bit of cheese and bread. The raven vibrated with its wings outstretched, waiting. “Where should we let it go?”

“Here’s as good a place as any,” Will suggested, pointing down the long narrow alley. He collapsed the top of the carriage, folding it back behind the seat. “It’s probably going to fly straight into a wall.”

“Have some faith in my husband.” Lucinda took the raven and wound it until the crank couldn’t turn any more. It let out another caw. She placed it on the ground, adjusted her own feathered bonnet, and then pressed the button on the bird’s back.

The crank sank back down into the body of the raven as Lucinda and I climbed in the carriage and Will jumped into the driver’s seat.

The raven’s wings jerked once, twice, then the pinwheels began to spin. The pinwheels gained speed and, with a caw, the bird raced down the alley then rose swiftly into the air.

“After it!” I shouted, taken with the excitement of the moment as Will urged the mare into a quick trot. We flew out of the alley and turned down Bond Street. Will snapped the reins and we charged into a run.

The raven kept climbing, sunlight glinting off its gears.

“It’s turning to the west,” Lucinda cried, clinging to her bonnet.

We raced up Bond Street and turned left on Oxford. Will expertly weaved through the street, leaving angry curses from fellow drivers hanging in the air as we passed. The clatter of hooves and wheels drummed out all other noise as we chased the raven along the north end of Hyde Park.

The tree branches blurred as I watched the raven gliding through the sky. Lucinda laughed as we surged forward again, Will pushing the mare into another swift canter.

“Hold on!” I clung to the seat as we swerved to avoid a cab crossing in front of us. The carriage leaned, and I fell against Lucinda.

“It’s turning to the north!” Lucinda gripped my arm. Will turned to the right so suddenly, it threw me to the side of the carriage.

We chased the bird through Paddington, but it continued veering north, forcing us off the main roads as we headed into the countryside.

The wide avenues of London degraded to rutted paths and farm roads as we careened down the hills toward the creeks of Cricklewood.

The bird descended, and I nearly lost it in the trees. Spring rain had swollen the creeks, turning the country lanes into a muddy trap.

Will slowed the mare to a trot, but the enthusiastic chestnut pulled the cart with endless vigor, bouncing us along farm roads.

“I see it over there.” Lucinda pointed over the edge of the carriage as a low-hanging branch whipped overhead. “It’s disappeared beyond that barn.”

A small rise hid a sharp right turn. Will tried to keep the calash on the road, but the wheels of the carriage slipped. The whole contraption leaned precariously to the left. I tried to hold on and lean into Lucinda, but it did no good. The carriage continued to overturn.

“Jump!” Will shouted. I leapt as hard as I could, but my skirt caught, twisting me before we splashed into a watery ditch to the side of the road. I struggled under the carriage, but couldn’t pull myself up. I could barely keep my mouth above the water. I tried to breathe but the muddy dreck filled my mouth.

I tried to push my way out, but my hands sank into the soft mud of the ditch. I couldn’t lift my head. I panicked, afraid I’d taken my last breath.