The Clockwork Three (4 page)

Hannah reached the top floor and dabbed a bit of sweat from her brow with her apron. She had never been up here before. She wondered why the wealthiest guests would choose the highest rooms, which required them to climb so far. But she supposed it was like the mansions up in the Heights where Mister Twine lived. Some people just had to be above everyone else.

From a hallway window, Hannah could look out over the hotel gardens, and there was Alice, working in the flower beds, pointy straw hat wider than her shoulders, seedlings poking out of her apron pockets. Alice was old. Older than Mister Twine. Hannah had never met anyone working in the hotel who could remember a time when Alice was not old. Alice ignored everyone, but she spoke to her plants, and sometimes she even spoke to Hannah.

Hannah paused a moment on the landing before approaching the suite. What if this guest really had a tiger? What if the other rumors were true, that she traveled with the spirits of the dead? And what about the treasure? Mister Grumholdt had said it must be hidden on the top
floor. Hannah smoothed her apron and stepped up to the heavy door of the grand suite. She pulled on the doorbell.

No answer.

She pulled harder.

The door opened, and a tall man filled the opening. He wore a gray robe that brushed the floor, and his long black hair fell to his elbows. He stared down at Hannah with eyes so blue they were almost clear. “Yes?” he said.

Hannah took a startled step backward before she remembered her manners. She curtsied. “I was sent to see how I could be of service.”

“Where is Miss Wool?”

“She’s attending to another matter at the moment and sent me in her stead.”

The man frowned. “Come in.”

He opened the door wide and ushered Hannah through the entryway into the drawing room. On the far side of the room, beneath a wide window curtained with lace, a large woman reclined on a chaise longue like an Egyptian princess, but not a beautiful one. The woman might have been attractive underneath her roundness, but her girth filled up whatever space her beauty might have occupied. She wore a black dress, brooched at the neck with an agate cameo, and her hair fell loose about her shoulders. She lifted a silver-handled lorgnette to her face, and the spectacles swelled her eyes within the frames.

“Miss Wool sent you?” Her voice chimed like a crystal goblet struck by a spoon.

Hannah curtsied again. “She did, ma’am.”

“Well then, come closer.”

Hannah glanced around. Not a tiger or spirit in sight. At the moment, it seemed safe. She crossed the room to the couch and bowed her head.

“I need someone,” the woman said. “Preferably a young girl on the staff who will be my personal attendant. Can you recommend someone to me?”

“I’m afraid I can’t, ma’am.”

“Why not?”

“I think that’s above my place.”

The woman lowered the spectacles to her lap. “And what place would that be?”

“I’m just a maid.”

“Just a maid. But you’re still a person, aren’t you?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Capable of forming opinions?”

“Yes.” Hannah looked up. “But I’ve learned that in most cases it’s best to just keep my opinions to myself.”

The woman laughed, a tinkling, trembling laugh. “Would that everyone were as wise as you. What is your name, child?”

“Hannah.”

“Hannah, I am Madame Constance Bernadette Pomeroy.” She said it as if it were a regal title, not a name at all.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Madame Pomeroy.”

A moment of silence followed, filled with the ticking of a grandfather clock. The woman stared at her. Not intensely, but it made Hannah uncomfortable.

“Sit down next to me, child.”

“Ma’am?”

“Sit down. Right there.” She pointed as the fellow in the gray robe brought up a chair. “This gentleman is Yakov. He was a Russian soldier.” Madame Pomeroy leaned in. “A very dangerous man, mind you. I never
really know what he’s hiding under that coat. He travels with me as a sort of bodyguard, my own golem.”

“A what?”

“A golem, child. A man made of clay and brought to life by the spells of Jewish rabbis and mystics. Marvelous creations. Like a golem, Yakov lives to serve and protect. But unlike a golem, Yakov will talk from time to time. And he can predict the future.”

Yakov held the seat for Hannah. “I shouldn’t,” she said. But she was curious and sat down, anyway. “How does he predict the future?”

“Through dreams and visions. It’s his gift. Just as I am given the gift of communion with the dead.”

“Oh,” was all Hannah could say, wary now. She imagined a tiger behind her, ready to pounce, and ghostly fingers reaching out to her neck. She held still without meaning to.

“There,” Madame Pomeroy said. “Now that you’re sitting, I want to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.” She pulled out a stack of cards. Not playing cards. These were larger, and Madame Pomeroy shuffled them. “Tell me, child, why are you working in this hotel?”

Hannah looked down at her apron.

“Come, child. What is it?” She began laying cards out on the table and appeared purposeful about where they were supposed to go. She placed four cards in a column. “You can trust Madame Pomeroy.”

Hannah knew it was wrong to be so familiar with a guest. She could be punished for it. But something about Madame Pomeroy drew her in. Hannah took a deep breath, and then she told the truth.

“A few years ago my father was struck with apoplexy. He lost his speech and the strength in his legs. He was a stonemason, before. But he couldn’t work anymore, so we had to sell our home. My mother can’t
work, because she has to care for him all the time, and there’re my little sisters to look after, too. That left me. Since my father had worked hard for this hotel, I went to the owner, Mister Twine, and I asked him for a job. He took me on as a maid.”

Madame Pomeroy had frozen with her hand outstretched, a card quivering between her fingers. “How old are you, child?”

“I’m twelve.”

“You carry a heavy weight, for one so young.”

“I manage well enough.”

Madame Pomeroy set the card in place. She drew another, placed it, and another, and placed it, too, forming a cross of five cards next to the four already on the table. She turned one over, then the next. She studied each, muttered to herself, and said, “Hmm.”

Hannah took a few glances around the suite while Madame Pomeroy pored over the cards. The room was finer than any Hannah had been in, with inlaid furniture varnished like a mirror, silver clocks forged into clever animal shapes, fine drawings and paintings hanging on the walls in gilt frames. Hannah’s eyes met the blue in Yakov’s, and she smiled at him. He smiled in return, but it was more of an attempt at a smile than a smile itself.

“Hmm,” Madame Pomeroy said.

Hannah cleared her throat. “I should be getting back, ma’am. Miss Wool will be cross with me.”

“Miss Wool.” She rolled her eyes. “Let me worry about Miss Wool, dear.”

Hannah thought that Madame Pomeroy had no idea what she was asking for.

“Now,” Madame Pomeroy said. “You see these cards?”

Hannah looked at them. She saw a man hanging upside down by his foot, a wheel, a tower struck by lightning, and a strange figure that might have been a man, or it might have been a woman. Other cards bore numbered pictures with swords, chalices, coins, and staves.

Madame Pomeroy waved her hands over the table. “These cards hold keys for you, Hannah. Keys to who you have been, who you are, and who you will be, as you experience the journey of your life.”

Hannah nodded, skeptical.

“I see you have sacrificed much of yourself, and this has taken its toll. You were once so happy and carefree. Life held such promise. Now you feel trapped. You are full of dark thoughts. Bitterness and sadness devour you like wild beasts.”

In her heart, Hannah argued with Madame Pomeroy. What did this woman know of her? Hannah was not sad. She had no right to be. Her father lived when doctors said he should have died, and she had her family. Hannah was not bitter or angry. Who could she be angry with?

She barely heard the knock on the front door of the suite.

Hannah could not be angry with her father or mother. It was not their fault her father had gotten sick. It was not their fault Hannah had been forced to quit her schooling and work at the hotel.

Madame Pomeroy sighed. “Such darkness. You lie all the time, to yourself and to others, and also feel much temptation.”

Hannah squirmed in her chair. She did not like this woman.

“You are at a fulcrum, Hannah. A balancing point. There is conflict in your future, a challenge to the old ways by new ideas and a possible reversal in the order of things, the creation of something wholly other. You will meet some who can help you, if you trust and help them. You will have the chance to be happy again.”

“I am happy now,” Hannah insisted.

Madame Pomeroy smiled. “Hush, child.”

“I’m happy!”

“No more lies, Hannah.”

Hannah stood up. “I’m not lying! What do you know? You’re just a crackpot spiritualist. You don’t know me!”

“Hannah!” came a shout from behind her.

Hannah spun around.

Miss Wool stood in the doorway of the parlor. Yakov loomed behind her, his nose wrinkled as if he smelled something foul. Miss Wool charged into the room. “I should have known better than to send you up here. How dare you speak to a guest in this way!”

Hannah panicked. “Miss Wool, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Please!”

“Silence, girl!” Miss Wool turned to Madame Pomeroy. “I sincerely apologize for this maid’s behavior. I assure you she will be dealt with most severely. I can personally guarantee that she will never again show such disrespect to another guest in this hotel.”

Hannah nearly collapsed to the floor. Her family would be tossed out on the street. What would they do? How would they care for her father? What about her sisters? She felt like sobbing, begging, screaming.

“It’s quite all right, Miss Wool,” Madame Pomeroy said, her voice lilting. “I’m afraid that I’m to blame for her outburst. You see, I was doing a reading, and I may have nicked her too close to the bone.”

“There is no need to protect her, Madame. I appreciate your forbearance, but let me assure you that this maid will be dismissed immediately.” Miss Wool stared down at Hannah.

Madame Pomeroy clicked her tongue. “I think not.”

Miss Wool stepped back. “Pardon me?”

“I want to employ her.”

“Want to employ who? Hannah?”

“Yes. I am in need of a personal assistant, and I had hoped to ask you for a recommendation. Having met Hannah, I believe she’ll do nicely.”

“Madame, there are other girls on my staff who would be far superior —”

“No need. I would like to have Hannah assigned to me henceforth. I want her at my disposal at any hour, day or night. This means she will have no time for other duties, I’m afraid. I assume you can spare her, since you were about to dismiss her.”

Miss Wool blinked.

“Then it’s agreed. Yakov, please show Miss Wool out.”

The Russian swept the speechless woman from the room. On her way out the door, Miss Wool whipped a hateful glare at Hannah. Then she was gone. Hannah slumped into the chair, stunned. She heard the front door open, and a moment later, shut.

Yakov reentered the room, a fraction of a grin on his face. “I enjoyed that.”

Madame Pomeroy giggled. “So did I. What an odious woman. Now, Hannah?”

Hannah stared.

“Hannah?”

“Yes?”

“You understand what just happened? You will work for me now, at least for the length of my stay.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Madame Pomeroy glanced at the cards still spread out. “I don’t think we need to go any further with the reading. You got the gist of it, anyway.” The woman sat down and scooped up the cards, riffling them back into a deck. She picked up her book and resumed the position of repose in which Hannah had first seen her. “You’ve had a long day, child. Why don’t you go home early this evening. I’m sure your mother could use your help.”

“Go home early?”

“You act as though you’ve never heard the words before. Yes, go home early. But mind you I won’t make a habit of this. Far from it. I can be a harsh mistress if your laziness calls for it.”

Hannah nodded. “Are you sure I can’t be of some help to you now, ma’am?”

“No, Hannah. But I’ll see you at sunrise tomorrow.”

Hannah remembered to curtsy, in spite of her shock, and left the parlor. Yakov walked her to the door. “Welcome to the movable court of Madame Pomeroy,” he said. “May your time with us be pleasant.”

“Th-thank you.”

He closed the door behind her.

In a daze, Hannah nearly tripped down the stairs. She stumbled down the hallways, tracing the walls with her fingers to keep her balance. She left through the entrance used by the service staff, grateful to have avoided seeing anyone she knew on the way out. Madame Pomeroy may have protected her from punishment for now, but Miss Wool would not let such an affront to her authority go unchallenged. She would find a way to retaliate and Hannah would eventually face her wrath, at the very least when Madame Pomeroy left. She put that thought away for now.

Hannah emerged onto Gilbert Square, breathed deep, and set off for home, down Basket Street and then winding through the side alleys. This early in the evening she crossed streets that were mostly empty, except for the gawkers, gamblers, drinkers, and poor homeless souls who seemed to never leave the streets at all.

She was a block from home when she saw a boy carrying a coal chute on his back. He sweated and huffed and she wondered what he was doing, since he did not look like a coal man at all. He was around her age, with modest clothing and clean, dark hair. And then he stopped her and asked for directions.

She joked with him. He did not laugh. In fact, he did not come across as the kind of boy who liked to laugh at all. He seemed to wear seriousness the way a mason wore calluses. Something in his past had hardened him, Hannah thought. She gave him directions, and he thanked her. She continued on her way, until she came to her building, then mounted the steps to her family’s apartment. She reached her landing and opened the tiny door.