Doctor Who_ Ghost Light - Marc Platt [17]
Everybody down, thought the Doctor, sensing Ace’s hackles rising.
‘Who are you calling a young lady, bogbrain?’ she exploded, astonishing Ernest so much that he had to sit down. There was a simultaneous giggle from across the room where Gwendoline had taken refuge behind the piano.
‘Not much luck so far,’ concluded the Doctor, adding quickly. ‘Quiet, Eliza, and be a good girl. I’m making small talk.’
Nimrod had hovered at the door ready to intervene, but the Doctor abruptly dismissed him.
‘Thank you, Nimrod. There’s still some tea in the pot.
See if you can find a couple more cups, thank you very much.’
The manservant was surprised to find himself walking out of the door, clutching something the Doctor had slipped into his hand. He looked at the item, was startled, and came face to face with Mrs Pritchard who stood glowering in the hall.
‘The master is waiting for you,’ she intoned, as more thunder rumbled ominously.
Nimrod instinctively looked up to where the sky had always been before the advent of ceilings. There was no smell of rain. This was no ordinary storm brewing; his interrupted duties must not be delayed too long. He clutched the token that the Doctor had given him, unable to grasp how the stranger could deduce so much of his past. He wondered what law decided the form that a sign from the gods might take.
‘More cups for the guests,’ he said and left Mrs Pritchard to serve the tea.
Gwendoline was starting to enjoy the upheaval caused by the new arrivals. Skirting the still dumbstruck Ernest, she approached the Doctor with a teasing smile. ‘Sir, I think Mr Matthews is confused.’
‘Don’t worry,’ confided the Doctor, ‘I’ll have him completely bewildered by the time I’ve finished.’
‘I’ll help,’ chipped in Ace.
It was time to tell a few white lies to their hostess, if only to explain their unexpected arrival. The Doctor confessed that they had suffered a little trouble with their carriage and that Ace could not possibly stay to dinner looking like that!
‘Who says,’ complained Ace, surprised at the assumption that they might get an evening meal too.
‘Perhaps you could find her some more appropriate apparel,’ suggested the Doctor.
‘Gladly, sir,’ was the reply. Gwendoline began to lead Ace towards the door. ‘Come, Alice, you may borrow something of mine.’
‘It’s Ace, actually,’ said Ace, looking back for a reassuring nod from the Doctor. ‘But thanks anyway.’
‘And Alice?’ he called after them.
‘I’m not wearing a bustle!’ came the retort.
‘At least try for a bit of parlour-cred!’
5
Josiah’s Web
Nimrod had hastened to the dimly lit study with the intention of begging leave to return to his duties. Instead, he found his master crouched over his all-seeing microscope in a state of agitation.
‘What did he give you, Nimrod?’ was his sole greeting, as lightning flickered beyond the drawn curtains.
‘Sir?’
‘What did the strange little professor give you? I saw him.’
Nimrod made no attempt at pretence. There were few secrets from his master. He was still clutching the Doctor’s gift and held it out in his open hand.
‘The tooth of a cave bear,’ muttered Josiah. ‘And so?’
‘It has magical properties,’ insisted Nimrod with the utmost reverence. Josiah leaned forward to take the tooth, but the manservant withdrew his hand and closed it tightly.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said.
Josiah paused for a second, his eyes meeting Nimrod’s in a momentary flash of anger. Lightning hissed outside the window.
‘Primitive fiddle-faddle,’ he scoffed, but Nimrod was adamant.
‘It is a totem of great power bestowed only by the greatest elders of my tribe.’
Josiah sneered again. A furious roar of thunder tore out of the night as if in answer. The glass prisms beneath the unlit gas-lamps rattled and sparkled in the firelight.
Without breaking from Josiah’s glare, Nimrod slowly placed the tooth in his waistcoat pocket.
‘The Burning One is restless tonight,’ he said.
Josiah snapped angrily at his servant’s defiance. ‘I have need of you here, Nimrod. Stay within call.’
‘Very good, sir.’ Nimrod bowed