Infernal Devices - KW Jeter [111]
By stages, my strength renewing with every day of travel, and with every meal bought at a wayside inn – I only ordered beef, and never mutton – I made my way south to England. Reaching Carlisle, I had another stroke of fortune. A client, for whom I had restored several chiming watches built by my father, lived in the city. He recognised me from his visits to my shop in London, though he marvelled at how etched my features had become. Equally astonished was he to see me this far from my home. The most amazing reports had reached his ear from London, which he imparted to me, much to my distress. Great scandal (so he informed me) had become attached to my name. I had reputedly embarked upon a new career as a violinist – the Paganinicon had apparently found it more convenient to appropriate my identity and residence. My musical abilities were reportedly such as to have conquered the concert halls of Europe, while certain other talents generated a rapidly growing flock of female admirers. These certain attributes were apparently much whispered about in the most fashionable of salons; more than one hair-pulling duel had occurred in public, with myself gazing with wry amusement at the scene.
My chagrin was complete at hearing of these things. My informant had the charity to advance me a sum of money – bonded against my future work for him – sufficient to pay for the rest of my journey by carriage. I thus travelled the rest of the way in relative comfort. Ever gnawing at my mind, though – beyond the humiliation of the scandals being conducted in my name by my clockwork double was the urgency that the Brown Leather Man had imparted to me, to reach Bendray Hall as soon as possible. All possibility of rest was precluded by the speculations churning in my mind, as to what the emergency could be.
I abandoned the notion of first going to London, considering my own affairs to be the lesser priority. Heeding the Brown Leather Man's orders, I made direct for Bendray Hall. Once near the district in which Dampford lay, I hired a single horse and waited until the fall of night, the better to pass through the village unnoticed; I had no idea what memory the Dampford villagers might have retained of me.
In darkness, I passed through the gates of Bendray Hall, and rode up to the great building itself. A few signs of the siege by the Godly Army remained: a new door to replace the one that had been battered down, some scorch marks around the lower windows. I dismounted, climbed the stone steps, and brought my fist against the door's timbers.
A hobbling step, as of a man using a crutch, was audible from inside, coming to answer my knock. The door swung open, and the grand hallway's light poured over me, its brightness momentarily blinding me after my ride through the night. Then I heard the person's voice.
"Jesus H. Christ," said Scape. "If it isn't ol' Dower."
I blinked, and discerned his figure. He did indeed bear a crutch under one arm; he tilted noticeably towards that side. "My God," I said. "I thought you were dead."
His manic grin returned. "Can't keep a good man down. Come on in." He shouted to someone descending the staircase, as I stepped inside. "Hey – look who showed up."
It was Miss McThane, her hair considerably shorter and sections of it somewhat crimped in appearance, as if singed sections had been cut off. She smiled delightedly at me. "For Christ's sake. And we all thought you'd been snuffed."
"You – you both survived?" I said in amazement.
"Looks like it," said Scape. "We both kinda bailed out before that damned thing hit the ground." He nodded sadly. "The dog bit it, though. Never did find the little sucker."
"But what are you doing here?"
He shrugged. "Where else was there to go? We figured we might as well head back here and get our old jobs back. Hey, lemme go get ol' Bendray; he'll get a kick out of seeing you again." There proved to be no need for him to fetch Lord Bendray; one of his servants