Infernal Devices - KW Jeter [68]
"Simply marvellous," said Sir Charles, pumping Scape's hand in his. "A magnificent achievement – the exact duplicate the real Paganini's temperament in every detail! You are to be congratulated."
Scape regained his composure after a moment's confusion.
"Yeah, well… It's no big thing, really." He smiled modestly.
As I watched them, I felt the uncomfortable sensation of another's gaze fastened upon me. I turned with the remains of the shattered violin in my hand, and saw Mrs Wroth, head tilted to one side, eyeing me with an even more disturbing interest.
Before another word could be spoken by any of us, we were frozen by the sound of a window shivering into bits. A heavy curtain at the side of the room flapped with the impact of some missile. Sir Charles let go of Scape's hand and rushed to the spot. The shards of glass crunched under his boots as he flung aside the curtain, revealing the evening's fading light outside. "They're here!" he shouted. "The Godly Army!" He turned and rushed from the room, his face contorted with anger.
There were shouts and more noises from without. I joined Scape at the window. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Why'd these turkeys have to show up now?"
It required a few moments to perceive the shapes moving in the advancing darkness. A torch flared, revealing the cloaked riders I had seen pursuing the carriage that had brought us to Bendray Hall; now there were several score of them. A glitter of light on steel showed the weapons in their hands.
"To arms!" sounded from the corridor. I heard feet running in the Hall's corridors, and excited shouting close at hand. Scape had disappeared from my side, taking Miss McThane with him; I crossed to the music room's doors and threw them open.
From the head of the great staircase, I could see Lord Bendray with an antique musket under his arm. He was still in his shirtsleeves, with his magnifying spectacles perched upon his forehead, having been apparently summoned from his laboratory by this emergency. The household staff, butlers and footmen, milled about him. Swords and pikestaffs had been stripped from the various suits of armour that stood beside the doorways, and Lord Bendray was intent upon distributing these and organising the defence of the Hall. Some little distance away, Sir Charles concentrated upon the loading of a brace of pistols. As I watched, the front door boomed with the impact of a battering ram against it.
"Come with me," said a voice at my ear. I turned round and saw Mrs Wroth. She pulled me away from the banister. "Quickly – there's not much time."
I had no desire to be pressed into the martial preparations on the ground floor; as she led me down the corridor, I glanced nervously over. my shoulder as the shouts and clanging weapons sounded. "What is happening? Who is it outside?"
Mrs Wroth pushed me up one of the house's rear staircases. "The Godly Army," she answered me. "Best to stay out of their path."
"But Scape told me they were nothing to worry about."
Behind me on the stairs, she laughed scornfully. "My husband may trust that fellow, and Lord Bendray may think equally highly of him; but I know that he is an unmitigated rascal. I would advise you to regard all of his assertions with the greatest scepticism."
I was out of breath, having come up two flights at a quick pace. Panting, I halted at the next landing's rail. "Who – who are these people, then?"
She stood beside me, her roseate bosom rising with her deep inhalation. "The Godly Army?" She reached up and solicitously brushed a strand of hair from my sweating brow. "Ah, they go a long way back – a very long way, Nearly as far as the Royal Anti-Society itself."
I would have asked her about the latter organization as well, but I was distracted by straining to listen for the noises of attack and repulse filtering up the stairwell.