Read Online A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow by Liesel Schwarz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Liesel Schwarz
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behind the house. It hissed as Patrice released the steam in the engine pressure tanks. Startled by the noise, a fat wood pigeon flew off the lead-roofed spire, an acknowledgment of their arrival at a house that was otherwise silent.
Elle stretched her back as she stepped onto gravel. Her body ached all over from sleeping upright. She stopped mid-stretch and gripped Marsh by the arm.
“What?” he said.
She raised a finger to her lips for them to be silent and pointed at the back door. It was ajar.
“Something’s wrong,” she whispered.
Marsh motioned for her and Patrice to take up positions on either side of the door frame. The sound of gravel crunching underfoot as they tried to be quiet was excruciating.
The brickwork pressed against Elle’s back as she flattened herself to the wall. Marsh leaned forward and pushed the door with his boot. The old wooden door creaked open to reveal a patch of red tile kitchen floor.
Silence. The house was quiet … and dark.
Elle held her breath in an attempt to still her heart as it hammered against the inside of her rib cage. She craned her neck forward to get a better look, but Marsh pushed her back against the wall. His hand felt heavy and warm against her stomach. Silently he mouthed the word stay.
With slow, deliberate movements, the two men entered the kitchen.
Seconds ticked by in time with the pulse of blood through Elle’s veins.
A woman screamed, followed by flash of light and a loud metallic clang that ended the silence.
“Oh my goodness—Mrs. Hinges!” Elle ran into the kitchen.
Patrice was on his knees on the floor, holding the side of his head. Marsh stood over Mrs. Hinges, who was armed with a large cast-iron frying pan.
“No, don’t hurt her!” Elle shouted.
Everyone looked at her.
“Eleanor!” Mrs. Hinges pushed Marsh out of the way and folded Elle into a big hug that pressed the pan handle into Elle’s back. “Oh, my darling girl, I’ve been beside myself with worry. Thank heavens you are all safe. Now, get away from us, you devils!” Up went the frying pan to its former defensive position.
“There is no need for any of that.” Elle disentangled herself from Mrs. Hinges and pushed the frying pan down. “Mr. Marsh over there was kind enough to bring me all the way home from the airfield. I’m so sorry to have startled you. What on earth is going on here? Why is the house so dark?”
“Get back, I say!” Mrs. Hinges glared at the men with wild eyes. Her long salt-and-pepper hair was hanging down her back in a braid and her normally immaculate starched apron was stained and crumpled.
Elle gave Marsh a warning look. “I think we should all take a moment to calm down, don’t you?”
Marsh nodded at Patrice and they both took a step back.
“Mrs. Hinges, this is Mr. Marsh—I mean Viscount Greychester—and this is Patrice Chevalier, my docking agent and his lordship’s man.”
The older woman’s eyebrows shot up and the frying pan wavered.
“Gentlemen, may I present Mrs. Mathilda Hinges, our housekeeper and dear friend.”
“Ah, the unrivaled queen of shortbread biscuits. How do you do, madam.” Marsh bowed politely.
Mrs. Hinges nodded at Patrice suspiciously and turned to Marsh.
“How do you do, my lord.” Her free hand fluttered to the base of her neck and she bobbed an unsteady curtsey.
She turned to Elle and gave her a stern look. “Eleanor, what on earth are you doing, bringing important guests into the house through the back door, like thieves? Do you realize that I could have killed them?”
“I’m sure you could have. But why were you hiding in the kitchen armed with the frying pan?”
In answer, tears welled up and collected in the crinkles around the older woman’s eyes. “Oh, it was terrible. I’ve not slept a wink all night. They came into the house after midnight and took him. You know how he likes to work late sometimes. Grabbed him out of his study. I was fast asleep when— the commotion woke
Elle stretched her back as she stepped onto gravel. Her body ached all over from sleeping upright. She stopped mid-stretch and gripped Marsh by the arm.
“What?” he said.
She raised a finger to her lips for them to be silent and pointed at the back door. It was ajar.
“Something’s wrong,” she whispered.
Marsh motioned for her and Patrice to take up positions on either side of the door frame. The sound of gravel crunching underfoot as they tried to be quiet was excruciating.
The brickwork pressed against Elle’s back as she flattened herself to the wall. Marsh leaned forward and pushed the door with his boot. The old wooden door creaked open to reveal a patch of red tile kitchen floor.
Silence. The house was quiet … and dark.
Elle held her breath in an attempt to still her heart as it hammered against the inside of her rib cage. She craned her neck forward to get a better look, but Marsh pushed her back against the wall. His hand felt heavy and warm against her stomach. Silently he mouthed the word stay.
With slow, deliberate movements, the two men entered the kitchen.
Seconds ticked by in time with the pulse of blood through Elle’s veins.
A woman screamed, followed by flash of light and a loud metallic clang that ended the silence.
“Oh my goodness—Mrs. Hinges!” Elle ran into the kitchen.
Patrice was on his knees on the floor, holding the side of his head. Marsh stood over Mrs. Hinges, who was armed with a large cast-iron frying pan.
“No, don’t hurt her!” Elle shouted.
Everyone looked at her.
“Eleanor!” Mrs. Hinges pushed Marsh out of the way and folded Elle into a big hug that pressed the pan handle into Elle’s back. “Oh, my darling girl, I’ve been beside myself with worry. Thank heavens you are all safe. Now, get away from us, you devils!” Up went the frying pan to its former defensive position.
“There is no need for any of that.” Elle disentangled herself from Mrs. Hinges and pushed the frying pan down. “Mr. Marsh over there was kind enough to bring me all the way home from the airfield. I’m so sorry to have startled you. What on earth is going on here? Why is the house so dark?”
“Get back, I say!” Mrs. Hinges glared at the men with wild eyes. Her long salt-and-pepper hair was hanging down her back in a braid and her normally immaculate starched apron was stained and crumpled.
Elle gave Marsh a warning look. “I think we should all take a moment to calm down, don’t you?”
Marsh nodded at Patrice and they both took a step back.
“Mrs. Hinges, this is Mr. Marsh—I mean Viscount Greychester—and this is Patrice Chevalier, my docking agent and his lordship’s man.”
The older woman’s eyebrows shot up and the frying pan wavered.
“Gentlemen, may I present Mrs. Mathilda Hinges, our housekeeper and dear friend.”
“Ah, the unrivaled queen of shortbread biscuits. How do you do, madam.” Marsh bowed politely.
Mrs. Hinges nodded at Patrice suspiciously and turned to Marsh.
“How do you do, my lord.” Her free hand fluttered to the base of her neck and she bobbed an unsteady curtsey.
She turned to Elle and gave her a stern look. “Eleanor, what on earth are you doing, bringing important guests into the house through the back door, like thieves? Do you realize that I could have killed them?”
“I’m sure you could have. But why were you hiding in the kitchen armed with the frying pan?”
In answer, tears welled up and collected in the crinkles around the older woman’s eyes. “Oh, it was terrible. I’ve not slept a wink all night. They came into the house after midnight and took him. You know how he likes to work late sometimes. Grabbed him out of his study. I was fast asleep when— the commotion woke
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