Read Online Instruments of Darkness by Imogen Robertson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Imogen Robertson
Tags: Historical fiction, Crime Fiction
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Papa?’
The yellow man looked up quickly and smiled his twisting smile. Susan thought he must be very old. His skin was deeply cracked, like porcelain badly repaired. The hat he wore low over his wig was greasy and shone in places.
‘Hello, Puppy! Come over here and see us a moment.’ There was an urgency in his voice now. Susan tried to open her mouth, her voice was whispering.
‘No, Jonathan.’
‘Now, don’t you listen to your mean old sister, my boy. Come when your betters tell you to.’
Susan could not see her brother, she could only watch the glint of the man’s eyes. Without taking them from the little boy, the yellow man wiped his knife on the inside of his coat. Susan felt her heart throb as if for the last time.
Just then, the brass bell rang again, and Mr Graves walked in with his usual quick step.
‘Alexander!’ he said excitedly. ‘You won’t believe the progress of the mob. They are making an attempt on—Good God! What is this?’
The yellow man gave a yell of rage, and spun round towards the door. Susan saw Graves start towards him, blocking his way; the yellow man’s arm swung up in a wide arc, and Mr Graves staggered back, falling onto his side. The yellow man ran out into the street; the door rattled behind him. Jonathan began to scream. Graves struggled onto his knees and crawled over to Susan and Alexander.
‘Dear God! Dear God! Alexander!’
Susan looked down at her father again, and saw a red alien bloom across his waistcoat, just where their clasped hands lay; even his cravat was stained and that had been clean on this morning. Jane would complain at the extra work.
Mr Graves groaned, then looked up at her. ‘Susan? Susan! Listen to me! Are you hurt?’
His face had a long thin slice of red across it, beaded here and there like jewels on a string. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
‘Are you hurt, girl?’
She looked at him in surprise. He seemed a very long way away. Jonathan was hysterical. She must keep him quiet or he would wake Mama, and she needed her rest very much now. She shook her head. He held her gaze.
‘I’m going to fetch a surgeon. Lock the door behind me, and only open it for me, you understand. For me!’ He turned to the crying boy. ‘Jonathan, go and fetch water for your papa.’ He put his hand on Alexander’s shoulder. ‘Don’t move. No! For God’s sake - don’t try to speak, man.’
Alexander tried to lift a hand. His stertorous breathing formed into words. The two men looked at each other.
‘Care for them, Graves.’
‘I swear it. Now . . .’ he stood and dragged Susan to her feet, forcing her to let go of her father’s hand, which made her yelp in protest like a kicked dog. He held her shoulders again, and looking her straight in the eye, said: ‘Come to the Door, Susan. And lock it behind me.’ She managed to nod. ‘And remember: you must not open the door again to anyone till I get back. Will you remember that?’
She nodded again and he pulled her to the door, waiting outside, his eyes wild with impatience till he heard the lock being turned, then set off down the narrow street at a run.
Susan watched him go, almost wondering why he ran so fast, then turned back to her father. She dropped on the floor beside him and gently lifted his head onto her knee. She tried to give him a little of the water Jonathan had brought from the table, weeping whenever he spilled a drop in his hurry. It was difficult, for her hands were all slippery and red, but she thought a little went in between her father’s lips. Jonathan burrowed into her side, and Susan shifted a little so he could get close to her. When she moved she was sorry to see the red had become a pool and her own dress, and Jonathan’s breeches were steeped in it. She set down the water glass and with great care took her father’s hand again. Jonathan took the other. Alexander’s breathing became more ragged still, and slower. He forced his eyes open
The yellow man looked up quickly and smiled his twisting smile. Susan thought he must be very old. His skin was deeply cracked, like porcelain badly repaired. The hat he wore low over his wig was greasy and shone in places.
‘Hello, Puppy! Come over here and see us a moment.’ There was an urgency in his voice now. Susan tried to open her mouth, her voice was whispering.
‘No, Jonathan.’
‘Now, don’t you listen to your mean old sister, my boy. Come when your betters tell you to.’
Susan could not see her brother, she could only watch the glint of the man’s eyes. Without taking them from the little boy, the yellow man wiped his knife on the inside of his coat. Susan felt her heart throb as if for the last time.
Just then, the brass bell rang again, and Mr Graves walked in with his usual quick step.
‘Alexander!’ he said excitedly. ‘You won’t believe the progress of the mob. They are making an attempt on—Good God! What is this?’
The yellow man gave a yell of rage, and spun round towards the door. Susan saw Graves start towards him, blocking his way; the yellow man’s arm swung up in a wide arc, and Mr Graves staggered back, falling onto his side. The yellow man ran out into the street; the door rattled behind him. Jonathan began to scream. Graves struggled onto his knees and crawled over to Susan and Alexander.
‘Dear God! Dear God! Alexander!’
Susan looked down at her father again, and saw a red alien bloom across his waistcoat, just where their clasped hands lay; even his cravat was stained and that had been clean on this morning. Jane would complain at the extra work.
Mr Graves groaned, then looked up at her. ‘Susan? Susan! Listen to me! Are you hurt?’
His face had a long thin slice of red across it, beaded here and there like jewels on a string. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
‘Are you hurt, girl?’
She looked at him in surprise. He seemed a very long way away. Jonathan was hysterical. She must keep him quiet or he would wake Mama, and she needed her rest very much now. She shook her head. He held her gaze.
‘I’m going to fetch a surgeon. Lock the door behind me, and only open it for me, you understand. For me!’ He turned to the crying boy. ‘Jonathan, go and fetch water for your papa.’ He put his hand on Alexander’s shoulder. ‘Don’t move. No! For God’s sake - don’t try to speak, man.’
Alexander tried to lift a hand. His stertorous breathing formed into words. The two men looked at each other.
‘Care for them, Graves.’
‘I swear it. Now . . .’ he stood and dragged Susan to her feet, forcing her to let go of her father’s hand, which made her yelp in protest like a kicked dog. He held her shoulders again, and looking her straight in the eye, said: ‘Come to the Door, Susan. And lock it behind me.’ She managed to nod. ‘And remember: you must not open the door again to anyone till I get back. Will you remember that?’
She nodded again and he pulled her to the door, waiting outside, his eyes wild with impatience till he heard the lock being turned, then set off down the narrow street at a run.
Susan watched him go, almost wondering why he ran so fast, then turned back to her father. She dropped on the floor beside him and gently lifted his head onto her knee. She tried to give him a little of the water Jonathan had brought from the table, weeping whenever he spilled a drop in his hurry. It was difficult, for her hands were all slippery and red, but she thought a little went in between her father’s lips. Jonathan burrowed into her side, and Susan shifted a little so he could get close to her. When she moved she was sorry to see the red had become a pool and her own dress, and Jonathan’s breeches were steeped in it. She set down the water glass and with great care took her father’s hand again. Jonathan took the other. Alexander’s breathing became more ragged still, and slower. He forced his eyes open
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