Chapter Nine

Griffin Avondale was as good as his word: he went and made inquiries as to the whereabouts of Thomas Hayne Cutbush for Shirley. Two weeks after the incident in the library, a letter came from his family’s former barrister in London, Mr. Leopold. The letter, which he shared with Shirley in the second-floor hallway of the south wing on the day he received it, was business-like and straight to the point:

Dear Mr. Avondale, I investigated the matter as you asked. And while I cannot fathom why you would be interested in knowing the whereabouts and condition of a man with as strange and morbid a record as Thomas Hayne Cutbush, I will refrain from asking questions and instead report my findings.

As you expected, Mr. Cutbush has been incarcerated at Broadmoor Hospital since his sentencing three years ago and has not left the confines of the ground since. While the chief doctor was unwilling to speak with me due to legal and ethical concerns, several of the orderlies were willing to give me information on Mr. Cutbush’s disposition in exchange for a few shillings. Do not feel the need to reimburse me. Rather, I would prefer it if you considered this penance for being unable to help you with your father’s company after his passing.

The hospital orderlies report that Mr. Cutbush is extremely violent, and regularly threatens to attack staff and patients alike. According to several orderlies, some of his favorite expressions involve “ripping” people apart, mostly anyone he doesn’t like, but especially women. He believes he’s being poisoned by the hospital staff, especially the female nurses, and only by killing his poisoners can he get them to leave him alone.

However, there has been no instances of his actually causing physical harm to patients or staff and there have been no serious attempts by Mr. Cutbush to escape the facility. At this time, I would say it is fairly unlikely he will ever taste freedom again.

I hope you find this information satisfactory. Again, do not worry about reimbursing me for my services. If you ever need me for more conventional services for a man in my field, let me know and I would be more than willing to be of assistance.

Regards, Mr. Marcus Leopold, Esq.

Leopold and Banks London After reading over the letter, Shirley had read it again three more times just to be sure it really said what she thought it said. “Thank you, Griffin—Mr. Avondale,” she said, correcting herself quickly as the latter opened his mouth. “I appreciate you going out of your way to investigate this for me.”

She expected him to smile then, but instead his face remained serious and firm. “You know this means that what we encountered in the library that night wasn’t the man you met six years ago?” he reminded her. “That means there is something else going on at the Hunting Lodge.”

Shirley turned away from him. “I realize.”

“Then we should find out what it is. After all, whatever we encountered could very well kill us. But if we can get to the bottom of this mystery and figure out what it really was we experienced—!”

But Shirley did not want to hear anymore. She headed for the foyer, saying as she went, “If we go looking for trouble, then trouble may very well kill us. Perhaps if we leave it alone, then it will leave us alone.”

Although she could not see him, she could tell just how high his eyebrows were by the surprise in his voice. “You cannot honestly mean that.”

“I do,” she said. “And now if you do not mind, I must head to the laboratory. Excuse me, Mr. Avondale.” And with that she left, hoping to God Griffin would not chase after her or try to otherwise stop her. Fortunately, he did not.

***

It was not as if she did not care about whatever had occurred in the library. Far from it. Shirley cared quite a great deal. However, even if that had not been the real Thomas Hayne Cutbush, she did not want to go after anyone or anything that resembled him, let alone could hurt her like it had Griffin. Her terror was enough that it crushed any desire Griffin had managed to raise in her to solve the mystery regarding what had occurred in the library and the water closet. Therefore, Shirley decided the smart thing would be to avoid such strange events, stay focused on her work with Sir Joseph, and hope she never experienced anything like it again.

Thankfully, her work with Sir Joseph was enough to occupy most of her attention. The Eden Engine was in an important stage of its development, and Sir Joseph needed her now more than ever. At the same time, Shirley was advancing with her scientific studies, advancing at a lightning pace through the works of Brahe, Kepler, Newton, Ampère, Darwin, Mendel, and so many more. At times, she felt she was becoming a human library or repository of scientific knowledge with all the reading she absorbed while reading late into the night.

Add in that Lucinda was clinging to her more than usual and expected her and Nellie to be available at least once a week to socialize with her, Shirley’s schedule was quite full. Who had time to investigate the weird but infrequent happenings at the Hunting Lodge?

More importantly, Shirley reminded herself, it gives me an excuse to avoid Griffin Avondale.

Avoiding Griffin Avondale was important. Ever since that night in the kitchen, when he had told her how he had first fallen in love with her, Shirley had realized that it was not lust nor obsession that had brought Griffin’s attentions on her, but honest love and attraction. And that made her uncomfortable. Not because she found him repulsive, exactly, nor for her normal reasons to reject a suitor. This was an uncomfortable ache in her chest that also had the odd effect of making her face hot.

Whatever its cause, Shirley was determined to keep away from Griffin as much as possible. And for a while, it worked. She found excuses not to see Griffin outside of meals, and she kept conversation civil and polite when she was forced to speak to him.

And then the day of the surprise garden party came.

***

One evening, Shirley left the laboratory in a good mood, musing on how she would spend her first day off ever. Well, calling it a day off was being generous: the truth was, Sir Joseph had told her earlier in the week that he would be spending Saturday deep in research before their first test of the Eden Engine on a live animal. As Shirley was not yet far enough in her scientific studies to fully understand the texts Sir Joseph would be using for his research, the baronet had told her to spend the day studying by herself. So it was less of a day off and more of a day-long research marathon.

Whatever she called it, however, she was looking forward to having some time to herself. She was musing on how best to spend her study time when she saw Nellie running down the hall to her, close to tears and babbling so fast that Shirley had difficulty understanding her.

“Whoa, slow down, Nellie!” she urged, grabbing the younger girl by the shoulders. “Stop. Take a deep breath like the Indians do. Good. Now, can you tell me what has you acting like your own mum died?”

“Not my mum! Hilly’s mum!” Nellie replied, tears flowing down her cheeks. “And not dead, dying! Hilly got a telegram today telling her to go home to Devon to see her before she goes. She won’t be back for at least a week!”

“That’s awful,” Shirley said, feeling more bemused than saddened or horrified. She had no idea Hilly and Nellie were so close that the former’s mother dying could upset the latter so. “You must care a lot about Hilly to cry for her mother like that.”

“That’s not why I’m crying!” Nellie moaned. “You see, Hilly and I were supposed to help out Saturday.”

“Help out Saturday?”

“With the surprise party.”

“Surprise party?”

“Lucinda’s surprise party!” Nellie nearly shouted. A stricken look came over her, and she checked to make sure they were not being overheard. Then lowering her voice to a whisper, “Didn’t Mr. Avondale say something to you? He was going to invite you. He thought Lucinda would be happy to have you there.”

Shirley thought back on the past week. She had noticed Griffin had been trying to talk to her more than usual, but she had thought he was just especially eager to discuss either marrying her or the need to find the Cutbush-lookalike.

Apparently there was more on his mind this week, she thought. As Nellie waited for an answer, Shirley cleared her throat. “Oh yes, the surprise party! Now I remember! And…Hilly not being there is going to cause problems?”

“We’re short someone to serve the refreshments and sandwiches!” Nellie insisted, jumping up and down for emphasis. “And we can’t find someone at the last minute to serve at the party! Mr. Avondale had enough trouble finding servers with the right wardrobes from the villages to come!”

“Why can’t he get someone from London?”

“Mr. Avondale would have to pay for a carriage to bring them up and then bring them back! He can’t afford that! He’s already spent so much to even make this party happen! And the Master won’t pay for someone to come up from London! If we don’t have enough servers—!”

“If we don’t have enough servers, the guests at the party will be unable to enjoy themselves to the fullest, meaning it’ll be a disaster and the Avondale’s siblings will lose respect and standing in society.” Shirley barely suppressed a roll of her eyes as she finished Nellie’s sentence. She had no idea how such a tragedy was supposed to occur, given that there would have to be a noticeable difference in service through lack of a single person. Then again, most of what occurred in upper society mystified her. “Nellie, you do know that none of my previous employers ever let me serve at dinner parties, don’t you?”

“But Shirley!” Nellie begged. “We need you! Can you not do this? If not for Mr. Avondale or for me, for Lucinda? I am sure if you explain to the Master, you can get Saturday off—!”

“I already have Saturday off,” Shirley interrupted. “But I’m supposed to—!”

“Fantastic!” Nellie screamed, hugging Shirley around the middle. “I’ll inform Mr. Avondale that you’ll be there. Remember, the party starts at noon and goes till four. Wear a white dress and an apron and let Mrs. Preston know if you don’t have a white dress. Thank you, Shirley! You have no idea how much this means to me! Or how much it will mean to Lucinda!”

And with that, Nellie bounced away, leaving Shirley with her mouth hanging and her arm outstretched as if to stop the young maid. She withdrew her arm and closed her mouth. Well, I got her hopes up, she thought. I guess I have to deliver.

In the end, Shirley liked Nellie more than she cared for Griffin or Lucinda Avondale and she hated to see her disappointed. Which was why, on the day she was supposed to be devoting to her studies, Shirley found herself wearing a white dress and apron, standing under a tent with Nellie, Mrs. Preston and several hires from the Closer Village to serve tea or cucumber sandwiches to guests, and trying to ignore the glances directed at her lazy eye.

Though while she had no desire to be here, she had to admit that Griffin Avondale knew how to plan a nice garden party. He had directed for everything to be set up within walking distance to the Lodge, with several round tables covered in white tablecloths arranged around a wooden platform built for dancing. Beside the platform, a quartet of musicians were serenading the guests with their instruments. Like the extra servers, they were hires from the Closer Village, though they had enough knowledge of what was considered “high class” music to please the guests.

As for the guests themselves, they were a mixed lot. Men old and young were smoking cigars and talking in small groups as they awaited their turns with an archery set; married women and older ladies walked and gossiped across the lawn; and a gaggle of young ladies around Lucinda’s age were playing croquet in the shade of a large elm tree. Lucinda was, of course, among those young ladies and she had the widest smile on her face.

Shirley glanced at Nellie, who was sneaking peaks at Lucinda playing croquet with a troubled expression. The younger girl noticed Shirley watching her, however, and quickly became engrossed with arranging the sandwiches in a neat manner.

I think I understand what she’s going through, Shirley thought, glancing at the croquet game again. Lucinda was acting like we were her only friends in the world, and now she’s ignoring us to play knock-the-ball-around-with-a-mallet. Must be hard for Nellie. She really thinks Lucinda is her friend.

Then again, it was not as if she could blame Lucinda for wanting to spend time with her society friends, either. After all, she was still technically in mourning for her parents, during which time she was not supposed to have any visitors, go visit anyone else or attend social gatherings. The only reason she was able to attend this party was because her brother was taking advantage of a loophole in the guidelines: Lucinda could attend the garden party, so long as everyone agreed that she had not attended it, let alone attended it while still wearing a black mourning dress.

And thanks to that little loophole, Griffin had been able to throw this little surprise party for his sister and relieve her of some of her boredom here at the Lodge.

Speaking of which, where was Griffin? Shirley scanned the crowd and spotted him talking to a young lady in a bright red dress who had previously been playing croquet with Lucinda and her cohorts. Shirley glanced at the croquet game and noticed all the players had ceased play. Instead, they were watching their friend talk to Griffin with the utmost interest. She glanced back at Griffin and the young lady and noticed the way the latter held herself, as well as the tilt of her head.

Oh, so that’s how it is? she thought, scoping out how Griffin was reacting. He seemed quite aware of what this young lady wanted from him and was flattered. Maybe even enjoyed the attention a little.

I should have known, Shirley thought. He gets a lady closer to his own status who desires him to court her, and he forgets all about me. Not that I’m jealous.

Or was she jealous? She could not be sure, but somehow, she felt a little irked seeing Griffin clearly enjoying the attentions of another woman.

The archery tournaments and croquet games ended, and the dancing began. Griffin led the girl he had been speaking with to the dance floor, while Lucinda was brought onto by a man around Griffin’s age with whom she was clearly smitten. A dance Shirley thought was called a quadrille began, with young and old dancing on the platform.

Meanwhile, Shirley had shifted from staying in the tent to walking around and pouring tea for those who needed a fresh cup. While she walked, she listened in on their conversations.

“…my coffers have been running low thanks to the imports. I swear, Robert Peel should have been tried and hanged for repealing the Corn Laws!”

“…I must say, it’s a pleasure to be out of the house more now. It gets easier to socialize once the children are old enough and you can leave them with the governess or send them to school…”

“…Victoria fancies him? Well, that’s certainly upsetting. I cannot compete against Griffin, even if he did spend most of his money on this party…”

“…Lucinda and William make a lovely pair…”

“Where do you suppose Baronet Hunting is? He wouldn’t miss his own niece’s party, would he?”

“Probably off on some assignation. He was a man of specific appetites back in the day, and I would wager he still is. Either that, or he’s too shamefaced to meet with us. But given his history, can you blame him?”

The people who had been discussing Sir Joseph tittered, reminding Shirley of a bunch of noisy geese. Among them was a large, balding gentleman with a walrus-like mustache, who laughed the loudest and the hardiest. He had been the one to make the comment about assignations and the baronet’s history. He reminded Shirley of an overstuffed turkey, unaware that it was being fattened up for Christmas dinner.

She kept her tongue, but inside, her contempt for these well-dressed guests, especially the turkey-sized gentleman, smoldered. What did these preening fools know? They had probably not spoken to Sir Joseph in years, so they had no idea what important work he had been doing in the meantime.

Shirley, on the other hand, did know. She had been working with him for a couple of months now, after all. Right now, Sir Joseph was likely deep in the textbooks and monographs he had used to build the Eden Engine, plumbing the depths of the natural world, every crackle of the pages turning over to reveal new knowledge and history, every note bringing him that much closer to changing the world. Why, right now, the baronet was likely—

“My, what’s all this then?”

Shirley jumped and whirled around as Sir Joseph appeared by the refreshments’ tent, gazing around at the party with a face that neither approved nor disapproved. If Shirley had to give it a name, it was more akin to detached curiosity.

A whisper ran through the guests as everyone turned to look upon the baronet. Even the musicians had stopped playing, though Shirley guessed that was more out of curiosity to see how things played out. On the dancing platform, Lucinda and Griffin both had expressions like they expected an angry bull to turn its attention to them and charge.

“Uncle Joseph,” Lucinda said, her voice quavering a little. “I thought you were busy with your research.”

“I stepped out to stretch my legs,” he replied. “Now again, what’s all this?”

He gestured at the party, as if the whole thing were an indescribable mystery. Griffin left the side of the young woman in the red dress and approached Sir Joseph. “It’s a garden party, Uncle. Remember? You said I could throw one for Lucinda if I paid for it out of my own pocket?”

“Did I?” The baronet raised a confused eyebrow. “Was I reading a book when you asked?”

“Er, yes sir. While you were eating the previous night’s pheasant.”

“Ah, no wonder I do not remember that.”

“D-Do you disapprove?” asked Lucinda, still wrapped in the arms of the handsome dark-haired young man and looking on the verge of tears.

“Disapprove?” he repeated incredulously. “Why, whatever for? No, go fritter away with your friends and suitors. I do not mind. Though I do wonder, when did it become acceptable to attend any party when one was still dressed in mourning clothes? Oh, never mind. I see some familiar faces are in attendance.” He stepped on the dance platform, a dark gleam in his eyes. “Mrs. Campton, is that you? You’re looking well.”

Sir Joseph approached a middle-aged woman dancing with a younger man, perhaps her son or nephew. The woman, Mrs. Campton, looked like she had swallowed a lemon. “Um, good to see you as well, Sir Joseph. Have you been well?”

“Very well, thank you,” he replied, a dangerous edge to his voice. His eyes alighted on the youth dancing with Mrs. Campton and asked, “Are you a relation of hers, or a servant? If you’re the latter, I would be careful. The last servant she danced with suffered a most untimely death. I believe the police are still looking for the knife that did the deed.”

The guests gasped. Mrs. Campton, her face that of someone who has received an unexpected punch to the gut, pushed the shocked youth she had been dancing with away as if he were somehow tainted. Unaffected by the atmosphere he had created, Sir Joseph stepped off the platform and approached a handsome man in his mid-thirties and his horse-faced wife.

“Ah, Reginald Douglass! I like the trim of your suit. Made by one of the best tailors in London, no doubt. The only one of its kind too, no doubt. Goodness, how did you pay for it? The last I heard you were struggling to pay your servants. Too much time at the horse races, is that correct?”

“That’s all in the past, Sir Joseph!” said Reginald Douglass, incensed. “I have paid my debts and given up gambling.”

“I’m sure you have. But have you found another excuse to get away from the wife you positively loathe?”

Reginald Douglass’s horse-faced wife burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. While her husband tried in vain to comfort her and threw insults Sir Joseph’s way, Sir Joseph moved onto the gaggle of guests who had laughed like geese when Shirley was refreshing their tea.

“Uncle Joseph, please!” Lucinda cried, tears welling in her eyes. “I thought you said you didn’t disapprove!”

But he did not disapprove of the party. That was the thing, Shirley realized. He was fine with the party, so long as he was uninterrupted in his research. It was some of the guests at the party that he objected to. And he was making his objections clear.

“Lord Wyndemere! I haven’t seen you in—oh, how long has it been? Well, not since Wilhelmina was still alive, at any rate.”

The large gentleman whom Shirley had likened to a large turkey was sweating profusely. He cleared his throat. “Sir Joseph, it’s good to see you. Yes, I believe the last time we met, your wife was still alive. It was such a shame, what happened to her. I was deeply sorry to hear about it. She was a wonderful woman.”

“Oh, I’m sure you thought so,” Sir Joseph replied, the edge in his voice thickening into a deep, throat-spanning anger. “That she was wonderful, that is. You used to visit her quite often, as I recall. I believe you even spent time in her private rooms?”

The entire party inhaled. Sir Joseph sidled up to Lord Wyndemere and bent down to whisper something in his ear. The oversized gentleman’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and he shot up from his seat.

“Why, I never!” he raged. “You go too far, Sir Joseph! I feel so sorry for your niece’s children! They deserve better in a guardian than the likes of you!”

And with that, he stomped off. Sir Joseph watched him go, a sly, satisfied sneer on his face. “Always a pleasure, James. Always a pleasure.”

Sir Joseph turned as if to go, and then his eyes alighted on Shirley. “Shirley, what are you doing here?”

For a moment, she did not know how to respond. “Er, I’m helping out, sir,” she replied, gesturing with the teapot she held and praying to God it wasn’t her turn to receive a verbal lashing. “As a favor to a friend.”

Sir Joseph made a disdainful noise in the back of his throat. “Well, I hope your friend is grateful to you. As you well know, your talent is wasted in domestic service.” To the curious guests, he revealed, “Shirley Dobbins is my assistant. She’ll be a talented scientist someday, given enough training. And if her friends don’t prevail upon her good nature too often, of course.”

All eyes turned to her, appraising her, no doubt making assumptions about her, her eye, and her relationship to the baronet. Glad that she wasn’t on the other end of Sir Joseph’s wrath, she merely curtsied and said aloud, “Why thank you, Sir Joseph. You are too kind.”

Not how I wanted to be introduced to the wider world as a lab assistant. Especially not at the expense of Lucinda’s party. Shirley wondered if Lucinda would forgive her for this and was surprised by how much she cared.

Having finished introducing her, Sir Joseph turned and headed back up to the Lodge, barely glancing at his niece and nephew, or anyone else, as he passed.

***

Despite the fact that the party was supposed to go for another couple of hours, it was clear to Shirley that Sir Joseph’s outburst had ended the party early. Indeed, it seemed to Shirley that the guests were eager to get out of there. Despite that, Griffin and Lucinda thanked each of the guests personally, even as the latter was unable to keep the tears out of her eyes.

While they were doing that, Shirley helped to clean the party, noticing as she did that there were dark clouds off in the distance. By the time everything had been cleared away, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds and there was a heavy downpour outside. The villagers and the Lodge staff, including Shirley, only just managed to get inside before the deluge fell.

Later, walking aimlessly through the Lodge, Shirley heard sobbing coming from one of the parlor rooms. She glanced through the open door, and spotted Lucinda sitting on a divan and crying into a handkerchief. Nellie sat beside her, stroking her back and whispering encouragement to the older girl that most likely did little to assuage her torment.

Shirley stepped back, intending to move away from the scene, when Lucinda peered up and spotted her. Again, Shirley wondered again if she would be the target of the girl’s anger over what had happened at the party. Instead, Lucinda stood up and rushed to her, throwing her arms around Shirley and sobbing into her shoulder. Just like on the day Mr. and Mrs. Avondale had died, Shirley wrapped her arms around the poor girl, unsure what else to do.

“They aren’t my real friends.”

“What?” Shirley asked.

“They aren’t my real friends!” Lucinda repeated vehemently. “The girls who came to the party today! They said they would write and visit again, but I know they won’t! After what Uncle Joseph did today, they will want nothing to do with me. I am tainted to them! Tainted!”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Shirley replied, though she was not convinced herself. Society friends could be fickle, if what she heard was true. She led Lucinda back to the divan and began stroking her hair. “I’m sure you’ll hear from them soon enough.”

“You two are my only true friends,” Lucinda said, ignoring Shirley’s remark and glancing at her and Nellie. “You don’t care who my family is or how much money we have. Uncle Joseph pays you, and I know he wouldn’t care a fig if either of you were mean to me because I’m no longer your employer. But you two are so nice to me!”

She wailed loudly before devolving into hiccups and sniffles. “Promise me you’ll stay my friends. Please?”

“Of course,” Shirley assured her.

And she meant it. Somehow, despite the lines that separated their worlds and her behavior when her parents had been alive, Lucinda and Shirley had become friends. And she was fine with that. It was hard to believe that it took a ruined party for Shirley to realize it, but apparently that was how it was.

Hugging her for real this time, she added, “We’ll always be friends. You mark my words.”

“Yes,” Nellie chimed in, hugging Lucinda as well. “We’ll always be friends. And we won’t ever abandon you.”

From the shaking form against her shoulder, Shirley heard a tiny voice say, “Thank you,” before disappearing back into sniffles and sobs.

They stayed like that for some time, the only sounds that of Lucinda’s weeping and the sky weeping alongside her.