A Passion for Pleasure(36)
Pain flashed behind his glasses. His grip tightened on her shoulder. “I know.”
He glanced at Mrs. Fox. “Please tell Mrs. Marshall we’ll take breakfast later.”
Mrs. Fox gave a crisp nod and turned. A few minutes later, she returned. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance. I’ve locked the front door, so visitors will have to ring for entry.”
Clara and Granville exchanged glances. At her nod, he told Mrs. Fox what they were searching for. The other woman pulled a chair to the table and began unrolling a stack of scrolls.
Clara’s hands stung with cuts from the wooden crates, and a layer of dust coated her apron. She wiped her hands on a cloth.
She tried not to think beyond this one goal, the desperate need to find the machine specifications. She tried not to think of what would happen if she didn’t find them.
Sunlight began to press against the windows, making it easier to see in the dusty storeroom. Mrs. Fox stopped once to return to the foyer, then came back with Sebastian behind her.
Clara’s heart jumped at the sight of his tall figure, his thick, black hair rumpled from the scrape of his fingers.
“Good morning.” His deep voice rumbled over her skin.
Clara could not help delighting in the sensations he aroused in her, not only because of him, but because they were such a pleasurable reprieve from her ever-present fear. Seeing Sebastian, being near him, was like taking a breath of fresh, clean air after escaping a smoke-filled room. Yesterday she had thought she would never want to leave the protective circle of his arms.
She rose, experiencing a new surge of hope as Sebastian greeted Granville and explained the reason for his presence. Her uncle responded with wariness, which Clara knew sprang from his concern about her new plan.
Yet even cautious Uncle Granville could not deny the plan might very well work.
She guided Sebastian to a stack of boxes in the corner and explained the organizational procedure they had devised—machinery parts went into the adjoining room, diagrams for toys, clocks, musical items, and larger automata were divided into stacks on the table, and undecipherable plans and notebooks were placed on a sideboard for Granville’s perusal.
Sebastian began unpacking one of the boxes. Several hours passed, with only the sounds of shuffling paper, creaking wood and metal, and occasional questions breaking the silence. Mrs. Marshall appeared with a tea tray and plate of muffins, which she left on a side table.
Clara went to the table where Mrs. Fox sat examining notebooks. She took a scroll from a pile and removed the string. A sheaf of papers unfurled onto the table, a stack of notes embedded in the center. Clara smoothed her hand over the curling edges of the diagram and weighted them with books so the scroll would lie flat.
The intricate diagram resembled a music box, with gears attached to a central wheel. Notes decorated the paper like the margins on an illuminated manuscript—elegant boxes of Monsieur Dupree’s penmanship.
“What about this one?” Clara asked Uncle Granville.
After a brief inspection, he shook his head and started to turn away, then paused. He put his hands flat on the table and bent to look more closely at the drawing. His forehead wrinkled.
“What is it?” Clara asked.
“I don’t know. But I’ve never seen its like before.” Granville reached for the pages that contained Dupree’s writings. “Get me a pencil, please, Clara.”
Clara hurried to find a pencil and paper, which she placed on the table beside her uncle. She glanced at Mrs. Fox, who was watching Granville with her unwavering gaze. Sebastian came to stand next to her.
Granville muttered something to himself as he examined the diagram and read the papers, then began scribbling incomprehensible notes. Clara’s fingers curled into her palms as she waited, sensing her uncle’s flare of curiosity. He rubbed a hand through his hair and wrote a series of letters in the form of a square.
“Uncle Granville, what is it?” Clara finally asked after a good half hour of his muttering and scribbling. Impatience tightened in her chest. “Is it the telegraph machine?”
“No. It’s a machine meant for transmitting messages, but via some sort of cipher.”
“That’s it.”
Clara and Granville turned to stare at Sebastian. “What?”
“That’s the machine.” Sebastian’s spine straightened. “It transmits telegraphic messages through some form of secret writing. I believe some call it cryptology.”
Granville frowned. “I can only conclude that Monsieur Dupree would have sent such specifications to me in the hopes I’d know what to do with them.” He looked at Sebastian, the reflection of sunlight on his glasses enhancing the suspicion in his eyes. “Clara tells me you are seeking the plans for your brother?”