Instruments of Darkness by Imogen Robertson

Author:Imogen Robertson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General, C429, Extratorrents, Kat, Fiction, David_James Mobilism.org
ISBN: 9780143120407
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2009-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

PART IV

1

MONDAY, 5 JUNE 1780

Susan must have slept, but as the light began to crawl between the shutters, and she heard the familiar sounds of a London street beginning to stir like a drunk awakening from bad dreams, it seemed to her she had spent the whole night watching the shadows on the ceiling.

She had asked Graves and Miss Chase if she might be able to tell her brother about his—about their—strange change in situation and expectation, and the three of them had decided to say nothing to anyone else until she had had time to do so. It seemed right to her that she should tell him, but the decision to do so was easier than the telling. She had promised herself it would be after supper, then told herself that Jonathan was tired and needed rest, and now she had lost her own chance of sleep trying to find words that were gentle and right, and would be clearly understood.

She sighed and sat up, then swung her feet to the floor to watch him sleeping in the bed next to hers. His blond hair fell over the pillow, his arms thrown out as if he were racing up some steep slope in his dreams. His skin was as perfect and pale as the first clouds. She reached over and shook his shoulder roughly.

“Jonathan! Jonathan, wake up.”

He stirred and opened his eyes. She saw in them the same confusion she felt whenever she woke in this room. Those first few seconds of peace, then doubt as the familiar objects of their own room in Tichfield Street above the shop failed to appear, then the squeeze of his eyes, the little gulp in his chest as he remembered where he was, what had happened.

“Jonathan, I have to tell you something.”

He pulled himself up onto his elbows, and rubbed his eyes. “What is it?”

“Are you awake?”

“’Course I’m awake. You just shook me.”

“Our name isn’t Adams, it is Thornleigh. You are probably a viscount, and you’ll be an earl some day.”

Jonathan frowned at his sheets. “Of where?”

“Sussex.”

He looked across at her. “Oh. Is that where the picture comes from?”

“What picture?”

“The one on Papa’s ring. With the dragon and the bird holding a shield. Perhaps that man knows.”

“It’s a phoenix and you’re talking silly—what man?”

Jonathan sat up properly and said indignantly, “I am not talking silly! The man showed me a picture like the one on the ring and asked if I’d seen it. I told him about the ring and he said I was clever. Then he promised he’d come back and give me a waistcoat just like his. I liked it, it was nice. But he hasn’t come back.”

“When, Jonathan? What man?”

“Days and days ago. I just told you. He was called Carter. Like horse and carter. Why?”

“Perhaps he took the ring!” She let her voice drop and plucked at the bedclothes. “He did not look like ... the other man?”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, and he was nice. Why would he take the ring? He had the picture.

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