The Bone Quill by Barrowman John & Barrowman Carole E

Author:Barrowman, John & Barrowman, Carole E. [Barrowman, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781780551838
Publisher: Michael O'Mara Books
Published: 2013-02-01T11:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-FIVE

Duncan Fox’s Studio

London

1848

Em landed face down on an oriental rug that smelled of cigars and wet dog, the nose of a confused beagle bumping up against her own. Matt landed on his feet, one on the rug and one inside a brass spittoon shaped like a turtle. Simon crashed head first into a potted palm tree.

The beagle leaped to its feet almost as quickly as Em, who in an instant knew they had animated beyond the painting and into the past again. It felt like a punch to the gut. She had wanted the painting to be by her mother, not Fox. Her disappointment made her ache.

Time-travelling to a Victorian artist’s studio gave Em a queasy feeling. She had never seen a place with so much furniture. Every open space had chairs: wooden, cushioned, low-backed and one looking like a throne. Em squinted at the throne. The lid on the seat suggested it was an old toilet chair.

Every space that didn’t have a chair had a side table, and every side table was cluttered with books and figurines. Then there were tall lamps and short lamps, all powered by gas, the tubing running along the rafters and out of sight. The entire place looked like it was one spark away from a blaze.

The walls were covered in framed and unframed paintings. The front windows were made of stained glass with four heraldic shields across the top panes. One looked like the crest of the Abbey, with the peryton on it.

And then Em looked up, noting the roof made of glass, the rows of skylights open to the late afternoon sun, and knew exactly where they had landed.

She helped her brother lift his foot from the squishy muck in the spittoon, then yanked him to the middle of the over-furnished room, her disappointment at not seeing her mother drowned out by her sudden excitement. ‘Matt! Do you realize where we are?’

Matt gawked. ‘It’s our flat!’

‘What?’ said Simon, setting the palm upright. Straightening up, he hit his head on a birdcage hanging from one of the rafters. The bird squawked angrily.

‘Our old flat!’ exclaimed Matt. ‘When we lived in London.’

They suddenly spotted a man standing at the other side of the room next to an easel. His dark hair was slicked back behind his ears, a scar running through his short black beard, and in front of him was the desk they had come to open, topped with the skull, the candelabra, the mirrored glass and Jeannie’s pewter goblet. He looked like a handsome head teacher with his hands folded behind his back and his posture ramrod straight.

‘That was as grand a theatrical entrance as I’ve seen,’ said the man. ‘Worthy of the Adelphi Theatre.’

Wiping his paint-stained hands on a white cloth over his shoulder, he offered Simon his hand first. ‘This may be rather a shock to you, sir, but I am Duncan Fox. This is September of 1848, the eleventh year of the reign of Victoria. Welcome to my London.’

‘It’s

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.