‘It has been such a hot day. Dusk is almost upon us. Perhaps we should all take a few minutes relief,’ Lady Margaret said.
Helen placed her near the windows.
‘Margaret, do not interfere,’ Mr Hammond murmured.
It sounded as if he stood only a few steps away from his sister. He, Lady Margaret, Darby and Mr Quinn were all in the room to provide distraction — sound and movement to unsettle her senses — and they were managing the task far too well.
Helen rolled her shoulders, easing the damp cling of her shirt beneath her waistcoat. She longed to rip away the blindfold too, but settled for hooking a finger into the top and tugging against its firm hold.
‘Lady Helen was much closer with that last one, my lord,’ Mr Quinn’s voice said.
‘Yes, you are making excellent progress, my lady,’ Darby added, near the north wall.
Loyal words, as ever, but Helen knew she was not making excellent progress at all. Even more worrying than her own failure was the ever-increasing edge in his lordship’s voice. The taut, deep energy within him had returned in abundance and Helen could almost feel his strain as he fought to keep himself under control. The elusiveness of the journal was not helping either. Everyone was on edge, waiting for some news of Lowry to emerge from one of the informers.
‘When you have conquered this exercise, sensing an actual Deceiver whip will be far more straightforward,’ his lordship said. ‘You will not be blindfolded when you face a Deceiver, so you will also be able to use his or her body as a cue to help build the shape and action of any weapons the creature has built.’
‘Then why must I do this blindfolded?’ Helen asked, unable to keep the surly tone from her voice. She twisted her wrists, trying to ease the itch of sweat beneath the leather guards strapped around her forearms.
‘You must walk all the sensory pathways that build the picture,’ Quinn said. Helen swung her head around to face him. He had moved from the back of the salon to the door in an impressively silent manner for such a big man. ‘If you are not blindfolded, you will still rely upon sight.’
‘Why not put the Iceland spar lenses into a pair of spectacles?’ she said, airing the thought she’d had during another sleepless night. ‘We could even tie them on.’
And then this torment would not be necessary, she added silently.
‘Do you think we have not tried that?’ his lordship demanded. ‘The Deceivers are not mindless animals; they saw the vulnerability of such a device immediately. The first Reclaimer who wore it ended up with the lenses smashed into his eyes. He died almost immediately. A Reclaimer’s power can heal many injuries, Lady Helen, but not a shard of crystal straight into the brain. God’s blood, girl, use your intelligence.’ His voice had deepened into a snarl.
‘Lord Carlston!’ Lady Margaret protested.
Helen could hear the anxiety in her voice. No doubt the same anxiety that she felt; he was definitely getting worse. By all rights she should report it to Pike, but she could not. He was not violent, not irrational, just increasingly impatient. Perhaps it was her failure that was prompting such bad temper.
Silence, and then she heard the Earl take a steadying breath. ‘We will go again,’ he said, his tone once again measured. ‘Remember, Lady Helen, move as soon as you have the image. At present you are taking too long to respond.’
She heard a step, unmistakably his lordship’s long stride, and turned her head, following his progress towards the right wall. Frowning with concentration, she forced her way past her physical discomforts and the distractions of the other four bodies zigzagging across the room. Every sense focused upon the whip in Lord Carlston’s hand. She held her breath, hearing the thin sound of the long whiptail rising in the air, the smell of the leather stretching as it flicked back, the small crack as it folded in on itself, disrupting the currents of air against her skin. A sudden picture formed in her mind: the thin length hurtling towards her chest, its trajectory as clear as if she could see it. She jumped to the right, grabbing for the end-point of its reach, but her hand closed on air.
‘Better,’ his lordship said. ‘At least you avoided being hit.’
Helen bent over, hands on hips, and pulled in a deep breath. She had only jumped to the left or right all evening, yet she felt exhausted.
With her hearing so exercised, she could not help but hear the knock on the kitchen door two floors down. She straightened and pulled off her blindfold, blinking in the golden light of the sunset through the windows. At this hour, only an informer would be knocking on the door.
‘There is —’ she began, drawing the attention of Mr Hammond and Lady Margaret.
His lordship, however, was staring at the floor. He raised his hand for silence. He had heard the knock too.
‘I got a message for the young lady,’ Helen heard a child’s voice say. It was Sprat.
‘Well, let me have it, girl,’ Garner’s voice said.
‘Sorry, mister. Binny says I’m to give it to the lady and you ain’t her. Binny says if I get any clapper-claw from the likes of you at the door, to say that it’s from Mrs Gunn.’
‘Clapper-claw?’ Garner repeated icily. ‘You’d best come in then.’
Helen glanced at his lordship. He smiled, but there was no mirth in it, just a hunter’s anticipation.
‘It would seem Lowry has finally made an appearance,’ he said, and tossed the whip to Quinn. ‘Bring the glass knife and my leather armour. I am certain we will not be the only interested parties after the man.’ He opened the salon doors. ‘Come, let us receive your visitor.’
Sprat had been well-coached in the delivery of her message. She stood with filthy bare feet braced upon the foyer floor and both hands clenched into fists of concentration as she recited, ‘Binny says Mrs Holt’s brother, the one you call Lowry, has come back. He snucked in, but Binny saw ’im go into one of the molly rooms. He’s usin’ it as his hideout. She says she reckons he’ll be there for a few hours leastways.’
‘Thank you, Sprat,’ Helen said.
She looked at the earnest faces that circled the girl. Carlston, of course, was fiercely jubilant. Quinn, a more cautious version of his master. Mr Hammond’s eyes held apprehension. He fleetingly met her gaze and she glimpsed hope too. Perhaps they would soon have the journal. Lady Margaret was attempting to hide her fear under a frown. And dear Darby, sweet mouth pressed into firm courage, had placed her hand lightly, protectively, on Quinn’s forearm.
‘We should move immediately, my lord,’ Quinn said.
Sprat nodded, turning worried eyes to Helen. ‘He’s got Lizzie again, mister.’ She stopped and corrected herself, ‘I mean, my lady. He took her wiv him for sport an’ Mrs Holt let him do it. If you’re gunna get him, quicker would be real good.’
‘I understand,’ Helen said. ‘We will do what we can for Lizzie.’
Carlston glanced across at her, brows lifted in query.
‘Lizzie is one of Holt’s girls. Lowry has a penchant for cruelty,’ she said shortly.