Page 136 of The Shadow Key

‘You do recall! I wasn’t sure you did.’

‘I hadn’t until just now.’

Julian looks pleased.

‘It was your resemblance to my cousin that made me take notice of you, and when you timed the patient’s pulse with the pocketwatch – Hugh’s watch, I’d know it anywhere – it all began to fall into place. It made sense then why I could not find you; Foundlings are not typically trained in the medical field. A university education costs money. Clearly your parents made a provision for you right from the start. Of course, I still could not be sure. My eyes could have been playing tricks on me. I wanted you to be Henry Tresilian. I could easily have deluded myself that you were, even if you were not. But then …’ Julian lets out his breath with a satisfied sigh. ‘Then you removed your cravat, and I saw the birthmark. I have given thanks to Berith every day since that it was hot in that theatre, otherwise you’d never have done it. Bodies packed in like sardines on the benches, every seat taken. You were a popular man, Henry. Respected. Such a pity your downfall had to be so severe.’

Something in the way he says this. Henry stares.

‘The patient I lost. What part did you play?’

Julian nods sagely. ‘It took a lot of planning. Baverstock was a fool of a man with a penchant for cards and drink. We had met at Almack’s some months before over a game of whist. He spent money like water, did not seem to care or was too old to notice that he kept losing it all to me. During the weeks after I found you, I slowly began to spike his wine with a little concoction that would make him ill, the ingredients of which would mimic the symptoms of cancer. And all the while I held his confidence. I encouraged him to seek out the renowned surgeon Henry Talbot of Guy’s Hospital, who I myself saw operate on a patient close to death with such skill and finesse that there could be no doubt at all that doctor could not cure him.’

Within the circle, Linette stirs.

‘I made sure the viscount took a particularly strong draught the morning of the surgery. To calm his nerves, I said. His death was inevitable, as was your dismissal from Guy’s, for that too I ensured – the governor was easy to bribe. A Hellfire man, with secrets best kept inside our close-knit circles. All I had to do after that was make sure no one would engage you. Your letters were intercepted. So many letters!’ Julian tsks. ‘For four months you tried, Henry – I almost felt sorry for you. When I knew you must have exhausted all avenues, made sure you would have no choice but to accept, I sent the letter offering you the position in Penhelyg. All that remained was the destruction of the gatehouse.’

Henry stares. ‘You did that?’

The Order chuckle in unison. Sir John Selwyn bows his head. ‘That was one of us, yes.’

His wife smiles, lips cracked dry beneath the rouge. ‘It was my idea. You couldn’t possibly stay in the gatehouse – how else could you be expected to form a connection with Linette if you were not living under the same roof?’

‘It has been a pleasure to watch, I must say.’ Lord Pennant, this. ‘To see you become so close, after all these years. At dinner it was clear just how much you meant to each other.’

‘And you do mean a lot to each other, don’t you?’ Lady Pennant’s voice is as cloying as treacle. ‘The bond between twins is supposedly very strong. It will make the sacrifice to Berith all the more potent.’

The Order nod in unison, and Henry must look away. Through all of Julian’s speech Henry has tried his best to keep his anger subdued, but he can feel it bubbling up again in his throat, hot and ready to burst.

‘You killed Dr Evans.’

‘Ah yes,’ Julian muses, as if he has forgotten the man even existed. ‘Dear old Wynn Evans. Well, you could not come to Plas Helyg while he still lived, could you? He near burst his heart running away in fear. The nightshade soon finished him off.’

A small groan escapes Linette’s lips. Once more, Julian smiles.

‘Of course, all Dr Evans saw was one of our smaller rituals. The hens have only ever been an interlude, a mockery of what should have been given all those years before. You and Linette.’ He presses the dagger against his palm. ‘Berith gave us time, on the promise that we would one day bring you both to him. The blood spilt over the years has been enough to keep us ticking along, but as I said the money started to dwindle and my illness …’ He shakes his head. ‘When the mine collapsed, we knew we had run out of time.’

Julian coughs again, a heaving gurgled effort. Beddoe and Lambeth step from the circle. The Pennants and Selwyns start up their chant once more:

Hoath, Redar, Ganabel, Berith.

‘We’ve waited a long time, Henry.’

Julian takes a step toward him, Beddoe and Lambeth moving in from both sides.

‘And it’s time our debt to Berith is paid.’

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Lights waver beneath her eyelids, orange eddies dancing on a black canvas. Her throat is sore, her ears filled with the sound of bees. She can smell incense, the noxious scent of sulphur that curls within her nostrils. She is cold. When she turns her head to the side it hurts, even though the motion has only been slight.

Hoath, Redar, Ganabel, Berith.

Not bees. With difficulty Linette opens her eyes.

The staring holes of a skull look back at her and with a cry she jolts up. She barely registers the strange temple-like room she is in, instead feels a sense of panic as she looks at the robed figures above her, their hands joined together to form a circle. Linette stares at Lady Selwyn, eyes closed in abandon, her pinched lips moving in passionate chant, then the hands unclasp, and Henry is thrown in beside her.

‘Henry!’ she cries as the circle of figures rejoin, larger now with the addition of Dr Beddoe and Mr Lambeth. Henry takes the hand she holds out, pulls her up to stand beside him and she wobbles, shocked at her lack of balance. Dark spots pattern her vision, the after-effects of whatever Julian drugged her with.

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