Page 74 of The Shadow Key

‘So it has.’ In the dimness of the hallway his frown was so deep a line had appeared between his brows. ‘Linette, I …’

‘Yes?’

It felt, then, as though he was on the cusp of saying something, and troubled by his expression she had moved closer, smelt on him the faint scent of sweat.

‘What is it?’

He chewed his inner cheek.

‘It was a good idea, to visit the apothecary. But if we cannot go now perhaps we might occupy our time in some other way? Your cousin’s study, for instance.’

‘This again? Henry, we are not breaking into the cabinet,’ Linette said in terms that broached no argument, but he was shaking his head.

‘I meant that we could look at the other books. You see …’

Henry told her then of how he happened upon her mother in the garden and what she revealed. Linette had stared.

‘Mamma told you that?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘That the Tresilian crest …’

‘Is not the symbol at all.’

‘Are you sure?’

But why would Henry lie? It was as Linette was reeling from the shock of it that he then told her of his encounter with Mr Dee on his walk, and their subsequent conversation. It is why, now, they find themselves once again in Julian’s study.

‘Hellfire clubs,’ Henry says as he crosses the room, ‘have been in existence from the beginning of the century. The Duke of Wharton created the first.’

‘How do you know this?’ Linette asks, still somewhat dazed by what he revealed upstairs.

‘I don’t know that much, not really,’ Henry throws behind him, coming to a stop in front of Julian’s bookcase. ‘This has been told to me in passing by Francis Fielding, or overheard in coffee-houses and taverns. It’s all common knowledge in London. The term “Hellfire” has become a bit of a running joke.’

‘A joke?’ Linette asks, coming to stand beside him, and Henry nods.

‘They called Wharton the “Hellfire Duke”. Before the Hellfires came into fashion, clubs were a means for men of high rank to meet and discuss their interests. Poetry, philosophy, politics, that sort of thing. But apparently Wharton’s group was known to ridicule Christianity. It was said their president was the Devil, members attended meetings dressed as characters from the Bible, and their activities included sacrilegious ceremonies. Nonsense of course, it was all merely satirical; a way to demonstrate how liberated and forward-thinking they were, an opportunity for the rich to play dress-up and pander to make-believe. Then, of course, there was Dashwood’s clan.’

‘Dashwood’s clan?’

‘Francis Dashwood, Earl of Sandwich. His club was called many names, but most often the Medmenham Friars. They had a motto: Fais ce que voudras. Do what you will. And they meant it, too. There were rumours that their meetings were of a more … physical nature.’

A beat. ‘I see.’

Despite her stalwart sensibilities, Linette is conscious of a sick taste on her tongue, has no trouble in understanding what he means.

‘Like Wharton’s club it was implied there was a connection to the Devil,’ Henry continues, and here he reaches up to the bookcase, hovers his fingertip over the glass as he peruses the titles of the ancient volumes housed there. ‘An account was circulated which accused the Friars of practising black magic. Again, nonsense. Written no doubt by a member who had fallen out with Dashwood over some petty grievance or other, but it eventually put a stop to the club’s meetings sometime in the late sixties, I believe.’

‘All right,’ Linette says. ‘But what does any of this have to do with Julian’s books?’

Henry stops. Taps the glass.

‘See, here?’

Linette must squint up to a higher shelf. He is indicating the spine of a book bound in faded red leather.

‘De Occulta Philosophia Libri III,’ he reads. ‘My Latin is rusty, but the word “Philosophy” is obvious. “Libri” means book. And there …’

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