Page 54 of Lady Louisa and the Carriage Clock
The lady left the room and returned soon after. Closing the door behind her, Louisa placed the box for her clock on the table before them and removed her mythology clock. She next went to the Chinese cabinet and, repeating the process she’d used when hiding Cecil’s timepiece, stowed her clock inside the cabinet. When she finished, Louisa retook her seat.
“I should go,” Cecil said as he rose to his feet, one box in each arm.
The ladies stood up as well, and Louisa said, “I will see you out.”
When they entered the entry hall, Louisa asked him, “What will you do with the clocks, Lord Wycliffe?”
“I will destroy them as soon as possible.” He said no more and exited the house, Lady Edith choosing to stay behind.
Before he entered his nondescript coach, Cecil said to his driver, “Cheapside. I need to find a fire.”
Settled in the carriage, he looked out the windows on the bright day. The weather was still chilly- he should be able to locate a fire somewhere in London. When his coachman halted near the corner of Cheapside and Bread Street, Cecil placed his walking stick on the squabs across from him and vaulted from the carriage, an ebony wood box in each hand.
He spied flames inside a metal water trough several yards down the street with numerous men surrounding it, drinking out of a bottle of what he supposed was gin. Cecil strolled forward until he came to stand between two of the men. The trough was filled with what appeared to be broken bits of furniture.
“I’ve got something that needs burning,” he said loudly and gingerly tossed both boxes into the flames.
“Guvnor, what you do that for?” An elderly gentleman whistled. “I could have traded those nice boxes for another bottle.”
“For more than a bottle, I wager,” Cecil replied with a chuckle.
“What was inside them, my lord?” a young boy standing nearby asked.
“Clocks, just clocks. Although they had a bit of gold on them.”
Cries of alarm and consternation rose around him.
“Why would you burn ‘em?” several voices asked.
He replied solemnly, “Cursed they were. Nothing but bad luck I’ve had since I acquired those clocks.”
That statement started a loud discussion of cursed items and the evil they could bring a man.
“What did you say your name was?” A rough-looking man asked, a glint in his eye.
“I didn’t say, but I’ll tell you now: Lord Wycliffe. It is a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen.”
“What would the great Lord Wycliffe be doing in Cheapside?” the man asked.
“Getting rid of these clocks. Where else could I make sure they were destroyed? If I threw them in the Thames, the clocks might make their way back to me.” Cecil picked up a table leg from the ground nearby and tossed it in the trough to ensure the fire continued to burn.
“Were they costly?” the boy asked, staring fixedly at the flames.
“Very.”
Another discussion ensued, during which the men speculated on how much damage the clocks would sustain once the fire burned itself out and what value the melted gold would have.
After the conversation waned, Cecil handed a shilling to every man present. He wanted the men to remember him.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said with a bow as he took his leave, walking the short way back to his coach.
Word would spread of the crazy lord who had burned a pair of clocks in Cheapside. If the ashes were examined, there would be a bit of gold in the mix and possibly some clockwork. The important thing was the men had seen the expensive boxes and would not forget their beauty.
He entered his carriage and tapped his walking stick against the ceiling. “Curzon Street!”
* * * * *
Louisa and Edith returned to the drawing room, where Louisa requested a tea tray to ensure a servant would hear at least part of her conversation with Edith while in the room.
