Page 36 of The Devil in Oxford
“Enough, Ruby. If we stay any longer the sun will be up.”
He was right.
Of course he was.The damned man was nearlyalwayscorrect.
But I was perplexed. Whatwasthat substance, and why did Harker have so much of it here in his basement?
“Ruby,” Ruan growled impatiently.
Right. Time to go. I glanced once more at the collection before turning and hurrying back out into the night.
CHAPTERSIXTEENAn Ounce of Honesty Between Friends
RUANleft me outside the townhome at half past three in the morning, muttering some half-hearted excuse about checking on Professor Laurent. In truth, he likely needed distance after what almost occurred in the basement of the museum. I’dkissedhim, but the big stubborn bastard had kissed me right back.
But that was a problem for another day. Preferably long after I’d determined who killed Julius Harker and freed poor Mr. Mueller. I stood outside the kitchen door, a warm light glowing from inside, and reached into my pocket for the skeleton key. A twig snapped behind me, and I turned, ready to chide Ruan for lurking in the shadows, but he wasn’t there. No one was. But as my vision adjusted to the darkness, I made out the shape of that same great black dog, low and still at the end of the alley, watching. Its hackles raised.
Dread lodged in my throat as I stared at it.
It’s your imagination, Ruby. Just your imagination.The key trembled in the lock. I turned it and hurried inside, shutting out the beastandmy overactive imagination.
Fiachna popped his head up from where he’d been napping on the table holding vigil for me. He meowed loudly, stretching eachfront paw before hopping down and trotting up the nearby stairwell, his fluffy black tail shaped like a question mark as he disappeared into the darkness, fully expecting me to follow.
After what I had found tonight, I certainly wasn’t going to get any sleep. Though perhaps I could make sense of the discoveries found in the museum. I would write to my friend Howard Carter. He might still be in Egypt excavating his new discovery in the Valley of the Kings, but if anyone would have an idea about the Napoleonic cache and why Julius Harker would have natron in his basement, it would be Mr. Carter. And as he was currently thousands of miles away, I could be fairly certain that he was not involved in any of it.
I walked over to the hall table and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, sat down, and began writing.
Dear Mr. Carter, we have a bit of a predicament here in Oxford…
“MORNING, MAID.”
Neck stiff, I lifted my head, blinking in the dimly lit kitchen. Mrs. Penrose stood before me with a bemused smile, head tilted to the side to better see me.
Good God, was anything more mortifying than falling asleep at one’s work and being caught by one’s housekeeper? I yawned beneath my fist, smoothing the page of Mr. Mueller’s account book that had served as my pillow. “What time is it?”
“Half past six, why do you ask?” she asked, setting a kettle on the hob.
“Damn and blast.” I shot to my feet, glancing down at yesterday’s attire still dusty from the basement of Harker’s Curiosity Museum. The white handprint of powder still smeared on my skirt.
“What is it? What’s the matter?”
I snatched up the letter I’d hastily written to Howard Carter and tucked it into the capacious pocket of my skirt along with my small notebook where I’d been jotting down my observations. “I’m late.I must meet Leona at the Artemis Club at seven and…” I raked a hand through my hair, struggling to settle the unruly curls without aid of a mirror or a comb.
Mrs. Penrose handed me my cloche, which I stuffed onto my head.
I murmured my thanks, turning around to take my long coat from her outstretched hands.
“Well, then you’d best be off, my lover, hadn’t you?”
I smiled at Mrs. Penrose, grabbing a saffron bun from the bowl beside her, and placed a kiss on her cheek. “You are a goddess, Mrs. Penrose. Never forget that.”
She let out a hearty laugh and shooed me out of the kitchen.
I was going to be late. But Leona had known me long enough to know I seldom made my appointments on time, getting waylaid by my own distractibility even at the best of times, and goodness knew these were anything but those.
AFTER DROPPING MYhastily penned letter in the post, I trotted back to the Artemis Club. The city was slowly coming to life despite the early hour. The cold morning air stung my lungs, but it did not bother me—not when I had the most peculiar sense of clarity. For the first time since I foolishly agreed to help Leona, I had assembled a tidy set of clues. Julius Harker was likely dealing in fakes and was quietly reassembling this mysterious Napoleonic cache. Healsohad a great deal of natron in his basement—for what purpose, I could not yet ascertain. And somehow—someway—Leona was tied to it all. Her betrayal yesterday still rankled. The woman had asked me to help her and then was hiding something from me.
I pulled open the heavy carved door to the Artemis Club, the sweet winter-flower scent flooding my senses as I stepped inside. The dim glimmer of pre-dawn light dripped in through the windows ofthe main entrance. The young woman at the desk glanced up from her book and flashed me a bright smile.
