CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

His Grace William Cavendish, 5th Duke of Portland

UPON WAKING EARLY in the morning he called for his valet, and the young man dutifully appeared, bringing with him calm and reassurance.

‘I must have my quill, paper and desk brought to me,’ William said. ‘I need to terminate the contract.’

‘Terminate, sir?’

‘The whole catastrophe – the Phantasmagoria, as he calls it.’

‘Certainly, sir,’ said the valet smoothly, while he pulled back the window curtains to the exact position William required.

‘It’s an abomination. It’s … it’s – I can’t have that many people here again, not in my grounds. Oh dear, it was enough to make me faint. That’s why it happened, you know – I fainted from the shock of it all. Such a desperate dirty thing, a show of humanity like that, and all of them looking at me. Their animal eyes on me, devouring my skin, and oh …’ He splayed his fingers over his face. ‘It is a mercy the chickens have been roasting. Their smell has saved me from a complete fit.’

‘The audience thought your appearance was part of the performance, sir. They did not identify you.’

‘Really, did they not?’ William asked. He was now carefully studying his fingernails for any traces of dirt.

‘Yes, sir. Except that woman. The Druce woman, I presume?’

‘Oh heavens, the Druce woman. What a loathsome piece of flesh she is. I don’t know what to do about her.’

‘She is a problem, sir,’ conceded the valet. ‘Let me think upon it. I will fetch your writing utensils as requested. But before I do, there is the matter of your commission.’

‘The girl?’

‘You don’t remember?’

William sank back onto the pillow, turning his face towards the thin light shining through the window. ‘I thought it a dream,’ he said softly.

‘It’s presently in the study, sir.’

‘She wants to see me?’

A pause. ‘You could say that, sir. Yes, it needs to be attended to.’

‘But do I want to see her? It will mean talking to her. And what will I say? What in heaven’s name is she?’

‘Forgive my impertinence, sir, but it’s what you asked for, isn’t it?’

‘No,’ spluttered William, ‘she most certainly is not. She’s … she’s … what is she, I say, what in heaven’s name is she?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know, sir. Does Madame Tussaud know exactly what she has created this thing for?’

‘She only created the shell. Something else has brought her to life. Heaven help me, but I know what it is.’

‘And what is that, Your Grace?’

‘The fireplace. The girl’s foot touched the mantelpiece. And I dreamt of her, I always do. And she now wears the brooch containing the oak leaf… Then there was the lightning strike on the tower – the energy and the bedhead, you see. The mantelpiece, it’s … well, the woman who sold it to me said that it was —’

‘Superstition – yes, Your Grace, I see. Again, forgive me, but an educated gentleman like yourself, who has studied history and myths and legends and —’

‘What are you saying she is, then?’

‘It’s a wicked temptation that will bring ruin upon us. It’s unnatural, and for your own safety it should be taken from here this very morning.’

‘You think she’s a demon? A girl like her?’

‘Your Grace, the tempter knows many ways to entice us. There is a dark power around this invention, of that I am certain.’

‘Impossible. The girl didn’t have a malicious temperament at all. Haven’t you spoken to her?’

‘I have seen it, and although I may not be educated in the same manner as yourself, I struggle to believe that —’

‘Well, that is precisely the point.’ William slapped the bedcovers in frustration. ‘You are not educated, and even if you were, intellect alone serves no purpose here: our senses say she is real. And she moves as if she is, so therefore she must be.’

A long pause. ‘As you say, sir, but what is to become of it?’

‘I don’t know,’ William said, sitting up in bed. ‘But keep her there until I can think. It would be wrong to move her to the cavern, it’s … Oh, should I be rid of her entirely? No! Banish the thought. Tell her – tell her I’m indisposed. My first agenda this morning is to be free of Philidor and Tussaud. Their show will be cancelled, and they must leave Welbeck along with all of their dastardly props. No one must know what has happened with the commission, not even her creators. Upon my soul, what if anyone found out about her coming to life?’ His fingers twitched. ‘Make haste and get the equipment.’

In a moment the valet was placing the bespoke desk over William’s legs to rest on his thighs, balancing the quill and paper on top. The valet cleared his throat and said, ‘There is also the matter of the final sitting for your portrait, sir. In order for your position as peer to be formalised, the painting must be completed.’

‘The portrait! I had forgotten about that. When?’

‘This afternoon, sir.’

‘I must attend to this business first and then get ready. Leave me.’

Dear Sir,
It would seem that your show was a success. Although the audience appeared to enjoy it, I did not. There were too many people trespassing on my grounds, and the risk of them invading my estate, my house and my presence is far too great. I am also filled with abhorrence at the reconfiguring of my ballroom, when I was assured by you that you would merely decorate it. You have misrepresented yourself and your work, and not been transparent, Sir, concerning the dangers to my personage and the changes you intended to effect on my property. As such, I seek to terminate our agreement effective immediately. Ensuing performances are cancelled, and you and Madame Tussaud must vacate Welbeck this morning. I will arrange for your belongings to be transported to whatever forwarding address you provide. I will also, as recompense for the short notice, reimburse you an amount that will be sufficient to cover the cost. I will not enter into further correspondence with you, and my valet will assist you henceforth.

Sincerely,

His Grace William Cavendish, Duke of Portland

He thrust the letter at the valet, who folded it and put it in his pocket. ‘I will deliver this to Philidor and arrange for your breakfast to be sent up.’

‘You must visit her first. Tell her not to leave the grounds. If anyone sees her then it will be the end. She’s still locked up, isn’t she?’

‘I’ve done as much as I can, sir. I will return once I have completed my duties.’

He left William sitting in bed, his head resting on the feather pillow as his eyes sought out the decorative cornice pattern. ‘This will be the end of me. For I have already murdered her once, and cannot bring myself to do so again.’ He closed his eyes and clutched his arms around his chest. ‘I will not bring dishonour on my name a second time. Fear dishonour. Fear dishonour.’ He repeated the words until he slept again.