“So now you’ve dismantled my masterpiece and got at the truth,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you’ll rest easier than I.”
But in place of the fury I might have expected to cloud his face, I saw a flash of something else. I still do not know what to call it precisely. Remorse? Satisfaction? Triumph? A mixture of all three? Whatever it was, I knew I’d no need to feel trepidation. It was only later that I began to understand that my finding the letter was thanks as much to his skillful manipulation as to my own clumsy efforts. It was his challenge that made me search the cabinet. He had granted me permission to find the truth; he was still a master of his craft.
But that realization came only with hindsight. At the time I foolishly believed it was I who’d gained the upper hand. “As you see, sir,” I said firmly, “I’ve examined your handiwork, admired its ingenuity, comprehended how you constructed it. For my taste there is a surfeit of novelty here. I prefer my furniture simpler, more straightforward, more honest.
“Now, by your leave, I must ask you to replace it all, for I have urgent business to which I must attend. My boxes are packed and ready in the workshop; you may look at them when you will. I trust you’ll find nothing concealed and will let the carter take them away when I send him in the morning.”
With these words I bowed curtly and left him standing before his dismantled cabinet, fitting the delicate pieces back together. My final glimpse as I closed the door behind me was of him holding in his hands the compartments from which the letter and the half ring had been removed. He must have known both were in my pocket, but he’d resolved that was how it should be and did nothing to prevent me from leaving.
Alice stood outside in the sunshine, her hair a mass of ruby light. I could see from a slight tightness in her lips and a glimmer of a frown that she was growing impatient, but her crossness only underlined her beauty and made my spirits soar.
“I find I’m suddenly consumed by hunger. Let’s dine together at Lucy’s Chophouse, and you can tell me how well you’ve recovered from your injuries and what you made of the history I wrote.”
She smiled, a rainbow after the tempest. “Very well, Nathaniel. I accept your offer. And while we’re on the subject of injuries, I’ll tell you of a curious coincidence that’s come to my notice.”
“What’s that?”
“In Bath I chanced to meet a silversmith by the name of Samuel Harling. He claimed to know of you, and moreover to know how you came by the mark on your head. He made mention of a certain brass candlestick hurled from his wife’s bedroom window…”
I put a playful arm about her waist and kissed her cheek softly. “That man is famous for his histories,” I declared. “I should warn you it’s a grave mistake to give them much credence.”
She flashed me the drollest of glances, but she didn’t push me away.
About the Author
JANET GLEESON was born in Sri Lanka and has worked for Sotheby’s London. She is the author of The Arcanum and Millionaire. This is her first novel. She and her family live in London.
Table of Contents
Colophon
Also by Janet Gleeson
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Author’s Note and Acknowledgments
On Cabinetmaking
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author