I lifted the knocker and listened to the hollow sound within. Almost immediately, the door was wrenched open by a man, not very tall, who had a sharp nose and belligerent brown eyes. I held out my card.
The man glanced at it once, but did not reach for it. 'You were not invited,' he said.
I remained standing with my card thrust at him, then I unbent my arm and tucked the card back into my pocket.
'I took a chance,' I said. 'Mr. Grenville and I were curious.'
For once, the magic name of Grenville made no difference.
'You were not invited,' the man repeated, and slammed the door in my face. My hair stirred with the draft.
Knocking again produced no result. I turned away, more curious about The Glass House than ever.
'Shall I lay out the black coat, sir?' Bartholomew asked me later that afternoon.
'Since it is the only one,' I answered dryly, 'I suppose you should.'
Bartholomew took no notice of my sarcasm. He solemnly brought out my black frock coat, a fine thing that Grenville had persuaded me to purchase the previous year, and proceeded to brush it with an air of concentration. I had brushed it only the day before but forbore to say so.
Bartholomew helped me into the coat then proceeded to flick it all over with another brush. He'd polished my boots until they were supple and shiny and had even scraped every bit of mud from the soles. I do not know why he bothered; I would simply tramp through the mud in them again.
As he worked, Bartholomew told me that Grenville had not brought Marianne to his house. But his master had been cross and touchy, and Bartholomew had not dared ask any questions. I thanked him for the information and told him to take a brief holiday while I went to Inglethorpe's.
Another hackney got me to Curzon Street in Mayfair at a few minutes past four.
Inglethorpe's door was much different than the one that had nearly banged my nose in St. Charles Row. Its brass knocker was bright and polished, the black-painted door clean and free of scratches.
At the far end of this street, at number 45, James Denis lived. During my last adventure, Denis had given me information that I needed and told me that, in return, he expected me to attend him whenever he whistled. I had retorted predictably. I’d heard nothing but silence from him since.
Inglethorpe's door was opened by a tall, spindly footman with a blank expression. I handed him my card and did not explain my errand. He looked at the card, ushered me inside, and took me to a small reception room.
All very correct. Mayfair reception rooms were designed to make the caller uncomfortable and wish to depart as soon as possible. The furniture consisted of a bench-like settee with gilded claw feet and one chair whose cushion had been polished by a host of backsides. I chose to stand and peer through lace curtains to the street.
After about a quarter of an hour, the footman reappeared and quietly bade me to follow him. He took me upstairs to the first floor and led me into a drawing room that was rather crowded. The high ceiling was plastered with white vines, and two chandeliers, one in the rear of the room and one in the front, hung from ornate plaster medallions.
Simon Inglethorpe came to greet me. He was middle-aged, with black hair going to gray. His posture was straight, his shoulders back, but his abdomen was running to fat. Light blue eyes assessed me from under thick brows. 'Captain Lacey.' He shook my hand. 'Grenville told me to expect you. Sit down, please. We will begin momentarily.'
I had already recognized, in a vague way, several gentlemen in the room from the clubs and social gatherings which I’d attended with Grenville. But I definitely recognized the only two ladies present.
One was Lady Breckenridge. She was perched on an ivory-colored settee on one side of the long room, her widow’s cap of white lace making a fine contrast to her dark hair. Across from her, in a Louis Quinze chair, looking both eager and nervous, was a lady called Mrs. Danbury.
I had met Catherine Danbury several times before. She was a lovely, golden-haired widow and the niece of Sir Gideon Derwent. The kindly and unworldly Derwent family had befriended me last summer, professing to enjoy my tales of the Peninsular War. They had issued me a standing invitation to dine with them once a fortnight and regale them with such tales. Mrs. Danbury was not always present at these dinners, but I looked forward to the occasions when she was. She was wiser than her innocent cousins, knowing a little more of life and the world than they, but she too was kind and friendly, with a refreshing air about her.
Mrs. Danbury smiled at me but was clearly surprised to see me. I gave her a polite nod in response, puzzled myself by her appearance here.
The only vacant seat was on the settee next to Lady Breckenridge. I bowed politely to her ladyship and sat down. Lady Breckenridge barely inclined her head, but a smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
Hands resting on my walking stick, I studied those gathered. The gentlemen were Mayfair fodder, wealthy men ranging in ages from twenty to sixty. They did not seem in a hurry to speak, and neither did the ladies. Silence, it seemed, was called for.
Inglethorpe returned after conferring with someone in the stairwell. He beamed a smile at us. 'Welcome, my friends. Now that we are assembled, we will begin.'
A liveried footman entered bearing a large silver tray. He set the tray and its contents on a table and departed.
Three leather bags lay on the tray, blown up like water skins and fastened by a stiff string. Inglethorpe lifted one. 'Courtesy of the Royal Society,' he said. 'I believe we shall have ladies first.'
He handed the skin to Catherine Danbury, who examined the bag as curiously as I did. Inglethorpe reached down and untied the string.
'Hold it to your nose and mouth,' he instructed.
Mrs. Danbury did so. Inglethorpe lifted the bag from the bottom and squeezed it gently. Mrs. Danbury jerked back, murmuring a startled, 'Oh!'
I started to rise to her rescue, but Lady Breckenridge placed a firm hand on my wrist and pulled me back down.
Mrs. Danbury pressed a handkerchief to her mouth and sat back, blinking. Then a childlike smile spread across her face. 'My goodness,' she said, and she laughed.
Inglethorpe turned to Lady Breckenridge and offered the bag to her. She loosened the mouth of it and put it to her nose, inhaling and squeezing the bag in a practiced way.
Mrs. Danbury continued to titter as though she could not stop herself. Inglethorpe, smile wide, continued across the room.
Lady Breckenridge closed her eyes and leaned back a moment, then opened her eyes and gave me a beatific smile. 'Excellent for the humors,' she said.
Mrs. Danbury found her statement amusing, judging from the escalation of her laughter. The bag passed to the gentlemen but emptied before it got to me.
Inglethorpe handed me the second bag and loosened the string for me. I lifted it to my nose and tried to duplicate what I'd seen the others do.
A waft of air forced its way into my nostrils, but it smelled in no way unpleasant, or, indeed, any different than the air in the rest of the room. I wondered whether Inglethorpe was making fools of us.
As I passed the bag to the next gentleman, however, my lips and tongue began to tingle. It was a curious sensation. I touched my tongue to my lower lip and resisted the urge to tug it. Lady Breckenridge laughed quietly at me.
As I turned from her, my injured knee collided with the gilded edge of the settee. I felt a jarring but no pain. For a moment, the fact did not connect in my head, and then, in pure astonishment, I stared down at my leg.
I felt no pain. All day long my knee had throbbed in the damp, and now, it seemed as right as it had been before I'd hurt it.
For two years after the original injury, which had shattered the bones, my knee and lower thigh had hurt continuously, some days more than others. Always the leg was stiff; every morning I had to walk about to loosen it up. If I used it too much during a day, such as today, I woke aching and cursing in the night. And now, I felt no pain.
Amazed, I stood. Mrs. Danbury pressed her handkerchief to her mouth and laughed at me, her eyes shining. I
