The Emperor of All Things - By Paul Witcover Page 0,89
whose experiences of the last few days had given him a new perspective on such things, wondered if this was as much of a costume as the servant’s garb the man had worn earlier – chosen to facilitate the playing of a role. ‘If I had been your Mr Aylesford, you would have been dead now, Mr Quare. And you call yourself a regulator?’
‘I … I would have answers, my lord.’
‘Would you indeed?’ Lord Wichcote tucked the blade into the sleeve of his coat, sliding it hilt-first under the cuff as if this were the natural repository of such objects. ‘First you must get into the habit of calling me Longinus, not Lord Wichcote or my lord or any other such advertisement of identity or rank. I assure you, I shall take no offence. Our lives may depend upon it.’
‘You make demands on me, sir, but you do not give reasons. You rescue me, for which I am not ungrateful, only to drug me – for I can only assume that some drug was placed into my bath last night, so precipitately did I fall asleep afterwards. And now you put a knife to my throat. You promised me answers. I will hear them, or I will take my leave … and you may try to stop me if you like.’ He laid his hand on the hilt of his sword but did not draw it.
‘I think we both know how that would turn out,’ Longinus said with a dismissive shrug. ‘Even if you made it past me, which is highly unlikely, you would not last for long on the streets outside, with both the watch and the Old Wolf’s agents looking for you. You are correct about the drug. I will not apologize for it. You were in need of a good night’s sleep. As for the knife, I wanted to test your alertness, your reflexes. Even I should have had difficulty in creeping up on a properly trained regulator. Yet you showed not the slightest awareness of my presence until the blade touched your skin.’
‘I am still not fully recovered from the drug you administered. My senses are somewhat clouded, as I told you. These infernal clocks of yours – the noise of them …’
‘Indeed? You interest me more and more, Mr Quare. Come, sir: let us eat and drink. You must be famished.’
‘What is the time?’
‘Why, any time you like,’ Longinus answered, gesturing at the clocks that lined the hallway. ‘You may have your pick of the time in this house.’
‘I would prefer to know the true time.’
‘True? If there is such a thing, a timepiece will not tell you. You slept through the night; it is now morning – let that suffice. Come, let us break our fast together. There is much you need to know.’ He gestured Quare forwards.
Thoughts all awhirl, Quare complied, keeping hold of his sword hilt and his questions. His host led him down another flight of stairs and into a dining room where a buffet had been laid out. Large windows looked out on the garden he had seen from his room; the day was bright and clear, at least by London standards. Quare took in the side table laden with fillets of beef, fish, mutton cutlets and poultry, along with sausages, omelettes and soft-boiled eggs, assorted varieties of bread, jams and orange marmalade, plates of cut fruit, and cold game pies. Liveried servants were waiting to pour tea or coffee or chocolate. Here, too, an assortment of clocks kept their sundry times.
‘I like a country-style breakfast,’ commented Longinus, nodding to the servants as he led Quare to the dining table and gestured for him to sit down. A footman had already pulled a chair out for him and was waiting, like an automaton designed for the purpose, to slide it back.
‘Will others be joining us?’ Quare asked as he sat. The table could have accommodated thirty, and there was food enough for twice that number.
Longinus walked around the table to take a seat opposite him. ‘I thought an intimate breakfast might be just the thing to get us off on the proper footing,’ he said as he settled into the upholstered chair another footman had pulled out for him. Already plates of food were appearing on the table. ‘What will you have to drink, Mr Quare? I like a strong cup of coffee in the morning,’ he added as a man stepped forward to pour him one.