‘I have not visited many of them, Mr Al-Said. Yet Rachel tells me you have been of great assistance to her.’
‘It is interesting what one hears by pretending not to listen. Lady Martesen was a clever woman, and one of several at court who thought of more than their own amusement. The Duke asked us to make one of these cages of singing birds for her, and she visited us on several occasions while it was being made to discuss the design, and decide on the plumage of the birds. She came often with Countess Dieth, once with Glucke, I think, and another time with Swann.’
‘Who is Glucke?’ Harriet asked. ‘I have not heard his name before.’
Adnan’s face darkened and he bent over the cage, leaving Sami to answer in a stage whisper. He was far younger than his brother, not more than twenty-five, and so quick and light in his movements it would be as easy to think him ten years younger.
‘Herr von Glucke is a scholar and member of the Duke’s Privy Council, but he made the mistake of asking Adnan to create a few mechanical mice …’
Harriet was confused.
‘For his cats!’ Adnan said, with bitter emphasis. ‘Some respectable children might be allowed to handle our creations, but playthings for animals! They say he is a wise man, and a good one, but I cannot see it.’
‘So did Chancellor Swann come to discuss the plumage of the singing birds?’ Rachel asked.
Adnan smiled briefly, as if amused by his own anger. ‘He did not contribute to the conversation. But I believe he was a friend of Lady Martesen; one saw them together from time to time.’
‘Did they have … some understanding?’ Harriet thought she saw Adnan’s cheeks blush dark pink.
‘I do not think so.’ He placed the cage on the work-top once more, and glanced at Rachel. ‘You have not told your sister then, the little details that could not be written down?’
She shook her head. ‘She has only just arrived, and all I know, I know only from you, Mr Al-Said.’
‘I dislike gossip, Mrs Westerman,’ he said, ‘but none of us can work blindly. Lady Martesen had an understanding with the Duke. Or rather she did, until such time as his betrothal was announced.’
‘Oh Lord,’ Harriet said softly. ‘That rather complicates matters, does it not?’
Rachel said quickly, ‘She was rather poor, Harriet. And the Duke was generous to his … friends. Some years ago he was the protector of Lady Martesen’s cousin, Countess Dieth. He bought her an estate when their liaison came to an end.’
‘Then, as I understand it, Countess Dieth thrust her cousin into the sovereign’s bed,’ Sami said cheerfully. His elder brother looked at him severely and he dropped his gaze. Harriet held up her hand.
‘Please, gentlemen, I would be most grateful if you speak openly.’
Adnan cleared his throat. ‘So you see, it is unlikely that Chancellor Swann would ever begin an … understanding with Lady Martesen during the time they were visiting me here. There was no betrothal then. Lady Martesen was still the acknowledged favourite. It would be a dangerous alliance, would it not? The Duke has a fearsome temper when roused, and his good opinion once lost is difficult to regain. One hears stories of those who have suffered greatly on having disappointed him. I imagine Swann and Lady Martesen were discussing politics.’
‘The competing marriages perhaps,’ Sami said with a shrug. Harriet looked towards the younger brother as he perched on the bench swinging his legs. ‘Some in the court — Swann included, I think — did not regard the Duke’s choice as the best.’
Rachel was examining some of the half-painted faces that lined the walls. ‘You see, Harry? Mr Al-Said knows everything. When I wanted to be sure that Daniel would be allowed books and writing materials, Mr Al-Said told me to talk to Count Frenzel or Herr Zeller. Frenzel because he is never seen with Countess Dieth or Swann, Zeller because as a librarian of the court he understands the comfort of reading.’
‘I see,’ Harriet said. ‘So Mr Al-Said, who do you think murdered Lady Martesen, and why?’
He shrugged. ‘The other reason I love my automata, Mrs Westerman, is they do exactly what they were designed and made to do, and nothing more. People I find interesting to watch because they are the opposite. But I can only tell you what I see. I offer no conclusions.’
‘You sound like Crowther,’ Harriet said dryly.
‘In such a place as this there are many alliances made and broken from day to day. Passions run high and whoever has the ear of the Duke has great power. Secrets and signs are passed back and forth.’
He did not look at her as he spoke, and Harriet realised that perhaps he too thought Clode a murderer, and herself and her sister deluded. She began to understand how lonely the past weeks must have been. Harriet thought of the papers from Krall. The people who knew Lady Martesen best: had they been asked the right questions? She put her chin in her hand, and looked about her.
The ground floor of the fake cottage was taken up with a light and airy workshop. At its centre were two workbenches set into an L-shape. On one, small metal instruments and knives predominated; on the other, paints and brushes. The walls were stacked with papier-mache faces, curled lengths of metal, brass cones, strange limbs, sharp crops of pointed files, and pinned to the wall from time to time, pencil drawings and water colours, designs of cogs and levers. To Harriet’s right stood a deep stack of leather notebooks, and to her left where Rachel sat with a glass of tea in her hand and a cautious smile on her lips, a tiny lathe drawn by a bow. From the ceiling hung bunches of keys and garlands of clean brass discs. The place smelled of paint and metal.
The younger Mr Al-Said slipped down from his perch.
‘Our little friend is ready, if Mrs Westerman would like to see him.’
Crowther had almost finished his pile of papers when there was the sound of a knock on the door. Again he half-expected to see Krall, and again he was disappointed. It was Graves, his cheeks flushed.
‘Crowther! Where is Mrs Westerman?’
‘Still visiting these acquaintances of Mrs Clode and touring the gardens. I understand that they are quite extensive.’
‘We must find her at once.’
‘Do you require her assistance to negotiate with Chancellor Swann?’
Graves looked angry and Crowther put down his pen. ‘I am sorry, Graves. What has happened?’
‘Manzerotti.’
‘What of him?’
‘He is here.’
‘Damn. How long has he been here?’ Crowther said, reaching for his coat. ‘How could Rachel not tell us?’
‘She cannot have known,’ Graves said, almost dancing with impatience. ‘He arrived only this morning, with a troupe of French dancers to swell the crowd of performers here for the wedding celebrations. It is a great coup for the Duke to have such a star perform at his court. Swann mentioned it in passing at the end of our discussion. Said he understood we were acquainted with Manzerotti and that the monster sent his regards. Well, he did not phrase it quite like that …’
‘Did he see your reaction?’
‘I think not — he was bent over his papers again. Crowther, what will she do if she meets him?’
Crowther found himself transported back to the room in Highgate where James had died, saw Harriet’s face as she bent over her husband, his hand clasped between her own and his blood pooling round her dress. She had loved her husband very much. ‘I should imagine she’ll try very hard to kill him,’ he said, and took up his hat.
Krall decided he had given the English travellers enough time to settle into their luxurious cages, and his pipe still clamped between his teeth, was making his way through the rear courtyard to pay his respects when he saw two gentlemen, strangers to him, walking swiftly out into the gardens.