“It would be worth the risk,” said Alice. Her blue eyes were blazing with excitement. “That’s how I want to spend my life, not sitting like a stuffed monkey as the grande dame of some ha’penny estate, surrounded by peasants who’ll sell their mother for a shilling. Lady Montagu roamed the East, why couldn’t I do it?”
“Mary Montagu was an amazing woman,” said Darwin, helping himself to a large slice of gooseberry tart. “But even she could not have travelled as she did without her husband.”
“Then I’ll marry, and take my husband with me,” cried Alice.
“But first,” said James Ledyard quietly, “you will have to get Philip Alderton to accept that idea. I do not think it is the role that he sees for you. He wants a mistress for Alderton Manor, to help him rule the roost. A high position is a new experience for Philip.”
His tone was bitter. The four of them were sitting at the table in the great dining room of the east wing of the manor. The remains of two stuffed capons had been removed to a side table and Bretherton, the chief housekeeper and butler, stood to answer calls for desserts. Despite his self-effacing manner, he had been unable to resist a slight nod of agreement at Ledyard’s final words.
“In any case,” went on the young doctor. “I do not understand your interest in only foreign antiquities. The Sphinx is fascinating, I do not deny it. I would welcome a chance to visit it, should opportunity arise. But what about the flint pits, not half a mile from here? They are the relics of a civilization as old as Egypt. Dr. Darwin made a visit to Lambeth, just to see them. But you, Alice, cannot be persuaded to look at them.”
There was a pleading note in his voice. Darwin rose to his feet and went to the window. “You should see them, my dear. But I suggest that you continue to ignore them, at least for tonight. The moon is rising, and there is again an east wind. Colonel Pole and I have it in mind to take a walk over to the mill. Ready, Jacob?”
“Let me get a coat. It’s less warm tonight.” Pole looked across the table, where James Ledyard was regarding Alice with hungry eyes. “And I think I’ll take a brace of pistols, too. I never found an Immortal yet that would relish a couple of bullets through the brisket.”
“Mister Charles was carrying a pistol.” Bretherton, mournful and angular, spoke for the first time. “It did nothing to save him.”
Pole looked at the black-clad servant in surprise, but said nothing until he and Darwin had left the room. “There’s a cheerful pox-hound,” he said when they were in the hall. “First time he speaks, it’s to tell me that my powder and ball won’t work. I hope he’s wrong.”
“But he’s right, Jacob,” said Darwin cheerfully. “Weapons did nothing to help Charles Alderton—and did you know that Philip Alderton was carrying a pistol, too? It seems that he had no opportunity to use it. All the same, I support your idea. Iron will master flesh, be it of Beast or Man.”
His manner was animated, as though he was looking forward to their exploration. They took a filled lantern from the rack in the halls. As they moved toward the door, James Ledyard came limping rapidly after them.
“Dr. Darwin, would you permit a third man to come with you?”
Darwin hesitated. “Normally, I would be happy to agree,” he said after a moment’s thought. “But I am not keen to leave Philip Alderton without medical care. I would rather that you stay here, in case any crisis should arise.”
Ledyard stepped back. “If you really think it necessary, I will not argue that view.” He looked at Darwin, who did not seem disposed to speak further, and moved slowly back to the dining room.
“He’ll be as happy there with Alice,” said Pole. “He hides it well, but I’ve seen it too often to miss it. He’s hot for her. I wonder what Philip Alderton thinks of that?”
“I doubt if he notices it at all,” replied Darwin. “Ledyard is not wealthy, nor of good family. Rickets is not a disease of the rich, you will recall. He will be deemed below the Alderton scale of evaluation, by Philip at least. I would just as well have Ledyard in the house, if we are to be exploring the flint pit. Come on, Jacob. Get well muffled up. We may be out there for a couple of hours. Bretherton has instructions to organize a search if we are not back in four—though I imagine he would not find it easy to obtain volunteers for that.”
“Four hours.” Pole sniffed. “Christ, Erasmus, if we’re not back in four hours, I fancy we’ll have seen a lot more of the Immortal than we care to. Bretherton will be coming out to pick up our pieces. He’ll be able to use our guts for garters, for all the need we’ll have for them. Lead on; and I’ll keep my hands on the pistols.”
The air outside was chilly. With the red-brick bulk of the manor behind them, they walked steadily uphill toward the dark mill. It stood at the brow of the hill, north and a little west of them. The moon was close to full, and they could pick their way easily enough without need of the lantern. Ahead of them, the great sweeps of the mill were turning rapidly in the gusty east wind, and as they drew closer they could hear the groaning of the wind-shaft and toothed head-wheel, eerie across the silvered landscape.
Darwin walked to the east side of the mill and looked closely at the turning sails, black in the moonlight.
“It’s an odd design, Jacob,” he said at last. “See the lattice pattern on the sweeps? And they are an unusual width. I don’t know how efficient that is, and they don’t use that style much any more. Alderton is right, this mill is an old one, but it’s still in good working order.”
He stood for several minutes longer in silence, watching the regular sweep of the great mill-sails.
“Do you realize, Jacob, that we may be looking at a dying industry? When Newcomen’s engines are perfected, and those of our friend Jamie Watt, the days of these mills will be over. Wind power is too fickle and too variable. In another hundred years, steam mills will be grinding our corn over the length and breadth of England.”
Pole stirred restlessly behind him. “Maybe. Not in our lifetime, Erasmus, and I must say I’m glad of that. You can keep your damned steam. I’ll take the old mill here any time, over a hot fart from one of Jamie’s iron boilers. Think of the Beasts that may walk out of them. Let’s get on down to the pit. We won’t track the Immortal this way.”
Darwin did not move. “I want to examine all the pieces of Gerald Alderton’s poetic message. ‘Moon full on the Hill,’ he says. Well, we have that, certainly. And we are not lacking for his ‘Wind strong on the Mill,’ either.” He turned and looked behind them, where a low bank of thin cloud lay on the eastern horizon. “That’s not so good. ‘No cloud to the East,’ we need, and that’s undeniably cloud—but it’s not covering the moon. I wonder how much cloud the message permits. So, let’s go to the next step. ‘Pit send forth the Beast.’ It hasn’t managed to do that tonight. Let’s go along and have a look inside it.”
He took a last look at the sweeps turning above them, then walked round the mill. The flint pit of Alderton was less than forty yards from there, a deep depression cut into the soft chalk on the west side of the hill. The steps leading down into it were broad and shallow, winding in a spiral around the outer edge. Twenty feet down, the pit floor was lumpy and uneven, still showing the marks where the flints had been pried from the soft chalk.
“Five thousand years,” breathed Darwin softly. “This has been here that long.” They were standing at the very edge, looking down into the pit. A faint current of colder air seemed to rise from the depths, like a breath from five thousand winters. It was easy to imagine faint darker shapes crouched close to the moon-shadowed eastern edge.