Twelve Minutes to Midnight (7 page)

X

Penelope leafed through the pages of
Who’s Who
, her eyes scurrying over the entries as she searched out the one she was looking for. Next to her on the reading desk sat a stack of reference books:
Burke’s Peerage, Kelly’s Handbook to the Titled Classes
and other assorted guides to the aristocracy. She leaned forward on the hard mahogany chair, the electric reading light above the desk spilling a warm yellow glow across the pages. From around her came the sound of scratching pens and turning pages, the long rows of desks fanning out around the room filled with readers. Running around the walls, countless rows of books gave the library the snug feel of her home.

Penny’s fingers paused as they turned the next page, her eye snagging on the entry in the top right-hand corner. 

So this was who Bradburn had been calling on, mused Penny as she glanced up from the book, a puzzled expression written across her face. Lady Isabella Cambridge – the Spider Lady of South Kensington. But what interest could this aristocratic lady have in a hard-faced orderly 
from Bedlam, his pocket filled with the patients’ scribblings? She sighed in frustration, causing the reader at the next desk, an old bespectacled man, whose head was bent inches away from his book, to shush her in irritation.

Penny frowned. She looked back down at the entry from
Who’s Who
, her eyes settling on the details of Lady Cambridge’s career. A life described in a couple of lines, but she needed to find out more. She painstakingly reread the entry, searching for some clue that could help her –

Penny clicked her fingers in a sudden rush of realisation.

“Hush!”

Ignoring the bookish chorus of shushes, Penny grinned in satisfaction. There was one place she could go to find out more about the mysterious Lady Cambridge. It was time to pay a visit to the museum.

“This most remarkable specimen is a new genus of the
Mantichora
, the African tiger beetle. You will see, of course, the mottled green markings on the surface of its shell, a sharp contrast to 
the uniformly black colouring usually found in beetles of this genus. Note, too, the large curved mandibles which the African tiger beetle uses to seize and crush its prey.”

The grey-bearded professor pointed with his brass-tipped cane to the image of the emerald beetle which shone from the screen behind him. As he prodded at its sickle-shaped jaws, Penny half hoped that the magnified image of the beetle would spark into life and snap the cane in two. Sitting on the desk at the front of the great hall, the episcope projector whirred noisily, its mechanical drone almost drowning out the professor’s dry as dust voice. Next to this, yet more insect specimens were lined up, ready for their turn in the spotlight.

Penelope stifled a yawn. She glanced down again at the notice she had torn from the newspaper.

Peering back over her shoulder, Penny scanned the great hall yet again, searching for any sign of the enigmatic Lady Cambridge. Countless rows 
of chairs stretched back across the mosaic floor, their seats filled with bearded faces. Young men with dark, wiry whiskers, elderly gentlemen with white, fluffy beards; not a single face belonged to a member of the fairer sex. Above their heads, the hall’s high-vaulted ceiling was lit with an amber glow, sculptures of terracotta monkeys scampering across its soaring arches. At the front of the hall, behind the lecturer’s raised stage, a central stone staircase swept up to the galleries above.

As yet another hideously enlarged insect filled the screen, Alfie sneaked back into the empty chair next to Penny at the end of the front row. He had dressed for the occasion, with a borrowed suit jacket and tie covering most of the ink stains on his shirt front. Tugging uncomfortably at this tie as he settled in his seat, Alfie turned towards Penny.

“Have you found her?” she asked him, her voice low to avoid the hushes of the audience around them.

Alfie shook his head.

“I’ve been up and down every row. The place is packed to the rafters, but the only woman I saw was a charlady dusting the exhibits at the back of the hall.” A cheeky grin crept across his face. “I don’t think that could have been your Lady Cambridge.”

“But she’s on the museum’s board of trustees.” 
Penny frowned. “The advertisement said they’d be here.”

“Maybe she got bored and went home.” Alfie nodded towards the professor as he fussed over the episcope. “I mean that feller don’t half go on a bit.”

On the screen behind the projector, the image of a large black spider with strange silver markings across its back slowly flickered and faded to black. For a moment there was silence as the whirr of the episcope died away, then Professor Stebbing stepped back from the machine and the audience in the hall broke into a polite round of applause.

Leading the plaudits, a portly gentleman in a long frock coat rose from the front row and stepped on to the lecture stage. His jowly face was clean-shaven except for a pair of
grey-whiskered
sideburns that crept across his cheeks like inquisitive caterpillars. Penelope recognised him straightaway from his portrait hanging in the Central Hall – Sir Edwin Lancaster, the Director of the Museum.

As he motioned for quiet, Sir Edwin’s voice boomed out across the great hall.

“I would like to thank Professor Stebbing for the learned insights he has shared with us this evening. Many more samples from the British Empire Africa Expedition are still to be
un-boxed
and catalogued and once this task has 
been completed, then perhaps we will have the pleasure of hearing more about the fascinating creatures that creep across that vast continent.”

Lifting his head, he gestured up towards the pillars of the first-floor gallery that looked down on the great hall. The eyes of the audience followed his gesture and Penny saw with surprise a row of figures seated behind the balustrade.

“I would also like to extend my thanks to the board of trustees for their support of this expedition,” Sir Edwin continued. “Its success was due in no small part to their contributions, in particular the very generous donation that Lady Cambridge made to the expedition funds.”

Penelope strained her eyes against the lights that hung beneath the gallery. She could just make out the figure of a lone woman seated amongst the beards and stuffed shirts of the other trustees. This must be Lady Cambridge. The woman was dressed in a stiff-necked black gown, her face half-hidden by shadows, but Penny still caught a glimpse of her youthful beauty. It was the same face she had last glimpsed beneath a veil in the corridors of Bedlam.

“Now as this evening draws to a close,” declared Sir Edwin, clasping his hands together as he looked out over the audience, “all that there remains for me to say is to wish each of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Goodnight and God bless.” 

Another round of applause rippled through the great hall, as the audience slowly rose to their feet. They began to shuffle towards the stone archway at the rear of the hall, eager to be the first in line for the hansom cabs waiting at the exit. Penelope kept her eyes fixed on the figure of Lady Cambridge.

Whilst the other trustees stayed in their seats, Lady Cambridge had risen to her feet. With a cursory nod, she bade them farewell, then turned and walked along the gallery. As her shadowy figure flitted between the gothic pillars, Penny rose to her feet.

“Come on, we’ve got to follow her.”

While the straggling crowd headed for the exit, Penny led Alfie in the opposite direction. They skirted the stage at the front of the hall where Sir Edwin was deep in conversation with Professor Stebbing, neither of the two men noticing them as they slipped past. As they reached the bottom of the grand stone staircase, Penny squinted up into the shadows that lined the long gallery, desperately trying to keep Lady Cambridge in sight.

She caught a glimpse of a black gown behind a glass case filled with stuffed birds. The long gallery was lined with exhibits – ancient fossils and pickled crocodiles, human skulls and dinosaur bones – Lady Cambridge flitting through the shadows thrown like some silent predator. 

But as Penelope stepped on to the stone staircase in pursuit, the sound of a man’s voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Miss Tredwell!”

Penny turned around to see the lean figure of the
Pall Mall Gazette’s
Arts and Entertainments Correspondent, Mr Robert Barrett. An intrigued half-smile played across the reporter’s lips as he stepped towards them, his fountain pen hovering above the open notebook in his hand.

“What an unexpected surprise to see you here this evening.”

XI

“I wouldn’t have thought that a young lady of your refinement would be interested in a lecture about creepy-crawlies from the wilds of Africa.” As he spoke, Barrett’s eyes flicked past Penny and Alfie, his gaze wandering up the staircase as if in search of someone else. “Has your uncle brought you here tonight? I must admit, I hadn’t spotted the famous Montgomery Flinch in the audience. Was he keeping watch from the gallery whilst he researched his next tale of terror?”

Penny returned the young journalist’s smile, trying to hide her irritation at this unexpected obstacle in their path.

“Good evening, Mr Barrett,” she replied. “No, I’m afraid my uncle isn’t here this evening. He’s still ensconced at his house in the country working on a new story. The British Empire Africa Expedition is of no interest to him.”

“That’s a pity,” Barrett sniffed. “I thought I might have an exclusive about how Montgomery 
Flinch’s next fiction serial will be an African adventure to rival the stories of H. Rider Haggard.”

Penelope shook her head.

“You’ll have to wait until the new century and the next edition of
The Penny Dreadful
to find that out.” She glanced up at the gallery above, catching a glimpse of Lady Cambridge’s silhouetted figure as she swept past the top of the staircase. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone that I have to speak to.”

Barrett followed Penelope’s gaze as Lady Cambridge disappeared behind the first of the pillars that lined the facing gallery.

“Ah, the reclusive Lady Cambridge,” he sighed. “The only person in London society who makes your uncle look like an extrovert. Good luck in getting to speak to her.”

As Alfie shuffled his feet impatiently, Penny glanced back at Barrett in surprise.

“You know Lady Cambridge?” she asked.

Barrett grinned.

“Not personally,” he replied. “But as a journalist on the
Gazette
, I’ve chronicled her many triumphs. The first woman to jointly lead a scientific expedition into the heart of Africa, the discoverer of dozens of new species of insects and spiders that have transformed man’s understanding of the natural world, and now, of course, she’s the first female trustee in the history 
of the museum. Her father would be so proud.”

“Her father?”

“Sir William Ross. He was the Director of this museum for more than two decades. It’s such a shame that he never got to see any of his daughter’s achievements. Sir William died on the eve of her wedding to Lord Cambridge.”

Penelope felt a fleeting pang of sympathy; the death of Lady Cambridge’s father suddenly reminding her of her own loss.

“Some say it was the shock of his passing that sent Lady Cambridge’s mother into the arms of madness,” Barrett continued. “But of course, Lady Cambridge has had her own tragedy to bear since then. The death of her husband, Lord Cambridge, on expedition in Africa – poisoned by the very spiders they had both gone there to study. On her return to England, Lady Cambridge retreated into her widow’s weeds and she hasn’t been seen in public for more than a year. Until tonight…”

Barrett left this revelation hanging in the silence of the great hall. He glanced back towards the stage where Professor Stebbing was showing the portly Sir Edwin one of his many specimens, the two men deep in conversation as the professor held the insect to the light.

“And my report of tonight’s lecture won’t be complete without a quote from Professor Stebbing and maybe even Sir Edwin Lancaster 
himself. I’ll bid you both goodnight now.” With a nod of farewell, Barrett turned as if to leave. He took a couple of steps towards the stage, but then glanced back as if suddenly remembering something.

“Please don’t forget to ask your uncle to contact me at the
Gazette
on his return to the city,” he told Penelope. “The story I’m writing about Montgomery Flinch’s remarkable rise to fame is throwing up a few mysteries of its own. An exclusive interview with the man himself might help to clear these up for our readers.”

With that, Barrett turned away again, hurrying towards the stage where the professor and museum director were still deep in conversation.

For a moment, Penelope stood there silently fuming. The last thing she needed was some meddling journalist poking around in the dark corners of Montgomery Flinch’s invented life. How would the readers of
The Penny Dreadful
react if they discovered that Flinch didn’t really exist? Penelope frowned. There had to be a way out of this predicament, but first she had her own mystery to solve.

“Come on,” she said, tugging at Alfie’s arm. “We can still find her.”

Penny raced up the staircase with Alfie close behind, their footsteps clattering up the stone steps. Under the disapproving gaze of Charles Darwin’s statue, the two of them turned right to 
climb the final flight of stairs. There, blocking their path, stood a thin, sharp-featured man. He was wearing the drab uniform of a museum attendant and his beady stare flicked from Penny to Alfie in turn.

“The museum is closed,” he said coldly. “Please make your way back to the exit.”

Her heart sinking, Penelope glanced past him into the shadows of the gallery above. Lady Cambridge might only be yards away – she couldn’t let this jumped-up bone-watcher stand in her way. As the guard fixed them with a frosty stare, Penny racked her brain for a way to get past him. The only thing she could think to try was a barefaced lie.

She turned towards Alfie, tipping him a sly wink before she let rip with an almighty howl.

“But Daddy said we could see the dinosaurs!”

The museum guard’s stony features cracked in the face of her brattish whine. With a
long-suffering
sigh, he tried to quieten her.

“Now, young lady, there’s really no need for such a hullaballoo. The museum opens again at ten tomorrow and I’m sure you’ll be able to see the dinosaurs then.”

Penny glared up at him, her reddening face screwed up like a spoilt child’s.

“If you don’t let me see the dinosaurs right away, then I’m going to tell my daddy how perfectly beastly you are.” 

The attendant stared back at her in disbelief.

“And who exactly might your father be?” he sniffed dismissively.

With a haughty toss of her hair, Penelope glanced back down to the lecture stage below. There, the Director of the Museum was still quizzing Professor Stebbing, whilst Barrett waited at a respectful distance for his chance to speak to them. She turned back to fix the museum guard with her sternest stare.

“Sir Edwin Lancaster,” she answered coolly.

The museum guard blanched at her reply, the colour draining from his face. His gaze switched from Penny to Sir Edwin and then back again. His brow furrowed, and then, with an apologetic expression etched on his face, he stepped to one side and waved Penny and Alfie through.

“I’m terribly sorry for the misunderstanding, Miss Lancaster,” he grovelled. “You’ll find the iguanodon bones halfway down the gallery in the second bay on the right. Please take as long as you need.”

With a harrumph of displeasure, Penny hurried past the attendant with Alfie following close behind, fighting to keep a smile from his face. Racing up the final flight of stairs, they reached the long gallery which ran along the length of the great hall.

Staring into the shadows, Penny headed for the place where she had last seen Lady Cambridge. 
Beneath terracotta arches intertwined with climbing snakes, the two of them walked in silence, their footsteps echoing in the empty exhibition space. The skeleton of a sabre-toothed tiger lurked menacingly in the shade, its claws extended as if to swipe at them as they passed. Penny peered past the glass-fronted cases, each of them filled with innumerable insects, spiders, crustaceans and centipedes. A stuffed polar bear loomed in the gloom, but no living soul could be seen. Lady Cambridge was gone.

As Penny and Alfie passed by the fossilised bones of the iguanodon, they heard the pointed sound of a cough behind them. Turning, they saw the museum attendant standing at the top of the gallery landing. Next to him, his arms folded sternly across his barrel chest, stood Sir Edwin Lancaster. The look of fury on both their faces told Penny that visiting time was over.

“We’re going to have to leave,” said Alfie, raising his hand in apology.

Penelope sighed. She had come here to find out more about Lady Cambridge, but the woman herself seemed to have vanished into thin air. The mysteries were piling up and she was no closer to finding any answers.

As Penny turned to leave, her gaze fell on a large display case. Underneath the glass, several rows of spiders were pinned and mounted, each hairy-legged beast staring out at her with an 
octad of black, beady eyes: a mocking reminder of the elusive Spider Lady of South Kensington.

“Penny,” Alfie tugged at her arm, “we have to go now.”

Lost in thought, Penelope tried to trace the tangled web that had led her to Lady Cambridge: the strange malady afflicting every patient in Bedlam, the missing Midnight Papers, Bradburn’s mysterious visit to her grand house in South Kensington. She remembered seeing the
black-veiled
widow glide through the corridors of the asylum and something that Barrett had said snagged in her mind.

Her
father … Sir William Ross … Some say it was the shock of his passing that sent Lady Cambridge’s mother into the arms of
madness
.

As Alfie tugged on her arm again, a sudden gleam appeared in Penny’s eye – the same gleam that shone whenever she came up with an audacious plot twist. There was one person who could tell her more about Lady Cambridge, someone who knew her better than anyone else – her own mother. And Penelope now knew where she would find her.