This servant lay dying, praying that someone else become the truth and the light. What did he even mean by it?
Truth. Veritas.
Whatever this poor, mad soul had meant by it, it seemed somebody had taken up the charge.
Kitty closed the book and rubbed the binding with her palm. She could not help, as she read the book, notice the odd binding that rested in her hand. It was strange, and yet familiar. It felt as if she should know what it was, though she had never seen anything like it. It was very like pig skin, and yet she did not think that was quite it.
She finally pulled out her microscope to have a closer look at it, as she was certain it was not anything usual.
Focusing the lens, a latticework of lines came into view. It looked very much like the crisscrossing of footpaths across countryside. Hair follicles were spaced apart. It was similar to the skin of a pig, but the lines were not nearly deep enough, the follicles appeared too close together.
She had seen this somewhere before.
Kitty abruptly sat up. She thought she knew where she’d seen this before. In the book of illustrations her father had given her along with the microscope. In one of van Leeuwenhoek’s drawings that purported to be his own skin under a lens.
She stared at the book that now lay on her desk. It was bound in human skin.
The servant, the writer of this volume, had sounded as if he were going mad. It seemed now that hehadgone mad. Completely mad.
What had Sir John been doing with this book? Why had he not told Mrs. Herschel of it?
Or was Sir John being somehow accused of something he had nothing to do with? Was this all part of Lord Grayson’s jest?
“No, it cannot be,” she said softly.
Whatever her roiling ideas of which man was guilty, she was absolutely certain that Lord Grayson would not bind a book in human skin. He would not purchase one so bound either. He would never send such a thing into her house. However little she might understand his nature, she was certain she understood that much at least.
Would Sir John do such a thing, though? Kitty was disturbed to realize that she could not be quite so certain of him.
Who had sent this book? Had it really been in Sir John’s possession?
*
Sir John Kullehamnd,as he styled himself these days, paced his floor. It seemed a cold and empty space. The book was gone and not even a fire laid as Mrs. Smat had absconded too.
A few candles were lit, but they did not shed much light nor warm the air.
This room had once been one of comfort. It was here that he’d gleefully written the letter claiming to be from the mysterious Veritas. That letter that was to put all on notice that John Hill would be revenged.Allof the John Hills of the world would be revenged. It was here where he’d reflected on how satisfactorily his plans were unfolding. It had seemed as if luck had been raining down upon him. He’d wondered how to further his acquaintance with Miss Dell, and then it had been the letter he wrote that drew her into his company at Mrs. Herschel’s. Everything flowed smooth and easy.
Now, what had happened? His book, his very bible, was gone. Grayson had called him into question in front of his colleagues. Had the reprobate been able to raise any real doubts about him?
He sipped his laudanum, carefully managing the amount. He had not the funds to keep buying the stuff. He’d not thought he’d need funds much beyond this point, as he should be well on his way to married by now. He could have got ample credit once the banns were read and the size of Miss Dell’s dowry understood.
What if Grayson spurred one of Mrs. Herschel’s set to look into him more closely? He had counted on his intelligence and education to be the calling cards that would invite confidence and dispel suspicion. But what if someone asked to examine his patents? He’d had them forged and planned to use them on Lord Penderton, that fellow was unlikely to know much about Swedish documents. But what if someone like Mr. Mathews asked to see them? He did not think they would fool Matthews, expert on European patents that he was.
He’d done his best to dismiss Grayson once the fool had left Mrs. Herschel’s drawing room. He’d also done his best to get Miss Dell alone.
That confounded mother of hers! The baroness had looked upon him with what he thought might be hatred. She had refused to allow her daughter to leave her side and then just as quick, took her out to their carriage.
It felt as if his dream was slipping away.
It could not slip away! There was no other course he could take. He was practically penniless, having sold all of his worldly goods to set himself up in London. He could not start over somewhere, there was nothing to start over with.
Even if he had the means to flee, would he do it?
“Of course I would not,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “I am your knight, the veritas and the lux. I am only being tested, that is all.”
He was certain God heard his words and hoped God would send an answer. If he were being tested, how would he pass the test? How would he succeed in the end?
