His Clockwork Canary Read Free Page A

references. But Concetta’s prideful. She ranted in
     her native tongue, and though I’m not fluent in Italian, I understood the intention.
     She’s leaving today.”
    “Damnation,” Jules said.
    In this instance, Simon knew the man’s thoughts. Things were indeed dire if Anne Darcy,
     a conservative woman obsessed with old ways and upholding appearances, had resorted
     to dismissing servants. Another kick to Simon’s smarting conscience.
    Just then Eliza’s husband, Harry, appeared with two folded newspapers in hand. “As
     requested,” he said, handing the
Victorian Times
to Simon, then turning to Jules. “And the
London Daily
for you, sir.” The older man glanced at the sideboard, winced, then lowered his voice.
     “I could fetch you fresh bread and jam.”
    If anyone knew about the poor quality of his wife’s cooking, it was Harry.
    Simon quirked a smile he didn’t feel. “We’ll be fine, Harry.” The man nodded and left,
     and Simon looked to his brother. “We’ll have to sample something, you know. Otherwise
     we’ll hurt Eliza’s feelings.”
    “I know.” Distracted, Jules seemed absorbed by the front page of the
Daily
.
    Simon immediately turned to the headlines of the
Times
—a respectable broadsheet, unlike the
Informer
.
    The Victorian Times
    January 10, 1887
     
    ROYAL REJUVENATION—A GLOBAL RACE FOR FAME AND FORTUNE
     
    In celebration of Queen Victoria’s upcoming Golden Jubilee, an anonymous benefactor
     has pledged to award a colossal monetary prize to the first man or woman who discovers
     and donates a lost or legendary technological invention of historical significance
     to Her Majesty’s British Science Museum in honor of her beloved Prince Albert. An
     additional £500,000 will be awarded for the rarest and most spectacular of all submissions.
     Address all inquiries to P. B. Waddington of the Jubilee Science Committee.
    Simon absorbed the significance, the possibilities. “Blimey.”
    “I assume you’re reading what I’m reading,” Jules said. “News like this must have
     hit the front page of every newspaper in the British Empire.”
    “And beyond.” Simon fixated on the headline, specifically the words FAME AND FORTUNE . He wanted both. For his family. For himself.
    “Pardon the interruption, sirs.” Contrite, Harry had reappeared with three small envelopes.
     “It would seem sorrow regarding the loss of Lord Ashford has muddled my mind. These
     were in my pocket. I picked them up at the post whilst in the village this morning.”
     He handed an envelope to each of the brothers, then placed the third near their sister’s
     place setting. “This one is for Miss Amelia,” he said. “That is, if she joins you
     this morning.”
    Since their father’s death, Amelia had been grieving in private.
    “We’ll see that she gets it,” Jules said. “Thank you, Harry.”
    The man left and Simon struggled not to think of their young sister locked away in
     her bedroom—mourning, worrying. Yes, she was a grown woman, twenty years of age, but
     she’d led a sheltered life, and though obstinate as hell, Amelia was tenderhearted.
     At least half of Simon’s worries would end if she’d relent and marry a good and financially
     stable man. Alas, Amelia’s fiery independence was both a blessing and a curse. Frustrated,
     Simon focused back on what appeared to be an invitation. “No return address.”
    He withdrew the missive in tandem with Jules and read aloud. “Given your family’s
     reputation as innovators, adventurers, and visionaries—”
    “—you have been specifically targeted and are hereby enthusiastically invited to participate
     in a global race for fame and fortune,” Jules finished.
    “Royal rejuvenation.”
    “Colossal monetary prize.”
    “Legendary technological invention,” they said together.
    “Is your missive signed?” Simon asked.
    “No. Yours?”
    “No.” He glanced from the mysterious note to the
Times
. “Apparently the anonymous