OK, so this is it, the start of my Nanowrimo novel (that's National November Writing Month) - I actually started this one last November but go sidetracked around Thanksgiving (long story). SO I am going to try and finish it this year. To spur me on I am going to post daily posting of what I wrote already up on the blog, eventually catching up to what I am writing now. This is a quick and dirty process- which means that what I will post will have plenty of errors, grammar issues and typos. Bear with me.
Thanks
-D H Richards
PS - I need a new name for the novel, 1000 Balloons was already taken ;-)
Prolog
Liza woke in the night with a start. At
first she was not sure if she had really heard anything. The window nearest her
bed was open to let in the cool night air. So she thought perhaps she had heard
a noise from the street. Although her neighborhood was a quiet one, even the
best neighborhoods in London in 1901 had their fair share of noise at all
hours, whether it was stray cats knocking over cans or even rag pickers going
through the dustbins.
She lay still, trying not to breath. She
listened for it again. There, a soft thump. It did not sound like it was coming
from the street, rather from inside. In the light of the half-moon she could
barely see the clock on her worktable. It was 2 in the morning. She doubted her
Grandfather was up at this hour, perhaps it was one of the servants, but event that
sounded doubtful. She told herself it may have just been something in the
house. It was, after all, a fairly old house, built in the early 1800s along a
very good street full of similar large row homes. Maybe it was mice or- there
is was again!
She got out of bed. If it were her
Grandfather, Liza thought, she should make sure he was alright. After all, he
was getting older, and she had heard of people falling down in the middle of
the night. She would just go down and check at his door, to see if he was ok.
She slipped into a pair of pants under her night robe. Her grandfather would no
doubt comment on her choice of pants, but she always felt somewhat naked under
her night robe. She was keenly aware that at nineteen her body was often the
object of stares from men (and women sometimes even). She did not want any of
the servants she might run into in the halls to ogle her.
A quietly as she could she opened the
bedroom door and went into the hallway. She knew her way around well enough not
to need a light, plus the weak moonlight that came in through the windows at
the end of the hall was enough to get her to the stairs. She crept down a
flight to the second story, being sure to skip the two steps that squeaked. Stop
stopped in front of her Grandfather’s door and listened for a moment. She was
about to call out when she heard the noise again, this time it was coming
distinctly from downstairs on the first floor. It sounded louder, like someone
dropping something on thick carpet.
As quickly as she could go quietly she
made her way down. She knew where the sound was coming from and her heart was
beating rapidly. It was coming from her Grandfather’s study, which meant…
In front of the closed door to the study
she steeled herself and then with a coordinated twist of the knob and a push of
the door sprang into the room.
There, at the large ornate red oak desk,
stood a man dressed all in black, shuffling through piles of paper. He looked
up, his face obscured by a black mask. Without waiting Liza raced across the
room, but the man had already moved himself and made for the open window on his
side of the room. With a fluid grace he launched himself through the open sash
in an arched dive and disappeared. By the time Liza got to the sill all she
could see was a dark figure racing down the alleyway and hoping over a fence.
She knew if she gave chase or called for
help that either way the man would be long gone. She turned around and surveyed
the room. Books were pulled from shelves, drawers were emptied out. That must
have been what she heard.
Just then the door to the study burst
opened again and Rupert, the family’s butler appeared, bleary eyed.
“What on earth!” He exclaimed, but then
quickly took in the scene and went over to Liza. “You alright Miss Liza?”
“Yes Rupert, thank you. There was a man
in here…”
“A break in?”
“Yes. Is grandfather up?”
“I am now.” A gruff but warm voice said
from the doorway. Liza’s Grandfather, Robert XXXXXX stood there. He was a large
man, well over 2 meters tall and sturdy stock. In his younger day he, when he
was fitter, he cut an imposing figure. He still was imposing, but his soft
belly belied too many years of good food and wine and fewer days of hardship.
“What happened here?”
“I heard a noise Grandfather, and came down
here. I found a man looking through… wait! Do you think he was looking for-“
“Quite possibly!”
“Is it, is it still-?” Liza asked but
the General was already striding across the room. He quickly grabbed a book
from the shelf and opened it. He face fell into relief.
“Yes, yes, still here. Although, I shall
have to move it now. Rupert, how did he manage to get in? I told you explicitly
to lock all windows, especially those on the first floor.”
“Yes sir, but it seems that he cut a hole
in this one.” Rupert stood by the wind through which the man had tumbled. A
large hole had been cut, enabling someone to stick their hand inside and turn
the sash lock.
“This is worrisome.”
“Yes Grandfather. I hope we get a
response to our letter soon.”
