Penny Green series Box Set 2 Read online

  The Penny Green Series: Books 4-6

  Emily Organ

  Contents

  Books in the Penny Green Series

  THE INVENTOR

  CURSE OF THE POPPY

  THE BERMONDSEY POISONER

  Thank you

  Get a free short mystery

  Books in the Penny Green Series

  Limelight

  The Rookery

  The Maid’s Secret

  The Inventor

  Curse of the Poppy

  The Bermondsey Poisoner

  An Unwelcome Guest

  THE INVENTOR

  Penny Green Mystery Book 4

  Chapter 1

  The Crystal Palace shimmered in the fiery rays of the setting sun. The sound of bells and drums assaulted my ears and the smell of frying sausages hung in the air as we pushed our way through the crowd at the Midsummer Fair.

  “Mother, there’s the fortune-telling pony!” exclaimed my niece, Fenella, tugging at Eliza’s arm. “Please can we give him a penny?”

  “The fortune-telling pony is mere trickery,” replied my sister. “We should save our pennies for the sweet stall.”

  “But we have enough pennies for the pony as well,” protested Fenella. “Please can we go and see him? Please, Mother, please?”

  At the age of nine, Fenella already bore a strong resemblance to Eliza. Both had fair hair and brown eyes. Fenella wore a large yellow bow in her hair to match her summer dress, which had puff sleeves and a wide lace collar. Eliza wore a large straw hat and a loose-fitting cream cotton dress, deliberately ignoring the fashion for a tightly-laced waist.

  A crack of gunshots rang out from the red and gold rifle gallery. The stall next to it housed Mademoiselle Chloe’s Marvellous Clever Cats, who I hoped would be able to withstand the noise.

  “I don’t think I have ever seen so many people in one place,” Eliza remarked. “Once we’ve stopped at the sweet stall I think we should take a walk by the lake and visit the dinosaurs.”

  “But we’ve seen the dinosaurs before!” complained Fenella. “What about the pony?”

  “I’ve heard enough about the pony.”

  “Please may I have some lemonade instead?” Fenella pulled Eliza toward a stand selling carbonated drinks.

  I pushed my spectacles up onto the bridge of my nose and gazed over the stalls and flying horses to the Crystal Palace. Its fiery orange panes were slowly darkening to red. Built for the Great Exhibition more than thirty years previously, the glass building remained an impressive sight.

  “I read recently that the arch over the central transept is more than one hundred and sixty feet high,” I said to Eliza.

  “What transept?”

  “The transept in the Crystal Palace.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “And you do realise that it was Isambard Kingdom Brunel who built those two enormous water towers either side of it? They feed the fountains, and it’s said that each can hold more than a thousand tonnes of water.”

  “I can’t imagine what a thousand tonnes of water looks like,” replied Eliza. “A lake, I suppose. Was it ginger beer you asked for?”

  “Thank you.”

  “I just asked someone where the sweet stall is,” she continued. “And they told me it’s next to the Man with the Iron Head.”

  “The illuminations will begin shortly,” I said. “We shall need to be up on the upper terrace.”

  “But what about the dinosaurs?” asked Eliza.

  “I think they will also be illuminated. We can walk down there a little later.”

  “Did you hear that, Fenella?” said Eliza. “The dinosaurs are to be illuminated!”

  I followed Eliza and my niece to the sweet stall, trying to prevent my ginger beer from being spilled as I was knocked about by the crowd.

  I hadn’t come for the fair. I was hoping to speak to the inventor, Simon Borthwick, who was about to put on the greatest display of illumination ever seen. More than sixty thousand fairy lights were to light up the grounds of the Crystal Palace, and I had been eagerly anticipating the spectacle.

  Simon Borthwick was well known for his work on the incandescent electric lamp. Three years earlier he had installed lamps in the Savoy Theatre, making it the first public building in the world to be lit by electricity. I hoped he would have time for me to interview him at some point in the evening for the Morning Express newspaper.

  “Your Aunt Penelope is going to meet the inventor who created all the magical fairy lights you’ll see this evening,” I said to Fenella, but she was too distracted by a woman dressed as an Arab princess to listen.

  “Did I tell you that I’ve interviewed Mr Borthwick before?” I said to Eliza.

  “I don’t recall you telling me that,” she replied with an expression of complete disinterest. “Oh, look! There’s the Man with the Iron Head! That means the sweets must be here somewhere. There they are. Look!”

  We pushed our way over to the sweet stall.

  “Oh, Fenella! What will you have, do you think?” asked Eliza. “How about some lemon fruit slices? Or there’s sticky toffee or butterscotch. And honeycombs! I shall have some of those.”

  “They have alphabet liquorice, Mother!”

  “So they have. And caramel rolls and gum raspberries. What’s that? Oh, it must be peanut candy. What will you have, Penelope?”

  “Are there any fruit jellies?”

  “Yes, there are. Which flavour would you like?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Are you all right, Penelope? You seem rather distracted.”

  “I’m fine, thank you Ellie. I’m hoping that Mr Borthwick will have enough time to speak to me this evening. If I can make my way to the upper terrace shortly I shall ask someone where he is to be found.”

  “Oh, you’re distracted by your work. I should have known.”

  “It’s the reason I’m here, Ellie! I asked you and Fenella to accompany me because I thought you would enjoy the spectacle.”

  “And I’m sure we will,” she replied curtly. “That’s enough honeycomb to be getting on with, Fenella. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

  “Mother, can we go and see the Man with the Iron Head, please?”

  “I’m afraid not. Your Aunt Penelope needs to carry out some work on the terrace, I believe.”

  “You don’t need to come with me,” I said. “Take Fenella to see the iron man.”

  “The Man with the Iron Head,” Eliza corrected as she handed me a paper bag filled with fruit jellies.

  “I’ll meet you later by the dinosaurs,” I said.

  “Very well. In forty minutes’ time? Will that allow you long enough to complete your work?”

  “I hope so. I shall see you then, Ellie.”

  Chapter 2

  The noise of the fair receded as I followed the path up to the Italian-styled terraces in front of the Crystal Palace. A light breeze played with the brim of my hat and the evening air was pleasantly warm, so there had been no need for me to wear a jacket over my blouse and skirt. A brass band played the jaunty William Tell Overture as I made my way past splashing fountains and climbed the wide stone staircase to the lower terrace.

  Chatter and laughter drifted over from the refreshment bar, which sat between two flights of steps leading to the upper terrace. I wondered where I might find Mr Borthwick. I conjectured that at this moment he would likely be making final preparations for his switching on of the illuminations.

  I had first met with the inventor two years previously when he had worked with Richard D’Oyly Carte on the production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Iolanthe. Borthwick had created miniature lights for the lead fairies to wear.

  I had vis
ited him at his laboratory in Southwark and could still recall the strong chemical smell which had stuck at the back of my throat. The walls had been lined with shelves and glass jars containing powders and liquids of all hues. We’d stood at a well-polished table in the centre of the room, upon which stood a variety of apparatus, glass bulbs and lamps.

  About forty years old, Mr Borthwick had been clean-shaven with an aquiline nose. His eyes were large and dark, and his brown hair was long around his ears and collar. I had thought him surprisingly well dressed for a man who spent much of his time in a laboratory. His jacket was fashionably cut, and he had worn a carnation in his buttonhole.

  “Iolanthe must be the first occasion upon which performers have appeared on a stage with electric lights in their clothing and hair,” I said. “It’s quite astonishing!”

  “It was a pleasing effect, wasn’t it?” he replied. “I had to provide quite a bit of reassurance that the lights wouldn’t catch fire. People are still rather fearful about the dangers of electricity.”

  “But the dancers weren’t in danger, were they?”

  “No, not at all! Small battery packs were sewn into their costumes and they were quite safe at all times. Here you are, you see, it’s quite simple. This is the battery pack.” He pointed to a small box encased in rubber.

  “It looks like one of those electrical medical devices I’ve seen advertised for curing neuralgia and rheumatism,” I said.

  “It’s not dissimilar. Think of it as a miniature electrical generator.”

  I saw that a wire was attached to the battery pack and branching off from this were thinner wires, each ending in a miniature lamp.

  “The fairy lights are pinned into the dancers’ hair and onto their costumes,” Borthwick had continued. “The wires are too thin to be noticed by the audience, so they find the effect quite magical. I’ll turn the lights off in here and pull the blinds down over the windows. Then you’ll be able to see the full effect.”

  The room was almost completely dark once he had closed the blinds.

  “Oh dear. It’s rather dingy, isn’t it?” Borthwick had said from his position by the window. “Just make a noise, Miss Green, and I’ll be able to find you again.”

  “Over here, Mr Borthwick.”

  I had stifled a snigger as I heard him bump into a table, then eventually I saw his figure emerging from the gloom.

  “Thank you for that, Miss Green, I was lost for a moment! Now, where’s the battery pack?” He fumbled about on the table. “Here it is. Now watch.”

  I heard a slight flick of a switch and the little lights had instantly glowed yellow.

  “They’re beautiful!” I exclaimed.

  “They are, aren’t they?” he replied with a smile. “It’s quite a pleasing event when the dancers are lined up on stage.”

  “The effect has been much talked about.”

  “I’m rather pleased with the result, and what matters the most is that the audience appreciates it. I very much hope that Mr D’Oyly Carte asks me to provide lighting effects for his future productions.”

  Stone sphinxes guarded the steps to the Crystal Palace’s upper terrace, and when I reached the top I found myself standing before the central and highest point of the grand glass palace. My neck ached as I looked up to where a few windows were catching the final rays of the sun. Peering in through the palace windows I could see a tree filling the central atrium, while palm fronds framed statues and fountains.

  A distant voice sounded through a speaking trumpet. I couldn’t quite discern the words, but I felt sure this had to be the moment at which the illuminations would be switched on. I turned to look around at the vast grounds sloping away from me, and then a collective gasp rose from the terrace as thousands upon thousands of tiny electric lights burst into colour.

  Cheers and applause rippled through the evening air.

  Every statue and stone urn was lit, and the lights spread from left to right and ahead of me as far as my eyes could see. I walked up to the balustrade, along which ran a trail of varicoloured lights: bright reds, blues, yellows and greens. Below me were clipped hedges and topiary shapes twinkling with light, and the fountains were a sight to behold; splashing with incandescent colour.

  Bells rang out from the fair and I wished there was someone by my side with whom I could share this magical sight.

  James.

  As soon as his name entered my thoughts, I shook my head in a vain attempt to drive it out.

  James would have loved this evening, I thought sadly.

  A young couple stood a few yards to my left, excitedly pointing out the sights to one another. As I watched, I felt a heaviness in my heart. Perhaps it was envy.

  Chapter 3

  “Isn’t electricity a marvel?” a voice boomed into my right ear.

  I turned to see a wide man in a tweed suit with thick, grey whiskers and a glass of champagne in one hand.

  “Such a dangerous and unpredictable element, and yet see how man has tamed it!” He gestured at the coloured lights with a broad sweep of his hand. “That Borthwick fellow is a genius. We’ll soon have this in our homes, you know. You and I are looking at the future.” He paused and glanced around the spot where I was standing. “Are you here on your own?”

  “I’m here with my sister and niece,” I replied. “They’re wandering around the fair. I came here to report on this spectacle for the Morning Express newspaper.”

  “You are a news reporter?” He raised his eyebrows. “By Jove! I have never set eyes on a lady news reporter before now. This evening will receive a favourable write-up, I trust?”

  “Of course,” I replied, wondering why this should be any concern of his. “My name is Miss Penny Green, by the way.”

  “Goodness, how rude of me. I blame this stuff,” he said, raising his glass. “Mr Roderick Barrett.”

  I recognised his name. “You’re the organiser of this evening’s entertainment, are you not?”

  “Yes, and if I must blow my own trumpet I’d say it’s gone off rather well, hasn’t it?”

  “It’s gone off extremely well, Mr Barrett. Extremely well indeed. Would it trouble you if I asked where I might find Mr Borthwick? I’ve met him before and am keen to interview him this evening for the newspaper.”

  “What a capital idea! The last I saw of him he was by the generator with Mr Repton. Let’s not allow the genius of Repton to go unremarked. If it weren’t for his generators, Borthwick’s lamps wouldn’t do a thing.”

  “Indeed. Where might I find the generator?”

  “At the engine house, close to the maze.”

  “Thank you, Mr Barrett.”

  The hiss of steam and the pounding thud of the steam engine grew louder as I approached the engine house in the evening gloom. There were few people in this area and I hoped to be the only news reporter so that I wouldn’t have to compete for Mr Borthwick’s attention.

  Suddenly, I heard someone shouting and I noticed a shadowy figure striding towards me, a lamp in one hand.

  “Mind the wires!” he cried out.

  I looked down at the path and saw a thick black cable snaking past me.

  “Don’t worry,” I called back. “I see it!”

  “Go away!” came the reply. “You shouldn’t be here!”

  “I’m a news reporter,” I replied.

  The figure marched towards me. As he drew nearer I could see that he was a square-faced, clean-shaven man of about thirty. He wore a top hat and a light grey frock coat.

  “Madam, may I kindly request that you leave this area? It is unsafe.”

  “I’m Miss Penny Green, a reporter for the Morning Express newspaper. I should like to interview Mr Borthwick. I don’t believe anyone has ever lit up a place with sixty thousand electric lights before. As Mr Barrett has remarked to me just now, we are looking at the future.”

  “You have spoken with Mr Barrett?”

  “Of course.”

  I noticed his stance soften a little.


  “Well, I suppose you could speak to Mr Borthwick if I knew where he was.”

  He held up the lamp and looked around him, as if the scientist might suddenly appear from behind a shrub.

  “Who is it, Jeffrey?” called out a woman’s voice.

  I hadn’t noticed the silhouette of a small, slender woman walking towards us.

  “Just a news reporter looking for Simon,” he replied. “I’m Mr Maynell,” he explained. “And this is my wife. I’m a colleague of Simon’s and… Oh no, you’re in for it now. Here comes Repton.”

  I was aware that Mr Repton was Simon Borthwick’s business partner.

  “Hullo?” called out another shadowy figure with a lamp. “Who are you speaking to, Jeffrey?”

  “A news reporter,” replied Mr Maynell.

  “A news reporter, eh?” exclaimed Mr Repton. “We like those chaps! Oh, hello. It’s not a chap after all.”

  I introduced myself to the lean, stooped man, whose shock of white hair protruded in tufts from beneath his top hat. His bright eyes twinkled in the lamplight and he smiled broadly.

  “What a spectacle Mr Borthwick has created this evening,” I said. “You must feel extremely proud of Repton, Borthwick and Company.”

  “I am indeed,” Mr Repton replied. “Come and have a look at how it all works.”

  He began to walk back toward the engine house and I followed in his footsteps.

  “Please mind the wires, Miss Green,” warned Mr Maynell. “You mustn’t trip on any.”

  “Of course she’ll mind the wires,” said Mr Repton.

  “Is Mr Borthwick available for an interview?” I asked.

  “He would be,” replied Mr Repton, “if he hadn’t disappeared off somewhere. He’s in rather a bad temper this evening.”