Free Fortune Favors the Wicked by Theresa Romain

He was curious how much of it was a fiction. “You’re welcome to read it,” he said. “Maybe you could read some out to me. I’m not sure at this distance in time how I put down my experiences. I have the deuce of a time editing my work, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
    â€œI must order one of these for evening work,” decided Mrs. Perry. “You know, Mr. Frost, Tiresias was blind.”
    â€œI’m sorry, I do not know the name.”
    â€œThe mythical Theban prophet of ancient Greece. He was struck blind by a goddess, but in return he received the gift of prophecy.”
    â€œWould that I had been granted such a gift,” Benedict said lightly. “I receive only half pay from the Royal Navy and a small pension from the Naval Knights.”
    â€œAlong with a room in Windsor Castle,” added the vicar.
    Mrs. Perry ignored these interjections. “It’s a fascinating tale. Either the ancient Greeks had finer imaginations than we do, or the world was far more interesting in their time. Tiresias was blinded after being asked to settle an argument between Zeus and Hera as to whether—”
    â€œMay I see the noctograph now?” interrupted Charlotte. “Thank you, Mama. Just hand it over your shoulder—yes, I have hold of it.”
    Now, why had she interrupted her mother?
    Perhaps she was overcome by curiosity about the noctograph. He liked the idea that she was fascinated by the ways in which he adapted the world to suit himself.
    The newly expert Mrs. Perry spent the next few minutes showing Charlotte how the noctograph worked. Then the older woman asked, “How did you lose your sight, Mr. Frost?”
    Since the question seemed to be asked not with prurience but with the same scholarly curiosity that marked her every other query, he did not mind answering. “A tropical fever encountered in the Americas. I do not know its name, but it felled people in different ways. Some went lame; some died. I had great pain in my joints, and then in my head. And then my vision began to deteriorate.”
    They were all silent for a moment in the face of this dispassionate recital. Charlotte was the first to speak. “Do you still suffer from the other pains?”
    â€œNo, they went, too. Which was a small consolation.”
    His calm stripped from his words the nightmare of those days. Of the ship turned into a floating sickroom, of the slightest bit of sun like a knife to his eyes, and more and more covers hung over the tiny window to block out a pain that could not, in the end, be stopped. Darkness crept inward until the world was a tunnel, its end spotted and dim.
    Beyond, there was no more light at all.
    All the way back to England, he grieved. For the loss of his sight, for the end of his days sailing about the world.
    When the ship docked, he put an end to such wallowing. With the help of his captain, he applied for a pension. On receiving the first installment, he bought himself a hickory cane with a metal tip and began learning his way through the world by sound.
    And the more he learned of it, the more he wanted to learn. What good is that? the vicar’s wife had asked. He could not answer that, but there was value in the search for an answer, surely.
    There had to be. There had to be value in any type of search, for otherwise what was the point of so much of life?
    Now that the young barmaid, Nance, had lost her life, he wondered anew. There was more to seeking the royal reward than asking questions and poking about in crannies.
    There was danger in this particular search, and not of the sort from which one could protect oneself with feigned blitheness and a metal-tipped cane.

Chapter Six
    After having a look at the noctograph, Charlotte left the others inside and stood on the stoop, searching out Maggie. Daylight was fading, and the road was a dusky ribbon. The short strip of lawn between vicarage and road was covered with coarse grass,