“I don’t know if I will feel up to it.”
“Of course she will. That reminds me, I plan on throwing a soiree fairly soon to celebrate the completion of The Harem Girl, and you will certainly be receiving an invitation. I know that after reading that ridiculous article, my friends will be lining up for an introduction to the Earl and Countess of Dorset. You would probably like my set; they’re a lively bunch. Writers, poets, adventurers, artists, anarchists, suffragists.”
“I look forward to it. If you ever find yourself in Greenwich, be sure to stop by. Mrs. Rhodes, when you get settled in London, you should send a letter to Mr. James Elwood in Poole. When we inquired about Mr. Nash’s will, your name came up. Apparently, he left you something after all.”
Leona blanched but nodded. “Thank you, Lady Dorset. I will.”
“Oh, before we leave, I must give something to your maid. I wanted to thank her. If it wasn’t for her, I might not be here.”
“That’s very generous of you, Nadir. Patrick,” Hadley called to the waiting butler, “please bring Pilcrow out.”
Walking back to the steamer, Nadir returned with a paper-wrapped package. Pilcrow’s umbral form inched out the door and along the Gothic facade toward the waiting crowd. Her light eyes flickered over their faces, lingering on Mrs. Rhodes and Mr. Talbot for any sign of disgust or anger. Mrs. Rhodes met Pilcrow’s gaze but quickly averted it to her feet.
“You need me, your ladyship?”
“Mr. Talbot has something for you.”
Her eyes widened as he held out the bundle. Keeping her head down, she tore the paper away and shook out the long, wool coat within. She ran her fingers over the soft fabric and shiny black buttons before giving the shoulder seam a tug. It was finer than anything she owned but not so fine as to draw attention. Pilcrow looked up to find the handsome Mr. Talbot regarding her with an apologetic smile.
“After what happened, I couldn’t leave without making good on my promise. I wish you all the best here, Pilcrow. You deserve a chance at a better future.”
Pilcrow lingered on Mrs. Rhodes’ solemn features. “We all do.”
***
Hadley shut the door as the steamer disappeared around the bend and into the trees. Sighing, she gave him a half-hearted smile. “They’re gone now.”
“I’m sure we will see them again,” Eilian replied, squeezing her hand.
“I know. I just enjoyed having a friend who isn’t related to me. Besides you, I haven’t had one in quite some time.”
“Stay in touch with him. It’s easy enough to find his address.”
“I’m sure he has his own friends back in London. Well, I’m going to finish packing. Are you coming?”
“I will be up in a few moments. There’s one thing I still need to do.”
Leaving Hadley at the stairs, Eilian followed the familiar path to the library. He was going to miss Brasshurst. In the month he had been there, he had grown accustomed to the house’s peculiarities, its groans and pulse, its crawling ivies and sculptural yews. Now he saw it as a not another thing to be dealt with but a giant slumbering within its garden. It was that vitality he would miss when he returned to Greenwich.
Passing rooms of white-draped furniture, he entered the library. Eilian slipped through the sliding doors and inhaled the familiar scent of polish and parchment. On the desk sat a stack of books he wanted to incorporate into his own library. Most were by ancient scholars and engineers, but next to them lay the massive family Bible. Carefully lifting the gilt cover, he drew a pen from the desk, traced the curling branches to his father’s name, and drew a forked line. On one side he inscribed, Eilian Sorrell. Born 1864., and on the other, Dylan Sorrell. Born 1866. From them, he added Hadley and Constance along with the years of their births. Eilian stared at the sea of names and hoped he would never have to add the second half to the entries he wrote. Closing the cover, he piled the rest of his books on top of it and lugged them up to the bedroom.
At the end of the portrait hall, he nodded to Laurence. When he returned for the beginnings of the excavation, he would bring a portrait of his father to hang beside his great-grandfather. Maybeone day, when they were ready, he and Hadley would guard the entrance to the library.
About the Author
Kara Jorgensen is an author and professional student from New Jersey who will probably die slumped over a Victorian novel. An anachronistic oddball from birth, she has always had an obsession with the Victorian era, especially the 1890s. Midway through a dissection in a college anatomy class, Kara realized her true passion was writing and decided to marry her love of literature and science through science fiction or, more specifically, steampunk. When she is not writing, she is watching period dramas, going to museums, or babying her beloved dogs.
For more info, please visit KaraJorgensen.com or subscribe to her newsletter to receive news about releases and sales as well as future projects.
Also by the Author
The Earl of Brass (IMD #1)
The Gentleman Devil (IMD #2)
“An Oxford Holiday” (An Ingenious Mechanical Devices Companion Short Story #1)
The Earl and the Artificer (IMD #3)
“The Errant Earl” (An Ingenious Mechanical Devices Short Story #2)
Dead Magic (IMD #4)
The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set Page 82