by Lev AC Rosen
Fiona didn’t quite know what Mrs. Wilks was talking about, but she kept her eyes slightly squinted and focused on her. The drink had begun to have a strong effect on her, and there wasn’t much she could think of saying at the moment.
“So,” Mrs. Wilks continued, “I started to work a little. More of a game. And clean up, of course. But then, one night, I was sitting here, and some of the pieces I was tinkering with fell into my lap and … I had an idea. So, I’ve been working on this,” she said, nodding at the odd device in her hand. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“What is it?” Fiona asked.
“It’s … an oscillation therapy device,” Mrs. Wilks said, turning bright red. Then, half ashamed, half proud, she brought the device up, turned a key on the end with gears, and released it. It was handheld, and pulsed slightly. Mrs. Wilks demonstrated by placing it on her shoulder, where it massaged her skin. “It relieves stress,” she said, and then slowly broke into a wry smile.
Fiona grinned. “You’re a right genius, Mrs. Wilks,” she said. Mrs. Wilks blushed and looked at the floor. “And if you’re willing to make more, I know plenty of ladies who would pay good money for that sort o’ thing.” Fiona stepped into the room, her feet slightly unsteady.
Mrs. Wilks looked up at Fiona, her eyes curious. “Do you?” she asked. Fiona nodded. This little job was going to be much more profitable than she had expected.
XXII.
JACK loved Christmas. He loved making garlands from berries and stringing them around the tree. He loved caroling with his mother and dressing the field mice he caught in little red or green coats and hats. He even loved going to church for the pageant and for Christmas morning services. But most of all, he loved the presents. This year he had gotten his father a fine wooden pipe with an ivory handle, and for his mother he had found a silk wrap. From them he had received a leather-bound copy of Mrs. Shelley’s Frankenstein and a collection of bird whistles. They had all hugged one another and eaten Christmas breakfast; then Jack had put on his warm jacket and mittens and taken a bunch of wrapped boxes from his mother to deliver to the Adamses.
Jack knew the lands of Messaline well, probably better than Violet and Ashton did, as his father had supervised them and taken Jack out on his runs since he was little. The estate was lovely, particularly in the snow. At the top of a hill marking the end of the apple orchard and the beginning of the last long field before the manor itself, Jack paused and leaned against one of the trees. Below him rolled sheets of diamond-like frost, which stopped at the gardens surrounding the house proper. The sky glowed a soft white, like the color of a damp pearl, and snow seemed to fall from it without needing any science at all. Science seemed far away from here; Illyria, too. Thoughts of killer automata and blackmail and disguises had all been swept under the snow. There was no need to worry about any of that here. It was Christmas, after all. The skies were becoming darker as the clouds overhead thickened. Jack breathed in deeply and caught a snowflake with his tongue before finishing his walk.
“Jack, my fellow!” Ashton called when Jack came into the sitting room. Their tree was up, decorated and sparkling, and it looked as though they had only arrived back from church a few minutes ago, probably from a much later church service. “We were about to open presents, so your timing is perfect.”
“Everything about me is perfect,” Jack said, laying his presents under the tree. “I bring gifts from my parents.”
“And we have gifts for you to take to your parents, as well,” Violet said, grinning archly. “But first you must stay awhile. After we open gifts, we will eat and drink eggnog.”
“Well, I would never say no to eggnog,” Jack said.
“I’d imagine not,” Ashton said, clapping him on the back. “Mrs. Wilks!” he called. She appeared in a doorway, where she had probably been waiting. “Let the servants know that we will be opening gifts and that they all have a gift under the tree as well.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Wilks said, and vanished again into the shadows. The servants all filed in silently and stood around the edge of the room. Mrs. Wilks went to the tree and handed out their gifts to each of them. Violet poured eggnog into glasses and handed them to Jack and Ashton.
“How has your Christmas been so far, Jack?” Violet asked.
“Quite lovely,” Jack said. “Da’ and I built a snowman yesterday. It was fun.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever built a snowman,” Violet said. “At least, not since I was very little.”
“That’s because you’d probably use clockwork parts made of ice to bring the thing to life,” Ashton said. “So we tried to keep you away from snowman building.”
The servants opened their presents quietly save for small gasps of delight. Ashton had done the shopping this year, and he had excellent taste. With murmured thanks, the servants, except for Mrs. Wilks and Fiona, retired to the kitchen to admire each other’s gifts and drink their own eggnog.
“Mrs. Wilks, have I ever built a snowman?” Violet asked.
“I’m sure you did once, yes, when you were five or so.”
“I wish to do it again.”
“Well, there’s plenty of snow. But why don’t you open your gifts first?”
Violet grinned and walked to the tree and sat beneath it, picking out her presents. Mrs. Wilks poured glasses of eggnog for herself and Fiona before they joined the children and opened their own gifts.
From America, Mr. Adams had sent a turkey feather hat for Mrs. Wilks and a book of American poems and a jacket for Ashton. For Violet, there was a set of American tools, supposedly used by the great American train engineer Matthias Forney, along with the full schematics of the airship he had taken to America. There was also a large set of arrowheads for the twins to share. Violet pored over the schematics as though her father were there looking at them with her, and rubbed the arrowheads in her fist. For a crushing moment, she felt a sense of loss at not having him there, but then she read his letter and felt better. It was a short letter, lacking in poetry and detail, but it described his travels in America, and his meetings with various astronomers.
“I wish he would describe America,” Violet said. “I think it must be very lovely.”
“Certainly not lovelier than England,” Mrs. Wilks said, adjusting her hat.
“No,” Violet said, “but I have never left England. A description of exotic places would be nice to hear.”
“Well, when he returns, you can question him in as much detail as you like.”
They opened the rest of the presents next. Jack had gotten everyone lovely articles of clothing: scarves and gloves of fine quality, soft to the touch, as well as a leather-bound journal for Ashton and a lady’s pocket watch for Violet. Everyone agreed, though, that Violet’s handmade gifts were the best of the lot. For Jack—and, truthfully, for herself as well—she had created a cage with an enclosed bottom level that had been carefully soundproofed. For Ashton, she’d made a lock that even her automatic skeleton key could not open, and a music box with an image of their mother and father inside, dancing. And for Mrs. Wilks, she created an umbrella that opened with the press of a button, and spun itself dry and closed with the press of another.
“What a marvelous mechanism,” Mrs. Wilks said as the umbrella spun around again.
After opening presents and drinking their fill of eggnog, all of them went out into the snow, which was falling quite heavily now, and built a snowman. And though she thought hard about it, Violet could not see any way to properly mold ice into gears to make the snowman live.
* * *
CECILY and Ernest were also building a snowman, in the barren garden next to Illyria. Ada, who stayed with them for Christmas—she had two living children of her own, but Anne was always in Arabia with her horses, and Ralph’s wife, Mary, talked of nothing but conservative politics since her father’s death—did not feel like joining in the building, so she sat on a bench nearby, sipping warm eggnog.
Cecily giggled as she packed th
e head on top of the creation. “What shall we use as eyes?” she asked.
“Coal is traditional,” Ada said, and held out two lumps of coal.
Cecily kissed her for her foresight. “Thank you, Auntie Ada,” Cecily said, smiling at the snowman as she gave him eyes.
“I’m cold,” Ada said. “Let’s go back inside and play with our presents again.”
Inside, in the sitting room, their unwrapped gifts lay amidst a pile of wrapping paper under the tree. Their tree was very traditional, with a Nuremberg angel sparkling on top, and strings of berries, paper chains, and garlands wrapped around it. Here and there, a few German glass ornaments shone.
From her cousin, Cecily had recieved an automaton dog that would chase after a magnetized ball, and, from Ada, a book on early chemical development. Ernest had recieved a book on plant life as well as a small glass terrarium filled with exotic plants from Cecily. Ada had given him a new suit. And Ada now had an automatic card shuffler and a new deck of cards from Ernest, and a locket from Cecily with both of their pictures in it.
Supper would be served soon. Ada lit a cigar, sat down in one of the chairs in the sitting room, and pressed the button on her machine, causing the cards to shuffle themselves. She laughed, delighted. “Anyone want to play cards? If you think I’m cheating, blame Ernest.”
“I’ll play cards,” Cecily said, “though we don’t have enough players for bridge.”
“Let’s play cards after supper,” Ernest said. Ada snorted and inhaled deeply on her cigar. Cecily picked up the silver ball and threw it. The dog chased after it until it was close enough to grab it in its jaws, then sat down.
“Sorry I couldn’t think of a way to make it return the ball,” Ernest said.
“It’s quite delightful the way it is,” Cecily said. “And besides, running after it is good exercise.” Ada laughed. “Ernest,” Cecily said, taking the ball from the dog’s mouth, “tomorrow, we should go for a ride in the country. Through the snow. I think it would be lovely.” The automaton dog’s head followed the ball—almost hungrily, Cecily thought.
“I don’t know,” Ernest said. “I should prepare for the next trimester.”
“You’ll have days to prepare,” Cecily said. “And we haven’t been out in ages.”
“We were just out.”
“Out of the city.” Cecily pouted, then dropped the ball at her feet. The automaton dog picked it up and held it out for her.
“Oh, go for a ride, Ernest,” Ada said, blowing smoke out over the room. “You’re in here too much, and Cecily wants to go.”
“Will you come with us?” Ernest asked.
“No. Riding isn’t fun when you’re as old and your bottom gets to be as thin as I am and mine is.” She puffed on the cigar. “Besides, there’s a poker game I’m already committed to.”
“Please, Ernest?” Cecily said, “I know exactly where we could go, as well.”
“You do?” Ernest asked.
“Yes,” Cecily said innocently. “It’s a lovely landscape, and I’m sure the trees will look quite pretty covered in snow.”
“Very well,” Ernest said. “But I’m bringing my books with me, in case we stop and I have time to work on them.”
“Don’t be such a bore, Ernest,” Cecily said, smiling. A servant rang a bell to let them know that supper was ready. They ate roast goose and cranberries and a dozen other Christmas delights before they all went off to bed, Cecily dreaming of her trip to Ashton’s home tomorrow.
* * *
BY morning, the snow had stopped falling and frozen, so all of London looked like a great ice sculpture, or a city of glass. Cecily dressed alone, as Miriam was still gone, and she didn’t think she needed a maid to help her. If she could have it her way, she would wear her nightshirt all day, but she knew she was pretty enough to be noticed no matter how she dressed, and she preferred to be thought well of at first glance, and not as disheveled or insane. She tied her corset a bit looser than was fashionable so that she could breathe easily, but otherwise she looked quite presentable. She pinned her hair up in a bun, chose a blue hat to match her dress, and went downstairs for breakfast. Ernest was already there, and Ada, too, eating and reading their newspapers. Cecily sometimes wondered if normal families talked over breakfast, or if they all just read the newspaper in silence as hers did. Cecily helped herself to eggs and toast and took out her diary to reread at the table. Often, when bored, she found the sensationalism of her diary to be a great diversion.
After breakfast, Ada left them to return to her own home in town, and Cecily, barely able to contain her excitement, got into the coach with Ernest and whispered their destination in the driver’s ear.
The drive was quite soothing, Ernest had to admit. He had nearly told Ada about his kiss, asked her what it was that she felt was so striking about Ashton. But that, he decided, would have been awkward, and most definitely won Ada their bet. So he had remained quiet. In fact, he was quite determined to avoid thinking of young Adams ever again, if he could. The rolling, snow-covered countryside helped him to feel good about this decision.
The manor whose driveway they pulled up into did not. “Cecily, where are we?” he asked.
Cecily was glowing. “This is the Adams estate,” Cecily said, smiling. “I thought we could call on them.”
Ernest felt his breath wheeze out of him. “Call on a student? That would be most undignified!” he said. The world seemed to be spinning around him. “Quite inappropriate.”
“Don’t worry, Cousin,” Cecily said as the coachman opened the door. “Ashton won’t even be here. He is with his aunt and uncle for the holiday. We are calling on his sister, Violet.”
“His sister?” Ernest asked. Cecily noticed the corners of Ernest’s mouth briefly perk up at this before his brow settled into a scowl. She felt quite sure, all at once, that Ernest was in love with Violet, and it delighted her.
“Do you know her?” Cecily asked coyly. She was now standing outside the carriage, though Ernest was still sitting inside.
“She delivered her brother’s application.”
“Well, then you must come with me, if you know her already,” she said, and started for the house, leaving Ernest to hop out of the coach and chase after her.
* * *
INSIDE, Violet, Ashton, and Jack were playing darts in the lounge. Mrs. Wilks was the one who came in to announce the unexpected arrivals. “There is a Duke of Illyria and Miss Cecily Worthing here to pay a visit,” she said, apparently just as surprised as they were that the word duke had just come out of her mouth. Violet, Ashton, and Jack stared at her, stricken. Jack began to chuckle. “How do you know a duke?” Mrs. Wilks whispered. “Did you meet him through your father’s friends?” Her eyes were larger than Violet had ever seen them.
“Well, send them in, then, Mrs. Wilks,” Jack said. Mrs. Wilks waited a moment longer for an explanation, but when it was clear none was forthcoming, she nodded and left the room.
“I suppose we’re lucky you’re not the sort of girl who faints,” Jack said to Violet.
“I told her I—I mean, Ashton—wouldn’t be here. I said that he would be away and our cousin Ashton would be here instead.”
“I’m the cousin again, am I?” Ashton said.
“This is…,” Violet began.
“Quite amusing,” Jack said.
“No!” Violet nearly screamed. Ashton and Jack stared at her, now much more nervous. “We will be polite. But not too polite, so that they leave quickly,” Violet said, her hands out, palms down and bouncing, as if motioning them to sit down, “and so that we give nothing away.” She thought for a moment. “In fact, I may have to be rude.”
Ashton raised his eyebrows, but he poured himself a glass of brandy and said nothing.
Mrs. Wilks came in to announce the guests once more. Cecily and the duke entered and looked around. Everyone stared at one another in silence.
“Perhaps you’d leave us alone with our guests, Mrs. Wilks?” Ashton said. M
rs. Wilks narrowed her eyes. She clearly wanted to stay. But Ashton knew she was far too intimidated by the presence of a duke to argue her case, so she curtseyed slightly and vanished into the kitchen.
“Pray let me introduce myself to you,” Cecily said, approaching Violet. “I am Cecily Worthing.” Violet shook hands with Cecily. “Perhaps your brother has mentioned me?”
“No,” Violet said, sitting again, “he has not.”
“Ah,” Cecily said, “well, let me introduce the Duke of Illyria, my cousin and guardian.”
“We have already met,” Violet said, her voice cool. Ashton and Jack stared at Violet. She had taken on a demeanor they had never seen before. Her back was arched, her chin high, her face pale. “You surprise me, sir,” Violet said to the duke, “by your visit here. While I did say our gardens were lovely, I am afraid that in winter they look just like everyone else’s.”
“Ah, yes,” Ernest said, clasping his hands behind his back. He didn’t miss the coldness of her tone. No one in the room did.
“But we do have—that is, there is an astronomy tower,” Ashton said, stepping forward. “I’m Ashton, Violet’s cousin. I’ve heard of you, of course, sir. Perhaps you’d like to see the tower?”
“Yes,” Cecily said. “You ought to take dear Cousin Ernest to see the tower. You as well, Jack. Violet and I will talk as ladies do.” Jack snickered at this, but Violet shot him a look that quickly made him stop.
“Yes,” Jack said, “let’s all go see the astronomy tower. Of course, it cannot be compared to the one at Illyria, sir.” The three men left the room, and Cecily sat in the chair next to Violet.