by Lev AC Rosen
* * *
VIOLET was hard at work in the lab, feeling relaxed and happy. She had received another letter from the duke that morning, in which he had called her brilliant. She had carried that word around with her all day, glowing with it. So when she looked up and saw the duke staring at her, she instantly blushed and looked away to hide her smile.
“Ashton,” the duke said, “may I have a word with you in the hall?” Ashton, she thought. Of course. He’s here to speak with Ashton. She nodded and went out into the hall. She saw Volio sneer at her as she left.
“Yes, sir?” she said when they stood outside the door. He took her arm and pulled her toward a darker part of the hall.
“Ashton. I … Well, first I should apologize for that incident that happened … it was a while ago, and it was quite inappropriate of me. And frankly, I had been thinking about someone else.”
“Oh,” Violet said. Her stomach felt suddenly heavy.
“I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive, sir,” Violet said, keeping her eyes on the ground.
“And there’s one other thing. I hope you won’t hold this against Cecily, but she told me about your evening forays into the cellar.” At this, Violet looked up, suddenly very worried. “Don’t worry,” the duke said, laying a hand on her shoulder, “you’re not going to be punished. The truth is, I have no map of the basement. So I was hoping I could borrow yours and copy it for myself.”
“Oh,” Violet said. “Of course, sir. I’m sorry for breaking the rules, sir.”
“Ah, you’re lucky,” the duke said. “For in this case, your breaking the rules works in my favor, and so I am inclined to say boys will be boys. If you give me the map.”
“Of course, sir. Now?”
“Yes, if you can.”
“It’s in my room, sir.”
“Well, then let’s head there, shall we?”
Violet was very aware of the duke’s nearness as they rode the lift together and walked down the hall to her room. She opened the door to it and looked around. She never left any clues to her identity out, but the place was still a bit messy.
“It’s not quite clean,” Violet said apologetically, opening the door all the way for the duke. She took a deep breath. Being alone in her bedroom with the duke made her skin feel warm and her scalp damp. She smiled at the duke. After all, she wasn’t a woman alone with a man. She was a student alone with his headmaster.
“Don’t worry about it,” the duke said, coming in. “If I didn’t have servants cleaning everything, my place would be much worse, I assure you.” He grinned and closed the door behind him. Oscar, seeing someone new, bounced out from under the bed and began sniffing the duke’s shoes.
“He’s a cute one,” the duke said, reaching down to pet Oscar.
“Fuck off!” Oscar said. The duke quickly retracted his hand.
“One of Jack’s experiments…,” Violet said, then opened her closet and reached up for the map. The duke came up behind her and saw what she was reaching for, then leaned over her and took it, their bodies nearly touching.
“Ah,” he said, “so this is it?” He unrolled the map. Violet nodded and closed the door behind her. The room was small and dimly lit, and suddenly very warm. “Amazing detail,” he said, examining it. “Is this a train?”
Violet nodded. “It doesn’t work, though,” she said.
“You tried it?”
“Yes,” Violet said. “I tried fixing it, too. But I haven’t gotten it to work.”
“You’d ride a train when you didn’t know where it would take you?”
“It’s a train,” she said with a shrug, as if that explained it.
In truth, Violet had worked on the train only a handful of times since they first spotted it. They had ventured into the basement more cautiously after that, fearing the marching machines, but hadn’t encountered them since. Toby had suggested that it was a fluke—that the automata rose up once a year to make their rounds, and that they’d just been unlucky enough to see it. Violet wasn’t sure, but she wanted to work on the train, so she decided to accept it.
“Well, you have to be careful,” the duke said. “I can’t take responsibility for what happens down there, and I’m sure your father would be very upset if he returned from America to find you injured.” Violet nodded.
The duke turned to go, but then stopped and turned back. “Mr. Adams … I should tell you. That is. I’ve been corresponding with your sister.”
“She told me, sir.”
“And I confess I have grown very fond of her … of the way her mind works.”
“I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear that, sir.”
“When the school year is over, I was hoping to see more of her, if you catch my meaning.”
“Meaning?”
“I’d like to court your sister.”
“Oh.”
“But as you’re my student, I wouldn’t want to make anything awkward for you, so if you object—”
“No, not at all, sir.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t get any preferential treatment from me, either.”
“No, sir.” Violet was blushing violently and looking down. Her heart was pounding twice as loud as the gears. She could power that train with her heart.
“Well, good,” the duke said. “And thank you for the map. I shall copy it and return the original to you after Easter, if you don’t mind.”
“No, sir. You should be careful, though, if you plan to go down there. There are many creatures, and some seem quite violent.”
“All the more reason for students not to wander,” the duke said, pursing his lips. “But I’m sure I can handle it. Escaped experiments, old devices that cling to their mechanical lives—I’ve seen them all.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Thank you, then,” the duke said, and exited.
Violet leaned on the wall and pressed her hands to her face, feeling the warmth. Then, realizing she had not done so in a while, she breathed in deeply.
“Bend over so I can bugger your arse,” Oscar said.
XXX.
CALVIN Curio had never sought fame. His parents gone by age three, he was raised partly in a city orphanage and partly on the streets by children just a few years older than he. When a well-to-do scientist found him loafing about one afternoon and offered to pay him to fetch some things from market, Curio agreed, if only because he had never really had money of his own before. The older boys often did, and bought things with it, like penny dreadfuls and marbles. He had one marble then, a blue one with a stripe around it like Saturn’s ring. So he had run the errand for the scientist and helped him carry his purchases back inside.
The inside of the scientist’s apartment seemed elegant and rich to Curio at the time, though he now knew it had been shabby at best. But the basement, where the scientist kept his lab, was a place of wonder. Glass beakers were on every surface, and there was a fire with a heavy copper pot over it, boiling with something that smelled like mold and dust. Some of the glass beakers and tubes were filled with liquids of a hundred colors: blue like his marble, red like blood, green like the trees outside the city. The lab felt as though it were constantly shifting, as though, if he looked away, the beakers or their contents would dance about, only to hold still again when he turned back. Potions bubbled and smoked, hoses filled with liquid and poured it out again. Curio stood staring at it all, openmouthed.
“Do you like it, boy?” the scientist had asked. Curio nodded. The scientist introduced himself as Dr. Henry Voukil and told Curio he would gladly apprentice him if he was willing. Curio, fascinated by the lab, was willing, and for the next several years served as errand boy, apprentice, and test subject for Dr. Voukil. At first, it seemed fun. Voukil taught him to read, and the odd-smelling elixirs the doctor gave him to drink did little besides make him tingle or vomit, which was amusing. Then, as Dr. Voukil realized just how obedient Curio was, and that no one would know what he was doing, he became
more daring in his experiments. Curio lost all his hair, fell asleep for a week, cried blood, and could suddenly do complex calculations in his head. He was dizzy and confused most of the time. Dr. Voukil began to teach him the properties of various elements, tell him what he was trying to achieve, mix the ingredients together, and then give the concoction to Curio to drink, which Curio did willingly. After all, he was an apprentice.
When Curio was sixteen, after testing a potion made to enhance strength, nothing seemed to happen for an hour or so. Then Curio started have a throbbing pain in his head and blacked out. When he woke up, it was on the floor of the lab, which had been destroyed: shattered glass everywhere, colored liquids mingling into odd patterns on the floor, and, among them, Dr. Voukil’s blood. He was quite dead, nearly pulverized like one of his roots in a mortar and pestle. Terrified and unsure of what had happened, Curio sneaked out at night and tossed the body in the river. The next day, he cleaned up the lab, telling everyone that the doctor had gone to a scientific conference in France.
He ran the lab as Voukil had done, experimenting and reading the library of books he’d never been able to read before because he had been so busy drinking potions. And from the books he learned science. It was slow going, especially when, after a frustrating day of trying to understand a formula, Curio woke up at the docks one morning, his hands covered in blood. He knew then that the dark suspicion he harbored—that he was responsible for Dr. Voukil’s death—was true. He began working late into the night, consulting the books and using what he remembered of the doctor’s teachings to try to find a cure for his murderous blackouts. After three months, he found that it crept into his personality, that he could be calm one moment and filled with rage the next.
But he was also gaining a reputation as a scientist. He found cures to other diseases, if not his own; perfected a tonic for sore throats; and created formulae that could repair broken glass.
So when the Duke of Illyria came to him to offer him a job, he confessed his dark secret and begged the duke to help him. The duke died before he could cure him, but he also set up a chamber for Curio in the basement, the walls all lined in velvet pillows, the floor a giant mattress, with a solid steel door that would lock itself shut and keep itself shut until the sun rose. In this way, Curio saved himself from causing more harm.
He tried to remove himself from people as best he could. No one knew his secret, not even the current duke—though he did know of Curio’s chamber, so he might have had an inkling. Curio had come to enjoy his evening solitude. He took books down to the chamber with him, even if he sometimes found them torn to shreds in the morning. It was quiet down there, except for the soft winding of the gears.
But recently, it had become much more crowded in the basement. Last year, he found footprints that weren’t his in the dust, and heard odd clanging noises from time to time. He had ignored them, but this year, there were people going to and fro all over the cellar. He had to peer around corners before turning to make sure he wouldn’t be caught. He stopped quietly at any sound, wondering if it was someone else, and who. He dodged beams of light that seemed to shine out suddenly from the darkness. It had become stressful to maintain his secret.
As it was definitely students wandering about after hours—he could tell from their muffled giggles and the smell of cheap ale—he decided to wait one night, and to scold them. The basement was not a place for students to play. Instead of dodging their lanterns, he would follow them. After all, he was the professor, and they the students. They were violating rules by being down here, and if they asked what he was doing, he was not obliged to answer.
Since the door would lock behind him if he entered his chamber, he instead waited in the hall beside it, staring up at its handle. It was a good door, built to look like the others, with a wooden front. The special lock was well hidden.
The students came early this evening, just after supper. Curio stood in the hallway, listening for the sounds of their feet, then ran toward their light. “Ah ha!” he bellowed in triumph.
“Professor!” said the duke, surprised by Curio’s sudden appearance.
“S-sir!” said Curio, equally surprised by the duke. “I’m s-sorry, s-sir, I thought you w-w-w-were a s-student. I was going to ca-catch them, sir, and send them t-t-to you for d-discipline.”
“Ah,” the duke said, looking a little nervous. “Well, that won’t be necessary, will it? They’ve all gone home already, Curio. Easter break begins tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Curio said. He had forgotten. All his nights were the same. He had no break from Illyria.
“Curio, let me introduce Mr. Matthias Forney,” the duke said, stepping aside slightly. The man standing behind him in the shadows stepped forward into the dim light. He was a large man, smoking a large cigar and wearing a top hat and long black duster, which made him seem even bigger. A gold watch chain hung between his black vest and his pants. Matthias had a thick black mustache, hardly any lips to speak of at all, and a rectangular face with bright gold eyes. He looked, to Curio, like a great black train, steaming and ready to run him over. “Mr. Forney will be teaching Mechanics until Professor Bunburry returns. Mr. Forney, this is Professor Curio, who teaches Chemical Sciences.”
“Good to meet you,” said Forney in a voice like coal. He had a peculiar American accent, flat and heavy. He extended his hand and shook Curio’s heavily.
“I was just … showing Matthias around,” the duke said.
“It’s a m-m-m-marvelous building,” Curio said, nodding. The three of them stood a moment in silence, save for the gears turning and Forney sucking on his cigar. “Well, since you’re not s-s-students in need of frightening,” Curio said, “I’d b-best b-be off.”
“Have a happy Easter, Calvin,” the duke said. Forney tipped his hat in Curio’s direction, and the pair of them set off.
“Happy E-easter,” Curio called after them. He lingered in the shadows, still confused, then headed back to his chamber. Easter already. Time was moving quickly.
XXXI.
ANTONY lay in bed with Ashton, stroking his hair. Ashton was still sleeping, so Antony was soft as he kissed the nape of Ashton’s neck, then down his spine and around to his navel. By then, Ashton was more awake. He pulled Antony’s mouth up to his and kissed him long and hard, their bodies pressing together. Which is when Violet burst into the room.
“Oh!” Violet said, turning bright red. “Sorry!” She closed the door and they heard her steps running down the hall. Ashton laughed.
“Happy birthday,” Antony said.
“Thank you,” Ashton said, kissing Antony once more before rolling out of bed. He pulled on his dressing gown and winked at Antony before leaving the room.
Having their birthdays just before Easter had made the holiday more festive for the entire Adams family. They still went to the long, somber church service, but paid little attention to it. Instead, they painted eggs and ate cake and German candy bunnies.
Mrs. Wilks had decorated before they came home. White lilies were in every vase on every surface, so that the entire house smelled of their chocolate perfume and seemed to be blooming with light. Mrs. Wilks had accented this with sprigs of violet flowers and ash tree leaves. All the linen was white, and all the wood was polished till it shone in the bright morning light. Violet went to the dining room and started eating breakfast. She looked up when Ashton came in and blushed again. “Sorry,” she said.
“Not to worry,” he said, looking over the buffet. He chose a few muffins and some eggs.
“Happy birthday!” Violet said after he sat down.
“And happy birthday to you,” he said.
“Thus far, I suspect yours has been happier,” she said with a smirk.
“Well, it certainly had potential,” Ashton responded.
“I wonder where Mrs. Wilks is hiding our presents from Father,” Violet said, ignoring her brother’s last remark. “He must have sent us some, yes?”
“Of course.”
“So where could they be?”
“Her room, maybe. The kitchen?”
“Fiona already checked the kitchen.”
“You asked Fiona to check the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“I’m still surprised she came at all, considering your new arrangement with her.”
“She’s really a very lovely person,” Violet said.
“Who just happens to be blackmailing you.”
“She’s making Drew very happy. And she said she would come because she had made a promise. That’s noble, isn’t it?”
“We’re still paying her.”
“True, but I think Drew has begun paying for most things for her, so she doesn’t need the money. I like having her here. She may be a bit … cunning, but she could do far worse with the information she has.”
“Who could do worse?” Mrs. Wilks asked, suddenly sweeping into the room, a bouquet of lilies in her arms.
“Uh, it was a character,” Violet said after a pause.
“In a play we saw,” Ashton finished. “She was a redeemed villainess.”
“Sounds lovely,” Mrs. Wilks said. “And happy birthday to you both. I know Jack will be here later, and I’ve invited a few of your father’s friends, who will want to wish you good tidings on your eighteenth birthday. And of course, there will be a cake. Some packages have already come for you in the post, but I thought you should wait until you’re dressed.”
“Why?” Violet asked. “What if one of the presents is a new dress?”
“Then you should wear it tomorrow. Wearing new clothes for the first time on Easter is good luck,” Mrs. Wilks said.
Ashton couldn’t say exactly what had changed about Mrs. Wilks, but she seemed more at ease. Her hips swayed slightly when she walked, and she had exchanged her aura of anxiety for one of grace.