“I’ve read your letters. I know your desires plainly—a home, a family, safety. That’s what the Foundry is for you. It’s what you’ve always wanted.” I couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. I feared it would break my heart. He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I wanted to be able to make a future for us. I know now that we can, with or without the Order.” His fingertips brushed the shell of my ear. “I’m no longer a stable boy who can barely read a sign in the road, and you are so much more than the penniless girl who first came through Rathford’s gate.”
“I’m still penniless,” I argued. The man in the clockwork mask had made certain of that. As for the alleged Whitlock fortune, I had yet to see any evidence that it was real.
“You’re a fine shopkeeper, and I would make a decent blacksmith.” He gave me a soft smile. “Between the two of us we will make our way as best we can, if the future is kind.”
I remembered making a similar argument to him on a distant moor. It seemed so long ago, when I had been swept away by adventures and drunk on all the feelings I had believed were love.
Now I knew so much more. I looked at Will, and my heart was breaking, not for me but for him. “I can’t ask this of you. I won’t.” For the first time, I knew that what we felt for each other was something so much more than selfish and childish infatuation. I could not ruin what he had built. He meant everything to me.
“This is my choice,” he said. “I’m with you to the end. Always.”
“Oh, Will.” I leaned into him. He held me, and my words were lost. My heart was lost. His embrace was tender, but I felt safe and cherished in his arms. He pressed his forehead to mine, and we held one another in the quiet seclusion of my workshop.
“Two tickets for Dover, then?” he asked.
I shook my head. “If only there were a faster way to France. What I wouldn’t give for Albrecht’s airship.”
“It’s a pity you crashed it into the lake,” Will said.
“That wasn’t my fault!” I protested. “Still, we’d have much better chances of making it to Calais and back before the Oath if we had our own means of transportation across the channel. We could be in Calais by nightfall.”
Will’s eyebrows crinkled together as a thoughtful scowl crossed his features. He glanced at the door. “There might be a way, but we need to go to the docks.”
“Do you know of a ship that can make the crossing?” My heart surged with hope. We could go to Pensée and be back before the New Year.
“Not a ship, no,” Will answered. “But if rumors are true, there might be something better.”
• • •
Together we hastily packed some supplies and made our way across London to the docks near the old monastery that served as the Academy and central meeting place for the Amusementists. In spite of the cold, Mayfair was alive with Christmas cheer. Fine women and men bundled in fur-lined cloaks and neatly brushed top hats strolled the streets, bearing gifts and greeting friends and strangers alike with laughter. They hung holly boughs and wreaths on the doors as they invited one another in to share in their good cheer.
A small gathering of people sang carols in front of a bookshop while a young boy sold mistletoe to a cluster of young girls. The air was heavy with the combined scents of rich feasts from every hearth, as the smoke curled up into the brisk air.
I felt so awful that my own shop, the one that should have been bright and alive, had become so dreary. It was closed and shuttered on this, the happiest of nights.
As we traveled deeper into the city, those with less kept their revelry hidden within narrow doors and dark streets, if they had anything with which to celebrate at all.
A tiny girl in rags sold matches on the corner, huddled under a shawl that had been worn through. I stopped our cab, and though the driver looked at me as if I had lost my mind, I gave the girl my heavy shawl and what was left of the apple cake that I had bundled into our pack.
Will smiled but didn’t say a word. I returned to the cab and leaned against him for warmth.
On the docks the ships rose and fell with the lazy swells of the river. Icicles clung to mooring ropes. I watched a pair of men hunched under thick coats rhythmically knock ice off the bow of a ship. Will kept his head down and led me along. Desperate people with hungry, suspicious gazes watched me from dark corners as we reached an empty dock. Will glanced over his shoulder, checking to see if anyone was following us, before grabbing me and tucking me next to a large crate covered with netting.
“What are you doing?” I asked. I couldn’t help feeling unsettled. The last time I’d been here, I had nearly been caught by the man with the mask.
“Hush,” Will whispered. Then he clanged a bell attached to a large wooden post.
I tugged my coat more tightly closed across my chest and we waited. The cool stench permeating the air felt as if it were clinging to my skin.
“I hope he’s here.” Will gazed expectantly at a large iron cleat. Next to it a ginger striped cat slept in a coil of rope. I wondered if the poor creature was dead. The snow had settled on its fur and hadn’t melted.
To my surprise the cat suddenly stood with a rigid, almost mechanical motion, then blinked open black marble eyes and meowed.
Will stooped to the cat and said, “It’s about time. We’re freezing out here. Let us in, will you?”
The cat stretched its neck up, and I noticed the gear wheels turning beneath its worn fur. One ear twitched unnaturally. The cat howled out another cry that sounded suspiciously like “Word now?”
“Lake fire,” Will answered automatically.
The cat settled back into his original position in the coil of rope. Meanwhile the front of the crate creaked open. Will opened the crate farther and motioned me in. “Quickly.”
We ducked inside, and Will shut the crate. He held my arms, and the crate shook. I clutched Will’s coat as the floor sank, and we disappeared into the dark.
The platform we crouched on stopped suddenly, and a door opened into a small room. Along most of the walls were intricate controls with large levers and gauges. They made the room look like the inside of a clockwork engine. I recognized one of Rathford’s spying machines near the corner, but not the man standing near it.
He had the darkest brown skin I had ever seen and a flashing smile framed by two large muttonchops. A faded red knit cap flopped at an angle across his smooth high forehead.
“William MacDonald, come to bring me a Christmas present?” the man teased as he shook Will’s hand. I didn’t know what to say. He turned his warm gaze to me. “Cat got her tongue? I suppose she’s never seen an Irishman,” he said, then burst into deep belly laughter.
“Meg, I’d like you to meet John Frank. He’s one of the most trusted members of the Guild, and in charge of operating the lock systems that help the Foundry steamships dock at the Academy.”
I knew a couple of Guild members. Like the Foundry workers, they were essential to the functioning of the Order. Most Guild Members were essential servants of the Amusementists who had also sworn to the Order’s secrecy. I had always been curious who was responsible for the water chamber lock that allowed the steamship from the Foundry to sink beneath the Thames and hide deep in the catacombs under the Academy.
John Frank reached a hand out. He’d cut the fingertips off his gloves. “So this is the infamous Miss Whitlock. Pleasure to meet you.”
I took his hand and shook it. “I’m infamous? Whatever could I have done to earn such a reputation?”
“From what I hear, love, you’ve done quite a lot. You destroyed a castle, broke several casks of wine in the cellars, crashed an airship—”
“None of which was my fault!”
He held up one long finger to silence me. “You also saved the Foundry, and several of my close friends.” He smiled again. “Now, what brings you to my humble control room?”
“We need your help,” Will said. “Some time ago I heard a rumor in the Foundry abo
ut a tunnel. Some of the men still talk about the challenges of the construction. From what I heard, it sounded as if the tunnel went beneath the channel. I figured if anyone knew anything about it, you would.”
“Thinking of sneaking off to France?” he asked. “It would be less trouble to take the train back to Inverness if you want to elope, though I admit France is probably more romantic.”
“We are searching for my grandfather,” I said with a fair amount of impatience. “There may be information about his whereabouts in Calais.”
“I knew Henry well. He always treated the Guild members with respect, not as though he were above us at all. He knew there weren’t nothing that happened within the Order without the Guild and the Foundry making it so. He was a good man.” There was an earnest quality in his expression. “You believe he’s alive?” John asked.
“I do, but we don’t have much time.” I deeply hoped he could help.
“Come, come. Sit. We’ll talk.” John ushered us through a narrow door into a small room with a table and a bed, and a cheerful fire burning in a small hearth. He pulled out a chair for me like a gentleman. Will took a seat beside me.
“There is a tunnel. It was many years in the making, started during the wars with France. The Amusementists wanted a secret way to bring people from the Continent to London and back. But it was too dangerous. Early on there were collapses during the digs. Several good men lost their lives.
“When Edgar took over the project, the tunnel was finally finished, and even the track were laid. But with Edgar’s murder during those dark times, everyone went into hiding and the tunnel was never revealed.”
“But it was completed?” I asked. “There’s a way through?”
“Oh, the tunnel went through all right. Unfortunately, it’s been, what? Five years now? No one knows the condition of the tunnel or the tracks. I was given the task of inspecting them come springtime, but they are likely in a sad state of repair.”
“Is there any other way we could get to France?” Will asked.
John let out a heavy sigh. “Not if you need to get there quickly.”
“We only have until the New Year to discover what happened to my grandfather.” I needed some other way to convince him. “If we find him, he will become head of the Order when Octavian steps down. If we don’t find him, chances are likely the Earl of Strompton will take his place.”
John’s entire demeanor changed. “That pup knows nothing. His arrogance is as bad as his father’s was. He won’t heed the concerns of the Guild. He treats us all as if we were his personal footmen.” John watched the fire a moment, then turned and considered me. “If Henry is not found, the next head of the Order might be you.”
“I sincerely doubt the others would allow that. But if it should happen, wouldn’t it be lovely to have me in your eternal debt?” I gave him my most winning smile. “And should we find my grandfather, wouldn’t it be even more lovely to have him owe you a favor?”
John chuckled, then spoke to Will. “Be careful with this one. She’s dangerous.” He rose and dumped a kettle of water over the fire. The flames hissed as they died in a plume of curling smoke. “Very well. I like to get ahead on large projects. We can inspect the track together. I’ll take you as far as I can, but I can’t guarantee we’ll make it through.”
I rose with Will, my excitement carrying me forward. I almost didn’t hear John whisper as he lit a lamp, “That is, if we even survive.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WE FOLLOWED JOHN INTO A narrow passage and then down a long spiraling stair. It ended at the large dock chamber deep beneath the ground in the catacombs.
I had been here before when the steamship from the Foundry had docked to make deliveries to the Academy, but I had never seen the chamber so dark. The light from John’s lantern seemed lost in the enormity of the room. The hull of the steamship rose out of the darkness like a mountain above a black fog.
Faint memories of being attacked in this place came back to me, and suddenly I felt wary. I curled my hand into a tight fist to soothe the memory of the injury I had sustained in my attempt to escape.
Will moved closer to me but stayed a step behind, so I could walk between both men. It was such a small gesture, but it meant I didn’t need to worry about being grabbed from behind.
To one side of the massive lock was a canal with a gondola floating on the black water. A man in a long dark cloak stooped in the back of the narrow vessel. The light from the swinging lantern flashed over his face, and I saw clockwork gears embedded in his cheek.
I screamed.
Will immediately pulled a knife and put an arm in front of me.
“Hey, now. No need for that,” John said, jumping into the boat. “Charon isn’t going to hurt you. He only looks like death.” John reached over and knocked on the cloaked figure’s face. I heard the distinctive ting, ting, ting of metal beneath the hood of the black cloak. The cloaked figure didn’t move.
Oh, thank goodness. It was an automaton.
Once the panic receded, I realized the mechanical ferryman was leaning on a large oar. The passageway was arched overhead, but the ceiling felt so low, I ducked as I took John’s hand and he helped me into the boat.
“This tunnel used to be used for overflow from the lock,” he said. “When the Amusementists rebuilt the catacombs, I suggested they extend the tunnel so the Guild could use it.”
Will took the seat beside me as John climbed out, untied the moorings, and then turned a large wheel next to the dock. He pulled hard on a lever, then jumped back into the boat.
It tipped, and I held on to both rails to steady myself as the boat rocked back and forth, then lurched forward. The swell of water from the bow slapped against the stone docks in waves. The ferryman behind us silently pushed the boat through the canal with his long oar. I could feel the ominous machine hovering over my shoulders, and it kept me ill at ease.
I had known too many automatons, and the ones based on Greek mythology tended to be dangerous. Despite my reservations, the ferryman of the dead managed to behave himself.
The boat came to a stop, drifting up against a second dock. It hadn’t been a long trip, only long enough perhaps to cross beneath the Thames. I liked to think we hadn’t crossed the Styx.
Will helped me out of the boat, and we found ourselves at a large door that was covered over with heavy steel bars, gears, and metal plates. I peeked back over my shoulder, and Charon lifted his hand in a slow wave.
I didn’t wish to linger another moment.
John turned a second wheel at the dock and switched the lever, sending Charon and the boat back the way it had come.
John pressed his hands to certain square plates on the door and slid them along the face, winding and turning the gears as the plates passed in a deliberate pattern. He brought each plate to the center and locked them together like puzzle pieces until the entire door seemed as if it were whirring and spinning.
Once the plates had come together, large bracing bars retracted from the wall and the door swung open under its own power. “This way,” John said, lifting his lantern and swinging it as he stepped through the doorway. As I passed through, I glanced over and noticed that the door itself had to be at least a foot thick.
As soon as we were through, it swung closed behind us, sealing us in a long tunnel with only John’s swinging lantern to guide us. I could hear the rats screeching in the dark, darting into holes in the mortar as soon as the light reached them, only to scuttle out again once we had passed.
The tunnel itself desperately needed repair. It reeked of mold, and shattered bricks that had fallen from the wall or the ceiling littered the floor. Our footsteps echoed in the endless dark.
“I asked Octavian if we could install braziers down this corridor, but he said there was no need. Hardly anyone uses it,” John said, his deep voice filling the darkness and briefly silencing the rats. Perhaps it was best if we continued to talk.
“Where does it lead?” Will as
ked, taking a chunk of brick from the ground and throwing it as hard as he could down the passage in front of us. It clattered in the darkness, scattering the rats. He squeezed my hand, then threw a chunk of brick again. He knew I hated rats.
“We used this tunnel to help smuggle some of the membership into the Academy during conflicts between England and their homelands. Before we built the canal, we had to climb a stair and then ferry members across the river. It was risky. No one wanted to be caught in the company of a foreigner in a time of war. Being convicted of espionage and consorting with the enemy would mean the hangman’s noose. Keep up. We’ve a long way yet.” John marched along, though I hadn’t the slightest idea how he could figure how far we had walked.
I didn’t wish to linger on discussions of treason to the Crown for being a part of the Order, so I changed the subject. “You said you knew my grandfather.”
John didn’t take his eyes off the unchanging dark before us, but he answered. “Well enough. He was always involved when land for various projects was being prepared for a build. That’s part of why . . .” He looked at me then, the whites of his dark eyes catching the light of the lantern.
“What?” I asked.
“I can’t say.” He returned his attention to the tunnel again as if he had never said a word to begin with.
“You were about to say it was part of why he worked on the machine his mentor built.” I didn’t want to say Richard Haddock’s name. He had the Black Mark. Breaking the rules of the Order in front of an important Guild member didn’t seem wise. “From what I read, my grandfather’s mentor tried to defend himself by saying the machine was intended to clear land. Do you know anything more about it?”
“I know we’re not supposed to speak of it, not even here in a tunnel where no one could possibly overhear us. Do you understand?” It was a clear warning, and I heeded it.
“Did Henry Whitlock have anyone else who might have been considered an enemy?” Will asked. His question surprised me only for a moment. He was as determined to get to the bottom of the mystery as I was.
Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order) Page 9