Of Steel and Steam

by Pauline Creeden et al.

  Jackson buried his face in another snifter of brandy, and she glanced at Jones. The officer didn’t hide that he studied her.

  She shifted in place. Herbert had to reappear at any moment.

  Jackson came up behind Beatrix. “It’s not like Margaret to disappear. You know something about it, don’t you?”

  Beatrix flinched. “Shall I check the bathroom again?”

  “Jones suggested it,” Jackson slurred.

  “Suggest what?”

  “That you know more than you’re letting on, and you only wanted me for my titled cousin.”

  “No, why would I know anything?” Where is Herbert?

  “What he says makes sense. You’re not who you want me to believe you are.”

  Beatrix scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “You think I’m slow.” Jackson scooped her into his arms and manhandled her across the dancefloor. “You insinuated… things… to me, Ms. Bordeaux, and I have yet to see any of this promised behavior. Your promises are the only reason I brought you this evening.” He tightened his grip on her.

  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Luntz.” She leaned close to him. “You’re hurting me.”

  Jackson sneered. “Is that so?”

  “May I cut in, Mr. Luntz?” Constable Jones asked, his voice low and smooth.

  Jackson said nothing. But he released Beatrix abruptly, mid-twirl, and stomped across the dancefloor.

  Beatrix shook her head but turned toward Jones. “Thank you for that.”

  Jones didn’t answer, but he took her in his arms and pulled her close.

  I could stay here forever. The thought made her heart flutter, and fear crashed over. She couldn’t afford to have a crush on a constable. Her mouth dried. Why couldn’t she fall for someone like Jackson? But the thought made her want to gag.

  Jackson didn’t know what it meant to struggle. He pouted over everything, and Beatrix couldn’t wait to be finished with the job. William would be out of jail by the end of the week. Helen would be happy again.

  “I know who you are,” Jones whispered in her ear. “I’ve figured it out.”

  Her heart squeezed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You know you do.” He spun her around. “You took the leather folio from the magistrate last month, didn’t you?”

  The world disappeared. Nobody existed but the two of them. Did he have evidence? She couldn’t ask or he’d know she was it. If he had more than a suspicion, he would have arrested her, wouldn’t he?

  She had to bluff her way out of the mess. She pressed herself closer to him and licked her lips, pleased when his breath caught, and he almost stumbled. Perhaps he was as aware of her as she was of him.

  He continued. “I’m sure the disappearance of the baroness has something to do with you. But, unfortunately, I cannot yet prove anything.” His arms tightened.

  Beatrix wanted to lean into his embrace, but she remained stiff. How she could be attracted to the man that wanted to put her in jail, she would never understand. Feelings were more fickle than the stock market.

  At that moment, Herbert appeared at the edge of the dancefloor, waved, and then disappeared again.

  Beatrix took a breath and stepped back. “If you’ll excuse me, Constable Jones. I don’t think I care to listen to anymore baseless accusations.” She gestured toward Jackson. “I promised Jackson I would double-check the bathroom for his cousin.” The words nearly made her gag, but she wasn’t about to help Constable Jones work out more of her details.

  She met Herbert near the entrance. “Cutting it kind of close, aren’t you, Herbie?”

  “Had a tool malfunction.”

  She held out her hand, and he placed the fake in her hand. “You have the real one?”

  “Buyer will meet me in the morning.”

  “Harpoon?”

  “On the roof.”

  “Perfect.”

  Herbert wagged his eyebrows. “Now I must slip into something much less comfortable and pretend to be you.”

  She chuckled. “Thanks, Herbie. I’ll see you in the morning.” She slipped into the bathroom, and his footsteps receded into the distance.

  Margaret sat where she had left her. Surely, someone had used the bathroom. When she reached the curtained closet, Margaret still rested in the upholstered chair. The caper had almost reached its conclusion.

  Carefully, Beatrix re-fastened the fake diamond in the hole the stolen gem had left behind. The size matched the others in the necklace. The color and the clarity was right on. Herbert did excellent forgery work.

  Beatrix dragged the chair back into the sitting room as a woman entered the bathroom. She scowled at Beatrix and then frowned at the baroness. She stopped walking, obviously trying to figure out if something was amiss.

  Beatrix waved and shrugged. “She had a fainting spell. She’ll be right as rain in a moment.”

  The stranger tsked. “Poor dear.”

  Once the woman stopped at a mirror to adjust her dress, Beatrix kneeled in front of the baroness. She checked her clock. She patted the older woman’s leg, and Margaret’s eyes fluttered. The woman would be awake soon. She’d have a headache and fuzzy memory, but the older woman would return to her normal sour self within twenty-four hours.

  Baroness Margaret groaned.

  “Baroness, you had one of your fainting spells and took a nasty fall.”

  Her eyes opened, and she scowled. “I don’t remember anything.”

  Beatrix met the gaze of the woman at the mirror, and Beatrix waved her over. The other woman came close, and Beatrix whispered into her ear. “Can you help the baroness? Something’s gone wrong, and I’m going to get help.”

  The woman kneeled in front of Margaret. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

  Margaret squinted. “My head is splitting.”

  Beatrix raised her hands. “Wait here. I’ll fetch the doctor.”

  Another nod.

  Beatrix burst out of the bathroom. Jones loitered nearby. He raised a hand when he saw her. But she bolted up the stairs toward the roof. Once Margaret made her way back to the party, questions would be asked. She wasn’t about to stick around for Constable Jones to ask her for the answers. They had what they needed, and the baroness would be none the wiser. It would be months before they discovered a diamond had been replaced with a crystal… if they ever did.

  She stepped onto the roof and took a deep breath. Nearly free of the shenanigans. A parapet surrounded the perimeter. At the corner, she fastened the hook on her wire to the end of the harpoon bolt. Then she hefted the harpoon to her shoulder, took aim at the next building over, and squeezed the trigger.

  Fooop!

  The bolt slammed into a crossmember of the church one street over. She wrapped the harpoon end of the wire around a wide exhaust stove pipe then another. It was the best she had.

  A series of fireworks exploded overhead, illuminating the shiny new airships in the sky. They had to be doing some kind of ceremony inside. Too bad she had to miss it. She pulled her skirts off her, glad for the two-piece dress she’d insisted on. She wore pantaloons as pants

  Then she untucked the straps for her harness, stretched them around her thighs, and hooked a fastener over the wire. It wasn’t the most dignified exit, but it got her the heck out of there.

  A flag snapped in the wind and brought her attention upward. A dirigible floated over the administration building, illuminated in the night sky. She peered up at the airship overhead, tempted by the freedom a flight could offer. Someday, she would fly beside the best racing pilots.

  Then Beatrix leapt from the edge of the building and ziplined toward the other building. She tucked into a ball and crashed through a small window.

  When she landed on the other side, she turned back to look.

  Instead of the empty roof she expected, Constable Jones stood, staring over the parapet. At best, he knew which way she’d gone.

  At worst, he knew who she was.

  Paid in Ful
l

  The Next Morning

  Herbert dropped a bag of coins on the table in the center of the lean-to. “It’s done,” he said. “I think I’ll make myself scarce. At least for a little while.”

  Beatrix clasped her hands together. William would be out within twenty-four hours. “Piers-of-Clarenwater is nice this time of year. I might know some people there.”

  “Oh?” he said.

  She beamed at him. Helen had been dreaming of their escape for a long time. “In a week or so. Not a word to them, though, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Time to make an anonymous donation to the magistrate.” Plus a little extra to bribe the dirty judge. If he refused, she’d start listing his bastard children from the wrong side of town. If New Londoners knew what Beatrix knew about him, he’d be ousted and all his decisions overturned. All in good time…

  Herbert put two fingers to his forehead in a salute. “I’ll be back in a month or three or five. Ready to resume our work.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Herbert left as quietly as he’d come. He had a sixth sense about things. No doubt he’d show up with gadgets galore when she needed him. It was his way.

  Two Days Later

  Helen bolted into the lean-to, waving a paper over her head. “It’s come! It’s come. The paper that says William is free to work and to go on living in the real world. They’ve marked his debt as paid in full.” Tears sparkled on her face.

  As planned, the clatter of wagon wheels sounded outside. Helen’s eyes widened. She darted back outside and shrieked. The sound was cut off in the middle, and Beatrix grinned. She stayed inside to give the two a bit of privacy.

  First kiss for the second time. Meant for the two of them. Though, the joy rolled off them in waves already. When they didn’t appear, Beatrix moved to the threshold.

  Helen had dropped to her knees, weeping and wiping her face with the magistrate’s missive. William crouched beside her, kissing the tears from her cheeks.

  “Ssssshhh, sweets,” William murmured. He took the paper from her. “You’re smearing ink all over your face.”

  Beatrix wiped at the moisture on her own face. “I hope we never go through that again,” she called.

  Helen froze and jerked around. She captured the paper in William’s hand. “Did you have something to do with this?”

  “Steam-powered creatures and men ride the wind. Strange times we live in, no?”

  “That’s not an answer, Bea, and you know it.”

  Beatrix glanced to William. The skinny fellow winked back.

  “It’s all the one you’re getting, I’m afraid,” William said. He stood and helped Helen to her feet.

  Helen stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “What did you cook up between you?”

  William grinned. “Do you care?”

  Three seconds ticked by… until Beatrix wasn’t sure what Helen’s answer would be.

  Helen threw her arms around him. “Not a bit.”

  “Come in, you two. It’s time to pack.”

  Helen looked from Beatrix to William and back again. “Pack for what?”

  “Piers-of-Clarenwater. Train leaves this evening.”

  Helen’s face twisted. “What are you talking about?”

  “You two are off on your adventure.”

  William pulled Helen toward the lean-to. “Come on, sweets,” he said.

  “You can’t be serious,” Helen whimpered. She turned to Beatrix. “You’re coming?” But even as Helen asked it, her face fell. She knew.

  Beatrix shook her head slowly and studied her toes, not ready to show her sorrow. It was a happy day. “Come in,” she said. “Got you something.”

  Helen and William entered the lean-to and stopped in the middle. “Didn’t think I’d ever miss this place,” William said. He considered Helen and sighed. “You’re home, love, and I missed you.” He reached for her hand.

  Beatrix snorted. “Enough.” She stepped aside and drug two carpet bags out from beneath a quilt she’d piled in the corner earlier, much to Helen’s annoyance. “Here you go. You’ll need these.”

  Helen bit her bottom lip and her chin quivered. “That’s why you put that there?”

  Beatrix nodded.

  “There’s only two,” she said. “You’re not coming. Really?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Helen pressed her hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed.

  William pulled his wife close and smoothed his hand over her back.

  Beatrix turned away to collect herself. It was a happy day. Not a sad one. Plenty of sorrow for tomorrow. She cleared her throat. “I have one more gift,” she said. She pulled a cabbage from the cover, turned back, and held it out to Helen. “Here, take this. Might come in handy.”

  Helen shook her head and laughed. “A cabbage, Bea?”

  “It’s what I could get.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” Helen said, even as she smiled from ear to ear and took the vegetable. She dropped it in her carpet bag and reached for Beatrix.

  Beatrix sniffed back more tears and hugged her friend. “I’ll miss you, Hel.”

  “I’ll miss you more, Bea,” Helen whispered. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Always.”

  “How did you make this happen?”

  Beatrix sighed. “Shoo. That’s a story for another time.”

  “Promise me,” Helen whispered.

  “I will.”

  Subdued, the couple packed what they could, which wasn’t much, and then the two friends stepped back outside the lean-to. An airship passed low overhead. Beatrix checked her clock. The second race of the season would begin any minute. Constable Jones would be busy with petty thievery today.

  “Are you excited for your new life?” Beatrix asked.

  Helen gave her a look and opened her mouth, probably to argue, but William exited the lean-to, carrying their two carpet bags. A low boom rumbled, and a roar filled the air from thousands of spectators. The cannon began the race, and the fans loved every minute. It was the perfect day to leave town. Moments later, a dozen ships passed overhead.

  “It’s time,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  Helen sniffed. “As I’ll ever be.” She turned to Beatrix. “Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?”

  Beatrix threw her arms around Helen. “I’ll be fine. I’m a city girl through and through.”

  The trio strolled to the train station, and they boarded the train. She watched from the platform until the steam engine disappeared around the bend. Then she released the long sigh she felt she’d been holding in for two days.

  When she turned around, she stopped short.

  Constable Jones leaned on the ticket house. He tugged his pocket watch from his vest pocket and checked the time. “Ms. Bordeaux, if that’s your name, may I make a suggestion?

  Beatrix frowned. “What’s that, Constable?”

  “Run.”

  Her eyes widened. “Whatever for, Constable?”

  “I saw you lift that head of cabbage on Market Street earlier today, and I know you took the judge’s business papers, and the baroness…” He pointed at her. “You did something. We don’t know what yet, but there’s something.”

  Beatrix tossed her head back and laughter exploded from her. She was elated to see him, if she were honest. It would be boring without Helen and William around. Constable Jones could keep her life exciting. When she straightened, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jonesy,” she said.

  His mouth twitched, and he returned his watch to its place. “Then I’ll give you a ten-minute head start.”

  She put her hands on her hips and lifted one eyebrow. “Catch me if you can.”

  Beatrix Smith lives on her own in New London, working odd jobs and lifting the occasional coin purse. Since her best friend, Helen, moved away to begin a new life, Beatrix does as she pleases, her only companion a
steam-powered peacock.

  When a frantic letter arrives, begging for assistance, Beatrix packs up her peacock, "borrows" the fastest transport available—an airship—and sails for the coastal town where Helen lives.

  But Beatrix doesn't account for the determined, broad-shouldered Constable Jones and his desire to drag her before the magistrate.

  When Constable Jones arrives at the lazy seaside town, he stumbles into a hive of crooked police officers and manages to get himself arrested.

  Beatrix Smith is his only friend on the other side of the law.

  Can he convince the pretty thief to break him out of jail?

  Pre-order Beatrix’s next full-length adventure

  Lamps and Ladders: A Steampunk Caper

  About the Author

  Bokerah Brumley lives on ten permaculture acres, complete with sheep, goats, peacocks, turkeys, geese, guineas, ducks, chickens, five home-educated children, and one husband. She serves as the president of the Cisco Writers Club and moonlights as an acquisitions editor for The Crossover Alliance.

  For more information and a complete list of published works, please visit:

  www.bokerah.com

  The Tomb of the Forgotten Queens

  The Chronicles of Arabella Blake

  Majanka Verstraete

  The Tomb of the Forgotten Queens © 2020 Majanka Verstraete

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.