Curiouser and Curiouser

by Melanie Karsak

  “Shut it. Lady passenger on board,” Winston called. “And an observant one at that.”

  Rufus, Winston’s gear galleyman, looked out. “Miss,” he said with a nod. His mop of hair, twisted into a massive pile of dreadlocks, bobbed along with him. He headed below. Soon, I heard gears grind as he readied the airship for departure.

  “Get comfortable,” Winston said, pointing to a bench. He climbed the ropes into the balloon basket and set the flame alight. A moment later he climbed back down and unmoored the vessel. It began to lift slowly, the heat in the balloon causing the ship to rise. At the back of the airship, the propeller began to turn as Winston took the wheel and guided the airship toward the Thames. I rose and joined him, looking over the rail of the ship at the river and city streets below which grew smaller as we lifted.

  “Now why would Alice Lewis be going to see the Countess?” Winston mused as he relit his pipe.

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t have believed it myself if you’d asked me this morning. How many impossible things can happen each day?”

  Winston laughed. “At least six.”

  “At least.”

  “Have you seen him lately?”

  Him. There was only one person he could have been referring to. “No,” I lied.

  Winston grinned knowingly. “Suit yourself. And how is Bess doing?”

  “The winter was very hard, but we’re past it now.”

  “I was in love with your sister for at least a year.”

  I smiled. “I never knew that.”

  “You’re not the only one who’s good at keeping secrets,” he said with a wink.

  I stared out at the horizon as the airship glided upriver. The scent of the air blowing off the Thames filled my nose. At this height above the city, much of the foul smell died away. There was a softness to the air, and I could smell flowers and the freshness of late spring in the early May air. Each season had its own smells. Winter smelled of snow and chimney smoke, summer smelled of dust and sweat, and fall smelled of fallen leaves and the oncoming winter. But the scent of spring was always my favorite. Its sweet perfume roused my memories. Once more, I was fifteen years old, William seventeen, and we ran down the streets of London.

  * * *

  “This way,” William called in a harsh whisper as we raced down Westminster Bridge toward the airship platforms. Overhead, the massive aether machines moved in and out of port. The chimes on Tinker’s Tower bonged out. It was eleven thirty.

  In the distance behind us, I could hear the constables’ whistles, but they were following the wrong trail. William’s crafty idea to throw a pack into the river had done its job. They thought we’d jumped.

  Grinning, I held the box against my chest as I raced behind William. The fog on the bridge was thick, but it was filled with that same sweet spring air. Lying just under the scent of the city was the smell of new grass and flowers, of melted snow and new leaves. I breathed in the misty air. Since it was late at night, there were only a few carriages and riders passing. The fog was too dense for them to make out with any clarity two teenagers racing away from the scene of a crime.

  “We’re going to make it,” William told me, grinning wildly.

  He grabbed my hand, and we rushed forward.

  When we reached the end of the bridge, I paused and put the box into my satchel. I pulled my blonde hair into a bun and pulled on my hooded cloak. William slipped on his cap, keeping it low on his brow, and we slowed to a casual pace as we moved toward the airship towers.

  The place was quiet save the few airship jockeys and their crews milling about their ships. I glanced upward. The towers were nearly ten stories in height. All manner of airships were docked overhead. I eyed the ensigns on the balloons, spotting the ship I was after.

  “There. The Aphrodite,” I whispered, pointing to a ship with a swan on it.

  As we approached the lift, a tower guard eyed us closely.

  “You booking passage?” the gruff old man asked.

  “No, sir,” William replied, putting on a false Scots accent. “Just have a message for one of the captains.”

  “Ship?”

  “The Aphrodite.”

  The guard raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He waved us into the lift. Entering behind us, he secured the doors then pulled a massive lever. The gears on the lift pulled us upward. When we reached the third level, he stopped.

  “Fifth berth,” he said.

  We exited. Without another word, the man worked the levers once more and lowered the lift back down.

  “Alice,” William whispered in my ear. “How did you ever figure out how to open the chest?”

  “It was a cryptix. The note we got from the buyer had a riddle in it. The answer to the riddle unlocked the cryptix.”

  “Riddle? What riddle?”

  “How can you tell a raven from a writing desk?”

  “What’s the answer?”

  I grinned at him. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Only to you,” he replied with a laugh.

  We slowed as we approached the airship, stopping at the docking ramp. There was only one lantern burning on the ship. A woman was sitting in the shadows. She was smoking rolled tobacco. The red of the ember cast orange shadows across her face, but I couldn’t make out her features clearly.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Are you the contac—”

  “I’m her. Let’s have it.”

  I pulled the box out of my pack.

  The airship captain lowered her cap, shadowing her face. In the dim light, I could see the cap had an unusual pendant on it, but I didn’t inspect it closer. Whoever she was, it was clear she didn’t want to be identified. She came to the side of the ship. Reaching out, she took the package from us. She opened the lid and examined the contents. Satisfied, she closed the lid then handed me a leather pouch.

  “For your boss,” she said then turned back. She climbed up the rope ladder to the balloon basket where she clicked on the burner. Without another word, she unmoored her ship and started steering it out of the dock.

  Wide-eyed, William watched her. He opened his mouth to question the mysterious figure, but I pinched his arm.

  “Remember your manners. Never question the customers. Just do your job,” I said then pulled him away before his curiosity got him in trouble.

  I slid the envelope into my bag and headed toward the steps. We headed downstairs. On the second platform, William and I stopped and looked out over the Thames. It was still foggy, the gas lamps casting soft orange blobs of light in the darkness.

  Overhead, the Aphrodite lifted out of port and flew north.

  “I love this city,” William whispered, staring out at the expanse. “One day, I’ll be rich enough to book us passage on any airship we please. I want to see the world. Let’s go to Barbados. Or to America. Or to the Orient. I want to see everything. I love the image of it. And you, Alice Lewis, I love you most of all,” he said, pulling me close.

  I met his eyes and reached out to touch his face. He cradled my hand in his, pressing his cheek into my touch.

  He sighed contentedly, then leaned in and kissed me softly. The sensation sent chills to my toes. The kiss was soft and sweet. I caught the familiar scent of jasmine-scented soap on his skin.

  When we were done, I leaned back. The kiss had made me dizzy. I saw black spots before my eyes.

  We both laughed softly.

  “I like your dream,” I said, leaning into him. I liked it more than he knew. While my employment kept a roof over mine and my sister’s head, I hated the life. The thieving, the dark deeds, didn’t agree with my spirit. I couldn’t wait for the day that I was released from the terrible bond that tied me to a life so unseeming.

  “I’m saving every coin I make. One day, I’ll be rich and powerful enough to take care of us both,” William whispered.

  “Why do we need to be rich and powerful?” I asked.

  “Who doesn’t want that?”

  I was puzz
led by his question. “I just want to be content. Let’s move to Barbados. We’ll eat tropical fruits and lie on the beach. The warm weather will clear Bess’s lungs, and we’ll all be perfectly happy.”

  “Content is easy to come by. I want something more.”

  “Then I’ll buy you a monkey.”

  William laughed. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know, but I have to disagree. I think content is the most difficult thing to come by. To be content is to be in perfect bliss, to have everything just as you like it. Even if you are rich and powerful, there is no guarantee you will be content.”

  William wrapped his arms tight around me. “Wealth and power can buy comfort. Look at Jabberwocky. He is the picture of contentment.” Jabberwocky, our employer and mine and Bess’s semi-adoptive father, did have many luxuries. We lived in a grand house. We had nice clothing and things. But from what I could see, he was not a happy person. He was good to me and Bess, good to his own aging mother whom Bess looked after, and when he spent time with the Countess, I saw moments of brightness in his face. But aside from that, he looked far from content to me.

  I frowned. I wasn’t so sure.

  “I have something for you,” he said. “That, I hope, will bring you toward that perfect bliss you’re after, Alice Lewis.”

  “Something for me?”

  “I spent half the job worrying I was going to drop it,” he said with a laugh. “Or that if we got arrested, it would end up confiscated.”

  “Of course, don’t worry about actually getting arrested,” I said with a laugh. “You need to get your priorities straight, love.”

  “Love,” he replied, then reached out to touch my chin again. He then reached inside his vest. From therein, he pulled out a package. “I had her made for you.” He handed the package to me.

  I untied the bindings on the bundle and opened it to find a dagger inside. It had a long, slim blade. The pommel was made of ivory and carved like the white queen from a chess board. But even better, she also looked quite like Queen Victoria.

  “William,” I whispered.

  “All great thieves have a special blade.”

  “I love her. The queen…she looks a bit like Her Majesty.”

  “Such a nationalist,” William said with a grin. “You’d almost believe I had it made in Victoria’s image on purpose. It’s a curious gift for a lady, I know. But my lady is special. She’s my queen,” he said, reaching out to touch my lower lip.

  I moved the dagger aside then leaned in for a kiss once more.

  “Thank you. I love her. Curious things certainly make the best gifts.”

  William knew me well. I didn’t care for jewels or fancy baubles. I had no use for them. A dagger, however, was quite another matter. It was perfect. I slid the dagger back into the leather sheath then slipped her into the top of my boot. It took a minute to adjust to the feel of the blade, but she was secure there.

  I looked up at Tinker’s Tower. It was already twenty after twelve. “Jabberwocky will be expecting us. I hope he’ll be pleased.”

  “We did just loot a crate full of cargo meant for the British Museum on behalf of his mysterious client,” William said, looking upward once more in the direction which the Aphrodite had flown. “Alice, how can you tell a raven from a writing desk?”

  Giggling, I pulled him into a kiss once more.

  “That’s the best answer yet,” William whispered when I let him go. “Come on,” he said, taking my hand. We turned and headed back into the city.

  * * *

  Winston rang a bell alerting the galleyman we’d arrived at our destination. I glanced at the small airship tower situated along the river not far from the small village of Twickenham. It was a rickety looking thing, but the port was surprisingly busy. Winston docked his ship just as another airship took off.

  I took a deep breath then readied myself. Despite everything, I was, as Winston had suggested, in the mess again.

  Winston looked me over, his expression pensive. “You want me to stay a bit? We can run you back.”

  I shook my head then set my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, old friend. No. I’ll be all right.”

  “I hope so,” he said, nodding solemnly. “Be careful, Alice.”

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “Tell lovely Bess I said hello.”

  I grinned. “I will.”

  “She ever get married?”

  “Not yet. But she has a fellow.”

  “Decent chap or should I come calling?”

  I considered the question. “Decent to her. She loves him.”

  Winston laughed. “No luck with the Lewis girls. They’re always taken. Be well, Alice.”

  “You too,” I said, then headed down the platform. His remark puzzled me. While Bess was certainly on her way to the wedding altar, I was unattached. Well, at least I thought I was. By Winston’s assessment, it seemed that the whole world knew what I could barely allow myself to admit. My heart still belonged to William.

  Chapter 6: The Countess

  I walked from the airship towers to Strawberry Hill House, the little castle where the Countess lived. Lady Waldegrave was fashionable, fun, and very popular amongst the Liberal establishment. I doubted whether any of her high acquaintances, including the Prince and Princess of Wales, knew how colorful her interests actually were. Surely they must have suspected, but Lady Waldegrave, who had an appetite for exotic everything, always seemed to know how to make everyone feel comfortable in her presence.

  The little castle was surrounded by exquisite gardens and ground, on which you could find a small guest house and a defunct building housing a printing press, all surrounded by an elaborate wrought-iron fence. No one was at the gate when I arrived, so I entered on my own accord. The little gothic castle, built by the Countess’s late relative, was a hodgepodge of fashion and eccentricity. In fact, the Countess once mentioned that her late relative, Horace Walpole, had considered adding a moat before it proved too costly. As I walked down the narrow path toward the castle, I eyed the statuary in the garden. First, I encountered a rather large rooster carved from stone. It was taller than me. Around it, someone had placed painted stones of a vast array of colors. Then I noticed an arbor where roses and palm trees framed a large, shell-shaped bench. As I neared the house, ten stone goblin men lined the road, grimacing at me with angry faces.

  Once I was in sight of the front door, I heard the familiar voice of the Countess. She was cursing.

  “Wrench! I said wrench, dammit! You don’t know a hammer from a wrench?”

  “Sorry, My Lady.”

  When I approached the scene, I found a very distressed-looking serving girl standing at the side of a motorized vehicle. She struggled as she dug through a tool box, her brow furrowing with frustration.

  “Wrench,” the Countess demanded again. Her legs stuck out from under the vehicle.

  The girl, so lost in her frustrated digging, didn’t even notice me until I was beside her. I lifted the wrench, which had been sitting on the roof of the auto, smiled at the girl, then squatted down.

  “Your wrench, Countess.”

  From underneath the vehicle, the stream of mumbled profanities stopped.

  The Countess shimmied out from under the machine, pulled off her goggles, and looked at me.

  “Alice? By the pope’s knickers, I didn’t think he’d talk you into it.”

  “He didn’t. He blackmailed me.”

  The Countess laughed loudly then stood up, dusting off her backside. She removed her gloves and tossed them, and her goggles, into the toolbox.

  “Shoo,” she told the girl. “Go prepare tea for Alice and me.”

  “My Lady,” the girl said, dropping into a curtsey. Then she headed off, looking relieved to be released from mechanic duty.

  The Countess rolled her eyes. “Tell me again why you wouldn’t come work for me instead of Dodgson?”

  “Bess wanted to stay in London to be close to Henry. And I imagined
that you’d keep company with people I’d rather not cross paths with.”

  “True. True. Both true. But here you are nonetheless,” she said as she straightened the scarf around her neck.

  I smiled at her. The Countess’s hair was a wild heap of brown and silver curls tamed haphazardly into a messy bun on her head. Wisps fell around her dark brown eyes which shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight. She had the charm of someone who’d been ravishingly beautiful in her youth and hadn’t forgotten it. Despite the fact that her white shirt was covered in what appeared to be oil and coal dust, she stopped a moment to tuck her shirt tail into her trousers before clapping her hands off for the final time.

  “What do you think?” she asked, setting her hand on the hood.

  I had seen several such autos in London. They never seemed, at least to me, to function as they ought to. Perpetually surrounded by clouds of steam or thick smoke, such tinkered machines often seemed slower than the horses they were trying to replace. The Countess’s vehicle boasted brass pipework and interesting clockwork gears just under the carriage.

  “Pretty,” I said.

  The Countess laughed then linked her arm in mine. “I know,” she said. “Half the time I’m covered in so much coal dust that I look like I rolled in pepper, but I love these machines. With each new iteration, they perform better. One day, they will out-perform locomotives and put an end to the carriage. This one is special. I was able to procure some unique blueprints from a Yankee in the trade. This machine is going to be fast,” she said, her eyes glimmering.

  I smiled at her. Her passion made her look like she was lit up from the inside. I tried to remember when I felt so excited, so happy, about anything. “I hope it goes as you wish.”

  The Countess turned me toward the house. As we crossed the drive, she whistled toward the garden. A moment later, a pot-bellied pig ran toward us.

  “You remember Baby, of course,” she said, stopping to scratch his ears. “Where have you been, my bad Baby?”

  I looked down at the pig who looked up at me expectantly.