A Matter of Circumstance and Celludrones (Dark Matters)

by Claire Robyns

  Lily peered down. They were flying low, only a hundred or so feet above a long body of water that tailed to an end a little further inland. “Is this the Firth of Tay already?”

  “It must be,” Evelyn said, her voice filled with awe. “We haven’t even been travelling for a full half-hour.”

  “Incredible,” Lily agreed in all sincerity. She might still be wary of sailing the Aether, but she could certainly appreciate the benefits.

  Once they’d cleared the water, the ship came to a complete stop midair, hovering above a meadow of long grass. A narrow tower castle stood between the meadow and the bank of the Tay, enclosed by a high wall.

  The inter-leading door from the pilot’s cabin opened and Greyston came through. “Would you ladies care to enjoy our descent from the deck?”

  Evelyn didn’t hesitate.

  Lily wasn’t far behind, the prospect of a viewing deck not quite as daunting as it had been at the beginning of the journey. The doorway didn’t lead directly into the pilot’s cabin, as Lily had supposed, but to a dimly lit cubicle. The area was small with a wire meshing floor and steel pipes running above. Two further doors opened onto it, as well as the square archway that took them up a short flight of steel-rung stairs and onto an enclosed landing with the same wire-meshing floor. Above, a domed ceiling curved into the nose of the capsule.

  Greyston cranked a lever bolted to the wall. The rattling squeak of chains and gears echoed around the hollow chamber. Natural light slivered from a crack above, rapidly widening as the entire ceiling peeled back on a track and volley system.

  Evelyn grabbed Lily by the hand, urging her toward the railing created from the lower half of what had been the cabin wall. The breeze was sharp and would have been a little chilly without the sun beating down on them from a cloudless sky.

  When Evelyn tried to drag her closer to the edge, Lily slid her hand free and dug her heels in. “I can see perfectly fine from here, thank you.”

  Evelyn swept forward with a wink thrown over her shoulder. She gripped the railing and went up onto her tiptoes to lean over as she glanced from one side of the horizon to the other. “Is this all Adair land?” she called out, spinning back to look at Greyston with a teasing smile. “For as far as the eye can see?”

  “More likely, for as far as you can throw a stone,” he responded dryly.

  “This is the Red Dancer!” Evelyn exclaimed, her gaze set above their heads.

  What on earth was a red dancer? Curiosity got the better of Lily and she moved closer to the edge of the ship so she could follow Evelyn’s line of sight. The ship’s sails came into view. A pitch-black sea of horizontal canvasses at varying elevations and then, with another step, a single red sail in all that black that hadn’t been visible when the sails were furled.

  Evelyn’s gaze dropped to meet Greyston’s. “You’re the captain of the Red Dancer.”

  “Is that the name of your ship?” Lily asked him, retreating from the edge once more.

  “Actually,” Greyston said, humour speckling the brown of his eyes, “she’s called the Red Hawk.”

  “That depends on whom you’re talking to,” Evelyn said, a smile bursting from her lips as she sauntered toward Greyston. “And you’re well aware of it.”

  To Lily, she said, “British Customs have dubbed her the Red Dancer because she keeps waltzing just out of their reach.”

  “The British Customs officials are blundering idiots who don’t know her real name,” Greyston corrected. “And for the record, I’ve never waltzed just out of their reach. They’ve never come within a mile of my air dust.”

  Evelyn stopped an inch from Greyston and looked up at him. “You’re a blackguard and a smuggler.”

  “I’ll give you the first,” he said, the creases at his eyes settling into his lazy grin. “But they’ll have to catch me red-handed before they can convict me as a smuggler and that will never happen with those floating contraptions they flap around in.”

  “You admit to running contraband?” Lily gasped.

  Greyston slid that grin her way. “I admit to nothing.”

  “So tell me,” Evelyn said, tapping a finger to her lips. Drawing Greyston’s gaze like a lodestone, Lily noticed irritably. “What does it feel like to be a wanted man?”

  “Not nearly as good as it is to feel a wanted woman,” he returned smoothly. He’d leaned in slightly, but his words still carried on the breeze.

  Lily glanced away from them as heat crawled up her throat. It was a sign of how far her world had descended into chaos that she wasn’t completely mortified to be associating with a smuggler, merely agitated at the flirtatious turn of the conversation. Perhaps she would give Evelyn the word, sooner rather than later, if only to put a stop to this silly nonsense.

  “Devon will be in a black fit when he finds out,” Evelyn suddenly exclaimed.

  Lily’s gaze whipped back. But they weren’t locked in an intimate embrace. If anything, Evelyn had put some distance between herself and Greyston.

  “He had you within his grasp and didn’t even know it,” she finished.

  The humour panned from Greyston’s face. “What the hell does the war office want with me?”

  “I only know about the Red Dancer because he’s come home furious the last few times you evaded customs and I’ll warrant he’s not interested in border control or illegal trading,” Evelyn said. “You’ll have to ask him yourself if, or should I say when, he gives you the opportunity.”

  If the war office was after Greyston, then Lily had no doubt it was somehow linked to Lady Ostrich, Cragloden or whatever other mess they were in and had nothing to do with treason.

  She stepped closer to confront Evelyn. “You can’t say anything to Devon about Greyston being the captain of the Red Dancer. Swear you won’t.”

  “Evelyn can tell her husband anything she wants,” Greyston said roughly. “I’m not in hiding and I’ve never tried to keep my ship’s identity secret.”

  Just then, their descent came to an end with a bumpy scrape and Greyston used that as his cue to leave. The hum of the engine faded into a creaking groan throughout the hull as the ship settled into its resting position.

  “Devon’s duty is to the Crown and he withholds information from me on a daily basis,” Evelyn said as they made their way down the steps. “On this particular trip, my duty is to you, Lily, and I promised you my confidence. I have no intention of disclosing anything to Devon.”

  “Thank you,” Lily said, sighing. “Greyston might not think twice at breaking a few laws, but I don’t believe he’d ever put our country at risk.”

  “I’m inclined to agree,” Evelyn said with a smile.

  Greyston reappeared while his men were lowering a walkway that folded out from the cargo door in the hull. “Neco will return with the wagon for your luggage,” he informed them, although his own carpetbag was slung over one shoulder.

  It was a short walk across the meadow. Greyston led the way to a side gate hinged into the castle wall and was waiting for Lily on the other side.

  “I’m sorry about my abruptness earlier.” He slid his hand under her arm as he stepped in line beside her. He slowed their pace on the cobbled path that ran directly alongside the tower house until they fell some way behind the others. “You came to my defence and, as unexpected as that was, I appreciate it.”

  “Even though you didn’t need it,” she quipped, glancing around the courtyard. Down the far end was a rather sparse orchard of white-blossomed trees and what appeared to be a mishmash patch of vegetables and herbs partially sheltered with sackcloth. The only outbuilding was a stable with five stalls, its shingle roof overrun with moss.

  William handed Puppy to Evelyn and then he and Neco broke away from the path to cross the courtyard to the stable, where Lily assumed they were to harness the luggage wagon. There wasn’t another soul to be seen and maybe it was that, but there seemed to be a general air of desolation and neglect about the place.

  “The British offic
ials can bring their finest posses and trawl the Red Hawk twice over,” Greyston said. “They won’t find anything to incriminate me.”

  “I’m amazed they haven’t already done so.” Lily peered at him to find his gaze on her.

  “Incriminated me?”

  “Brought their finest posses,” she murmured, but all she could think of was the last time he’d been so near, looking into her eyes, melting her a little with a kiss that never happened. And then all she could think about was the way he’d leaned in close to Evelyn with that intimate exchange of want and feeling.

  She slipped her arm from his grip and made a show of patting down her skirts. “I mean, if you’re not living under any kind of subterfuge, surely they must have been able to track you down if they wanted you so badly?”

  “I haven’t lived in Scotland since I was fifteen, Lily, and I’ve only returned now, well, two months ago, to resolve the mystery of my—our past.”

  “Since you were fifteen?” she asked softly, recalling what he’d said about running, and never stopping to look back. She hadn’t realised he’d been running such a long, long time. Her gaze found his again. “Is Castle Forleough not your home?”

  He shrugged. “It belongs to me, but the only place I call home is Es Vedra, an island off the coast of Spain. And that,” he said after a short pause, “is something I’d prefer you didn’t spread around.”

  “Of course not.” She was tempted to press further, but she couldn’t afford the sentimentality. The problem with Greyston was, the more she learned about him, the more she liked him.

  They’d reached the steps to the front door anyway, leaving no more opportunity for private conversation. The door was unlocked, and Greyston slipped past Evelyn and Ana to invite them inside a cavernous hall. The stone walls were unadorned, but a plush maroon carpet padded the floor. Sturdy brocade armchairs and sofas were loosely arranged around the unlit great hearth. As they gathered deeper in the hall, a thin, short woman entered through an inner door. She wore a plaid smock of browns and greens over a white undershirt and her manner was quiet, even graceful.

  “Welcome home, Grey,” she said with a reserved smile, walking right up to him. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun and shot through with grey, although her face was unlined. “I’m so pleased you’re back.”

  “Jean,” Greyston greeted, folding his arms across his chest. “Is everything well here? I’m afraid I’ve brought unexpected guests.”

  “We were watching the Red Hawk from a window upstairs and saw your party disembark.” She hesitated, still smiling, then retreated a step, and Lily wondered if she’d been about to hug him. “I’ve got Paisley making up the spare rooms.” Her gaze swept across the rest of them. “I assume you’ll be staying the night?”

  “Possibly longer,” Greyston said, and Jean’s smile widened at that as he went on to introduce them. “Jean is housekeeper at Forleough. Lily, Evelyn, and Ana.”

  Jean’s eyes lingered on Ana. “You’re a celludrone.”

  Ana said nothing, simply staring ahead.

  “There’s no need for pretence in this household, Ana,” he said, adding to Jean, “She’s an enhanced celludrone, like Neco.”

  “It’s okay,” Lily said when Ana glanced at her. “While we’re in Scotland, at least.”

  “Wasn’t there another young man I saw disembarking with you?” Jean asked.

  “That would be William,” Evelyn offered. “He’s—”

  “Red Hawk crew,” Greyston cut in. “He joined us in Edinburgh.”

  “Speaking of your crew, will they be taking lunch with us?” Jean asked. “We’ve only got leek broth, but it will stretch with plenty of freshly baked bread.”

  Greyston shook his head. “Jamie’s taking the Red Hawk back to Edinburgh, but I hope they’ll return by evening.”

  As soon as Jean left to organise some refreshments for them, Evelyn turned on Greyston. “Red Hawk crew?”

  “Considering you arrived in an airship with no carriage in sight,” Greyston pointed out, “it would appear odd that your driver’s tagging along with you.”

  Lily couldn’t contain a small giggle. “Is that a twitch of propriety I see on your brow?”

  Greyston shrugged. “I’m not opposed to propriety when it’s efficient.”

  She rather thought it had more to do with Jean than efficiency, which made her think she’d been right about Jean’s welcome hug. But Greyston had blocked her firmly with those folded arms, and he hadn’t lived in Scotland since he’d turned fifteen. He hadn’t only run from Cragloden after that gas explosion, he’d run from his home and family. And, it would seem, he was still running even now that he’d returned.

  Chapter Eleven

  Over lunch, taken in the formal dining room at a table large enough to seat sixteen, Greyston informed them of his intention to ride for Cragloden directly.

  Lily glanced up from spreading butter on a thick slice of warm bread and met his gaze. She had no wish to visit the place that had become the bane of her past, present and imminent future, but how could she avoid it? She was beginning to understand what had driven Greyston to return after so many years to hunt for answers, and he believed they were to be found there. “I’m going with you.”

  “Do you ride astride?” He raised a brow at her. “Forleough’s not equipped with side-saddles and such things.”

  “There are many things I’ve never done until recently,” she riposted dryly. In deference to William’s newly imposed, temporary status as Red Hawk crew, Greyston had insisted he join them around the table. Taking her midday meal with a servant, she rather thought, established her point. “I’ll manage.”

  “We could all do with some exercise after that long train journey,” Evelyn said, including William in her glance around the table. “We’re coming too.”

  “We only have three horses at our disposal.”

  “Oh, dear.” She gave William a crumpled smile. “It looks like you’ll be staying behind.”

  “So will you,” Greyston told her firmly. “The third horse is for Neco.”

  “Ah, well,” Evelyn said in good grace. “Then I’m sure William and I can find some mischief to get ourselves into.”

  “I’ve no doubt of that.” He looked at her for a moment longer, as if he might say something more, but merely turned to Lily as he made his excuses and pushed up from the table. “I don’t mean to rush you, but we need to depart as soon as possible, else we’ll be riding back in the dark.”

  Lily quickly swallowed her mouthful of bread and stood. “I must change but I won’t be long,” she assured him, then turned to Evelyn. “Will you come up with me? I need to ask you something.”

  “You’re a superb horsewoman,” Evelyn said as she followed Lily from the dining room and up the stairs to the sleeping quarters. “You’ll do fine. Just remember to clamp your knees against the horse’s flanks and you’ll find the rhythm soon enough.”

  “Thanks for the advice, but what I actually wanted to ask…” Lily paused at the top of the stairs to face Evelyn. She dropped her voice. “Did you happen to bring that bloomer outfit of yours with you? The one you got from New York?”

  Evelyn’s eyes sparkled. “You wouldn’t really consider wearing it?”

  “It’s that or pull my skirts up around my thighs,” Lily hissed, feeling a hot blush creep over her throat. “Besides, I don’t intend to remove my coat.”

  “You are being serious.” Long seconds passed as Evelyn looked at her, the gaiety fading beneath a frown. “Are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Lily started forward again, her fingers trailing on the banister that wound along the upper landing. “I’ve just finally realised how impractical women’s fashion is.”

  “Because on any other day you’d be more likely to point out how impractical riding astride is,” Evelyn said softly from behind. “You’ve been through so much in the last couple of days, what with that crazy ostrich lady murdering someone right in front of you and now
chasing after you.”

  Not to mention dying.

  “And now you’re on your way to the very place your mother died, Lily, and thanks to Forleough’s pishy stable, I can’t even go with you.”

  The same place where I should have died six years ago, along with everyone else. She hadn’t mentioned the other children, the celludrones, or anything else Greyston had told her. Her feelings were too chaotic—too raw—to put in any coherent conversation.

  She reached the door to Evelyn’s appointed bedroom and, hand on the knob, glanced over her shoulder to find concern etched on her friend’s face.

  “You think I’m having a mental collapse,” Lily suddenly realised.

  “I think too much is happening too fast.”

  “I’m fine.” She gave Evelyn a reassuring smile and pushed the door open. “And quite honestly, Evie, even if I wasn’t, there isn’t time to fix me right now. Greyston’s waiting and he becomes completely boorish when he’s in a rush.”

  Ana, who was serving as lady’s maid to them both, was already inside, bent double over a large trunk. Lily hadn’t been inside this room before, but a quick glance showed it was similar to the one she’d been appointed a few doors down the landing. An oriental rug patterned in dark blues and olive greens covered most of the floor with a narrow rim of stone peeping out along the walls. The absence of fireplaces in each bedroom might signify that modern heating had been implemented throughout the house, although Lily doubted it. The drapes were heavy and also dark in colour, the furnishings sparse but sufficient to one’s basic requirements. The only compromise was the fluffy quilt spread over the bed that was a patchwork of creams and pale pinks.

  “Have you unpacked my ruby velvet riding habit yet?” Evelyn called to Ana.

  “Yes, m’lady.” Ana straightened, bringing a flimsy creation of pink satin and lace up with her. “I’ve put it in the wardrobe.”

  “If you were as fine as you’d like me to believe,” Evelyn threw out to Lily as she crossed to the walnut wardrobe, “you’d recall I only ride side-saddle under duress and I’m far more likely to have brought a perfectly suitable riding habit with me than a bloomer suit.” She delved inside and came back with her arms full of heavy velvet and a satisfied smile. “Sometimes, the most extreme solution isn’t the only, or, indeed, the best solution.”