Macak meowed, protesting the increasing aggression in her strokes and she eased off, scratching under his chin in apology. His contented feline smile made her grin and she leaned down to plant a kiss on his fuzzy head.
“I’ve got you now, don’t I? What else could I possibly want?”
She curled around the cat and closed her eyes. Sleep toyed with her for a time, drawing her down to a troubled slumber then sending her back toward awareness only to pull her down again. Sometime later, sleep spit her out in an alert state and she slipped off the bed. She grabbed the embroidered satin robe Lucian had loaned her on the way out of the room. It belonged to his late wife and was too long, but at least if she were caught sneaking around she would be decently covered.
The study door at the end of the hall past her room was closed as it always was and for the first time she wondered if Lucian might keep it locked. That would be a bother. Her lock pick tools and the set she’d nicked off Chaff vanished with her old clothing after Lucian took her in. She could find something in the house to work it open with, but that would take time and increase her chances of getting caught.
The door opened when she turned the knob, allaying her concerns. After standing in silence for a count of sixty to listen for sounds of stirring within the flat, she slipped inside. Macak trotted in with her, his clockwork leg whirring and clicking. She shut the door behind him, happy to have a furry accomplice. Taking a chance, she turned up the wall sconce. It would be easier than digging around in the dark and a candle would be a nuisance.
The room was rich with the sweet smoky smell of cigars. Two tall filing cabinets stood along the wall to the left of the door, Lucian’s grey coachman hat sitting on top of the nearest one. The far wall held shelves tidily organized with sets of books arranged around more strange clockwork gadgets. Prototypes developed for his business perhaps. His desk sat in the center of the room, a large deep chair behind it suggesting authority and another plush chair sitting opposite that allowed for comfort and long visits. Macak opted for the smaller plush chair to curl up and take a bath in.
As she moved into the room, a figure in the corner caught her eye. A small battered boy made of wood and metal sat on a stool there, painted features faded and scuffed with age. Like Macak’s false leg, the fingers and arms were articulated, but unlike the leg, the workmanship was rough and amateurish. The index finger on the right hand had been replaced with one made of inflexible wood and an articulated finger, the original perhaps, hung on a string around the boy’s neck. A framed blueprint drawn up in a youth’s rough hand hung above the boy with Lucian’s name scrawled in the corner. There had to be quite a story behind the boy, but she couldn’t ask since that would require admitting that she’d been in the room.
Dragging her attention away from the boy, she tried to decide where he would keep a copy of his will. A quick search through the folders in the big cabinets showed that they were dedicated to patents and ideas for inventions. The ideas were most interesting. A bottom drawer held numerous weapon designs tucked toward the back. In the front of the same drawer hung several folders full of rough sketches for artificial limbs, some of which included ideas for extra functionality such as detachable tools for construction.
It would take hours to look at all the drawings so she dragged herself away from the fascinating selection.
A side table next to the window behind the desk held a selection of alcohols on the lower shelf. Tucked alongside the table was another small cabinet. She knelt down in front of it and began to peruse the folders in there. The third one back held what she wanted. She sat on the floor and started to skim the will. There were plenty of unfamiliar words in the text, but her mother had taught her to read well enough to get the meaning of much of it. The part that puzzled her however was that the document left nearly all of his assets to his late wife and daughter. Wouldn’t he have written a new one after their deaths? Maybe there was another one hidden somewhere.
She tucked the will back in place and started a second search through the contents of the cabinet. Macak’s soft meow drew her attention. The cat had abandoned his bath and was staring at the door, his tongue still half out of his mouth. Then another sound made her nerves spark to life. Footsteps. She tucked everything back in place and shut the cabinet. There was no escaping now so she leaned against the wall by the window and stared out as if she’d been there for some time, focusing on making her breathing slow and even. Subterfuge was one of her specialties after all and, after the earlier incident with the elephant, he might be hesitant to assume the worst.
The door swung open. Lucian stepped in and stalled in the doorway, staring at her. “What are you doing in my office?”
He continued into the room, walking around behind the desk. She moved around the opposite side, stopping in front of it. Macak jumped up on the desk then bunched and jumped again, landing light on her shoulders. She put a hand up to steady him, though he didn’t seem to need it. Facing Lucian with the cat there bolstered her courage.
“I was looking for someplace quiet to think. Sometimes I can’t sleep in that room knowing it isn’t supposed to be mine.”
The muscles in his jaw jumped and he slammed a hand down on the desk. “Nor is this study yours.”
She cringed and took a step back. He wasn’t in such a forgiving mood after all. “I’m sorry.”
He frowned. “Since you’re here, I had something to discuss with you. Am I to understand you were on the roof alone with that boy, Asher?”
She shifted her feet back a little more, inching toward the door. It was hard to keep bitterness from her tone. “Yes, Sir.”
“You shouldn’t have been up there unsupervised. So long as you are living under my roof you need to behave as other proper ladies do, even when—”
She threw up her hands, cutting him off and startling Macak who dug in his claws for balance. The pain sharpened her mind and helped keep her shame at lying to Lucian locked away. “Proper again. I’ve barely been here a week and already I’m sick to death of trying to be proper for everyone.”
She spun around and Macak dug in hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“Maeko!”
Run away. Don’t give in to him. She stopped in the doorway and rotated slowly around to face him again.
Lucian was staring at the desktop now. “I’m sorry, Maeko. My life has been through such upheaval of late. I’m afraid I often forget how much change you’re trying to cope with. Please sit down.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk and sat in the one behind it.
Maeko walked back and sank into the chair, wiping at a tear that streaked down one cheek. Sensing the calming mood, Macak retracted his claws. He began to lick her ear. She put a finger in between his tongue and her ear and he nibbled at it with sharp little teeth.
“I forget you’re used to living in a den of boys. None of them ever did anything to you, did they?”
She stared for a moment, puzzled, then recalled Officer Wells asking a similar question about Hatchet-face, the murderer who had helped her escape JAHF the first time. Oh, that kind of anything. “No. Chaff would never allow that,” she assured him.
“Chaff?”
Daft. She chewed her lip. “He’s the one who brought Detective Emeraude to the warehouse to arrest your partner. He taught me how to survive on the streets.” And steal and pick locks. All those things proper girls don’t do.
Lucian nodded. “I remember. I had taken him for one of her hirelings until I saw the way he reacted to you. Has he ever done anything to you?”
Her treacherous cheeks grew warm. “No.”
“I see.” His fingers tapped the desk, his expression one of considerable skepticism.
“I said no.”
“Your lips said no, the rest of you said otherwise. I’m inclined to believe the latter.”
She started to search for another argument then gave up. Some battles were meant to be lost and the truth would be better than what he might come up wi
th on his own. “It was only a little kiss and only once,” she confessed.
“Entirely inappropriate behavior for a young lady. There are proper ways to be courted and proper young men to be courted by.” She bristled at that, but held her tongue. “I will see that you are taught both. Until you understand the rules, however, please assume that any unchaperoned contact with young men is improper.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He opened a drawer and stared into it for several seconds.
Were they done? Could she leave now? She started to get up only to settle back down again when he spoke.
“I can’t sleep either, knowing my wife and daughter are gone forever.” He drew a cigar out of a case in his drawer and snipped the end off. “Did you and Asher have an argument?”
Her chest tightened. How did he figure that out? She could think of nothing to say while he struck a lucifer and rotated the cigar over the flame, puffing at it until it was evenly lit. The big cigar made his narrow face look almost comically small. He held the cigar away from his mouth and gazed at her.
“Asher seems like a nice young man, but there are plenty of nice young men out there. I don’t think you should trouble yourself with such things while you’re still trying to adjust to this life. You’ll have plenty of suitors to choose from when the time comes.”
She held back a sigh. How nice it would have been if he would have consented to letting her go find Chaff instead of forcing her to sneak around behind his back. Clearly, it wasn’t worth bringing the idea up. He didn’t even want her consorting with Ash. Meeting up with Chaff was out of the question. “You’re probably right.”
He nodded as if the subject were resolved. “Next week I’ll have a governess start coming to the house to work with you on your studies.”
Bugger! “Yes, Sir.”
“You should try to get some sleep. I want you to think of that room as yours now.”
With her dolls staring at me? Macak pressed his cold moist nose into her ear and she brushed his face away. “Yes, Sir.” The cat continued to ride her shoulders as she stood.
“One more thing.” He waited until she met his eyes to continue. “When you go to town with a chaperone the idea is that they go everywhere with you. Running off alone is not conduct befitting a lady.”
Oh that. “I understand.” She started to turn away and her eyes lit upon the clockwork boy. “What happened to his finger?”
His eyes tracked to the corner and a wistful smile stole across his lips. “That was the first thing Joel and I built together. We were thirteen. It used to sit at a toy piano and play songs.”
“That thing could play the piano?”
The smile warmed a little in response to the disbelief in her tone. “Only simple songs. It earned us so much praise from our parents that my brother Thaddeus got jealous and stole one of the fingers.”
“Why didn’t you fix it?”
He shrugged. “Thaddeus gave the finger back three years later. By then, Joel and I had moved on to much bigger things.”
The sorrow in his tone and the slow fade of that wistful smile spoke volumes to the sense of loss he felt at his partner’s betrayal. If they’d been friends that long, she imagined it must have been heartbreaking. There wasn’t much she could say or do for that.
He turned away from the boy and began to dig in another drawer. “Goodnight, Maeko.”
“Goodnight, Sir.”
CHAPTER SIX
Being stuck in the flat was starting to feel a little like being locked up at JAHF for a third time, although decidedly more comfortable. Lucian had gone to take care of some business at his main factory. The meeting with Garrett had worked to spur him back into his business, which was probably a good step in his recovery and it left Maeko what appeared to be a great opportunity to slip out and meet Em. Only, the first time she reached to open the front door, Margaret stepped into the room with a warning that she shouldn’t be heading out alone without the master’s approval. After that, both maids developed an extra sense that brought them out to the front room every time she moved toward the door with the intention of leaving.
Maeko tried wandering back to Lucian’s office, thinking she might have another look around for a new will, but the moment she turned her attention that way, Margaret appeared and began dusting framed blueprints hung along the hall. Concerned that it might be her actual intent they were sensing, she made an effort to approach the front door without intent. That didn’t work either. Constance bustled into the room and began wiping down tables for a third time.
Thwarted, Maeko took to pacing the flat, counting the steps it took to get from one room to another. Whenever Macak wasn’t riding along on her shoulders, he paced along behind, every click of his clockwork leg like a second hand counting down, reminding her that she would be late to her meeting soon.
She developed a pattern, pacing to the study door, to the window in her room, to Lucian’s bedroom window, through the kitchen, around the dining room table, across the front sitting room and back to the study door to start over. The route made her cross paths with Constance and Margaret often enough they began to go about their cleaning with pursed lips and harried glowers. A small price to pay for the cruel act of holding her hostage.
Maeko turned into the kitchen on her thirteenth circuit. Constance, preoccupied with cleaning, ran into Maeko this time, letting off a frustrated squeal when she staggered back a few steps.
“Miss Maeko, you need to…” Constance started to snap then trailed off before Maeko’s challenging stare.
They faced off for several seconds, Constance with her mouth hanging open at a loss for words and Maeko glaring daggers into her, daring her to complain.
Then Constance smiled with false sweetness. “I have an idea. Mr. Folesworth does love fresh bread with dinner, but we haven’t had time to step out today. Would you be a dear and run to the bakery? There’s a bit of coin in the box by the journals and I’m sure he wouldn’t disapprove of such a brief unchaperoned outing.”
The daggers fell away. Could it be that easy? Perhaps Lucian hadn’t sufficiently emphasized to them his opinion that she required a chaperone to interact with the world outside the Tower. There was no sense questioning her good fortune. “Brilliant idea! I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Or sometime thereafter.
Maeko spun around, nearly stepping on poor Macak who sprinted down the hall after giving her an indignant look. She went to her room and snatched up a dainty little coin purse from the dresser by the staring dolls, giving them a sour glare on her way out. After collecting some coin from what she had originally assumed to be an ornate snuffbox, she marched to the door.
“Don’t be long,” Constance called after her in a tone that sounded more as if she wished many varieties of dread misfortune on Maeko so long as it kept her out of their way.
Macak slipped out on her heels and sprang up to wrap himself around her shoulders like a fur scarf. She lifted him off and looked him in the eye.
“I can’t take you, mate. Lucian would never forgive me if something happened.”
The cat stared back at her then blinked once, slowly. It didn’t matter a whit to him what Lucian thought.
Maeko nodded and placed him back on her shoulders. “You’re right. It isn’t as if we’ll be going far.”
Down in the lobby the desk attendant, who couldn’t seem to decide between looking at her and staring at the cat on her shoulders, inquired if she would be needing transportation. She almost said yes. Oh how she wanted to go find Chaff and visit her regular haunts around Cheapside, but she needed to meet Em. There was an opportunity for a future here that was worth following up on. Chaff would have to wait for yet another day. She declined the offer, stepped on the plate that opened the steampowered doors, and went outside.
There were always a few steamcoaches kept on retainer for the convenience of Airship Tower residents. Two of these were parked out front bearing familiar brass plaques with Lucian’s Clockwork Enterprises brand
stamped upon them. An unnerving reminder of the strange fortune she’d found by picking up Macak in a back alley while hiding from a Literati patrol. The resulting adventure had almost gotten her killed more than once, but almost didn’t really count. Did it? Life was a peculiar thing. Of course, now she had to put up with itchy lace collars, insensible shoes, and the bothersome restrictions of proper society behavior. Even wealth had its down sides.
Maeko strode down the block, observing the curious way people reacted to her now. As a ragged street rat, they rarely deigned to notice her and, if they did, it was with a disapproving scowl and turned up nose. They still didn’t pay her much mind, but those who did gave a polite smile or nod, their eyes widening a touch if they noticed the cat around her shoulders. A couple of blokes even tipped their hats and wished her good morning, calling her miss. It was hard to remember to smile and nod back rather than stare at them dumbfounded.
At the corner, she stopped to wait for an opportunity to cross the busy street, Macak looking left and right as if he too were looking for a break in traffic. She twirled the coin purse on her finger while she watched horse drawn and steampowered coaches pass by. A coach driver shouted at a costermonger who had halted in the street to fiddle with something on his cart. The coster responded with a rude gesture, but he did begin to move again, muttering something under his breath. Big omnibuses trundled along, forcing their way through traffic, while pedestrians and the occasional brave cyclist wove through the press. A noisy Literati steamcycle sped past, startling some of the horses and making Macak tense. Maeko stuck her tongue out at the officer’s back, earning a startled glance from a woman walking past.
She gazed after the woman and sighed. More of that improper behavior she was supposed to be unlearning.
A small tug on her finger grabbed her attention and she turned in time to see a boy no older than seven in tattered togs sprinting down the pavement with her coin purse in hand. He hopped on an omnibus that was pulling away and winked back at her as he tucked the purse in his pocket.
The Girl and the Clockwork Conspiracy: Clockwork Enterprises Book Two Page 4