by Riley Cole
She was trying to put on a brave face, but he could feel the fear wrapping its tentacles around her. She lived in a world of orderly chaos, where chemical reactions might go awry, but where her larger world ticked along with great predictability.
A world without violence.
A world as foreign to him as the House of Lords.
A world with no place for a man like him.
Edison sank back down in his chair, his stomach curiously hollow.
Nelly rushed in from the kitchen, a gnarled ball of newsprint in her small fist. “I have just the thing.”
She dropped the paper on the table, pressing it flat with her palms. “I was just about to toss this in the cooker to bring up the fire when I saw it.” She squinted down at the page. “Says here there’s to be a talk on noble metals put on by the London Chemical Society this Friday at their meeting rooms.” She looked up. “I think Mrs. Templeton oughta march right in there and show those old men what for.”
Edison couldn’t disagree.
He wanted to. He wanted to keep things just as they were for as long as he could, but he’d never been one to believe in fairytales. Every story he knew had a bad ending.
It seemed his was coming more quickly than he’d expected.
* * *
For a Navy man, Ravensworth showed a shocking lack of fortitude.
And even less foresight.
Seeking him out in his own offices had been a grave error. Doing so in full uniform sealed the man’s fate.
The man stood before him, chest heaving, mustache soaked with sweat, as if he’d been chased by the devil himself.
“The bloke barged his way into the admiral’s office,” Ravensworth explained, his words slowed by his ragged breathing. “Next thing I knew, the admiral was gone.”
He twisted his white uniform cap about in his hands as he spoke, his gaze flitting about the room like a frightened rabbit expecting a hunter to strike.
Which, of course, he would.
Sooner rather than later.
Anticipation brought a smile to his lips. “Not to worry,” he offered soothingly. “I know exactly who it was.”
“You do?”
“I do.” He nudged the crystal inkwell at the top of his leather blotter, aligning it until the object was square to the edge. “A man of no consequence whatever.”
“Thank God.” The navy man slumped down in the chair across the desk as if his legs had given out beneath him. “I was worried we’d been found out. Ever since that woman escaped…”
Anger twisted in his gut at the memory. He waved off the rest of the man’s boring recitation.
She escaped him once. It wouldn’t happen a second time.
He’d have her device. He’d have her fame and her accolades and the fortune that went along with them.
“So do we rescue Admiral Helmsley?” The small-minded twit scratched at the corner of his mouth. “I can have a detachment of sailors ready in an hour. They could--”
“Secrecy.” He cut the man off. “This plan relies on the utmost secrecy. Send out your men, and we’ll have too many people asking questions.”
Ravensworth’s mustache quivered as he licked his lips. “Right. I see what you mean. What’s next then?”
“Mrs. Templeton will show us the way.”
The idiot stared, puzzlement plain in his watery gaze.
“She’ll have to move forward at some point.” He outlined the obvious. “She’ll need to show herself. Show the device. If she waits too long, she risks someone else perfecting their own version.”
“So you see,” he said as he crossed to the decanter beneath the window, “waiting won’t serve her.”
He held up the brandy, a question in his eyes.
“By all means.” Ravensworth nodded too readily, too eagerly. “Just the thing.”
“Isn’t it just,” he whispered to himself as he added a pinch of white powder to his guest’s glass. “Isn’t it just.”
Chapter 20
Ada piled a handful of smoke bombs on the bench in Edison’s workshop and clapped her hands together to shake off the dust. Still hunched over his spot at the far end of the long counter, Edison seemed oblivious to her presence.
They’d been in his workshop for hours. She doubted he’d said more than a few words to her, and those had been, “Please pass the potassium.”
She hung her head. They only had two more days before they put their grand new plan into motion. The killer would strike quickly once she surfaced.
After that there’d be no reason for her to remain.
And Edison was allowing the last crumbs of their time together to tick away.
Would the blue satin rekindle his interest?
Even as the thought rose, she discounted it. He might be a brick-headed oaf, but he wasn’t callow.
She inched closer to his side of the workbench. “None of this’ll do a bit of good if I’m not one of the speakers.”
He popped the two halves of the casing together and examined his completed device. “You’ll be there.”
Oaf. What was it going to take to catch his attention?
“We can’t barge into a professional meeting and storm the stage.” She rolled a smoke bomb down the counter.
He caught the grenade in one big hand, stopping it cold. “We won’t be barging.”
“Have I done something to offend?” The question was out of her mouth before she had a chance to reconsider.
Finally, he turned, giving her the full benefit of his attention. “Why would you say that?”
The blankness of his stare gave her pause, as if she were a stranger trying to spark up a conversation on a crowded omnibus. A toxic mix of embarrassment and anger exploded in her chest, searing her cheeks, making her breath come short and shallow.
“There’s no need for concern,” he said. “By tomorrow afternoon, you’ll be the main speaker.” He went back to his fiddling. “Spencer and Meena are handling that right now.”
“But how will they—?”
Edison squinted at one of the grenades, examining the seam. “That part’s magic to me. I just keep everyone safe.”
Safe, and safely away from his heart.
How had she not seen this side to him before?
Tears shimmering in her eyes, Ada shuffled back to her own side of the counter and tried to force her mind back to the task at hand. Thoughts of circuits and cascading chemical reactions would put her back on level ground.
She rubbed her palm over the metal casing of the smoke bomb she’d filled. The smooth, cold texture soothed her raw emotions. Meena and her husband might be able to get her on the stage, but it would be up to her to dazzle the crowd, to make her stalker so green with envy he’d want to grab her straight from the lectern.
Her job would be to incite anger. The hotter their prey’s emotions ran, the more likely he’d be to act in haste. She could blather on all day about her batteries, but a bang-up demonstration would put things over the top.
“We’ll need a way to demonstrate the battery’s capabilities,” she said.
Edison turned fully around this time, putting his back to the workbench. “Good point.” He waggled a wrench in her direction. “Now you’re thinking like a showman.”
So it wasn’t her imagination.
He met any mention of emotion with stony silence. But get the man talking about a caper, and he lit up like magnesium dropped in a vial of carbon dioxide. A bright flame, to be sure, but wholly unstable.
Ada crossed her arms, considering. Perhaps it was better to cut things off now.
Edison’s brass butler regarded her from his place in the far corner of the room. She headed for it, bending down on one knee to open the back hatch of the device.
The silvery guts glimmered in the afternoon light. Edison was right. Between the gears and cables necessary to make the thing run, there wasn’t any room inside for a bigger flywheel to power it.
“My battery would run this,” she said.
Edison knelt beside her, the wrench still in his hand. “Could be too powerful. I’ve got the power regulation set for the flywheel.”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Ada wanted to grab the wrench and bash him over the head. Where had his passion gone? His verve? His formidable zest for life?
Edison shrugged, not even enthusiastic enough to bother with an utterance, but he did grab a screwdriver off the bench behind him and start removing the springs. Strands of silvery clock springs danced in the light as he pulled them out by the fistful.
His elbows and knees brushed against her as he worked. The heat from his body reminded her painfully of the velvety feel of his skin against hers.
Tears threatened. She inched away, trying not to give in to the urge to rush to the far side of the room, away from the painful memories. Away from him.
And yet he seemed unaffected by her nearness. He worked away at the renovations, intent on the task at hand, curiously distant from his emotions.
“Let’s try it now.” He stepped over the pile of clock springs surrounding the mechanical man and moved to the safe housing her battery.
A few spins of the dial, and the safe opened. The muscles in his forearm flexed as he hefted the heavy device and bent down to maneuver it into the automaton.
“Hand me those wires, would you?” he asked, his head inside the machine.
Ada scooped up the insulated wires and pressed them into his waiting hand.
A few more connections made, and he backed away from the hole and closed the hatch. “All right. Let’s power it up.” He flicked the switch.
Silence.
Just as she was certain it wouldn’t work, the round body shuddered and rumbled to life. The arms rose slowly, jerkily toward the sky, as if hesitant to move. The rumble intensified, rising to a high-pitched shriek, like the whistling of a kettle. Mechanical arms now at shoulder height, the whole device lurched forward, only to seize up and topple over.
After one last agonizing moan, the motor stopped.
“See?” Edison raked a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”
“It worked for a moment,” Ada said.
“You call that working?”
She gritted her teeth until her jaw ached. “Is this what you do when things don’t go smoothly? Give up?”
Edison’s eyes narrowed, and his expression became carefully blank. “I assume you’re referring to the butler?” He threw up his hands. “It’s too much power. Your battery puts out too much power for the gears.”
“We’ll re-gear it then.”
He gave a weak shrug. “If you insist.”
Ada clamped her mouth down on an angry retort. The automaton would make a fantastic demonstration. Couldn’t he see that?
Suddenly she wanted this. Wanted to make a statement. Wanted to do something exciting with her work. Something flashy and bold and fantastical.
She nudged him out of the way and bent to examine the automaton’s innards, searching for a clue to their failure.
Edison stepped back to the workbench and folded his arms across his chest, glowering at nothing in particular.
Ada ignored him. Let him pout. Let him withdraw into the safety of anger and cynicism. Maybe if she showed him the way, he’d drop this absurd shell of indifference and enjoy the last few days they had together.
Maybe not.
Either way there wasn’t much she could do about his sour mood.
She pulled a wisp of dust from the top of the automaton’s cone-like head and opened the back hatch, studying the maze of wire. “Here. It looks like this connection came apart.”
She twisted the end of the wire back into its receptacle, closed the hatch, and rocked back on her heels. “There’s plenty of power left in the battery. Start it again.”
Edison grumbled, but he reached for the power switch and flicked it on.
This time, the mechanical shuddered straight to life. Ada caught the trace of a smile on Edison’s face as the brass wheels engaged and the figure jolted forward before making a sharp turn. The arms once again rose until they were perpendicular to the floor, but the added weight out away from the body accelerated the turn, making the poor thing spin about at an alarming speed.
Metal whined, as if the motor were fighting against some unseen force, then cut off. Bottom heavy as it was, the device ceased spinning in an instant. The brass arms slammed down to its sides. One sharp elbow punched a crease in the automaton’s side.
“This is never going to work.” Edison gestured toward the electrical lights overhead. “Might as well power up one of those damned electrical lightbulbs for your presentation. At least no one will laugh about that.”
He stalked out of the room.
Something in his childish behavior suggested he was referring to more than just his silly invention.
“It’s all right.” Ada reassured the silent machine.
Something about the forlorn little automaton touched her heart. She patted it firmly on the head.
The left arm dropped to the floor with a sharp, metallic clank.
Ada stared down at the metal digits, curled up like a sleeping child’s chubby fingers.
She could find a way to demonstrate her battery.
What she couldn’t do was make his automaton work seamlessly with her device. They weren’t built together, weren’t designed to fit together or manage each other’s unique requirements.
Much the way she and its creator were never meant to work together, sadly.
* * *
“I’ve never seen so many puffed up squirrels in one place.” The boy, Henry, shook his head as if his time around London’s finest minds had been like a trip to the lunatic asylum.
“They are an odd lot,” Meena added as she shook the rain from her umbrella and set it in the stand by the front door. She and Spencer and Henry had just returned from the chemical society’s offices where they’d gone to secure Ada a speaking slot.
Edison stared out at the rain slashing down outside the office windows. He didn’t disagree with the lad. Most of the so-called gentlemen scientists he’d met were more interested in talking about inventions than actually creating them.
Present company excluded.
He stole a glance at Ada. Face pale and drawn, she too stared out at the rain.
He curled his fingers into his palms, trying to quash the urge to soothe away the tension in her shoulders. After his performance this morning, he didn’t expect she’d have much further use for him.
Driving a wedge between them was the right thing to do. It would make their parting far easier, but damned if it didn’t leave him feeling empty as an old sock.
A gust of wind blew thick ropes of rain against the windows, filling the quiet room with an insistent, hammering sound. It had just gone noon, but the dark clouds blocked so much light it seemed more like dusk.
Meena unwound a thick scarf from around her neck. “Spencer did a masterful job convincing the president that it was their error in leaving Ada off of the speaker’s list.” She grinned at Ada. “As of this morning, you’re the featured speaker.”
Spencer dropped into the chair next to Nelly’s typing machine. “Speaking last’ll give us plenty of time to get into position and assess the crowd.”
Relief lit Ada’s brown eyes, but the effect didn’t last. That same shadow of sadness he’d so ruthlessly crafted closed back in far too quickly.
Edison drummed his fingers on the windowsill. He was a right bastard. Would be an even better one if he could teach himself not to care.
Briar came out from his workshop. “Looks like you’ve got enough smoke bombs and sleeping gas to storm Buckingham Palace.”
Edison folded his arms over his chest. “Can’t be too well prepared.”
Briar glanced at Ada, then rolled her eyes at him, as if he were unforgivably stupid. Which—when it came to Ada—he was.
He was just contemplating hiding in his works
hop when Nelly’s telegraph machine beeped to life.
Henry’s eyes grew wide as Nelly hurried over to her machine. “You have your own telegraph?”
“O’course we do.” She snorted and waved a hand at him. “It’s a Phelps Electro-motor. Best in the business.”
The whole crew crowded around the machine, now spitting out its printed message, but Nelly remained in charge. Once the printing stopped, she pulled the message from the machine.
“It’s from the Hapgoods.” She frowned down at the type. Reading was one of her newer skills. “All are well. Mrs. Fogle fine. Has taken to our Mr. H.”
Behind him, Ada chuckled. “I can only imagine. Your Mr. Hapgood's a handsome fellow,” she explained in response to Meena’s questioning look.
Briar covered her mouth and laughed. “He’s handy with his fists, but he’s no match for your grandmother.”
Ada shook her head. “I only hope she leaves him in one piece.”
A strange feeling—an emotion, really—made Edison’s pulse skitter. He turned his back to the group. Ada’s smile, short-lived as it was, tugged at his heart.
The punch to the gut came next. He’d no longer be the one earning those enchanting grins.
“What do ya figure I can do at this lecture?” Nelly asked.
Edison exchanged a look with the other adults. The girl was as quick-witted and loyal as any of them, but she was a tiny thing, and she’d only just begun working with Master Tadeoka.
He wasn’t convinced her fighting skills would up to the task, should things take an ugly turn.
“We need you to watch over Mrs. Templeton,” Meena said. “If our planning fails, you follow after her. No matter what.”
Nelly’s chin tilted up, and she gave Meena a serious look. “No matter what,” she repeated.
“I’m a good shot,” Henry interjected. “If I had a pistol, I could—”
“You ain’t gettin’ a gun,” Nelly said.
The boy glared at her. “Says you.”
“Says me, actually.” Spencer stepped in. “If you’re willing to follow directions to the letter, we’ll set your up with a couple smoke bombs.” He pinned Henry with a level gaze. “Disobey the slightest command and I’ll have your head.”