Echoes of Aether

by Gail B Williams

  Amethyst.

  Sometimes it seemed she was the only friend he had. Which was unfair to his other friends, but he craved her company more than any other, he craved more than her friendship. Yet, unlike too many of his contemporaries, he could not, would not travel that route. Marriage had robbed him of a great deal, but he would not allow it to rob him of the last thing he had, the knowledge that his word was his bond.

  His shackle.

    

  “Inspector Jenson to see you, Miss.”

  Amethyst smiled at Edwards, her butler, as she stood from where she was kneeling before her study desk. The room was full of light despite the walls being lined with full to bursting bookshelves. The sun poured in from the glass of the conservatory designed for cultivating plants but which now housed spare parts, strange inventions, and a few fire scars. Edwards offered a small respectful bow and melted away as the other man entered.

  “Inspector Jenson.”

  The older man wore a brown tweed suit, his middle-parted salt and pepper hair kinked where his bowler hat usually sat. His brown eyes crinkled as he returned her smile and took her outstretched hands. As she moved to offer him a kiss on the cheek, she caught the momentary horror in his eyes and froze.

  “Sorry.” She dropped his hands. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m not yet used to proper society.” Being an heiress had imprisoned her in conventions, half of which she didn’t know, let alone understand.

  “It is I who should apologise, Miss Forester. I was surprised a young lady would welcome such a greeting from an old man.”

  “I consider you a friend, and not old. Please, call me Amethyst.”

  His brows lowered a moment.

  “Oh dear, another faux pa?”

  “No.” He smiled, sweetly, gently. “Another surprise.”

  His hand moved to her upper arm as he bent to kiss her cheek. “Hello, Amethyst.”

  He flinched and straightened, swung around ready to face his attacker. Surprise coloured his expression as he looked down on a black-clad cane-wielding old lady.

  Amethyst grabbed his hand, pulled him back. “Great-Aunt Flora!”

  Flora looked over her wire rims, assessing the man. Her eyes might be old and faded, but she saw more clearly than most. She pinned the Inspector with a hard glare.

  “You’re old enough to know that is not the way to greet a maiden.”

  As calmly as she could, Amethyst said: “You’ve seen me greet friends this way hundreds of times.”

  The way Flora’s eyes shifted, slow and heavy, taking an inordinate amount of time before they came to rest on Amethyst, like a hammer on an anvil.

  “Well, it’s time to grow up and realise you’re an heiress now. There are plenty of men ‒” The way she looked Jenson up and down questioned his inclusion in that definition. “‒ who will seek to take advantage.”

  The weight of Flora’s gaze became unbearable, reminding Amethyst that she still held Jenson’s hand. In fear of the cane, she let it go.

  “Jenson, this is Lady Gordon, she’s staying with me. My self-appointed chaperone.”

  Flora snorted. “Less of the self-appointed, deary. Your mother asked me to look after you and it’s just as well.” Again she looked Jenson over, disapproval oozing from every pore.

  Amethyst concentrated on Jenson. “Lady Gordon is ‒”

  Apparently, Jenson needed a release from the same burden and looked to Amethyst. “Your Great-Aunt?”

  “Well, yes.” She smiled, braced for impact and turned to Flora. “Great-Aunt Flora, this is Detective Inspector Dean Jenson. He investigated Professor Richards’ murder and has become a good friend.”

  “Well, I hope you’re a better friend than you are a police officer.”

  Jenson reared, affronted. His jaw slackened, but he said nothing.

  “Great-Aunt Flora!”

  “Well,” the old lady turned with her usual thump-shuffle to one of the two wing-backed chairs by the fire. Amethyst never ceased to be amazed how Flora could be leaning on that cane like an old lady one minute and wielding it with the accuracy of an assassin the next. “You can’t tell me he’s a great officer, he hasn’t found out who killed the professor yet, has he?”

  “On the contrary,” Jenson said as he accepted Amethyst’s mute invitation to sit in the other chair, while she pulled a footstool beside him, to sit on herself. “I have discovered who killed the professor.”

  “Haven’t caught him though, have you?”

  Jenson swallowed. “No.”

  “Hmm.” Flora sat back with a smile that said she’d proven her point.

  Unnaturally stiff, Jenson watched Flora like a snake. Would she strike at him? It wasn’t an unreasonable question; that cane could strike with the power and venom of a cobra.

  “Don’t worry about Great-Aunt Flora, her bark is every bit as bad as her bite, and her cane is even worse, but her heart is in the right place.” Amethyst sighed and concentrated on her visitor.

  “What is that?” Jenson looked beyond her to the contraption she had been working on when he came in. “It looks like a weird machine with more nobs and bells than any machine needs, and a tin bowl.”

  Amethyst laughed at the surprisingly accurate description. “It is a Ronalds telegraph machine, I’ve attached it to an aetheric power cell, and the tin bowl as you call it, is a parabolic receiver dish it act‒” She cut herself off at the sound of Great-Aunt Flora’s tut.

  “Don’t go getting all technical deary,” the old lady said. “I’m sure that’s not why the Inspector called.”

  Deflated, Amethyst turned to Jenson. “Why did you call?”

  “I understand you came to the station to speak to me yesterday?”

  “Indeed.” She smiled. “I hoped you might be able to help me a little. You see, I have a friend… well, an acquaintance…” she looked at his earnest interest and realised she had to be completely honest. “There’s a woman I’ve met once, at the launch and got talking to. Her husband is missing and what she said has me intrigued, I hoped you could give me some pointers as to where to start.”

  “What do you have?”

  “A name and an interest in aetherics. After I missed you at the station, I went to the university, tried to speak to some of Professor Richard’s old colleagues.”

  “How did that go?”

  “Unpleasant and unhelpful. They wouldn’t even speak with me. However, I returned early this morning, and I spoke to one of the administrative staff. Stephen Russell has never been a student, but there is a record that he purchased a ticket for an open lecture about three years ago. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing if he even attended.”

  “What about asking the lecturer?”

  “It was Professor Richards.”

  He nodded his understanding, asking the dead anything tended towards the difficult end of the spectrum. The stiffness of that big moustache suggested he was thinking about something. “Did you see the attendee list? Were the names Brown or Quinn on it?”

  “I didn’t think to ask.” She hung her head, she should have. “I’m afraid my investigative skills aren’t that good.”

  His small rumble of a chuckle warmed her. “They aren’t bad either. Since we last met, I’ve continued investigating. Mr Quinn, the man introduced to you as Mr Brown, was working at the university. He started there about two and a half, three years ago, so may well have encountered the man you’re investigating, but there are no guarantees from what you’ve said. Mr Brown made a number of interesting connections which I’m still looking into.” He passed her over a small scrap of paper.

  The handwriting matched the man, neat and upright.

  “These are some of Mr Quinn’s contacts, the ones that we can’t locate. Seems they’ve all disappeared in some way or other.”

  “And here’s a matter of more interest,” Amethyst said reading the list. “The man I was asking after was Stephen Russell.” The fourth name on the list.

  “Oh!
” Jenson exclaimed, surprised to find a mid-sized black cat at his ankle. Especially one dragging plastered back legs and using its claws and a plaintive mewling to gain attention. He picked the creature up in one big hand and unhooked the claws from his trouser leg with the other hand. “A new addition to the house?”

  “Yes. This is Gladstone.” Amethyst ruffled the furry head as Jenson lay the cat on his lap. “She was run over, but we’ve patched her up.” The cat seemed content to curl up on Jenson’s lap. “You like cats?”

  “I don’t object to them.”

  Amethyst smiled at him, he was already absentmindedly stroking the cat behind the ears. “I’ll tell you if I discover anything more about Stephen Russell; though if you can’t find him, I don’t know what I’ll be able to do.”

  “You’re a fresh pair of eyes with a different approach, sometimes that’s enough.”

  She tipped up the list. “May I keep this?”

  Jenson smiled. “I hoped you would.”

  She rolled the paper up and in the absence of a pocket, slipped it into the heart neckline of her dress.

  “Ar-umm,” Jenson just about strangled off the cry as the cane bit his leg.

  “Eyes up, sir.”

  “Great-Aunt Flora!”

  The old woman looked at Amethyst. “I’ll behave if he does, deary.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Amethyst turned back to Jenson. He smiled a little uncertainly. She wasn’t sure what to say. Jenson saved her from having to worry.

  “So why are you attaching a telegraph machine to a parabolic bowl and an aetheric power cell?”

  Amethyst looked behind her and picked up the textbook, showing her visitor the tome. “Well, actually, it’s all to do with Stephen Russell. His wife told me that he was trying to transmit sound through aether. Now the telegraph system works on wires which restricted where they can go. The idea of this is to be able to go anywhere with no need for those wires. I’ve added a power cell for freedom of movement and the bowl is part of the receiver mechanism so the signal can be located and focused into an audible result.”

  He was frowning. “Does that work?”

  “Not yet.” Again, she laughed. “But it’s early days, I just wanted to try a few experiments. Edwina, Mrs Russell, said that an experiment exploded when Stephen Russell disappeared.”

  Now Jenson was still and frowning at her. “You’re trying to repeat an experiment that exploded?”

  She laughed. “No! I’m trying to understand the theory, the possibility. Experimentation is how we learn, well it’s how I learn. It was what led me to making prismatic glass.”

  “Well, be careful.”

  She smiled at the honest concern she heard. “That, Inspector, is an instruction I’ll be more than happy to obey.”

  “Hmm,” Great-Aunt Flora grumbled. “You can listen then?”

  Amethyst rolled her eyes. “I always listen to you, Great-Aunt Flora.”

  “Don’t always do what you’re told though do you, deary?”

  This time Amethyst offered her ageing relative a broad smile. “Well, where’s the fun in that?”

  With Great-Aunt Flora ready for a response, Amethyst was surprised it was Jenson who spoke next. “Did you enjoy the launch of the Sunriser?”

  This time Amethyst blinked in surprise. “How did you know I was there?”

  He smiled, that big bushy moustache curling up. “I was there too. I spotted you on one of the platforms. You looked like you were enjoying the experience.”

  “I was, it was a spectacular ship, don’t you think?”

  “I do, but was it the ship you were enjoying or the handsome young man who seemed so interested in you?”

  Heat crawled up her face. “Monty? Oh, I’m sure he wasn’t that interested.”

  “Monty?” Flora sat forward, her dark eyes intent, pinning Amethyst to the spot. “Who is Monty? How interested was he?”

  With a sigh, Amethyst turned to her great aunt. “Monty is Lord Montgomery, and he ‒”

  “Lord Montgomery?” Great-Aunt Flora demanded. “Is that the same Lord Montgomery, whose house party you’ve been invited to?”

  “Yes, it‒”

  “I’m not letting you go to any young man’s house unaccompanied if he’s interested in you.”

  “I’m not going alone. You’re coming with me.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Yes, I just said-”

  “No arguments now, young lady.”

  Amethyst opened her mouth to say that she wasn’t arguing but noticed Jenson struggling to control his mirth.

  “If I don’t go, you’re not going,” Great-Aunt Flora declared.

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  Then came the decisive humph Amethyst was getting used to, and Great-Aunt Flora sat back in her chair, content to have secured her own way.

  Amethyst turned to Jenson. “I’m looking forward to going, if only for the travel. Lord Montgomery has arranged a private charter airship to take us up to his estate. I’ve never flown before, and I’m genuinely rather excited.”

  “Well, rein that in.”

  Spotting Jenson’s twitch of a smile at Great-Aunt Flora’s grumble, Amethyst had to control her own. “Have you ever flown?” The conversation became more general, interrupted only by the occasional snore from the wing-back chair.

    

  The door opened and Jenson stepped out of number seven, bowler hat on head. Maker watched, hidden by the hedges of the Square. A shift to the right and there Amethyst stood at the door. Like a nail before a magnet, he felt the almost irresistible pull. He couldn’t risk giving way to such attraction.

  Jenson turned back, shook hands with Amethyst. Each smiling at the other. Bile rose in Maker’s throat, that a mere Detective Inspector could be so easy with the woman made his blood rage at his own restraints. Jenson paced down the steps and offered a small wave which Amethyst returned before closing the door.

  “Jenson.”

  Not the loudest shout, but it stopped the man in his tracks and once he saw Maker, he changed direction smoothly, checking before he walked in front of number seven, that Amethyst wasn’t at the window. Their greeting as Jenson stepped into the Square was polite and lacking in the distasteful undertones of too much civility. They fell into step to take the outer ring path.

  “Investigation?” Maker was trying to drop the ingrained habit of using one word at a time with friends. He must try harder with Jenson, he had no wish to offend.

  “Not as well as I would have hoped, but far from over. I have some interesting leads; the main ones seem to point to the Redland Academy‒”

  “Redland Academy?” Maker stopped and looked at the inspector. “They have been advertising for people with ‒ I think the advert refers to it as ‘the right stuff’?” He shuddered at the idea. Jenson stared at him a moment. Perhaps he’d said too much in one go. Was the other man judging him?

  “That’s the one.” Jenson’s tone gave no hint of his being perturbed by Maker’s verbosity. “They seem to be attracting some brilliant people to their ranks. Several of whom I want to talk to about Mr Quinn. Seems they are very select in who they allow in and once they get in, those selected are behind a ten-foot wall, on an enclosed estate. It’s a wall, moreover, that went up overnight about two years ago.”

  “Odd.” Maker agreed. And interesting.

  “Definitely something I will look into further. But I have other more immediate lines of enquiry at the moment. Actually, you might be able to help me with one. Do you know Lord Montgomery?”

  Hands clenched, he tried to answer in a neutral tone. “Indeed.”

  “In that case, would you mind if I asked you a few questions about him?”

  Chapter 4

  Amethyst’s stomach flip-flopped with too many emotions. Tension, excitement, nerves, uncertainty. The short distance from Belgravia to the private airship pylons in Regent’s Park had seemed three times as long. Great-Aunt Flora’s complaining
that nine in the morning was simply too early to be out in public had flowed with little interruption. It was Amethyst’s first house party and there was so much she didn’t even know, she didn’t even know how to ask about any of it. Montgomery’s attentiveness at the Sunriser’s launch, while flattering, left her uncertain of his intentions. Her bottom lip clamped between her teeth; had accepting the invitation been a mistake?

  When she had swung around to find the dashing Lord Montgomery behind her, her breath had caught, not only because he was far too close, but because he seemed more handsome than she remembered. His clear blue eyes looked at her like she was the only one there. Such attention left her uncertain how to behave, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself. He had insisted that she, indeed everyone, call him Monty. The familiarity felt uncomfortable, a little disrespectful. There had been intelligent conversation, but she wasn’t sure any of it was hers. She would almost say Monty had scrambled her brain, but the truth was the scrambling came from the weight of Maker’s emerald gaze on her.

  Almost as debilitating as the cold blue hate of Violet’s glare.

  Now, as they approached the designated docking area, she realized that the Makers had already arrived and that caused the now inevitable turmoil in her belly. Bobbie stood close by, which meant that Lady Garrington-Smythe would be here too. Then there was Lord Montgomery, Monty himself. Standing slightly away from his guests, he conversed with a distinguished gentleman in uniform. The dark green wool of the three-quarter length jacket bore the insignia of the Guild of Airship Officers. The three rings of gold about the cuffs told Amethyst this was their captain.

  At the edge of the crowd, Amethyst noticed Miss Denby, Flora’s lady’s maid. Denby had insisted on coming with the earlier car Monty had sent for the luggage, to ensure that no “northern heathen” mishandled her lady’s fine travel trunks. She had fully expected that the ship would be laden by now. Apparently, there was a surfeit of luggage and none could be left behind.