The bed was so soft when she placed Gladstone on it the cat struggled to stand with her bandaged back legs. Amethyst ruffled her furry head. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the bandages off tomorrow, you should be fine by then.” Then she moved over to the dressing table and sat to let Dickens deal with the various knots the wind had tied in her hair as they’d wandered around the airship.
It still seemed odd to sit idly while someone else brushed her hair. Though in fairness, Dickens dealt much more gently with knots than she did herself. It seemed like only moments before her hair shone in untangled glory. Dickens started to section it.
“Not up,” Amethyst decided. “I’ve had enough of pins digging into my head.”
The maid’s reflection showed Amethyst her disapproval. One of the benefits of being a woman of independent means, was being able to make at least some decisions for herself.
“Alright, but only a plait.”
Amethyst saw Violet disappear through a doorway and heard her greet Lady Garrington-Smythe. The courteous response was too chillingly civil to be considered welcoming. Violet’s persistence marked her respect for Eugenie. Eugenie’s acceptance demonstrated her respect for Maker. Would respect be enough to get them all through the next two weeks? Amethyst would have to hold back her own honest feelings for Lady Violet. Out of respect for Maker, if nothing else.
With a steadying breath, she stepped into the sitting room, offering cordial greetings, and noticing immediately that the seating arrangements were a total minefield. As the only untitled woman in the room, she wasn’t sure where to go, then she was stopped by the sight of the woman she had met at her launch.
“Miss Amethyst Forester,” Bobbie supplied the introduction. “Mrs Edwina Russell.”
“It’s nice to meet you again.”
In exchange for the greeting, Amethyst offered the pale-skinned, black-clad woman a small curtsy. As the only other woman without a title Amethyst felt safe enough to sit beside Mrs Russell.
The usual pleasantries were observed; small talk stayed very small, tea was served and the chatter politely meandered. And all the time Amethyst was thinking about the fourth name on a list of five and wondering how she dare move the conversation in such a direction that inviting Jenson to the estate seemed a natural conclusion.
“No, I couldn’t. I can’t leave Stephen.”
Amethyst focused on Edwina, if she couldn’t leave him, that meant he was here. “Has Stephen been found?”
“Unfortunately not.” Edwina forced a smile. “I can’t believe he’s not home with me. Sometimes it feels like he is.”
“It can’t be easy for you.” Amethyst knew how difficult it was to lose someone you loved. “You said he was experimenting last time you saw him; do you know what the experiment was?”
Edwina’s thin shoulders lifted, slumping in defeat. “He had this idea about being able to speak to people anywhere in the world using aether. It never worked.”
It was an odd idea, but stranger things had happened. Aether provided power, but unlike coal or wind power, Aether didn’t drive turbines, it emitted particles that charged wires and excited gases, in much the same way that static would, though aether was more readily controlled than a shock or a lightning bolt. The benefit over current electrical methods was the mobility of an aetheric power cell. Amethyst had studied aetheric theory under Professor Richards, but even he admitted it wasn’t quite as simple as people thought, and she had long held the opinion that more could be done with the substance than just the flow of energy. There were still so many things that she didn’t understand, about aether and about Stephen, those questions must be written on her forehead the way she was frowning.
“Monty keeps saying that Stephen must be dead. There’s only one door, we saw, I saw Stephen going into the workroom, but no one saw him coming out, and after the explosion, Monty and I were there within seconds. Stephen’s not been seen since, but he wouldn’t leave Felix all this time.”
“Felix?”
“Our son.” That raised an indulgent smile, but it didn’t last long. “Stephen wouldn’t leave him.”
“So, Lord Montgomery was your husband’s patron?”
Now Edwina looked as confused as Amethyst had been earlier.
“Hardly. Monty is my brother.”
Surprise softened Amethyst’s expression because she didn’t have the focus to know what emotion she should express. “Oh, you were at the launch as his guest?”
“Didn’t you know?” Violet said, over her porcelain teacup. “You’re the only one here without noble blood.”
In the chilling silence, Lady Garrington-Smythe placed her cup carefully on its saucer. “There is more to nobility than blood.”
Chapter 7
After the uncomfortable tea, Amethyst had returned to her room to rest, but it was a limited coping strategy. As she returned downstairs, she could hear tears and raised voices. She didn’t know what caused either, but she recognised the sound of another woman in distress and was instinctively drawn closer. The voices came from the second room on the right.
“For heaven’s sake, Edwina.”
Lord Montgomery’s voice.
“Stephen is dead, move on.”
The sob had to be Edwina. “How can I?”
“It’s been eighteen months. Little Felix needs a father and Robert is prepared to take him on as well as you. You won’t find many men so accommodating.”
“I don’t want many men. I don’t want any man. Just my dear Stephen.”
“Edwina.” It sounded like Monty was trying to be reasonable, but it also sounded like he was running out of patience. “Stephen was a good man. I liked him, you know that. But he’s gone, and I told Mrs Oxbridge to keep this door locked for a reason.”
Mrs Oxbridge was the housekeeper, and as formidable as any of that breed.
“Yes! To keep me out. It was cruel of you Monty, very cruel.”
Amethyst opened the door and stepped in. “Excuse me for intruding.” She found herself in a wood-panelled room with dust covers over everything. “I could hear you outside.”
Monty was standing over the crying woman, his hands in his pockets. “Miss Forester. Thank God. You’re an intelligent woman; perhaps you can talk some sense into her.” Pointing to his sister, Monty left the two of them, closing the door heavily behind him.
Edwina sat on the wide window seat, so Amethyst moved over to join her. “If being here upsets you so,” she tried to reason, “perhaps we should leave?”
“No, I like to be in here. Monty tries to keep it locked, keep me out, but this is where I want to be. Oh, I’m sure Monty would like to see the back of me, marry me off so I’m not his responsibility. You must know yourself the pressure put on every woman to marry, as if our only purpose in life is to be wife and mother.”
Amethyst did, though in fairness her inheritance had lifted much of that burden.
“Only I can’t leave this place,” Edwina continued. “It’s my home. And this room… especially this room. I can’t leave here.”
Amethyst patted her hand. “I wasn’t suggesting that you leave the house, I just thought you might be more comfortable in a different room.”
Edwina shook her head. “No. Thank you, but no. This is the place I feel closest to him. Like Stephen is still with me when I’m here.”
Amethyst looked around the room. Even covered in dust sheets, she knew a workroom when she saw one.
“Is this where it happened? Where the experiment went wrong?”
Now Edwina nodded, and wiped her eyes. “This was the last place he was seen, where the explosion happened, and no one’s seen him since. Everyone says he’s dead. But he’s not. I know he’s not.”
Keeping the memory alive was one thing, but clinging on to a lost hope was a road to trouble. Amethyst started to worry that Edwina might be spending too much time in the past, and losing her grip on reality. “How do you know that?”
“Because he
hasn’t passed over.” She ran her hand down the wood on the wall, the edge of the open shuttering. “He’s still here. I know he is. I still feel him here.”
Not sure what to say for a moment, Amethyst said nothing. “Do you mean that you think his spirit is still here?”
“No. Yes.” Edwina sighed as her hand dropped to her lap and her head hung. “It’s impossible to explain.”
“Don’t worry,” Amethyst assured. “I’m willing to listen, I’ll not judge.” She probably would, but she’d keep her judgement to herself. Edwina wasn’t ready to speak. “If it helps, I’ve been trying a few sound experiments with aetherics.”
“Oh, do be careful!” Finally, Edwina looked up at her. “I don’t want to frighten you, but you have to be careful. There is no evidence that Stephen died that day. But Stephen wouldn’t leave me. He wouldn’t. I love my brother, Miss Forester, really, I do, but Monty just doesn’t understand. I need to see evidence that my beloved husband is dead, or I won’t be able to believe it. Yet no one believes me.”
“I believe you,” Amethyst said. “And I think I know another man who might not only believe you, but be able to find the evidence you need one way or the other.”
Monty was pacing about the library, his hair in disarray.
“Erm, excuse me, Monty.”
He stopped to focus on her, his handsome features marked with concern. “Amethyst.”
“I was thinking about Edwina’s situation.”
He frowned. “Her situation would be greatly improved if she’d just agree to move on.”
“She’s upset.” It was time to find out if feminine wiles were all others said they could be. Assuming she had some. Amethyst stepped closer to the tall lord, batted her eyes a little. “You know what we ladies are like. She just needs to be sure. I know someone who can help.”
“I don’t want some charlatan ‒”
“How about a Detective Inspector? From Scotland Yard. He’ll look into the accident and maybe even prove what actually happened. It may well help settle Edwina’s mind.” Apparently, the mix of little-girl-lost and logic was working. She offered a small smile, a coquettish smile. “Please, for me if not for her.”
The sense of self-disgust at her behaviour grew worse the way Monty’s face broke into a smile as he agreed.
As much as she hated herself, she had to keep up the act. Her hand went lightly to his forearm. “Thank you.”
Chapter 8
A telegram had arrived the previous evening to say that Detective Inspector Jenson would be taking the overnight train from London to Edinburgh, and would reach Sharnwick, the nearest station, around a quarter to eight the following morning.
This morning.
Amethyst had slept better knowing Jenson was on his way, and been awake early in anticipation of seeing him.
“I can’t believe how many people are up at this ungodly hour.” The grumble barely filled the carriage Lord Montgomery had loaned them to pick up the detective.
“Well, the world couldn’t cope if everyone lay abed till ten each morn.” Amethyst smiled as she turned to her Great-Aunt Flora, who was also wrapped up, a thick plaid blanket over her knees. “You didn’t have to come, you know.”
She got pinned with a hard glare.
“You’re meeting a strange man in the early hours, if I let you go alone, it would not be proper.”
Amethyst was rapidly discovering that ‘proper’ was terribly restrictive and boring. Thankfully, she knew better than to voice such an opinion to her Great-Aunt. “Please remember, Jenson’s not a strange man, he’s a friend. And I’d really rather you didn’t hit him so often with your stick.”
“I only do it with reason.”
“And unreasonable force,” she muttered, looking out at the train station.
“What was that?”
Forcing a smile onto her face, and into her voice, Amethyst spoke more clearly. “Nothing, Great-Aunt Flora. Oh look, the train’s approaching. I’ll just nip onto the platform. I’ll be in full sight all the while.” She was moving before she’d finished speaking, before Flora had the chance to stop her.
She turned to the station and realised her mistake. The carriage had warmed up on the journey, but outside the cold was biting, robbing her of her breath. Standing at the open end of the platform, the station master eyed her as if she were about to try jumping on a train without a ticket, even as he signalled the train to its halt. Though the locomotive stopped moving forward, the smoke from its funnel and brakes didn’t, and Amethyst found herself enveloped in oily smelling smoke much like the fogs of London when you didn’t dare set foot out of the house for fear of not being able to see what was right in front of you. The smoke hissed and clawed at her throat, smote her eyes. She blinked to avoid tears and only dared squint until the bellows dissipated. Even as they did, she saw the shadows of men appearing. Things weren’t clear, but she realised Jenson couldn’t be the only one alighting from the train; she could see at least three figures. She assumed two to be Jenson and Monty’s man, the other a local.
“Hey, you!” Clipped Etonian tones cut sharp across the morning. The porter headed towards the voice and staccato orders were shot out.
Not recognising the voice, Amethyst concentrated on the two figures coming towards her. Out of the smoke, in his familiar bowler hat and wearing a long great coat, Jenson carried a case in one hand. Behind him, a man Amethyst now recognised as one of Monty’s footmen, carried two. The smoke started to clear as the engine pulled away, and as eager as Amethyst was to see Jenson, she didn’t dare move towards him, for fear of Great-Aunt Flora’s wrath, and the result on Jenson’s shins. While she wasn’t prepared to be totally boxed in by convention, she couldn’t afford to break too many rules.
Jenson stopped in front of her. That magnificent moustache took a cheeky moment to offer a smile, before Jenson caught himself and returned to his neutral gaze. “Good morning, Miss Forester.”
A wide grin spread across her face at the greeting. It did feel like a good morning now he was here; his presence was reassuring. “Good morning Mr Jenson, thank you for coming up at short notice.”
“May I take your bag, sir?”
A frown flickered across Jenson’s forehead before he offered up the item. The man took it and headed to the carriage. Alone, Jenson seemed to move a little closer.
“Thank you for inviting me up.”
“You’re‒”
“Oh good, Monty sent a carriage.” The big voice and the big man that went with it nearly knocked Amethyst off her feet as he marched through the gap in the fence off the platform.
He barrelled up, looking at the footman who had already secured Jenson’s bag.
“Well, open the door, boy. This is here for me.”
“No, it’s not.”
The man turned at Amethyst’s snap and looked her up and down, his lip curling in disgust. “This has nothing to do with an urchin like you.”
“Urch‒”
Jenson’s hand on her arm stopped her in her tracks. “Sir, I don’t know who you think you are‒”
“I am Robert Lovesey, the fiancé of Lord Montgomery’s sister.” He turned, opened the door himself and tried to get into the carriage, only to be repelled by the sharp end of a well-directed cane.
Great-Aunt Flora’s head popped forward in the carriage. Strong, annoyed eyes appeared out from the gloom.
“I am Lady Sinclair MacGregor Gordon.” Nothing much about Great-Aunt Flora was weak, and certainly not her voice. “And you are a very rude man. Note that I say ‘man’. You are not worthy of being considered a gentleman. And I know for a fact that you are also a liar.”
“I am not!”
“You claimed to be Edwina’s fiancé,” Amethyst said.
“We know Edwina is not engaged. We know that this carriage is here for my niece and Mr Jenson there. So, you can make whatever arrangements you need to, this carriage is not for you.” With one large shove, she had
Mr Robert Lovesey stumbling back.
The look Great-Aunt Flora gave Amethyst was clear - waste no time. Jenson’s hand pressed into her back and Amethyst stepped forward, taking Jenson’s help to step up into the carriage. After a moment, he bounded up beside her. As soon as the door closed, Amethyst sighed.
“Stop!” It was said with a sigh of regret, Amethyst’s slumping beneath her coat. “I’ll just feel guilty if we leave that man here. However obnoxious he is.”
Chapter 9
The horses clopped and crunched to bring the coach to a gentle, jostling stop in front of the main entrance. There was nothing gentle about the way Amethyst was feeling about Lovesey though. He was an arrogant bore. She had no idea what Monty thought he was doing matching this blocky, tactless man with the delicate, sensitive Edwina. It wasn’t her place to interfere, but if she got the opportunity…
A man in livery stepped from the house and opened the coach door, folding out the step. Since they were on that side Jenson stepped out first, but before he could turn, Lovesey was straight out, shouting over his shoulder to the man he’d brought with him, who had had to join the other footmen on the outside of the coach. In the wake of the vulgar individual, Jenson turned to offer assistance to Great-Aunt Flora. Assistance that was gratefully accepted, though Amethyst heard a warning mutter, for all she couldn’t hear the words.
“Big place,” Jenson observed as they paused by the edge of the carriage, Amethyst shaking out her dress after its journey.
She looked at him, then at the grey granite building in which they would be guests. It was all functional squareness, small, dark windows, and battlements frowning down on them. “Foreboding too,” Amethyst agreed. Looking back at him, at his own set features and grey hair, she smiled and took his arm. “Don’t worry, the people inside are much more welcoming than that ignorant brute.” She moved closer, and added softly, “Well, most of them.”
Echoes of Aether Page 4