Echoes of Aether

by Gail B Williams

  “I urgh!” He folded like a stack of cards and fell to the floor, grabbing at his overdeveloped stomach as Maker pulled his fist back and stormed away.

  Chapter 11

  “You look bored.”

  Amethyst snapped closed the book she wasn’t reading. Gladstone opened one green eye in disgust at being woken. She looked up at Bobbie, who had spoken from the other side of the room. The men had gone about their sport, though she wasn’t entirely sure what sport that was. Jenson was examining Stephen’s workroom. Amethyst had very much wanted to help, and Jenson looked ready to accept, until Great-Aunt Flora said that she couldn’t let the two of them alone for any length of time and she’d have to come too. At that point Jenson, had demurred, saying he didn’t want too many bodies cluttering up the room, in case they made him miss something.

  She sat in the drawing room, thinking about what Jenson might be finding under all those dust sheets and unable to concentrate on anything else. The gathered women all sat quietly around the room, each engaged in their own pursuit. If this was what house parties were like – they were incredibly boring – except perhaps for the men. But then, society seemed built that way. Across from Amethyst, dressed in a relaxed day suit and brogues, Lady Roberta Davenport look the epitome of a well-dressed young man about town. It was an odd combination, but Amethyst was used to it.

  “Perhaps I am.”

  “Because you’ve perfected the prismatic glass, licensed it to Sandersons, sorted out the production and now have nothing left to do but allow yourself to earn more money?”

  The way Bobbie said it made it sound so easy. It hadn’t been. But she had a point. “Yes and no,” Amethyst said. “It’s as much because I’ve got things to do at home.”

  “You should try campaigning. You can plan that anywhere,” Bobbie pushed. “We need women like you to show the way.”

  “What way?” Edwina asked, but Amethyst was equally interested.

  “The way to enlightenment and equality,” Bobbie said, as though it were the most natural, obvious thing in the world.

  The huff came from Lady Garrington-Smythe. “Don’t start now Bobbie, this isn’t the time or place for political insurgence.”

  “A room full of intelligent women, free of the interruption of men, seems like the perfect time to talk female suffrage.”

  In a crescendo of rustling petticoats, Lady Garrington-Smythe got to her feet. “Let us all take a refreshing turn about the garden.”

  It didn’t look like anyone, not even Great-Aunt Flora, was going to get away from that declaration. The day was warm and bright with only the merest hint of a breeze, Lady Garrington-Smythe headed for the garden windows, which almost seemed to slide open of their own accord, the footman was so unobtrusive. So unobtrusive, in fact, that Amethyst had actually forgotten he was standing in the room ready to run at their request.

  There was an established order to such promenades. Lady Garrington-Smythe and Great-Aunt Flora, being eldest, married and of highest rank led the way. Violet, also married and of rank was next. Then Edwina, married but not titled, then Amethyst, unmarried and untitled at the rear. Bobbie should have been next to Violet, but everyone knew better than to force that pairing, so she walked with Amethyst as the six moved into the open square at the heart of the building. From there, it was just a short stroll to the gardens beyond.

  “Do you know anything about a New Jacobite Uprising?” Amethyst asked softly as they followed the others.

  “Only what I’ve read in the papers,” Bobbie clearly understood that this was a time for discretion. “Some people are saying that since Albert’s death, Queen Victoria is too detached from the country, that she’s hardly a Queen at all, just a drain on stretched resources.”

  “Stretch resources?” Amethyst scoffed. “The Empire has never been so wealthy. Why I’ve heard it said that the largest diamond in the world is on its way to our queen.”

  “I’ve heard the same, but I didn’t say I agree with the New Jacobites, I was simply recounting what they are saying. They claim that with her seclusion and the sprawl of the unwashed masses from the docks of the Thames, that she’s neither acting in the country’s best interest nor allowing Parliament to.”

  “Maker wouldn’t agree with that.” Since Maker sat in the House of Lords and took his position very seriously, she was fairly sure that he would defend the actions of their government.

  “Not talking politics back there are you?” Lady Garrington-Smythe asked as they came to a halt.

  “Of course not, Mother.” Bobbie, glanced at Amethyst with a smile.

  The fresher air out here felt liberating. The garden was beautifully laid out, though manicured within an inch of its life. The central promenade gave way to what looked like open pasture. When she’d looked out from her room last night, Amethyst had seen a curved line, and not knowing what it was, she’d asked Dickens. Dickens hadn’t known either, but while dressing her this morning, the lady’s maid had explained that it was a haha. Squeezing the urge for sarcasm as her lungs were squeezed by Dickens pulling the corset strings, Amethyst had learned a haha was a ‘sunken fence’: a ditch that wasn’t obvious to the person on the lawn, it was designed to keep livestock in the meadows not on the formal garden.

  “The perfect view.” The words were Violet’s and expelled with a loving sigh. Amethyst wondered if she was under the influence of something; such gentle manners were not like her. “We have something similar you know.”

  Amethyst frowned, the house in Belgravia had nothing like this.

  Bobbie leaned in to explain. “She means at the Fotheringham Estate in Northumbria. It’s beautiful up there, wilder than here, rugged and breath taking.”

  Amethyst tried not to think how that matched Maker, though rugged was not the way she saw him.

  Edwina smiled and placed a hand on the blonde lady’s arm. “Even when we were children, you always loved it here.”

  The idea surprised Amethyst for some reason. It had never occurred to her that Violet might have known Edwina and Monty in her youth. Which probably went to show how callow Amethyst was; they were all of noble birth and as they moved in similar circles now, they were likely to have inhabited those same overlapping circles as children.

  “And yet something’s missing,” Bobbie ruminated. “Like the air is insubstantial.”

  The small laugh escaped Amethyst and dragged attention to her. “You mean it doesn’t have the bite of London air?”

  “Exactly. It’s missing… something.”

  “Yes,” Amethyst agreed. “It’s missing the pollution. The fog. That god-awful stench that comes in off the Thames.”

  Her smile and Bobbie’s were broad, while the rest of the women were looking at them like they should be on the far side of the haha. Lady Garrington-Smythe turned and led the party away. Great-Aunt Flora shot Amethyst a look that promised retribution later. Amethyst and Bobbie hung back as the others moved off.

  “To be annoying about the Jacobite thing,” Amethyst whispered. “Historically, wasn’t that about getting the Stuarts back on the throne and didn’t that line, well, die out?”

  “Allegedly not, but I don’t know the details.”

  It was probably the distance that they had established which allowed Amethyst to spot the men returning from their sport first. The first thing she noticed was another strict line of order. Maker and Monty at the front, Lovesey behind. Of course, it was always possible that the taller gentlemen were just easily capable of out-striding the shorter, fatter man. It was Monty who looked up and waved, and though she returned the gesture, Amethyst was more taken with the green eyes that flashed up to her before the men diverted their course and strode towards the ladies.

  On seeing the trio approach, Lady Garrington-Smythe and Great-Aunt Flora stopped, bringing the party to a halt and giving Amethyst and Bobbie time to catch up. The greetings were formal, but friendly. Lady Garrington-Smythe explained that they had just been exploring the garden.

&nbs
p; “I trust you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not,” Monty said. “Have you explored the maze yet? Now the boxwood is fully established, it is most delightful, and Aphrodite awaits in the centre.” His look pinned Amethyst, whose cheeks burned, a heat that increased for all the wrong reasons when he went on. “For is the journey to love not a strange and confusing path?”

  Chapter 12

  A stroll around a garden shouldn’t leave anyone with as tense as Amethyst felt as they headed back towards the house. Hearing her name, Amethyst looked to see Edwina rushing towards her. The tight lines of the younger woman’s face seemed to relax as she moved away from Lovesey and her hand gripped Amethyst’s arm, like she’d found a lifeline. Amethyst tried to hide what a life line she found Edwina’s attention as she moved away from Monty to talk with his sister.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Edwina said as they walked together. “You mentioned experimenting with aether, trying to see if Stephen’s theories might actually work. And I was thinking, Stephen filled loads of notebooks with his work. They don’t mean anything to me. I was wondering if you wanted to look through them?”

    

  “Maker, what is wrong with you today?”

  The exasperated question left Amethyst’s lips adding to the rigidity of his stance. There was so much he wanted to say, to do. All of it taboo. He’d come to the library to escape the unpalatable company of Lovesey, who clung to Edwina and Monty like a bad smell. The things he had said about Bobbie and Amethyst still soured the taste in Maker’s mouth.

  Finding Amethyst already in the library had increased his determination to stay. After seeing the A-Class, and his following outburst, Lovesey had clearly recovered too quickly, while Maker berated himself since the other men said nothing.

  He had stood outside the barn, dragging calming fresh air into his lungs, searching for a serenity he was so far from feeling. A hand had clapped on his shoulder, bringing the tension straight back. Monty was at his side.

  “Ignore Lovesey,” The whisper was for Maker alone.

  A small twist of his head showed Lovesey was at the barn door, rubbing his stomach and looking daggers at Maker.

  “He’s a revolting pig.”

  “Edwina?”

  Monty shrugged. “He’s a wealthy pig, he’ll keep her in comfort and look after the boy, send Felix to the best schools.”

  The best schools were not always the best places, as both he and Montgomery had reason to recall.

  “About Bobbie. He’d never do what he says.”

  Maker had no real a concern there. Bobbie was many things, not the least of which were resourceful and quick. Lovesey wouldn’t survive long enough to hurt her. “No.”

  “Your Miss Forester though, she really is something.”

  She was, something he wanted more of.

  “Do you think she might be amenable?”

  Every fibre of his being had stretched to its limit at the idea of Amethyst being amenable to Monty. Bile growled and clenched in his stomach. He would have to find a way to keep Amethyst from Monty, but she was so head strong that if he said the wrong thing, he would be virtually launching her at the man. He’d had to walk away from the discussion. As they had headed back to the house after that and been hailed by the ladies. The walk in the garden, the following luncheon had been light and light-hearted, everyone acting like the best of friends. Yet he’d walked away more tense than ever.

  Amethyst and the other ladies had gone to take afternoon naps and Lovesey and Monty had headed out again. More time in their company was the last thing Maker needed, other than their ribald comments about him joining his wife.

  He had sought sanctuary in the library and been surprised to find Amethyst already here, reading. He hadn’t spoken, just moved to browsing the shelves. Concentration was impossible. His heart hammered in his ears, he felt that undeniable pull that he had to deny. Her words broke his resistance. Her ire was audible, but it was Amethyst and the least he could do was look at her. He had to. He wanted to. Turning, he found her sitting on the wide couch, the book held on her lap as she frowned up at him. The book went to the cushions at her side as she stood. He hadn’t consciously moved, but Maker was just a step in front of her.

  “Monty.” It was a harsh whisper, a tone he shouldn’t use against her, but his annoyance was not dissipating as it should.

  “What about him?”

  “Touching you.”

  The near snarl made his feelings evident. She understood him probably better than anyone else. Did she understand how much he wanted her? The pulse in her throat jumped. Was she afraid of him or was it possible that she too felt some touch of this need?

  Her perfect brows pulled together. “Do you mean when he was showing us around the maze?”

  “Yes.”

  “He only put his hand in the middle of my back for guidance.”

  “Guidance?” Was that what she called it?

  Without thinking, he put his hand in the middle of her back, guiding her toward him. She offered no resistance. Suddenly they were standing close, closer than when dancing. Her left hand went to his waist, her right smoothed up his chest. Could she feel how his heart beat a tattoo just for her? Her head tipped to keep eye contact. Eyes dark, full of the desire he longed to see. Her own lids seemed heavy and her lips parted, breathing seemed as difficult for her as it was for him.

  He filled his arms with her, held her tight, pressed her against him. His head dipped, and his lips pressed that much-wanted press against hers. Her groan was pleasure and surrender. For a heartbeat, he pulled away, he had to give her the chance to say no, only her hand at his waist tightened, holding him close. He was kissing her again. Hungry and urgent, his tongue quested against her luscious lips, he felt ‒

  The thwack of Great-Aunt Flora’s cane against his back. It reverberated, clashing their teeth.

    

  The binding of his arms around her disappeared, he stepped back and she was frozen without his warmth. Her knees had no substance and Amethyst sat down hard on the sofa. A glance up and all she saw was Maker’s retreating back. Then Great-Aunt Flora’s glare.

  “Ah, Amethyst, there you are. Lady Gordon.” Jenson entered the library and offered the older woman a small bow in respect. He was slightly dusty, particularly about the knees, but looked fresh enough.

  “Call me Great-Aunt Flora, everyone I like does.”

  Every major joint in Amethyst’s body slackened. “You don’t even expect Maker to call you that.”

  “Well, three words is rather too taxing for that…” She looked heavenward for inspiration. “Man.”

  Jenson looked between the two of them. His curious glance showed he understood that he’d missed something, but he was too polite to ask. Thankfully.

  “He certainly is a man of few words,” Jenson agreed as Great-Aunt Flora did her impressive and doubtless unnecessary thump-shuffle to another chair. “Yet still, the ‘man’ in question is definitely one of life’s good fellows.”

  He was good enough to get Amethyst’s heart thumping. She wished she understood that better, but she was terrified of asking Flora. Where was Sapphire when she needed her? Perhaps Bobbie...?

  Jenson moved to the open seat on the sofa, and taking up her book, he sat beside her. The presence of such a stable man helped calm her nerves. She would have to think about what had happened with Maker, what might have happened if Great-Aunt Flora hadn’t interrupted. At some point she was going to have to work out how she would conduct their future aff‒ their future relationship; what kind of future or relationship she could possibly have with a married man was entirely too questionable to think about now. Instead, she could depend on Jenson to keep her grounded and sensible.

  “How goes your investigation?”

  He shrugged. “Do you know a James Peterson?”

  Denying the acquaintance was her only option since she didn’t recognise the name.

  He turned the book over in his ha
nd. “What is this?”

  “It’s one of Stephen’s early notebooks about the transmission of sound through aether. It’s fascinating. From what I’ve read so far, he tried some very similar experiments to those I attempted, and with similar results.”

  “You mean they failed for him too?”

  “Basically,” Amethyst agreed with a smile. “I’m just getting to the part when he’s moving on and trying different things. I think he –”

  “We missed you at lunch.”

  Amethyst gathered by Great-Aunt Flora’s comment that she was getting too technical again. She also had to acknowledge that, surprisingly, she had missed Jenson too. As pleasant a time as she’d had, she had been aware of his absence.

  “I was brought lunch in the workroom, and I was still looking through everything. It was not a wasted time.”

  “No?” Fascinated by the potential source of interest, she moved closer to the inspector, focusing on him intently. “What did you find?”

  “More notebooks like this,” he said. “They’re all in code.” He flicked through the pages and selected a large chunk of code. “Like this. Aetheric annotation.”

  Amethyst nodded. Jenson hadn’t had the benefit of a scientific education, but he was far from stupid. It was one of his most admirable qualities. “Would you like me to have a look at them?”

  “I was hoping that you might. Yes, please.”

  “Not today,” Great-Aunt Flora commanded.

  That made no sense, and Amethyst frowned over to the older woman in black. “Why not?”

  Great-Aunt Flora raised a finger and a small gong sounded around the house.

  Amethyst turned to Jenson, who shrugged.

  “That’s the first dinner gong.” Great-Aunt Flora got carefully to her feet, and with a flap of her hand, indicated that Amethyst should stand too. As the young woman and Jenson stood up, Great-Aunt Flora looked the man up and down. “We’re expected to dress for dinner.”