The Heartreader's Secret

by Kate McinTyre

  But he was no longer horrified that it had taken him so long to provide help to the doctor. This man, with ink-stained fingers, small golden spectacles, and a grease-and-ink stained apron… he looked happy. Comfortable in his skin. He’d recover. He’d thrive.

  The good doctor moved to Chris, clasping his hands tightly. When Chris looked up, he was surprised and embarrassed to see Livingstone’s eyes watering with tears.

  “Mister Buckley,” he said, voice overflowing with honey-thick emotion. “I truly don’t feel as if I gave you the thanks you deserved the day I was released from prison. Without your assistance, not only would I be long dead, but there might never be a chance at justice for the Floating Castle.”

  “I didn’t…” Chris said, faintly. He hadn’t, not really. William had risked everything. William had taken the stand. William had exposed himself and Tarland’s best kept secret. William….

  “I know that you did,” the good doctor protested, tightening his grip on Chris’s forearms. “Miss Banks has quite thoroughly filled me in on all of the details.”

  Chris doubted that Emilia’s version of events was entirely without bias—in fact, he didn’t think she even knew all of the specifics of what had happened, not to mention the devil’s bargain Chris had made to help Livingstone in the first place. But he forced himself to swallow all of that down and nod firmly. “I didn’t want to see a good man die,” he said.

  “And,” Olivia put in, with a little smile playing on her lips, “he loves watching good, civilized society go up in flames.”

  Which made the doctor turn his attention to her. He approached her with as much open fondness as he had with Chris, clasping her hands in the same way. Olivia looked acutely uncomfortable. “Miss Faraday,” he said. “You’ve given me this peaceful place to work and heal.”

  “Oh, sod. I insist that you stop that,” Olivia whined, squirming out of his grasp and dancing a few steps away. Her skirts swirled. “My mother wants to leave her mark on the world, that’s all. Please, do not rain kisses upon the bloody messenger.”

  The doctor would not be deterred. “Nonsense. Missus Faraday makes it quite clear that the entire thing was your idea.”

  Olivia winced. “I assure you, she is mistaken! Imagine!”

  “Miss Faraday,” Livingstone insisted, meeting her eyes in a pointed way that Chris knew she’d just hate. He hid a smile behind one hand. “I realize it can be hard to accept thanks or take credit for your own goodness, but it’s incredibly important to me that you understand just how—”

  Chris saw the moment Olivia snapped. It was her eyes, bugging out and then seeking him helplessly. Her delicate blonde brows pulled down when she saw his amusement. “All right!” she declared, taking a full step back and holding her hands up. “That is quite enough of that, now! I’m here for a reason, Doctor, and it is certainly not to subject myself to this sort of nonsense! Tell me about Emilia!”

  “I…” Livingtone’s brow furrowed. “I assumed that you were home for the Harvest Festival. To visit with your mother.”

  Olivia’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Gods. No. Certainly not.”

  “You’re here for Miss Banks, then?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid that your timing is abysmal, then, Miss Faraday. She left in some hurry about a week ago, now. Off to visit family on the North coast, or so she said. She was in quite a hurry when she bade me farewell. Some sort of emergency?”

  Olivia’s lips pursed. Chris could practically see gears turning in her head just before her manner abruptly changed. She smiled and rolled her eyes and reached up to brush hair behind her ear. “Oh, of course,” she said. “I mean to say, where is Em’s laboratory? She mirrored me and wants me to… um, that is, to bring some of her materials back to….”

  Livingstone was looking at her flatly. Olivia sighed, shrugged, and settled back into a more normal posture. “You see, Christopher?” she asked, voice dripping vinegar. “Maris is absolutely full of it. How I am supposed to work amongst people I already know? There’s no finessing possible.”

  Chris let his eyes dart between the doctor and his employer. “Ah….”

  “I see no reason not to inform you, at least, that something is afoot, Doctor,” Olivia cut him off before he could express concerns. “After all, you’ve already made it clear that you consider yourself in our debt, logic be damned. Regardless, if you were in the market to make trouble for us, you’d already be flush with opportunity for it, wouldn’t you, set up here as you are?”

  She actually paused as if waiting for an answer.

  “Surely you know I haven’t a clue what’s happening,” Livingstone said, shaking his head.

  “Quite right,” Olivia agreed, amiable in the extreme. “Please, Doctor, couldn’t you just show us to Em’s lab?”

  The good doctor looked at them both and then sighed. “Well,” he said. “I should have immediately expected an interruption of my enjoyable country life when I heard the two of you had arrived.” He turned to his nephew, who’d been huddled in the corner, making himself invisible. “Arthur, lad, do you mind seeing to my photographs while I lend my aid to Miss Faraday and Mister Buckley?”

  “Ah, I—yes, of course, Uncle Francis.” Arthur Norwood didn’t so much nod as bow at the waist as they left the room.

  “Now,” the good doctor said, once they’d left the stacks and cascades of photographs behind them and the door was firmly closed, “what the blazes is this about, exactly?”

  Olivia followed him down the hall; Chris followed Olivia. Her skirts snapped around her ankles. “Would you believe us,” she said, “if we don’t know exactly? There have just been some… concerns that something might be not all on the level with Em’s situation.”

  “Ah,” the doctor said delicately, leading them up a narrow, steep flight of stairs that seemed to climb far higher than the building had appeared from outside. “I take it something has alerted Officer Dawson, then?”

  “Not much gets past you, does it, Doctor?” Olivia asked archly, hitching her skirts to make it up the stairs. Chris would never stop bearing witness to her bloomers, it seemed. He averted his eyes.

  The doctor chuckled, bringing Chris back to the staircase. “I am a truthsniffer too, you know,” he said. Chris let himself enjoy the warm tones of his voice, honey and molasses. It was comforting in the way chocolates at Solstice were. “I could never have held my own against the sort of debates I made my life’s work at Lowry without that qualification, at least.”

  Olivia huffed. “Why a decent truthsniffer would ever go into science when there’s a world of investigation out there, I shall never know!” she pronounced. And then, in a less staged tone, “And yes, of course, obviously, Maris was involved. Em sent her a note telling her not to worry. And naturally, she immediately set about tearing her hair out from the roots.”

  “Then it’s altogether possible that Miss Banks is simply visiting her parents in the far north, after all,” Livingstone mused.

  “Oh,” Olivia said, amused as though there was a joke only she was privy to. “I find that highly unlikely.”

  The good doctor pushed aside a small door and ushered them into what had to be the guest house’s attic. Or, what had once been an attic. Now it would never be mistaken for anything but a laboratory.

  Not a lab from a novel illustration, with beakers and tubing and boiler plates glowing with salamander light, but a true engineer’s sanctum. It looked like someone had gutted half the machinery in Darrington and left the pieces strewn about, and it smelled like grease, lubricant, and old, burnt soil. There was no apparent logic to the organization, and so he had no context clues with which to understand what that massive clawed contraption with springs and screws did, or whether the blackened T-shaped copper pipe was a tool or a component, or why there appeared to be a great pile of dirt clods in one corner, stacked up below the one window, which was open to let air in and out. Chris couldn’t imagine how strong the aroma might be without that precaution.

&nb
sp; With such chaos, he shouldn’t have immediately zeroed in on what was missing, but he couldn’t help it. Because, once again, he couldn’t find a single thing in the lab that glowed with spiritlight.

  “Well,” Olivia said, setting her hands on her hips. “Is it supposed to look like this, or was there a sylph-related accident in here?”

  The question was clearly rhetorical. So they were both shocked when Livingstone answered.

  “It’s strange, isn’t it? Miss Banks is one of the only engineers I’ve ever met who keeps a neat and organized workspace, and yet look at the state she left this place in.”

  “Huh.” Olivia glided into the centre of the room, skirts hitched up so as not to become smeared with grease from the floor. She gazed around the room, turning in a slow circle. “Really. That’s… very odd, isn’t it just? Hm. I suppose she quite ransacked it right before she left, then? How very curious.”

  “You would think,” the doctor said but shook his head. “No, in fact. It’s been in this state for weeks, now. In truth, she seemed to mostly sit there,” he indicated a rolling chair with his chin, “and stare out the window, lost in thought.” He shook his head. “She was behind schedule on the hydroelectric heating prototype, but when we spoke, she always seemed very eager, energetic. Had a fire glowing in her eyes that came from the belly.” He laughed fondly, then sobered. “I’d never seen her so excited about her work… or so disinterested in any of it.”

  Olivia took a few steps and then ran a finger over the miniature replica of the hydroelectric heating boiler she and Chris had been drafted to help run at her Darrington lab a week or more ago. “The last I saw her,” she said, “she was working on this particular project.”

  “Indeed.” The doctor stepped closer to her. He surveyed the model of the heating system from over Olivia’s shoulder. “My plans for how to target the demo for most public impact were coming together. That was the nature of our partnership. Her brilliance and my connections. But…” He shook his head. “In the past few weeks, she began putting off my requests for meetings. I’ve worked with Miss Banks long enough to know that something had her clockwork little mind whirring, and yet….”

  “You didn’t think it suspicious?” Olivia glanced at the doctor over her shoulder.

  “Not at all. I thought it eccentric, which Miss Banks most certainly is. But I’ve worked with eccentrics for much of my life. Engineers are like that, you know.”

  Olivia hummed. She raised her hand, now covered with grease, and made a face. Chris hurried to her side to offer her a handkerchief, which she accepted without comment and wiped her fingers carefully on. “I suppose,” she said, all thoughtful drawn out vowels. “But… hm. As far as the scientific type goes, I’ve always found Em to be eminently… put together.”

  “I felt the same way,” Livingstone admitted. “For what it’s worth, she’s also seemed quite tired. Especially in the mornings. Dark circles under her eyes. Ah, that is…” he flushed slightly, “darker circles, I suppose. And she’s been drinking her weight’s worth of coffee. Still, it never seemed to blunt her passion. That fire burned brighter in her every day.”

  Olivia continued to wipe her hands, frowning down at her handkerchief. “Interesting. Hm. Do you remember that day, Christopher? She mentioned another project, didn’t she? I seem to recall that much. She said it was eating up her time. Something even more important than the heating system.”

  “I…” Chris shrugged helplessly. All he really recalled from that day was Olivia being blasted with water and then giving him those lovely cufflinks. “I’m afraid I don’t recall, Olivia.”

  Livingstone folded his arms and looked around the room, brow furrowed curiously. “Miss Banks certainly didn’t mention any other projects to me. We were entirely focused on the heating system. As I said… there was a deadline in place. Coming up very soon. It’s a very important project!”

  “Are you sure you aren’t just misremembering?” Chris offered to Olivia.

  “No, I’m most certainly not!” Olivia turned and tossed the hankie back into his face, grease stains and all. While he was sputtering, she pointed a long finger at him. “Don’t you have this written down? Get out your notebook!”

  “We weren’t on a case. I don’t transcribe your every day conversations, Olivia!” He tucked the handkerchief, grease folded inwards, back into his breast pocket.

  “Bah. You should start.” Olivia shook her head and looked around at the contents of the lab. “What nonsense. I could swear….”

  Chris followed her gaze around the room, but nothing stuck out at him. Hells, he could barely even tell what he was looking at. He thought of Miss Banks’s letter to Maris. “Olivia… have we considered the possibility that it’s really all as simple as it seems? That a family emergency called Emilia north, and she didn’t want to worry Maris with the details?”

  Olivia snorted and shook her head. “No,” she said. “That’s quite impossible. She doubtless believed no one from Darrington would come here to peer too closely, or she’d never have told such an obvious lie. You see, all of her living and non-estranged family are south. And I do mean quite south.”

  “… Vernella?” Chris asked, thinking as far south as he could imagine. Surely, something about Miss Banks’s accent had always seemed slightly different, and….

  But Olivia was laughing outright. “No, Christopher,” she said. “The Southern Continent.”

  The Savage Continent? Chris took a full step back and felt his eyes widening to pop out of his head.

  “Yes, quite,” Olivia said, and then laughed. “And I hope you feel really quite silly about stray comments you’ve made over the months about our dear friend’s homeland.”

  “Egad!” the doctor gasped.

  “Mother Deorywnn!” Chris swore. Images of grass-skirted, bare-chested primitives inhabiting mud huts evaporated like mist in the morning sun, leaving only the confusing and incongruously cultured Emilia Banks in their place.

  “Indeed,” Olivia agreed. “I entirely doubt she’d have sailed all the way there on a dime without informing her paramour of the actual situation. Goodness, look at the two of you. Why are people always so eager to take the bloody narrative at face value? Christopher, I would expect, but you, good doctor?” She shook her head. “Goodness. Well. Do either of you ignoramuses perchance have the time?”

  Mechanically, Chris checked his fob. “Ah. It’s quarter to three.”

  “Well, then,” Olivia said, planting her hands on her hips. “That’s as much time as we have for this, then. By the time we’re back at the estate, dinner will be imminent, and I suppose I should freshen. Mother would have a cow if I showed up smelling like dust and apple and horse, in a travelling gown, for a family meal.”

  he chambers he’d been assigned were more than sufficient. They were roomy, well-stocked, and, to his relief, the fixtures in the small personal water closet all glowed faintly azure. At least spiritbinding was used for some luxuries this far from Darrington. He wasn’t sure he could bathe or perform other basic functions without an undine’s help.

  As Chris dabbed lemon tincture behind his ears and changed his clothing to something less travel (and horse) scented, he reflected that he was already getting quite used to the country furnishings. There was a rustic charm to the polished wooden floors thrown with thick wool rugs, the dryad-grained raw oak running boards, and the pretty patterned floral wallpapering and curtains. Even the vanity he slid in front of to check the status of his hair (in need of some pomade and a comb) seemed less like something purchased or commissioned from a vendor, and more like it had been hewn down in the woodshop. The very simplicity became its own sort of style, and as he pulled on a plaid waistcoat to match the provincial setting, Chris decided that he rather liked it.

  He could see the appeal of this place. Of wildflowers, apples, and fresh, clean air. Already he was coming to understand that country estates like the Miller Orchards operated as their own small, self-contained worlds, with th
eir own hierarchies and rules. There was something, he thought, to be said for that.

  He checked his appearance in the mirror. It was… acceptable. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much potential improvement from there. His clothing was appropriately chosen, his hair in place, and his manner schooled. There wasn’t much to be done about his dry lips, haggard face, and bloodshot eyes. A full night spent crying had certain consequences.

  Gorgeous dark-green eyes, hurt and huge, stared at him from somewhere deep within. Chris gritted his teeth against the accusation there and banished them.

  A soft knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes?” he called.

  “If you’re quite finished spiffing for the mirror in there, it’s time to head down.” Olivia’s signature singsong wafted through the door.

  He sighed and climbed to his feet. “Yes, I’m ready.”

  She opened the door before he reached it. Her gaze dropped down to his wingtip shoes, and then back up to his hair. She grinned in that way she had, one slightly-too-sharp canine gleaming. “More than adequate, Christopher. You’ll pass my mother’s muster.”

  He tried not to be pleased by the compliment.

  For her part, Olivia looked… different. As in, she looked normal. Her hair was curled carefully and half piled atop her head while the rest cascaded around her shoulders. Her face was painted with the light enamel, blush, and kohl that was the current fashion. And her gown was a tightly cut royal blue dress with a scooped neck, layered over with a diaphanous sky-blue embroidered overskirt and shawl. She could have been advertising the ideal dinner fashions for petite ladies. It was the first time he had ever seen her present herself without any clever flourishes or personal touches, and it somehow made her appear… strangely less.