A Dance Like Flame (Of Magic & Machine Book 1)

by Tammy Blackwell

  Bits stopped rearranging the tile pieces as her mind finally started firing on its own.

  It did not take a man of business to understand the Nashes’ financial situation. There was very little money to spare when your patients paid in freshly baked loaves of bread and bundles of fabric. Just last week Ezra brought home a goose one family had given him after healing three sick children. Despite it being a foul-smelling fowl with little to recommend it in terms of appearance or meat on its bones, Ezra had accepted it with grace and appreciation. When he showed it to Lily, he’d acted as if it was grand prize to be won. Lily had named the goose Geoffrey, and he now lived in stables with the horses.

  Ezra was kind and good, but he was not a businessman, nor a lord with deep coffers. A luxury such as a wheeled chair was more than he could afford, and that it had not served its purpose infuriated Bits. But if there was one thing of which she was certain, it was that broken things could be fixed. Somewhere over the past few weeks she’d forgotten she was not the kind of lady who sat around mending seams and embellishing handkerchiefs. Feeling like herself for the first time since leaving London, she hiked up her skirts and walked towards the stairs with purpose.

  “If you could, please send a tray to the parlor when you’re able, Mrs. Green,” she called over her shoulder. “Lily and I will be down shortly.”

  Chapter 9

  Lily looked out the window and cursed the sun for shining. On days like this, when she was trapped in the bed where she had laid for so many weeks after the accident, the sky should be as dark and violent as the emotions wrecking havoc inside her.

  There is no need to work yourself into such a state. You will not be in that bed forever. Ezra will come get you as soon as he is able.

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” she said aloud. She hated that she had to depend on her brother for everything. As a girl, she had run with her hair trailing like a ribbon behind her and climbed trees even the boys wouldn’t dare. Now she required her brother’s assistance to even properly sit up.

  At least he doesn’t have to assist you with the chamberpot.

  On another day, she might have laughed, but not today. Not when she so acutely felt the loss of everything she’d once been.

  Perhaps if you ate something your mood would improve.

  It wouldn’t, but she was hungry. She’d heard Mr. Green leave with her brother when dawn was but a dream, which meant Mrs. Green was doing double her normal morning tasks. Rose could have helped, but she was under strict orders to not leave Lily in her room alone for more than five minutes at a time. Once given a direct order, a Sally Maid was compelled to obey. So while Mrs. Green did the work of two and delayed in getting breakfast prepared, Rose stood in the corner keeping an eye on Lily who was going nowhere and doing nothing for the foreseeable future.

  “Rose, please go to the kitchen and bring me back two of the biscuits Mrs. Green keeps hidden in her secret little tin.” She would get a scolding later, but if there was any advantage to being laid up in bed all day it should be the ability to break one’s fast with biscuits.

  I cannot traverse the stairs, locate the biscuits, and bring them back to you in less than five minutes.

  Lily narrowed her eyes at the figure standing in the middle of the room. “I am not going to perish in the ten it will take.”

  Ezra ordered me to not leave you alone for more than five minutes. I couldn’t do it even if the house went up in flames.

  Damn the magic that bound Sally Maids to their tasks. Damn Ezra for giving her the order. And damn Rose for—

  You’re not a cruel person, Tiger Lily. Quit acting like one.

  The admonishment made her feel even worse, which really shouldn’t have been possible. Could no one see how horrible it was to live only a fraction of a life? To not be able to care for oneself and rely so completely on the assistance of others? To become a burden to those she loved?

  Ezra never complained. She’d broached the subject once, and he became so livid when she said he might be better off without her she’d never brought it up again. But no matter what he said, she knew she was crippling him just as effectively as if she’d taken his legs as well. He should be doing what men of his age did - joining clubs, attending balls, falling in love, getting married, having children - instead of spending all the hours not devoted to his work to her.

  “Rose, I’m hungry, and Mrs. Green can very well be—”

  A knock at the door cut her off. A second later it swung open and Bits walked in. She flinched slightly at the sight of Rose in the corner, and Lily’s heart broke for both of them.

  “Rose, you may go get those biscuits now,” she said, no longer because she actually wanted biscuits, but because she wanted to spare her new friend the discomfort she felt in Rose’s presence. Lily wished she could explain it all to her, but although she found Bits trustworthy, she couldn’t take that chance.

  Bits stepped to the side and allowed Rose to move to the door, nodding as the automaton passed. It was interesting how she treated Rose as if she was a person of whom she was terrified instead of a machine. Of course, it could be said that Bits treated Rose the same as she treated anyone else. Lily had never met anyone so timid in her interactions with others, even those who considered her a friend. It was hard to reconcile the person she knew with the image she had of an earl’s daughter.

  “I suppose first we will need to get you dressed,” Bits said with more decisiveness than Lily had ever heard from her before. “I’m afraid being a proper lady’s maid is well beyond my skill set, but if you don’t mind a simple dress and even simpler hair, we will make do.”

  She was touched that Bits was willing to help her dress, but still, “I’d rather remain in my night rail if I’m to be in bed all day.”

  Bits walked over and boldly flung open the door of her wardrobe and began thumbing through the paltry collection of dresses. “Don’t be absurd,” she said. “Wearing night clothes all day will make you feel even more gloomy, and anyway, you’re not staying in bed. We’re going downstairs.”

  Fantastic. No one had explained the situation to her. She didn’t want to be the one to break the news that their day would be spent in this horrible room.

  “I’m afraid I’ll be remaining here today,” she said, trying to make it sound as if it wasn’t a wretched fate. “You should go out. Explore the city.” It hadn’t occurred to her until this very moment, but Bits hadn’t left the house since Ezra brought her weeks ago. The poor thing must be near the point of madness from staring at the walls for so long. “Really, I insist. There is a lovely park just a few blocks over, and Jergen’s sells flavored ices even better than the ones you get in London.”

  Bits held up two dresses and inspected the fasteners on each. “Oh, I plan on going into town today, but not until after I get you dressed and downstairs.”

  “But Ezra—”

  “But Ezra nothing,” Bits said, deciding on the yellow dress and returning the pink to its hook. “He is not the only capable person in this house. And I do, after all, need to earn my keep. Now, can you sit up on your own, or shall I assist you?”

  Lily didn’t know who this confident, purpose-driven woman who looked almost exactly like her companion and friend was.

  “I can manage,” she said pulling herself up on the mattress. “But Bits, I really don’t think—”

  “Take the night rail off,” she commanded, and Lily complied. Within no time she was fully dressed and her hair bound at the nape of her neck. There had only been one moment of awkwardness when she’d pulled back her covers and Bits saw her legs for the first time. She’d stared at them for a long moment, not with disgust or pity, but as if she was trying to figure them out somehow. After she finally blinked she asked, “Can you bend your knees?” When Lily replied with the affirmative, Bits merely nodded and said it would make things easier.

  “I appreciate your effort, but I don’t think this is going to work,” she said as Bits moved to open the do
or. “I’m much heavier than I look.”

  Bits leaned down and easily lifted Lily into her arms. “And I am much stronger than anyone gives me credit for.”

  Chapter 10

  Bits, who normally had a head for numbers, quickly lost count of how many dragons she’d seen on the streets of Corrigan. They were everywhere. The more obvious ones decorated signs for establishments called things such as “The Crystal Lair” and “Melusine’s Treasures,” but still more were etched into door frames and cornerstones. She could even discern the remnants of some crude dragon-like sketches in the stones paving the main road through the town. A number of other extinct creatures were present as well — a unicorn here and a minotaur there — but the dragon was obviously the preferred symbol of Corrigan.

  She was so busy trying to take in everything, dragons included, she almost didn’t notice all the looks thrown her way. She held her head high and tried to cling to the confidence she’d felt when she carried Lily downstairs, but it was hard when she was walking down unfamiliar roads in clothes Alice had clearly worn when she was increasing with Robert.

  When Alice had said she had some clothes she could send over, Bits had expected some serviceable gowns that had once belonged to an aging aunt or robust maid. When she received the finely made clothes and a note from Alice claiming she no longer had need of the garments, Bits had been embarrassed, and more than a little nervous. Obviously her friend already realized Bits wasn’t the dainty, tiny-waisted woman Society demanded she be - the size of woman Alice was - but what if the garments she’d worn when her belly had housed another human were still too small? How would she survive the humiliation?

  Luckily, the gowns and wrappers fit for the most part. The only place they lacked was the necklines, which were not cut in the current fashion and nowhere near high enough to hide the entirety of her breasts. Great swells of flesh spilled over the top of the dress, jiggling vulgarly with every step she took, and she knew more than a few of the looks she received were aimed at her lack of modesty. She was surprised none of the more delicate ladies fainted from the sight as Sarah always said they would should anyone ever have to witness her terrifying breasts on display.

  A stern looking woman with eyes the color of coal picked up her child and turned away as Bits passed, as if she needed to shield the small boy.

  Rolling her shoulders in and picking up her pace, Bits continued down the sidewalk. She passed an ironmonger’s shop, but kept going, preferring the local forge to pieces made outside the city’s walls. She smelled her destination before she saw it, and the familiar scent of fire and smoke calmed her nerves and steadied her steps.

  “I thought you said this would work,” a man said from somewhere within as she approached the open door. His voice seemed familiar, and not in a comforting way.

  “It would, but the wheels are not steady enough,” came the reply from another man. His voice was definitely not familiar. Bits would have remembered a voice like that. It reminded her of warmed honey, it was so deep and smooth. “There is too much movement. Too much splashes out, and without it—”

  “The whole thing is useless. Yes, I know.” Metal clanged on metal as if someone had thrown something. “This has to work. Failure is not an option.”

  “I’m trying. I’ve worked on this nonstop for days, to the point that I’m behind on my other duties.”

  “Then try harder. As far as I’m concerned, you have no other duties. This is your sole purpose until it’s accomplished. Do you understand?”

  The man didn’t wait for a response. The sound of his footfalls neared the wide door. Too late, Bits realized exactly how someone who was obviously having a difficult time reining in his temper might react to someone listening in on his conversation. There was no time left to hide or even retrace her steps far enough back that it would appear she was just now reaching the forge. With no other options left to her, Bits squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and prayed being surrounded by the familiar would help her have the strength to face whatever was coming.

  “Mr. Garroway,” she said as she bobbed a quick curtsy, somewhat startled when the man finally came into view. Her gaze immediately fell to his mechanical hand. She hadn’t said anything to Mr. Nash, but she felt certain she knew where the contraption had come from, and the knowledge gave her no comfort.

  “Sidhe is a fool,” he spat at her in response, which really was no response at all. At least not a proper one. “What are you doing here? Who let you wander the streets of Corrigan unsupervised?”

  Unsupervised? Unaccompanied she could understand. Actually, she should have considered it before now. In retrospect, she supposed some of the stares she’d endured on her journey over could have been the result of her blatant lack of propriety. She always seemed to remember how a proper lady should behave well after she’d done the complete opposite.

  “I have need of the Smith,” she said, attempting to mimic the way Sarah always spoke to everyone she considered beneath her, which was most everyone since she was now a duchess.

  Garroway’s eyebrows rose. “The Smith? What could a lady need from a Smith?” He said her title as if it were something foul he had stepped in while wearing his best boots. The way his beady eyes raked her body while he curled up his nose wasn’t much better. Still, she refused to cower before him. Not here. Not now.

  “I’m assisting with a project to allow Miss Nash more mobility.” It was the truth, for the most part. As always when she worked, she listened to the advice of her father ringing in her head. In many ways she was still assisting him after all this time. “I have been sent to fetch a few items, which I really must do with all haste. I’m expected back shortly.” She moved to walk past him, eager to put as much distance as she could between herself and the pagan priest, but before she completed a single step, he seized her upper arm in a bruising grip, halting her in her tracks.

  “One day Sidhe will revoke his protection of you, and when he does, I will be waiting.”

  Ice poured through Bits’s veins. This was no idle threat. She could feel the desire for violence radiating off of him.

  A man had walked up behind Garroway. His apron and scarred hands marked him as the Smith. She met his eyes, silently pleading with him to intervene, but he did nothing but stare at the place where Garroway held her, a mixture of shock and pity on his face.

  Bits closed her eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on the smell of smoke and fire instead of the pungent odor of Garroway’s breath. “Unhand me, sir,” she said through lips gone numb from fear, “or I swear you will regret having ever laid a finger on me.”

  “Your trust in the Oberon is admirable,” he said, releasing her with a shove that almost sent her to the ground. Her eyes flew open to see a face contorted with hatred. “But my faith is based in knowledge. One day he will see what you truly are, and then you will no longer have the threat of your protector to hold over me.” With a final sneer, he marched off.

  Bits watched until he was out of sight and then stood for several long breaths, regaining her composure.

  “So you’re the Untouched the Oberon has extended his protection to?” the Smith asked, reminding her she wasn’t truly alone.

  “I am Lady Elizabeth,” she answered, not certain what this protection they spoke of was all about, but thankful for it all the same since it seemed to have been the only thing staying Garroway’s hand.

  His bow was almost as rusty as her curtsy. “Thomas Chanse.”

  His appearance matched his voice. He was built as most Smiths, large with great muscles straining at the confine of his clothes thanks to countless hours of lifting and hammering metal. His hair was cropped so close to his head she would have almost thought him bald if the shade had not been the blackest of blacks. His eyes were the same deep, dark brown as his skin, and they seemed soft and kind compared to the hardness of his body.

  “Mr. Chanse, I am in need of some metalwork.”

  “There is an ironmonger’s shop jus
t inside the main part of town, my lady. You probably passed it on your way here.”

  Bits reached into the folds of her dress and removed a piece of paper from the clever pocket she’d found sewn into the material. “I’m afraid I require some things a bit out of the ordinary,” she said, handing him the drawing she had made. It pained her to turn the creation over to someone else, but there was little she could do. Of her many talents, creating cogs and gears out of thin air wasn’t one of them. “It’s just these two pieces here.” She pointed at the circles she’d made on the sheet to indicate which pieces she was unable to find lying around the Nash’s residence. The odd collection of items Ezra had received as payment had proven to be quite useful.

  Mr. Chanse looked at the paper for a long moment. The smile he offered hinted at embarrassment. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I can’t make out anything without my spectacles. Would you mind…?” He indicated a desire to move further into the forge with his hand, and she readily accepted. As she moved further away from the door she realized that in light of her experience with Mr. Garroway, she should perhaps be more cautious, but this was a forge. Nothing bad could happen to her here.

  At the back of the building a large table held half-finished pieces and scattered nuts and bolts. At the end sat a contraption unlike any she’d ever seen. The basic design was that of a serving drone, but the top held vials with different colored liquids. She could only assume it was the very item Mr. Garroway felt Mr. Chanse should forsake his other duties to improve upon.

  “Ahhh… yes,” Mr. Chanse said, sliding a pair of wired frames onto his face. The effect was quite incongruous, and Bits had to smother a giggle at the sight.

  While Mr. Chanse examined the drawing, she took a closer look at the strange contraption. The design was rather basic, much as she would expect from a Smith with no formal training. What she couldn’t figure out was the purpose. The answer obviously lay in the liquids. She took a delicate sniff, being careful to not place her nose directly above any of the containers.