Steampunk Omnibus: A Galvanic Century Collection

by Michael Coorlim

  ***

  The girlish shrieks and giggles reached Aldora's ears long before she arrived in the playroom. It had become a refuge to her adoptive daughters in the often dour household her parents kept in the month since their arrival from London, and she stopped in the doorway to watch them play.

  "I'm a vicious pirate!" her adoptive daughter Penelope was saying, waving a rolled up parchment to and fro. "Come join my crew, and we'll haunt the Barbary coast, hunting Spanish merchants and liberating them their treasure!"

  "Pirates!" the Chinese girl Xin Yan said.

  They were resilient girls, linked by the tragedy of having recently been orphaned. Penny's wounds were fresher, though from the children's play it was hard to imagine that she'd lost her father less than a year ago. The signs were there, if you knew what to look for -- moments of sudden solemn silence intruding upon her normal youthful exuberance, and the occasional nightmare -- but Aldora strongly believed the girl had started down the road to healing. She'd been asking more questions about how Aldora had known her father, what he'd been like, and the gentlewoman was running out of ways to avoid answering in ways that would incriminate herself.

  "Am I to be a pirate as well, then.?" Alton's partner James was sitting in a chair across from the girls, a grin on his face.

  "You're our prisoner!" Penny turned and levelled her scroll-sword at the engineer. "There'll be no mercy for the likes of you!"

  "No mercy!" Xin's English had been improving rapidly during her time with Penny. While she spent a significant amount of time with James, and he considered her his adoptive daughter, Aldora didn't believe that he spoke often enough to help her learn.

  It wasn't that James didn't care for her. It was obvious from watching them play together that he did. She just didn't believe that James was terribly adept at dealing with children. Or women. Or people in general. James didn't spend much time with anyone outside her fiancée, truth be told.

  "Shall we make him walk the plank?" Penny asked.

  "Yes!" Xin said, arms folded, a grim look upon her face. "Into the water! Sharks!"

  "It has been decided! You shall be eaten by sharks!" Penny decreed.

  Aldora thought back to her own youth, her own childhood, spent with tutors and caretakers. The only girls her own age she'd known were vicious little social climbers like Regina, always seeking to tear one another down to elevate themselves in their own meaningless pecking order. The complexity of the peer groups she'd known in private schools was an ever shifting maze of temporary alliance and betrayal, and she didn't know that she'd ever had anything that might be considered a 'friend'. It wasn't what was done. As lonesome as it had been, Aldora felt that it had adequately prepared her for life as a Woman of Society, as a Fiske. The parlours and ballrooms of the great families of London were not so far removed from the dormitories and greens of Miss Cumberband's School for Girls.

  "I've brought a present for the two of you," James said, retrieving his waistcoat from the chair he'd draped it upon.

  "A present?" Penny said clapping her hands. "You are too kind, Mr. Wainwright!"

  James pulled a small clockwork dog out of his waistcoat pocket. The girls crowded forward for a look.

  "The Turkish clockworks were of a completely different style," Penelope said, showing off. "More complicated than this."

  Aldora thought her ward might have been growing jealous that Xin Yan was getting the lion's share of the engineer's attention. While on paper Aldora had adopted both girls, this was a convenience for the state. James had rescued Xin Yan and thought of her as his own, and quite naturally favoured her as a result.

  "Is that so?" James said absently.

  "Yes," Penny said. "Halil brought me to the Street of Gadgeteers in Istanbul's Old City. We saw clockworks that made this one look simple."

  "I like." Xin Yan took it out of James' hand. She pulled the tail, and a tiny chirping bark emitted from its hinged jaw.

  "Of course you like." Penny sniffed and turned her head. "You don't know any better."

  "The Chinese have been building some of the world's most advanced clockworks for centuries." James's cadence had become one of lecture, one that Aldora hated. "Though I suppose Xin Yan would have been too young when her family emigrated to remember anything of her homeland."

  Xin shook her head.

  "If you'd like, I can take you to see the Oriental History exhibit at the British Museum..."

  "I would like--"

  "Can I come?" Penny interrupted.

  James tilted his head. "I suppose? If it's all right with Aldora?"

  "James, might I have a word with you?" Aldora said.

  James climbed to his feet and joined the woman at the door somewhat warily.

  For once, though, her concerns lay not within James's social deficiencies, but within her adopted daughter. She lowered her voice, keenly aware that the girls' eyes were upon them.

  "I do appreciate your attempts to include Penelope. It shows a good deal of restraint and patience."

  James relaxed slightly. "The girl's been through quite a bit. I don't mind."

  Aldora stepped with him into the hall. "I fear that she has not quite recovered from our Istanbul trip."

  "Istanbul?" James asked. "Oh, your kidnapping. No, I was referring to the death of her father. I would assume that the endangerment of a guardian would pale next to the trauma of losing one's father."

  Aldora's mouth opened, but she didn't quite know how to respond.

  James continued, turning to regard the girls. "Though I suppose that your kidnapping might have compounded the initial trauma and in fact may have subsumed it."

  She flushed a little. "James, I'm telling you that you need to be cautious. You've chosen a paternal role for Xin Yan, but Penny might be looking for a father figure in you."

  "Was her father much like myself?" James asked.

  Aldora's thoughts drifted and her voice became wistful. "Henry? Only in that you are both males of the same age, and that might be enough for the girl. No. No, James, you're nothing like Henry. I've never known a man more full of life than Penelope's father. He was a kind soul, a caring soul, a trustworthy soul. Nothing like you. Nothing like my father. He was a guide and pathfinder, fully engaged in the world, in love with it, not an engineer building his own sterile paradigm in isolation."

  James's eyes half-lidded. "A simple 'No' would have sufficed."

  She paled, and her hand flew to her lips. "Oh. Oh, no, James, I'm sorry, I--"

  "It's quite all right," James said in that flat tone of his. "Your opinion isn't one that I consider terribly important. Save your apologies for Bartleby. I'm sure your marriage will be full of them."

  He gave her a contemptuous last look over his shoulder as he returned to the room and his Xin Yan.

  ***

  Aldora stood alone at the music room window, watching her guests arrive. It was an inconvenient tradition that the bride should remain sequestered away until after the wedding. She should be down there, greeting the newcomers, dropping the right names in the right ears, seeing to affairs personally. She'd never taken to delegation well.

  Fortunately Alton seemed to be having a right time of it. He had the good sense to allow her mother to sit and rest while he took the lion's share of the responsibilities, shaking hands, making introductions, putting on a good face. He was a good man, and would make an acceptable husband, for someone she didn't love. She could tolerate him. She could trust him to not embarrass her publicly while engaging in his appetites, and that was enough for her. The adopted children relieved them of the burden of having to have offspring of their own, a state of affairs her bridegroom seemed entirely content with.

  He was ideal. She could live her life, and he his, without London society casting a sideways glance.

  And so what if they did not love one another? Love was not something she needed. She was no young maid, eyes full of stars and heart full of need. She'd had lovers, yes, and doubtlessly would again, but the l
ast man she'd considered giving her heart to -- the Turkish noble Cemal Yavuzade Bey, may his name be ever cursed -- had tried to exploit her feelings to suit his own dark political agenda, holding her captive without her being aware that she'd been kidnapped.

  No.

  She preferred her exploitation to be out in the open and mutual.

  Hence Alton Bartleby.

  Hence this wedding.

  She didn't love him. Not in that way. But he was good enough.

  ***

  Exalted Sirs,

  We discovered Talos in the ruins of his stronghold, gravely injured and at the point of death. His spirit to fight on was strong, however, and his heart did still beat. We transported him to the nearest safehouse, and our doctors managed to salvage of him what we could.

  Of his project little can be said. Boadicea was as efficient as one could expect in its destruction. We salvaged what we could; a package is en route.

  I now write asking for instructions regarding the fate of Talos. Daedalus assures me that he can be saved, after a manner, should we desire, though it would require a significant investment. Despite his irregularities during his last assignment, he has always been an efficient tool of the Octovirate, and it is my recommendation that we attempt salvage. Daedalus himself seems particularly eager to make the attempt; he has that certain look about him.

  Take that for what it is.

  I await your judgement in this matter,

  Cato

  Chapter 3

  "Brigadier Wilson!" Alton greeted the retired officer warmly. "How good of you to make it. Aldora and I both greatly appreciate the honour of your attendance."

  "Mr.Fiske and I are old acquaintances," Wilson said. "I'm honoured to have been invited to the wedding."

  "Then you will already know Mrs. Fiske, I'd assume?" Bartleby guided the man over towards his soon-to-be mother-in-law.

  "Of course! Mary, how wonderful to see you again."

  Mary Fiske offered the Brigadier a dainty hand. "Always a pleasure, Percival. How is your Dorothy? Is she here?"

  "She sends her regards, but is, alas, too busy overseeing the preparations for our upcoming move to attend. I trust you understand?"

  "Of course," Mary said. "Move you say? Have you tired of the city at last, come to join us in the country?"

  "Were that it was so simple!" The Brigadier turned to Alton. "Having watched Aldora grow up as I have, I practically feel like her uncle. I regret not having had opportunity to meet you until this moment."

  Bartleby grabbed a pair of champaign flutes from a passing footman. "Would you care for a drink, sir?"

  The Brigadier took them, offering one to Aldora's mother. She shook her head, and he offered it instead to the bridegroom. Alton accepted it with a smile.

  "I'd heard that you'd finally gone into retirement," Mary said.

  "Were that it was so simple. No. The Crown has seen fit to reactivate my commission, and appoint me aide to Viscount Gladstone in his new role as Governor-General of the Union of South Africa."

  "Quite the honour!" Alton downed his champaign in one quick gulp. "God bless the Queen."

  "God bless the Queen," the Brigadier said, watching the young man drink. "Yes, quite the honour. Of course, one might speculate that perhaps Her Majesty is still somewhat cross that I supported Gladstone in appointing Lady Balfour and Mrs. Tennant to the Royal Commission on reforming Divorce Law."

  "I should not be surprised," Mary said. "I cannot imagine that topic being discussed with delicacy before ladies."

  "Don't be so hard on yourself." Alton gave the older gentleman a pat on the back. "I'm sure she's cross with Gladstone's whole government, not you personally."

  "A cold comfort for a man shipping out to Africa, Mr. Bartleby. Now, if you will excuse me?" The Brigadier turned stiffly and walked off.

  "Oh dear, I do think I may have upset him."

  "Mr. Bartleby," Mary said.

  "Yes, mother?"

  The woman's mouth drew thin. "You know, you seem quite adept at predicting where the champaign service is going to be, and guiding the newly arrived guests to that spot."

  He adopted a shocked expression. "My Lady, I do not know just what you're implying."

  "There's no implication, Mr. Bartleby." She laid her head back. "Would you mind tilting my parasol? The sun's getting in my eyes. That's a good lad."

  ***

  Three glasses of champaign later Alton failed to notice Regina Worth sneaking up on him. He didn't know the woman personally, but after having covertly witnessed the passive-aggressive exchange between her and his fiancée, he had little desire to get wrapped up in whatever drama the woman had herself involved with. He'd kept an eye out for her across the lawn, watching for the elaborate ribbons streaming from her hat, and had previously arranged to be conveniently elsewhere whenever her social meanderings would have caused their paths to cross. Luck, eventually, runs out.

  "So, you're the infamous Mr. Bartleby." Regina smiled at him, glass of wine in her gloved hands.

  "Ah! Miss Worth, is it? A pleasure to meet you."

  She offered her hand, and he took it politely for but a moment. She was trouble. And he was drunk.

  "I was beginning to fear we wouldn't meet until after you'd become a married man. I'm charmed that you know my name."

  "And you mine."

  She turned her head and blushed prettily. "Oh, I'm afraid I've not a reputation of your calibre, Mr. Bartleby."

  "Oh, I've a reputation now?" He didn't mean to flirt with her. He really shouldn't be taking her openings. He should know better.

  "You're the infamous Alton Bartleby," she said. "The scourge of St. John's Wood. I've been warned about you."

  "Oh my, I sound dreadful." He was unable to help himself. "What've you been warned of?"

  "Just that you're a charming rogue who's not to be trusted, particularly when it comes to a lady's virtue."

  "Definitely not the trustworthy sort, this Mr. Bartleby." Stop it, you drunken goat.

  She stepped forward, shortening the distance between them. "So I've heard. Makes one wonder why he'd seek the company of one Miss Aldora Fiske."

  "Does that seem unusual to you?"

  "Only in that they're so very different in temperament."

  "Perhaps not as much as one might think," Alton said.

  "Oh? And whatever might that imply?"

  Alton cast his gaze about, looking for an escape from the conversation. "Simply that one cannot make assumptions based upon unfounded rumour. That leads to nothing but scandal."

  "I've found that even the most scandalous rumour contains the seed of truth." Miss Worth stepped forward again, standing nearly toe to toe with him. "And don't we all need a little scandal in our lives?"

  With a sense of relief he noticed the constable from the train station heading towards the house with purposeful strides. "Terribly sorry, Miss Worth, but you must excuse me. I've guests to greet."

  "Oh, but Mr. Bartleby--"

  He set off at once, weaving his way through the crowd of guests.

  ***

  Alton intercepted the constable mid-way up the drive.

  "Hello, there. I don't believe we've been properly introduced. Alton Bartleby, bridegroom."

  "I know who you are. We met at the station." The constable tried to sidestep around him, stopping as Alton mirrored his movement.

  "Yes, but I don't think I caught your name beyond your title."

  "Fuller. Do you mind?"

  "Not at all, Constable Fuller. Do you mind showing me your invitation?"

  "I'm not--"

  Alton smiled, continuing to move and bar the man's passage. "You see, I'm afraid this is a private affair. Can't just let anyone in off the street -- not that that's an indictment of your character, just that I'm not acquainted with you, and if the Fiskes' did not see fit to extend an invitation to you--"

  The constable held up a hand. "I'm not here for the wedding, Mr. Bartleby."

  "You've some
other business, then?"

  "Yes. None of it yours."

  Constable Fuller once more tried an end-run around the tipsy bridegroom, but Alton just so happened to weave in his direction. The Constable stopped just short of a collision.

  "Now look here--"

  "Dreadfully sorry, Constable, but I'm afraid that my duties are quite clear. In this instance I am tasked with acting as gatekeeper. The Fiskes, you see, are quite engaged in the wedding preparations and their social duties, and are not to be unduly disturbed." That wasn't entirely true, but after a certain number of drinks Alton was more inclined towards contrariness.

  "This is official Hillshire police business. I have a matter that must be brought to Mr. Fiske's attention."

  "You can bring it to my attention first."

  "It's a matter of legal sensitivity--"

  Alton put his hands on the constable's shoulders. "Surely, good sir, if Mr. Fiske can entrust to me his daughter, he wouldn't mind you sharing the town's trouble?"

  Fuller scowled and clenched his jaw. For a second there Alton thought that the man was actually going to strike him, but the rage left his face almost as quickly as it had appeared.

  "If you must know, Mr. Bartleby, there have been more than a few unexplained disappearances over the course of the last month. Mr. Fiske asked he be appraised of any developments."

  "And have there been? Developments? Hmm?"

  The constable stepped back and the other man's hands fell from his shoulders. "I've let you know why I'm here. Now I am afraid that I must insist that you cease your interference and allow me the completion of my duties as an officer of the law."

  Alton slipped around Fuller's side and threw an arm around his shoulder, speaking with a conspiratorial compassion. "Look, good man. You're a man of the law, I understand. So am I. A detective, as a matter of fact."

  "You're a metropolitan police detective?" Constable Fuller asked. "You?"

  "I'm a detective. We both know that men like Lucian Fiske dictate laws, they don't enforce them. That's the province of men like you and I. Men like us. We get things done, aye? So why don't you tell me what this development is, and I'll determine whether or not it's something that Mr. Fiske needs be troubled with just before his daughter's wedding, or if it's something that we men of action can handle ourselves."