“I already chose a necklace,” Emmaline said, her hand going to the small beaded necklace she wore. Its white beads hugged her neck and from its band hung three complete shells, each an uneven shade of pink.
“But your father bought this for you specifically for tonight,” Anne explained. “It would disappoint him if you didn’t wear it.”
“I’m already wearing the dress he picked out for me,” Emmaline insisted as she turned in the mirror. “Do you like it?”
“It’s a lovely trinket, miss,” Anne smiled. “But, perhaps tonight we should follow your father’s wishes? Seeing as it is his dinner party.”
But Emmaline wasn’t listening. She waved Anne away as she continued to admire herself in the mirror. The shells weren’t as bright as the pearls, and even Emmaline could see it didn’t quite match the dress, but she didn’t care. Ever since she’d landed in Hatteras everything had been new. The streets. Their home. Her father. The necklace gave her a sense of comfort. It was the one familiar thing she saw when she looked in the mirror and it gave her a boost of confidence.
Besides, she reasoned, it would be a great conversation starter.
“Oh!” Anne fretted.
She looked like she might be standing on hot coals, but she didn’t petition Emmaline any more about it. They could hear the chime of the clock from the hall and she hurried to guide Emmaline out of the room.
“Your father’s guests will be here,” she warned. “We don’t want to keep them waiting. Remember what your governess taught you and try to keep conversation to a minimum—and on interesting topics.”
Emmaline allowed Anne’s prodding hands to guide her out of the room and around the upper landing of the stairs. She smiled as she listened to Anne’s last minute warnings and advice. Simple as she was, Emmaline liked Anne, and that she could assert herself a little over her. She’d never have gotten away with that before with Miss Alice.
She really was growing up, she thought to herself.
They rounded the balcony, descending the steps to the main landing before hurrying off to the main parlor. Again, Emmaline was surprised by the beauty of the room. She’d not been able to stop long enough to admire them properly, but each of the pillars surrounding the entryway was carved with cherubim riding over great swelling waves. They held up foaming treasures in their hands, each adorned with thick gold leafing.
How did the artist have so much time for such minute details? Emmaline wondered. Nowhere was the name of the craftsman who’d been commissioned for the work. Their name was forever lost to the world. Yet, whoever it was, she appreciated their effort to make her new home beautiful.
“Ah! Here she comes now,” Worthington said to his guests, removing the cigar from his mouth. Emmaline came back to herself as she felt Anne’s gentle urging for her to enter the parlor. She kept her eyes down as she’d been taught when first making introductions, stepping forward as she curtsied low to the small gathering.
“Captain Harper, this is my daughter I’ve been telling you about,” Worthington said.
“Pleased to meet—”
Emmaline gave a start as she looked up. Not three paces away stood a man… or was it a man? She couldn’t be sure for a moment. He turned toward her, his gruff features zeroing in on her as his shoulders squared. Emmaline felt herself freeze in place as all her warmth rushed out of her. His arm was a mass of metal plates and hinges hanging from his side.
Harper’s expression soured as he acknowledged the way she stared.
“Emmaline,” Worthington urged. “Collect your senses!”
But Emmaline was stunned out of her senses. Try as she might, she could not look away from the mechanical arm. It was grossly disproportionate to the rest of Harper’s body, and he slumped over to the side as though he were fighting the weight of that grotesque appendage. It pulled against his chest and she could see where the metal pieces sunk into the base of his neck. The surrounding skin was red and inflamed, the scar tissue fresh and twisted.
She might have screamed at the sight had her voice not been stripped from her.
But what unnerved her most was how it moved. As he breathed, she watched pumps and valves extend and retract, gears twist, and joints bend.
With an expression of severe discontent, Captain Harper clenched the mechanical hand into a tight fist.
“For fortune’s sake, quit your staring, girl!” Worthington barked.
Emmaline snapped out of it, pulling her gaze away and looking toward her father. She suddenly remembered she was in a room of people. They were all of them watching her, but none as intently as Harper. His eyes were grim and his expression one of twisted pain.
Her gaze fell to the floor, unsure what to do in such a moment, and she muttered a bumbled apology.
“If you’ll excuse us,” her mother said, stepping forward and seizing Emmaline’s arm. Her grip was vice-like, and, despite the extreme discomfort, Emmaline allowed herself to be lead away. She wasn’t sure she’d have managed it herself.
“I’m sorry about that little incident,” she heard her father say behind her. “She only just arrived today from Sorrento. I fear she’s not quite used to the society we entertain here in Hatteras. We’re still preparing her for...”
“What was that about?” her mother asked, her voice terse as they entered the adjacent room. “Are you trying to embarrass your father? What were you thinking?”
“Did you know he’d be like that?” Emmaline asked. Her voice had returned now that she was out of the room.
“No, I didn’t,” her mother said. “But at least I had the sense not to gawk like a newborn chick. You should not have reacted like that.”
“What is wrong with him?” Emmaline asked.
“Nothing is wrong with him,” her mother insisted. “He’s one of the most fortunate men to have ever fought in war. Harper was injured during his service in the Great War and that machine keep him alive. He’s an honored veteran, and tonight he’s our guest.”
“But why is his...”
Emmaline risked another glance. The captain was still visible beyond the door, and Emmaline watched with gross curiosity as he shuffled in place while speaking to another gentleman standing beside him. He looked miserable, and Emmaline felt her heart go out to the man. What would it be like to live attached to something like that.
Harper looked up at her and she dropped her gaze, frightened he might catch her staring again.
“That machine is nothing you should concern yourself with,” her mother insisted. “Now, you’ve embarrassed your father and perhaps offended one of his most honored guests. From this moment on, you’re to stay quiet and speak only if you’re spoken to. Keep out of the way and do not embarrass your father anymore tonight than you already have. Is that clear?”
Emmaline nodded, but her mother must have sensed her distraction and clasped her chin, forcing Emmaline to look into her eyes. “Is that clear?” she repeated.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then follow me,” she said, straightening her own dress and turning back to the room.
Emmaline followed close behind, shielding herself behind her mother’s dress so as not to draw any more attention to herself than she already had.
She’d blown it. The realization settled on her as heavily as if she’d tied a millstone around her neck. Her father had meant to audition her to see if she was ready for society and she’d failed him within the first minute. She wished nothing more than to disappear, to be sent back to her room for eternity to hide her shame.
But her parents insisted she remain, so she was trapped.
Emmaline vowed never to do anything that might draw attention to herself ever again. Yet, despite her best intentions, she couldn’t keep from glancing at Harper’s arm.
CHAPTER SIX
The Young Mechanist
DINNER WAS AN UNCOMFORTABLE ORDEAL.
Emmaline sat in her seat, caught between the requirement to sit up straight and the desire to sink as deep int
o the folds of her seat as she could. The severe glances of her parents made it clear she wasn’t out of the woods just yet for her slip-up, and so she remained quiet as she waited for the moment they’d release her to her room to lick her wounds.
No one made any effort to talk to her as they ate. Again she felt as though she wasn’t there at all. She’d passed the meal staring at the patterned china and counting the seconds that passed.
By the end of the meal she couldn’t recall a single talking point, and when the group retired to the sitting room for drinks and more conversation, she’d seized upon the opportunity to retreat to a seat on a sofa against the wall. The rest of the guests congregated on and around the sofas in the center of the room. While Geoffrey served drinks their talk turned to business, with the occasional tidbit of gossip sprinkled throughout.
Emmaline wondered if her father might try to speak to her tonight about her little slip up. It seemed more feasible that he’d wait until the morning, she’d decided, when he’d had time to decide on the proper punishment. As she recalled, her father had never been one to address a matter too quickly.
Plus, it had the added benefit of leaving her to worry all night about what he might do.
Would he wash his hands of her and send her back to Sorrento? Could he do that? They’d sold their home, but what was stopping him from sending her anywhere he chose? She’d heard that prisoners were sometimes shipped off to one of the distant colonies. What if he sent her with them?
The thought made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She wasn’t ready to take care of herself. Not yet. She could hardly handle herself at a dinner party. How could her father be so cruel to send her away over one mistake?
Emmaline pinched herself, bringing her imagination back into the moment. If she wasn’t careful, it was likely to get away with itself and carry her with it. Her father wouldn’t send her away. He may have grown distant over the years, but that didn’t make him evil. She only needed to wait and find an opportunity to make things up to him.
He’d forget, in time.
She occupied her mind by playing with the frill on her dress. It was a bright white, and it stood out against the rich purple fabric. She’d been excited to wear it when Anna brought it out for her, but now she felt betrayed by it. It was too loud, drawing attention too easily. She wished she were wearing one of her plain dresses again with their simple blues and simpler patterns.
“You know, if you pick at that too much its liable to come off.”
Emmaline looked up in surprise. She’d not realized someone had been standing nearby. He was a younger man, perhaps in his latter teenage years. She glanced toward her parents, worried they might disapprove if they saw her talking to one of their guests, but it seemed no one in their group had noticed.
In fact, Emmaline wasn’t sure if this young man was even a part of the group. Unlike the rest of the guests his outfit was rather plain—basic trousers with a nearly matching vest and jacket. He looked much like the men she saw about the streets of Sorrento.
Not knowing what to do, Emmaline smoothed her dress and sighed as she focused on the conversation in the room’s center.
The young man took a step closer, clearing his throat. “Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your thoughts, but it looked like you might want for some company. My name is Stoddard.”
Emmaline kept her focus on the back of her mother’s head.
“That was quite the spook we gave you earlier, wasn’t it?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “Not that anyone could blame you. Harper’s not the easiest person to run into for the first time.”
“I shouldn’t have let it startle me like it did,” Emmaline said, her voice mimicking the scolding tone of her mother.
“You shouldn’t let it bother you that much either. You’re not the first to be startled by him. Few can help it,” Stoddard shrugged. “Trust me. I’ve seen more than a share of gentleman gawk and women scream when Harper entered the room.”
“People have screamed?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” Stoddard assured her. “And at least one has fainted. Knocked the punch right out of the host’s hand. It was a sight. Not that it’s my place to say so, but I think you handled yourself rather well considering.”
“Considering what?” Emmaline asked. “I practically dropped my jaw.”
“I take it nobody warned you ahead of time?” he asked.
Emmaline shook her head though she had the sneaking suspicion Anne may have been trying to saying something about the guests while she was being led down the stairs.
“You can’t be too hard on yourself,” Stoddard said. “Anyone would have been shocked.”
“Were you?” Emmaline asked.
“Me?” Stoddard asked. “No, I suppose I wasn’t.”
“See?” Emmaline asked. “Not everyone.”
“But it’s not the same. You see,” Stoddard leaned in a little closer so as not to speak too loudly, “I was there when they did it to him.”
“You were?”
“I was,” Stoddard nodded. “So it was never so sudden a thing for me to witness.”
“Are you a doctor then?” she asked. She was surprised by how young he was if that were the case. He must be very early in his practice.
“Goodness no,” he said, waving his hands. “I’m a mechanist.”
“Oh,” Emmaline said. She’d never met a mechanist before. She wasn’t even sure what exactly a mechanist was. She didn’t want to seem uneducated, however, so she looked to change the subject. “It’s so…” Emmaline struggled to find the right words as she looked again at Harper’s arm.
“Strange? Unnatural? Disturbing?” Stoddard offered.
“Gross,” Emmaline said.
Stoddard chuckled. “Well, it’s the best we can do for now,” Stoddard said. “Technically it’s still in its early stages of development, which explains why I’m here.”
“Why are you here?” Emmaline asked.
“Maintenance,” Stoddard said. “The prosthetic is… finicky. It’s malfunctioned before, so Harper has requested that there always be someone on hand in case something goes awry. I’m part of the team that attends to it when things go south.”
Emmaline smiled at that.
“Did I say something funny?”
“Oh, no. I just thought it strange,” Emmaline said. “If that arm is a part of him and you’re here to fix it then that really does make you something like a doctor.”
Stoddard smiled at the implication. “I suppose it does. But what about you? I hear this is your first day in Hatteras? How are you liking it so far?”
“I don’t know. It’s new,” she ventured. “Mother says it will take some getting used to.”
“I’d imagine,” Stoddard said. “Though I can’t say with certainty. I’ve lived nowhere else myself.”
“My father is preparing me for the Solstice Ball next week. He’ll be introducing me into society,” Emmaline said with some pride. “That is, if he doesn’t change his mind.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because I made a fool of myself tonight. I’d be surprised if my father doesn’t think I’m more trouble than I’m worth and lock me up in my room for another year,” she explained.
“I have a hard time believing he’d do that,” Stoddard said. “You’ll be fine. The city may be strange, but it’s not Harper strange. Not all of it. I’m sure you’ll find the rest of society rather tame in fact.”
That comforted Emmaline some. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one in the city prone to mistakes. She looked up at Stoddard, studying his face. She liked this young stranger. He spoke like the men she’d known growing up—honest and pleasant. He reminded her a little of her uncle, except perhaps lacking his clever wit.
To her surprise Emmaline realized she’d relaxed a little the longer they’d talked.
“My father is getting me a new dress for the Solstice,” she said.
“Good
for you,” Stoddard smiled. “I’m sure that will be quite the thing to see.”
“I hope so,” she said. “Have you ever been to a ball?”
“Me?” Stoddard asked. “No. Fancy balls are a bit beyond my limits at the moment. I’m afraid my privilege ends with attending to the Good Captain.”
“Oh,” Emmaline frowned. “That’s a shame.”
“However,” Stoddard said. “If I were ever to attend one, I imagine I’d have an impeccable step. We clockwork mechanists have a certain affinity for timing, or so I’m told.”
Emmaline grinned. He did have her uncle’s wit. She was thinking up some clever retort for him when a commotion among the guests drew their attention.
“Terrin! Terrin, what is happening to him?” Mary exclaimed rising to her feet. A few of the other guests had risen as well and were drawing away.
Emmaline and Stoddard looked up in time to see Captain Harper stagger backwards into the wall. His expression was one of alarm and he shuddered as though he were being crushed under a great weight. His glass spilled its contents as his mechanical arm twisted in front of him, rising dangerously close to his neck.
Seizing it with his other, he fought to hold the arm at bay.
“Stoddard! Martin!” a man nearby shouted. Stoddard handed off his glass to Emmaline without realizing what he’d done and rushed to aid the other men. With great difficulty the three of them fought to sit Harper down against the wall. It took two men to hold the prosthetic back while another worked to unscrew the bolts which held down the thick metal plates.
“Geoffrey!” Worthington shouted. “Send for Doctor Bertram!”
Captain Harper let out an agonizing cry as his arm twisted behind him. It struck one of the men in the leg, sending him to the ground clutching his knee. Emmaline watched in horror as the scene unfolded before her, stunned and unable to look away.
“Mary!” Worthington urged. “For Septigonee’s sake, take Emmaline from the room. She shouldn’t see this.”
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