Dempwolf turned the glass over in his hands as he eyed Vanzeal’s blade. “If you’re able to bring her out of hiding, then you will have your reward money,” he agreed. “Double even.”
“Keep my reward,” Vanzeal said. “If I’m able to produce your letters then I ask for one thing only.”
“What is that?”
“That you will elevate my name among the meritocracy alongside yours. Pieces are shifting,” he said, “and where they shift, there are opportunities to advance. I’m done riding on the skirt of the war. I wish to be recognized for my talents.” With a small flourish, he sheathed his sword. “What do you say?”
Dempwolf gave Vanzeal a long, hard look. He was studying him, Vanzeal suspected, trying to discern whether he were baggage worth carrying. His experiences with Worthington would have taught him to be wary of deals like this, but Vanzeal was certain he would comply. A deal with a devil is not so offsetting to the near martyr, he mused.
“Agreed,” Dempwolf said. “Help me untie myself from this mess and I’ll do what I can to see you’re given a new name among the meritocracy and your little mishap is forgotten.”
“Then our arrangement continues,” Vanzeal said. “Margarete will rue the day she meddled with the meritocracy.”
PART III
There is one matter I wanted to consult you about before I’m finished. I’m not sure why, but a disparity exists between the accounts you gave me and those I’m working with here. I’ve gone over them again, but the disparity persists. Is it possible we’re missing something?
—Excerpt from Uncle Lewis’s Letter to Worthington
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Approval
EMMALINE RUSHED AS SHE TRIED to put as much distance between herself and her parents as possible. As was becoming more common, breakfast had been cold. Not her food, but the company. She was beginning to dread the moments she had to sit between her mother and father even for something so innocuous. Even when they weren’t talking, she could sense the tension between them. It came off them in waves, putting everyone near on edge.
Yet, despite the bleak beginning, there was still hope yet for the day. After inquiring about her parents’ intentions for her she’d been told that her father wasn’t feeling particularly well and that they’d canceled their day’s engagements. She’d have to entertain herself.
Emmaline smiled. She knew exactly how she wanted to spend it.
Abandoning half her porridge, she excused herself quickly and went to seek out her uncle. She knew she was taking advantage of his generosity, but so long as he was willing she reasoned it was alright. After all, he’d been the one to suggest she go see Stoddard in the first place.
Outside his door, Emmaline knocked softly and heard his familiar voice invite her in. Inside she found him leaning over his desk as he sketched something with a charcoal piece. He shifted on his legs like a stork while he worked, turning his body around the page to orient himself with his lines so that he almost looked like he was part of a dance. It made Emmaline smile to watch him.
“Good morning, Emmaline,” he said as she came in. He set his instruments down and straightened out his back a little. “I didn’t expect to see you so early.”
“I was wondering if you’d be willing to take me to Rigimor’s,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back as she stood eagerly on her toes.
“Again?” he asked, smudging out a section of his sketch with a finger.
Emmaline nodded.
“Looking to pick yourself up another pocket-watch, were you?” he grinned. “Or was it something else?”
Emmaline smiled and came closer to the desk to get a better look at what it was he was working on. “What are these?” she asked, setting herself down on the corner of his desk.
“Just emptying my mind,” he explained. “Trying to get these ideas out of my head and onto a page. The problem is it keeps filling up as quickly as I can empty it.”
Emmaline touched the edge of one of the sketches. It was a tubular shape with great fins coming off the sides. It reminded her of a fish though a bit rounder.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“They’re very good,” she said as she lifted a stack. One by one she flipped through them. Most she assumed were connected somehow to his submersible idea, but then a few seemed entirely random. Like something from a dream. She paused over each, turning the page to see if changing the direction helped her make more sense of it.
“So,” Uncle Lewis said, picking up a straight edge and marking lines across his sketch. “What on earth could be so fascinating at Rigimor’s that you’d want to go back today?”
“Maybe I was thinking of getting you a present,” Emmaline said. She liked the games her uncle played with her. He could never resist the chance to tease her.
“Oh,” he laughed. “If that’s the case then how could I refuse?”
“So does that mean you’ll take me?”
“Of course,” he said. “When have I ever said no to you?”
“Never,” Emmaline smiled. She continued leafing through the sketches.
“You like him, don’t you?” Uncle Lewis asked. His eyes twinkled as if he were poking at her, but she could sense he was sincere in his question.
Emmaline looked away, feeling suddenly quite exposed. Of anyone in her life, she was certain her uncle knew her feelings nearly as well as she did. After all, he’d spent as much time with Stoddard as she had. But to be asked so directly about her feelings toward him was stirred the butterflies inside her.
“Is it that obvious?” she asked.
“You’re not that difficult to read,” Uncle Lewis smirked. “You have the look of a girl in love, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”
Emmaline put her hand to her cheek. It was warm to the touch, and she was sure she was turning red.
“It’s alright,” he assured her. “You’re secret is safe here. It was in part my doing after all.”
Emmaline watched him work, grateful yet again for her uncle’s confidence. Keeping secrets to herself might have been safer in the long run, but it was exhausting. It was nice to have someone who she could confide in, particularly when it was such a new experience.
“Why did you do it?” she asked, a curiosity taking hold of her suddenly.
“Do what?” Uncle Lewis asked.
“Let me meet with Stoddard,” Emmaline said. “If you knew my father wouldn’t approve then why would you risk that for him?”
“I didn’t risk it for Stoddard,” he said matter-of-factly. “I did it for you. Ever since you met that boy I could see in the change that came over you—in the way you smiled after you’d seen him—how much you liked him. I saw it that first night at your father’s dinner party. While everyone else was talking about whatever forgettable fixation, I was watching you two. I saw the look he gave you before he’d mustered up the courage to come over, the breath he took before he spoke, and the way he tried to comfort you after your little… mishap.”
Emmaline closed her eyes as she remembered. Oddly, her reaction to Harper didn’t seem half so bad as it once had. Of that night she could only really remember the conversation with Stoddard. He had made her smile despite such a horrible start to the evening.
“I saw the first sparks,” her uncle continued, “and after watching that I was convinced you two deserved a chance. I’ve been around long enough to know love is far too valuable a commodity to lose. But, just occasionally, it can be exchanged with the right person—if we’re fortunate enough to find them.”
“I do like him,” Emmaline concluded. “Very much. He’s been the best part of coming to Hatteras.”
“You mean besides getting to spend time with your uncle,” Uncle Lewis winked. They both laughed and Emmaline nodded.
“Of course!” she assured him.
“And how does Stoddard feel about you?” he asked. “Do we know yet? Or has that topic gone untouched?”
“I don’t know,” Emmaline sa
id. She wasn’t certain how deep his feelings went. She could hardly make sense of her own. She could admit she liked him, but love was a whole new level of unfamiliar.
“Don’t you think it might be a good idea to find out?” Uncle Lewis suggested. He leaned against the desk beside her. “I’ve done a very peculiar thing here, Emmaline. I’m quite certain my brother would disapprove of it for a wealth of reasons, but I don’t believe keeping you caged up in the estate all day is the best thing for you either. Nor do I think it’s good to tell you who you’re allowed to like or dislike. You’re young, and you should experience some of these things for yourself.”
“Thank you,” Emmaline said.
“You and I are in confidence now,” he said, “But if I’m going to be the one encouraging you along and not your father, then I hold myself responsible for whatever happens to you. So I need you to be honest with me.”
“I am,” Emmaline said. “I like him, uncle. I really do. He’s been nothing but kind to me since we’ve met. He’s everything I was told a gentleman should be. And… I think he likes me.”
Her uncle smiled. “Well, that’s good news then.”
“What is?” she asked.
“That you’ve found someone deserving of the title, even without one.”
He winked at her and Emmaline leaned in to give him a hug. When she let go his smile nearly touched his ears.
“Alright then,” he said, rising sharply from the desk with sudden urgency. “Summon the carriage!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Unwelcome News
THE JANGLE OF THE BELL announced Emmaline’s arrival. Rigimor was manning the store today, sitting behind the counter while he tinkered with some device in his hands. He was bent forward, his stocky frame making him look like a lump. His eyes were crossed as he focused on the object held inches away.
Looking up as she came in, Rigimor blinked rapidly like a window shutter snapping open and closed. At the sight of Emmaline he gave her a warm smile.
“You again?” he asked as he set the device down. “Been seeing a lot of you lately. What brings you this way today?”
“I was hoping to see Stoddard,” she said, approaching the counter. She rocked on her feet a little. “If it’s not too much trouble,” she added.
“Today it might be,” Rigimor frowned. “He’s busy at the moment. I’m afraid he’s got plenty of work for me that he’s been neglecting. He’s catching up on it now, in the back. Perhaps you’d be better off coming back another time when he’s not so far behind.”
Emmaline felt her spirits sink a little. Now what would she do? She hated the thought of an entire day to herself wasted. There was no telling when the next opportunity would come, and she’d brought her uncle along so far. She didn’t want to inconveniencing him for nothing.
“Do you think I could watch?” she asked.
Rigimor gave her a queer look and Emmaline realized what an odd request that was coming from a woman of her status.
“I mean, I was admiring your many clocks here and… well, I was just curious what all goes into making something so intricate.”
“You’d like that?” Rigimor asked, stroking his chin and eying her closely.
“Certainly,” Emmaline said, trying not to look over-eager. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Rigimor scratched the side of his head, but after a moment he shrugged. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” He pointed to the curtain that separated the storefront. “He’s just there in the back then. You’re welcome to take a look around, but mind yourself. Try not to keep him from his work.”
“Thank you,” Emmaline curtsied, pleased with her persistence.
She wandered to the back and pushed aside the drape that separated the storefront. On the other side, things did not appear so orderly. Large bins and buckets held random assortments of every part and piece imaginable. They mixed on the shelves and in small piles that littered every available surface.
Stoddard sat at a long table toward the far corner, hunched over as he worked closely with a needle-like tool on some odd gizmo. He wore his multi-lens spectacles again, his neck kinked to the side to get the right angle as he worked. With each motion he made the stool he sat on wobbled back and forth unsteadily. Yet somehow Stoddard was able to compensate for the motion, his waist twisting and rocking while his upper body remained almost completely steady.
It was quite mesmerizing to watch.
Emmaline stepped silently forward until she was leaning just over his shoulder. From her vantage point, she could see that the device Stoddard was tinkering with had a series of dials joined together in a group of three. The larger frame had been set aside so that all the tiny pins that surrounded each dial were visible. Stoddard was busy twisting and tapping each of these, for what purpose Emmaline didn’t know. Sometimes he’d tap one too far, and he’d grab a clamp and pull it back to its original position to try again.
“What do those do?” she asked.
Stoddard started in his seat, springing to his feet as the stool went flying out from under him. The look he gave Emmaline was somewhere mixed between shock and relief, and Emmaline couldn’t contain her smile at how ridiculous he looked—particularly with the spectacles.
“I’m sorry,” she tried to say between snickers. “I didn’t mean to startle you like that. You looked so focused, I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Stoddard removed the spectacles from off his head and took a few deep breaths. “It’s fine,” he managed to say. “I wasn’t expecting you is all.” He picked up the device he’d dropped and sighed. “I’ll have to recalibrate all of these again.”
“I’m so sorry,” Emmaline said, her hands held to her mouth to keep from laughing outright. She could tell he was genuinely frustrated, and she felt terrible for setting him back. “I didn’t mean to scare you.“
“It’s alright,” Stoddard said, rubbing his chest.
“Maybe I should have just gone.”
“No,” he said. “No, it’s alright. Really. It’s only a small setback. I can recover.”
“You did say come anytime,” Emmaline pointed out. “Be careful what you wish for.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Stoddard smiled and set his tiny hammer down. “I’m glad you came then, but I can’t step away right now. Rigimor has me catching up on a few things we’ve been neglecting.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I just wanted to watch awhile, if you don’t mind.”
“You want to watch me work?” he asked.
Emmaline nodded.
“I suppose that’s fine with me,” Stoddard said, glancing toward the door and reapplying his spectacles. Emmaline felt another snicker coming on. His eyes looked as goofy as Rigimor’s.
“So, what was it you were working on?” she pried.
“It’s nothing,” Stoddard said, and Emmaline frowned as he pushed the device aside and under a rag nearby.
“Oh,” she said. Maybe she wasn’t so welcome to watch as she thought. “So this is where you built all those clocks,” she said, peering around the workshop as she searched for another topic. “How do you even work here? It’s an absolute mess!”
“It’s not that bad,” Stoddard insisted as he fished another device out of a crate at his feet. It resembled something like a crooked serpent, all bent up and out of shape.
“What is that?” she asked. “Or is that a secret too?”
“No,” Stoddard grinned, holding it up to display it clearly. “This is a timing sequence.”
“What’s it for?”
“Well, it counts out time between events. You see, the gears inside turn predictably and each sets off a progression when it completes its rotations. It’s a fancy way of creating a sequence in a device.”
“Does Harper’s arm have something like this?” she asked.
“Many,” Stoddard chuckled. “Too many.” He picked at a joint with a thin metal lever and opened a seamless hinge hidden inside. She looked about her for a place she could sit.
“Doesn’t Rigimor ever tell you to clean up?” she asked.
“I would if I could,” Stoddard said. “I’m not allowed to move any of his things. I might misplace something important.”
“As if anyone could find anything here in the first place.”
Stoddard shrugged and tugged a piston from inside his device.
Emmaline pushed a few things away from the edge of an adjacent table and leaned against it as she watched him clean a piece and reinsert it delicately. Next he focused on an open chamber along its belly. Flicking a few lenses down, he peered inside and poked about inquisitively.
“How do you know what each piece does?” she asked after watching for a while.
“I’ve been working with these types of things for years. It just becomes second nature. They’re just extensions of my hands, really. And these mechanisms aren’t so complicated as they seem. Everything has its function. You get a feel for the rules after a while.”
“It’s fascinating,” Emmaline said.
“Would you like to try?”
“Oh no,” she said. “I couldn’t.”
“Come on,” Stoddard insisted. “I’ll show you how. This is an easy piece to start with.”
“I shouldn’t. I don’t want to slow you down anymore than I already am. Besides,” she said, “father would be furious if I returned with fingers as black as yours.”
Stoddard looked confused, but then he smiled as he turned over his hands. Sure enough, they were covered in many black smudges. “The tradesman’s curse,” he shrugged.
Emmaline laughed, poking at a few of the tools sitting near her.
“Are they any better?” Stoddard asked.
“Still as cold as ever,” Emmaline said. “It’s hard even to be in the same room anymore. I wish I knew what it was that was eating at them so much.”
“Actually, I did hear something about your father recently,” Stoddard said as he reached for a small screwdriver. “It might have something to do with why he’s been acting so odd.”
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