Valves & Vixens, Volume 2
Page 25
***
Forbes had no idea how long he had remained nursing his sudden and unexpected needs after Edward and his Angel had vanished into the darkness.
He recalled the time as though it were still yesterday although fifty years had now since passed. So many changes had befallen the world since then. Automatons, those tricky constructs that he and Edward had begun to pioneer so long ago were now commonplace. The quiet, fragile airships which had roamed the skies had been replaced with massive monstrosities whose mighty engines tore the air asunder, shaking the very ground upon which they stood.
Sometimes age and position allowed certain comforting concessions; such as the one he now enjoyed which was quite simply to sit comfortably in the Professor’s Lounge. Over the years, he had insisted that the same chair he had sat upon as a young man in the University be saved from numerous refurbishments. In spite of being well past retirement, he continued to teach a new generation of Mechanical Engineers. Regrettably, it was those very students who were responsible for this noisy new and overwhelming world. Often he felt partially responsible for the harsh replacement of a far more elegant era.
A tartan rug covered his knees. His brass replacements stiffened terribly when the seasons grew cold. They had been the only enhancements he had allowed himself.
An Automaton approached, its gears and mechanisms whirring softly, barely noticeable. Amusingly, it wore the same livery as the manservant who had delivered Edward’s letter on the day he had disappeared. Forbes stared at the handwritten, cream coloured envelope which lay upon a silver tray; thankfully, at least some traditions remained.
His gnarled hands grasped the letter as he opened it with a delicately engraved paper-knife.
“Do you wish help, Sir Forbes?” The Automaton’s voice grated somewhat. Forbes felt a pang of regret that they had never truly perfected the subtle nuances of the Human voice.
“I can manage perfectly well.” Forbes remembered his manners. “Thank you for offering.” These days, there was strict etiquette on how to address Constructs and Automatons, even for those who had created them.
He read the letter, and then read it again. Holding it to his face and inhaled deeply.
“Help me stand...” He demanded.
The Automaton obliged its gears and gyroscopes allowing it to compensate for the additional weight as Forbes pulled himself up.
“Hand me my walking stick, if you will,” Forbes asked, pointing to an old fashioned silver topped wooden cane.
“If I may suggest, Sir Forbes, there are many far better walking aids available. Indeed, you are entitled to full leg replacements.”
“This does me well enough,” Forbes replied a little testily. “Now fetch my hat and coat.” Several of his colleagues regarded him with astonishment. Forbes never went out of the confines of the University anymore. “And my scarf,” he added as an afterthought. “It looks a little chilly out there.”
***
A good hour or so later, Forbes stood before the Mayfair address stated in the beautifully scripted handwritten letter. His knees ached with the long walk however he refused to use modern modes of transport, finding the soulless carriages both below and above ground to be both uncomfortable and cramped, packed as they were with commuters going about their isolated busy lives.
The three floor terraced town house looked considerably shabbier than its neighbours. After a brief struggle with the few steps leading up to the front door, he rang the rusted bell. He was beginning to think there was no one at home when the door opened slightly and a stooped old woman in an old fashioned maid’s uniform peered at him with narrowed eyes.
“I believe I am expected,” Forbes informed her. After a moment of careful consideration, the woman swung the door open for him to enter.
He shuffled into the hallway. It appeared nothing had changed since the 1840’s and there was a distinct musty smell of age.
Maid closed the door behind her. Now in full view, Forbes could see that both the woman’s arms and one leg had been replaced with finely engineered replacements. He was quite taken aback by the quality of the workmanship. There was no sign of the shoddy efforts that today’s high demand and fast output demanded.
Butler trundled into the hallway to greet their visitor.
“Ms Emily told us of your arrival,” the old man bowed his head respectfully. He sat upon a wheeled brass chair which was moulded onto his lower body. “The Mistress awaits you in the basement.” Butler indicated a doorway beneath the stairway. “I’m afraid I cannot accompany you down and Maid has an aversion to the place.”
Maid nodded her agreement.
Forbes cringed at the thought of tackling a stairway; however his curiosity would not allow any other action. His heart hammered at the recollection of the beautiful unearthly creature he had briefly witnessed all those years ago.
“Emily.” He mused, enjoying her name upon his tongue. “Edward never knew her name...”
Butler produced a heavy iron key from a compartment built into his conveyance and unlocked the door.
Forbes made his way slowly and carefully down the stairway which led to the basement. It took his failing eyes several moments to adjust to the gloomy gaslight. He peered around the dusty workshop taking in the array of fabulous half built machines that lay around. Each new piece he examined filled him with wonder and awe as to the level of craftsmanship. Such exquisite wonders put the work he and Edward had struggled to perfect during their early years to shame.
So taken was he by each new delight, he failed to notice the lithe creature which hovered on the edge of shadow.
“Welcome, Forbes.”
The unexpected voice caused him to jump with fright. He quickly recovered as a soft laugh that would melt the coldest heart of stone tantalised his ears.
“I was worried you would not come,” the sweet voice continued.
“How could I refuse?” Forbes whispered. “You said you had news of Edward. Does he still live?”
There was a soft sigh.
Forbes felt a hand rest gently upon his shoulder. Turning as quickly as his arthritic joints would allow, Forbes stared into the tired eyes of his old friend.
“Edward...” Forbes shook as he regarded the Construct before him. Although finely crafted, it appeared old, it’s gears and cogs not as well-oiled as they should have been. Its still human hands look aged as did the wrinkled appendage dangling from between its legs.
“What happened to him?” Forbes asked.
“Cholera was about to take him from me,” Emily explained, still remaining in shadow. “I fixed him.” Even though so many years had passed; her voice still sounded that of a vibrant young woman. “But now I’m dying, Forbes and I can’t look after him anymore.” The divine voice could not hide a tremble of despair. “Will you help us?”
“Of course, but what can I possibly do?” Forbes took one of Construct Edward’s hands in his own and felt a wave of sadness wash over him as he already knew the answer.
***
Many years later, long after Forbes had passed away, a three floor terraced town-house stood proudly in fashionable Mayfair. It now looked every bit as grand as those fine dwellings surrounding it.
Ownership had exchanged hands numerous times however none of its occupants, including the charming family who now lived there, ever suspected that below the floorboards and fake foundations, lay an old dusty basement in which the remains of a woman and a rusty Construct lay entwined together in an eternal love which knew no boundaries, a small faithful clockwork dog forever lying at their feet.
About the Authors
http://nicolegestalt.blogspot.co.uk
Also Available