Tough Prospect

by Laura Strickland

  Lily had stood up to corroborate the information, much of which her husband, Rey, had contributed.

  “It is part of Rey’s job to collect these poor little corpses from the orphanages. They are destined for paupers’ graves but, at McMahon’s Coffin Shop, where as most of you know he works, we do for them what we can. I often go in to help dress them properly, wash them, and groom their hair.

  “These children, my friends, all too often die alone and uncared for. Worse yet, they are very often left alone while they are ill, rarely feeling the touch of a kindly hand.”

  Her words had brought tears to Tessa’s eyes. Yet now Lily seemed to shrug off her sorrow, far more easily than Tessa could. Was it because Lily Michaels was, after all, an automaton? Yet Tessa had no doubt that Lily cared.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as a horse-drawn cab drew up.

  “To visit the Kellys. Pat is off work today and invited some good friends to tea. He hopes to cheer up his wife, Rose, and provide a diversion.”

  “That is very thoughtful of him,” Tessa said as they climbed into the cab.

  “There is nothing Pat will not do for Rose.” Lily tipped her head, apparently reflecting on it. “Or she for him. A perfect marriage,” she declared.

  “But—” Tessa bit her tongue. What did she know about it? Her own marriage was so conflicted she no longer knew what to think. She both resented her husband’s presence in her life and desired to be with him, so much it shocked her. When they were together, everything felt so intense and immediate, she couldn’t bring herself to contemplate her still-absent monthly, and the fact that she might in fact carry his child. She hated what had brought him into her world, but loved what they did in the night.

  She even found herself missing him from time to time.

  “Rey is unable to attend,” Lily said. “He is needed at his job. Nor can our good friends the Kilters be there. Jamie is busy with his sanctuary, and Cat is very pregnant—yet again.” She beamed. “But there are others I would like very much for you to meet.”

  The cab made its plodding way from Delaware to Bryant Street, where it eventually stopped in front of a tall, narrow house painted blue. Lily descended and turned to pay the fare, but Tessa forestalled her.

  “Allow me.” Mitch gave her a generous allowance; Rey Michaels, as she knew, worked hard for his pay. Not that she could say Mitch didn’t. He spent an inordinate amount of time—all hours—laboring in his office.

  She wondered what he was doing now and how late he’d work tonight…and whether he might come to her room once she turned out the light.

  “Tessa, you remember Pat Kelly?”

  Derailed from her distracting thoughts, Tessa looked up—and up—at the automaton that stood on the doorstep. He was in fact a very handsome automaton, with that dark reddish hair and very human-looking green eyes.

  “Yes, of course.” She extended her hand. “We met at the Meadows Club, and you were there on our second orphanage tour—the one that took place at Carter’s.”

  “So I was. Mrs. Carter, welcome to our home. I’m pleased you could come.”

  He drew them into the foyer of the house, where he bent his head and said in a slightly mechanical whisper, “My wife, Rose, is still having a hard time recovering from her ordeal.”

  “I’m not surprised, Officer Kelly. Shocking that such a thing could happen in our city. And I certainly don’t blame her for being overset.”

  In a whisper also, Lily asked, “Have you discovered who snatched her, Pat?”

  “We have been working tirelessly on just that, I and the other members of the Irish Squad, and have narrowed it down.” His gaze moved to Tessa. “There is little in this city that does not come under observation by someone—be he human or mechanical.”

  “I wish you every success,” Tessa said, and meant it.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Carter. This is my city; I will defend it and everyone in it.”

  He led them into the parlor, where a group of people had gathered. Two extremely lovely, dark-haired women sat on the settee, in animated conversation. One Tessa recognized as Topaz Gideon, whom she’d met during her initial visit to the Meadows Club. The other, whom she’d never met, wore her hair in a fat braid down her back and sported a leather skirt and vest, the latter worn over a plain white shirt.

  A fair-haired gentleman lounged near the windows. Slim and not overly tall, he had intelligent blue eyes and a deceptively casual air.

  But the center of attention was unquestionably Pat’s wife, Rose. She sat in a high-backed chair, reminiscent of a throne, separated by a side table from a larger overstuffed chair. A strained, rather worried expression marked her pale, oval face and invaded her mild brown eyes.

  Lily stepped forward to take her hand and kiss her cheek. “Rose, I’m sure you remember Tessa Carter, whom you met some time ago at The Meadows Club. And Tessa, I know you recall Pat’s wife, Rose.”

  “Of course,” Tessa murmured—the woman who had endured the fearful abduction.

  Lily went on, indicating the lady with the long braid. “And this is Ginny Landry. You met her fiancé, Brendan Fagan, during out first raid.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Tessa shook Ginny Landry’s hand. “Your fiancé was most helpful that day.”

  Ginny Landry had frank brown eyes that inspected Tessa without guile. “He’s a helpful sort of fellow, all ’round.”

  “And”—Lily turned to the other woman—“I’m sure you remember Topaz Gideon, who gave an inspiring talk during your first visit to the Meadows Club. This gentleman is her husband, Rom.” She turned to the fair-haired man by the window. “They are ever such good friends of the Kellys.”

  Topaz Gideon gave Tessa a measured nod, rather like one delivered by a queen. Her husband looked curious.

  “Mrs. Carter, I’ve heard a great deal about your husband.” He slanted a look at Pat Kelly. “Big man in this city, isn’t he?”

  Tessa experienced a mad and heretofore unprecedented impulse to defend Mitch. “He’s achieved a great deal, yes, worked his way up from nothing to the owner of considerable properties around town.”

  “And bent on purchasing still more, the way I hear it,” Pat Kelly said mildly.

  “Most likely. Truly I don’t concern myself much with his business.”

  “And indeed, why should you?” Topaz Gideon asked. “Lily tells us you’re becoming quite involved in the campaign to improve the city’s orphanages. It’s a very worthy cause. It seems”—she raised an eyebrow and looked around the group—“we are all involved in something.”

  “That is because we are the ones who can improve this city, change things for the better,” said Lily with passion rarely seen in an automaton. “We are the only ones who can.”

  Mrs. Gideon smiled at Lily fondly. To Tessa she said, “Lily’s correct. It’s only right we’ve championed various causes. Rom and I work together to alleviate the struggles of the girls in Buffalo, on the waterfront and elsewhere.” Her brilliant amber eyes clouded momentarily. “We’ve had a few setbacks, as Lily can attest, but some successes also. Ginny,” she went on, “has taken up the fight, along with Pat and Rose, for automaton rights.”

  Ginny Landry smiled. “I’m afraid I collect aging steam units the way other women take in stray cats. Given the new ordinances requiring mechanicals to receive a wage, many owners are casting off those that are old and damaged, rather than repairing them. Turned out into the streets, they have few options other than to subsist—at least until their coal supplies dwindle—or take themselves to the scrap heap.”

  “How awful,” said Tessa, thinking of Valerie. Clockwork or steam powered, she never wanted to imagine her pet ending up there.

  “Yes,” Ginny agreed, “because as anybody with a lick of sense knows, even the most basic units have feelings. I have personally experienced more love and loyalty among steamies than among most humans.”

  “Hear, hear.” Rom Gideon raised his teacup in a salute.

 
“And now,” said Lily enthusiastically, “you, Tessa, have taken up a cause so dear to me and Rey.”

  “Yes.”

  Rose Kelly spoke for the first time. “Please, Mrs. Carter, will you take some tea?” She reached out to pour from the ornate, rose-figured teapot that rested on the table between their chairs, and Tessa’s gaze fell on her wrists, both of which bore livid scars, barely healed over.

  Startled, her gaze flew to Rose’s. Color came and went in the woman’s face, and her eyes dropped.

  “Mrs. Carter, you will be wondering about these marks you see on my wrists.” She glanced at Lily. “You did not tell her?”

  “Rose, it is not my story to tell.”

  Pat Kelly laid his broad hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Last summer, Mrs. Carter, during an uprising at the park, I was attacked and heavily damaged. It seemed for a time my artificial intelligence had been destroyed and would not be recovered.”

  Rose shuddered and reached for her husband’s hand; his fingers enfolded hers tenderly.

  “During that time,” Pat stated flatly, “my beloved Rose tried to take her own life.”

  Tessa’s lips parted in horror. Just like her own father—the victim of despair.

  Rose’s brown eyes flooded with tears but met her gaze. “What you must think of me, Mrs. Carter. But I couldn’t bear the thought of living without Pat—I just couldn’t.”

  “Of course, I understand,” Tessa said on a rush of compassion. But did she? Could she imagine feeling that way about her own husband? Did she want to imagine?

  She turned to Pat Kelly. “I’m very glad you survived.”

  He made a soft, grinding sound in his voice box. “As am I, if only for Rose’s sake. But let us speak of more cheerful things. Tell us, Ginny, about the repair shops you’ve been setting up.”

  Ginny Landry did so, describing them as part shelters for unwanted automatons and part hospitals where, often times, they rebuilt one another.

  “Afterward, they’re often able to go out and get other jobs, as opposed to being scrapped,” she concluded.

  Rom Gideon mused, “Now if the powers that be would only smarten up and allow some of these available automatons to look after the city’s orphans properly, we might make real progress.” He turned to Tessa. “Tell me, Mrs. Carter, is your husband involved in your philanthropic activities? Unless I am mistaken in what I’ve heard about him, he came from a foundling home, did he not?”

  “Yes, from Carter’s, as a matter of fact.” Very thoughtfully, Tessa gazed around the room, looking from face to face. “And yes, I do believe he will become involved—so long as I ask him to.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Mitch came down the stairs and saw his wife hovering in the foyer at the bottom, almost as if she waited there for him.

  The morning light sifted through the sidelights that framed the big front door, turning her hair to flame and picking out the intense hue of the suit she wore. A blue suit it was, with a hat, tiny little heeled shoes, and white gloves.

  She looked good enough to eat. The fact that Mitch had only recently come from her bed, where he’d done just that, didn’t make him feel particularly satisfied. Instead, the mere sight of her made him hungry all over again.

  “Another meeting today?” he asked in an effort to disguise his completely unreasonable need.

  “A tour of another orphanage.” She bent to pat Valerie, who’d darted out from the direction of Mitch’s office, before she looked up at him from under the brim of her hat. “Actually…”

  She let her voice trail off and bit her lip, an action that elevated Mitch’s heartbeat.

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  “I—uh—wondered if you’d agree to come with me. Many of the women’s husbands are involved, at least peripherally. And I thought…”

  He came down the last step and crossed the floor to her, drawn like a wasp to honey. “You thought what?”

  She raised her eyes to his—clear green in the morning light and seeming to hold a reflection of every intimacy they’d shared not so long ago. His mouth at her breast, between her legs, tasting heaven. Her small fingers wrapped around him…

  “I thought it might make us feel—well, closer.”

  How could they be closer than when he was inside her? When he searched the inside of her mouth with his tongue and she melted for him, opening herself in that delectable way she had. When she begged wordlessly, with her body, for what she would not say.

  But she was saying now—asking him, telling him. She wanted something more than physical closeness. This represented a real hope for him to get near her heart.

  He had a dozen things to which he should attend today, not the least the problem of Danny Dwyer who, by all accounts, continued to throw his weight around in a dangerous fashion. But when Tessa looked at him that way, how could he say no?

  ****

  At first, Tessa didn’t realize how tense her husband had become. They took the long black steamcar with Marty at the wheel and met the other members of the party outside on the steps of the Meadows Club, as prearranged.

  To say they appeared surprised to see Mitch would be an understatement. The Misses Carroll whispered together, and Mr. Ellison raised his eyebrows high.

  “Mr. Carter? Well, I did not expect you, sir, to concern yourself with our small affairs.”

  “Not small, surely, Mr. Ellison.” Mrs. Wright stepped forward. “And if what we’ve heard of you proves true, Mr. Carter, I should think you of all men would take an interest.” She nodded at Tessa. “Well done, Mrs. Carter, in persuading your husband to attend.”

  Mitch, nearly expressionless, offered the use of his car, which would reduce the number of steamcabs needed to one.

  He asked Mr. Ellison, “To which institution are we bound, sir?”

  “The Waifs, on East Ferry.”

  Did Mitch’s lip quiver? The Waifs had not made Mr. Ellison’s list by accident; it had a loathsome reputation.

  Mitch gave the address to Marty, who stared. They set off, Lily and the Misses Carroll in the car with Mitch and Tessa.

  Lily immediately leaned over and placed a hand on Mitch’s arm. “Mr. Carter, I am so pleased to have a chance to become acquainted with you. Tessa speaks of you often.”

  “Does she?” Mitch swept Tessa with an incredulous look.

  “Oh, yes. We women have our little confidences. By the way, Tessa, I have that book you asked to borrow.”

  Tessa’s lips parted; no words came. She hoped Lily would not confide the nature of that book to Mitch.

  She need not have worried. Instead, Lily spoke of how happy she was to find, in Tessa, a friend who shared her interests.

  Tessa twisted her fingers together in her lap and wondered what Mitch thought. At least he didn’t voice his usual reminder that Lily was, in fact, just an automaton.

  The orphanage proved to be located in a shabby wooden building covered by molting green paint, its windows shuttered and its façade sad. A sign out front read The Waifs, the letters all but worn away by weather.

  Not until they climbed from the car and formed one group on the sidewalk, and Tessa took Mitch’s arm, did she gauge the intensity of his tension. Though his face still showed little, his body fairly vibrated, the arm beneath her fingers like iron.

  “Remember we are mere visitors here,” Mr. Ellison cautioned. “As before, when we toured the other institutions, we must keep our opinions to ourselves, no matter what horrors we may observe.”

  He shot a look at Mitch. “I daresay only one of us here is completely prepared for what we will see.”

  God help her, Tessa only fully realized at that moment what she’d asked of her husband. To accompany her into hell. Back into a hell he’d once been forced to occupy.

  She looked into his face, searching. “I don’t know what I was thinking. This isn’t a good idea, Mitch. You wait here with the car—there’s no need for you to come inside.”

  His smile looked almost ordinary
, wry and controlled. But she saw the slick sheen on his skin and the shadows in his eyes.

  “Don’t be foolish, Tessa. Of course I’ll come with you.”

  “No, really. Please stay with the car. It won’t take long.”

  He tucked her arm inside his. “Your Mr. Ellison is right; I’m the perfect man to inspect the place. I know what to look for, don’t I?”

  Tessa’s stomach turned as they filed in through the front door. The overseer of The Waifs had agreed to this visit in return for a monetary donation. The woman—big, rawboned, and middle-aged—came forward to meet them now and shook Mr. Ellison’s hand.

  “Welcome to The Waifs,” she rasped. “I’m Mrs. Bains.”

  Tessa shrank closer to Mitch’s side. These places, as she’d learned during the earlier visits, had a smell. Part stale air and even staler food, part urine and, in the best cases, disinfectant.

  She smelled disinfectant here, but the shabby surroundings made of it little advantage. Dark olive walls, streaked with damp, a yellowed ceiling, a sad flight of stairs that led upward into gloom.

  Mrs. Bains proved apologetic and seemed sincere. “This orphanage opened in 1862 when the house and property were donated by an elderly patron.” She twisted her hands in her gray apron. “There was, however, no provision for funding. We have housed up to two dozen children here in the past—boys and girls together. At this time we have fourteen. We take them in off the streets, mostly children tossed out by landlords after their parents have died. We do for them the best we can.”

  Her cheeks flushed defensively even though no one else had spoken. “I’m aware it likely doesn’t look that way.”

  Lily Michaels stepped forward and said, with compassion, “Will you let us see your facility?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Bains looked at Mr. Ellison. “You said something about a payment. It’s just that I’ve no money for food, and several of the children are sick.”

  Wordlessly, Mr. Ellison passed her an envelope.

  “Oh, thank you. Come this way. And please, believe I would do more for my children if I could.”