“Holy cow!” exclaimed Jennie. “If she can do that, she could figure out a way to use her technology to put an end to Wilhelm and Malieux’s threats once and for all.”
“Indeed she could,” agreed Vicky. “But for the peace to endure, Wilhelm must be convinced. He must choose of his own free will. True change must come from within. It cannot be imposed from without.”
Her gelding whinnied. “I come, Graymalkin! The paddock calls,” she said to Jennie. “Let us away anon.”
ToC
How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!
—How Doth the Little Crocodile, by Lewis Carroll
Chapter Nine
The Course of True Love
Cobweb danced out of the Golden Gear, delighted to be out in the summer sunshine, delighted to be on the Queen’s errand, delighted with the company of these gentle Large Ones, delighted with her new human friends. Beneath her, the summer holiday strollers ambled along, making their way from their small fashionable homes in the Mews to meander in Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park.
Before she knew it, her friend Mustardseed the bumblebee had joined her in the dance—Mustardseed, the Queen’s lightning fast black– and yellow-striped messenger. Cobweb could tell that her friend’s heart was not in the dance. She was full of news that she was anxious to share. “Mustardseed, my dear! What news and instructions from the Queen, pray tell me!”
“Greetings, dear Cobweb! Please pardon my haste. The Queen bade me tell you that the Bad Doctor has stumbled upon some of what Jubal can do. It is more urgent than ever that her goddaughter be guided to her and protected at all costs. The Large Ones and her companions must travel with and guard her.”
“Oh, my friend, I am happy to tell you that the Artificer is even now on her way to Her Majesty’s ship. And she bears Jubal’s drawings to Queen Victoria for safekeeping. You may tell Her Majesty that all is well, the girl is safe and well-protected by the Large Ones and her gallant youths, and we proceed apace.”
They both danced excitedly. “And ask her, please, to send more Friends to fly above, ahead, and behind, and be our eyes. Oh, what a delightful adventure we are having!”
~*~*~*~*~
“If you would care to wait here, my dear, I will go round the corner onto Exhibition Road and hail a hansom cab,” said Alexander.
“Oh, tush!” said Pauline. “In the first place, there is little sense squandering your hard-earned wages on a cab on such a glorious day as this, when we are young, healthy, and can enjoy the walk.” Alexander appeared poised to object, but she continued.
“And besides, there are now eight of us, to be nine as soon as we call for Clemmie. What will you do next? Call for a squadron of coaches from the palace?” She laughed, but could tell Alexander was discomfited.
She took his arm and led him away from the door, lowering her voice as she went. “What’s more, there is no carriage driver in the city who would consent to carry a mech.
“No,” she declared. “I shall walk with my new friends. And an old one, I hope.” She smiled up at him, linking her arm through his.
“You won’t take the steam horse? We could ride together. And I wouldn’t be leaving my horse here.”
“I think not. Our errand is vital and the new machine unproven. Besides—I rather fancy a nice promenade with these mechanical heroes. Won’t you walk with us?”
Winston stepped out the door and looked carefully each way before motioning the mechs to follow him out. He untied his mount and swung into the saddle, addressing his little troop.
“Right, then, men! You are each and every one veterans of Her Majesty’s service. Into battle, just as we discussed. Patrol box formation around the noncombatants. We do not seek to engage the enemy—unlikely they will attack in broad daylight—but we must be alert and prepared. And we do not want to attract any more attention than we can help.
“The whole formation must move at the strolling speed of Miss Spiegel. Smiles and courtesy all around. Except from you, Snout—no teeth. Courtesy only, my lad!” The little troop chuckled, especially Tom.
“Snout, you have the point. Got plenty of firewood? Pellets big enough to sting, but don’t draw blood unless you have to. Use your teeth for intimidation.” Tom nodded, and smiled without showing his teeth.
“Flute, left flank. Keep a sharp eye, be ready with your needles. Snug, on the right. Use your legs to get up high and look about us.
“Miss Cobweb,” he asked, “may we rely on you for surveillance from above? We also need you to look ahead at blind corners.” Cobweb chirped happily.
“She says, sir,” said Snug, “that she has called for reinforcements who should be with us presently, and that very little will go unseen and unreported around us.”
“Capital! Bottom, you and Quince will bring up the rear. You will pull Quince’s cart, and must keep your bellows full in case of emergency. Quince, I need you to face backward and be our rear guard. You shall be our heavy reinforcement. Understood?”
Each of the men happily snapped the salutes of their youth. “Yes, sir!” Only Robin hung back, looking downcast. Winston turned to him. “Starveling?”
“Sir? No use for a blind tailor, sir?”
“On the contrary, my man! Of all of us, only you have wheels! You shall be my runner. I need you to stay by my side at all times.” He patted his charger. “Salve, here, is fast, but I wager not as fast as you, especially on corners.”
“Too right, sir!” Starveling affirmed. His downcast demeanor vanished. In its place was Starveling the warrior. “I’m built to be able to divert all my works to my wheels.”
“One more thing before we go: a name. We are the queen’s men, on her errand, are we not?” Cheers all around. “And we are all for one and one for all, are we not?” More cheers. “Then I put it to you, men . . . and lady . . . that we are indeed modern-day Musketeers!”
“Huzzah!” shouted Snug.
“Three cheers for Lieutenant Churchill and his Musketeers!” shouted Starveling. “Hip hip . . .”
“Hooray!”
“Hip hip . . .”
“Hooray!”
“Hip hip . . .”
“Hooray!” Their wild cheers echoed in the tiny street.
“Right, then. Everyone all wound up? Oiled? Step off then, and let us gather up Miss Hozier.”
~*~*~*~*~
Cobweb and her cohorts reported that, far behind the group and widely flanking them, walked incongruously brown-cloaked figures, brown slouch hats pulled low even in the sunshine of the pleasant summer morning. Coordinated by a black-clad officer on horseback, they moved without speaking, not interacting with passersby.
Even though Winston and the Musketeers traveled an indirect route, staying off main thoroughfares and keeping to small streets with very little traffic, there always seemed to be abundant numbers of Malieux’s Enforcers paralleling the group on adjacent streets. They communicated with silent hand signals as they caught sight of each other at street corners, never speaking, drawing minimum notice.
The little Friends, orbiting unnoticed about the Enforcers, were even successful at reporting some of the officers’ conversations. They had no idea of the Musketeers’ course, but their orders were clear: follow the runaway mechs and the Artificer, and report back to Shaka where they went and what they did. And keep a sharp eye out for any plans or other papers that might be in evidence.
Every minute or two, a happy Friend would sweep low over the gentle Large Ones, dance a moment or two with Cobweb, and tell her the happy news. The Enforcers following so carefully and cleverly had no idea they were themselves being followed more carefully and cleverly still.
At the heart of all this activity,
nearly oblivious to the quiet hubbub surrounding them, walked Pauline and Alexander, chattering happily.
“No, I never had pets as a girl,” said Pauline. “With so much extremely delicate machinery in the shop and around the house, pet hair would be a real problem.”
“Never?”
“Not until I had been away at engineering school for three years and came home with my degree did we have a pet of any kind—a pair of finches that I brought back with me from Paris. My mother passed away while I was abroad, and Papa was just so quiet and sad all the time. I wanted the sound of life to return to our rooms.
“And what about you, Alex? Did you ever have a pet as a child? I imagine that coming from country folk, you must have been surrounded by animals.”
“Constantly!” he replied. “When I was just a little boy, we had every sort of pet imaginable. Once, I was even given a tiny crocodile from Egypt as a gift. I named him Bismarck. The little thing was absolutely ravenous, and even though they need to eat only every week or two, I was feeding him every day. He grew even more rapidly than I.”
Pauline laughed and squeezed his arm tightly in hers.
“Once I was home on school holiday,” he recalled, “and my mother brought me to visit my grandmother for a month. Unbeknownst to her, I brought my pet with me. I have always been Grandmamma’s favorite, and one day I was allowed to play in her study while she worked on important matters. I thought it would be great fun to bring Bismarck into the study and let him have a walkabout. ‘Grandmamma,’ I cried. ‘Bismarck is under your feet!’ ”
He laughed heartily. “Grandmamma looked down and gave such a start! She seized a brolly and would have beaten Bismarck to death, had I not rushed in to rescue him.”
Pauline looked up at him quizzically. “I don’t understand . . . your family are country folk from the north, yet you speak of being away at school, and a pet crocodile named Bismarck, and your grandmamma’s study! How—?” She was interrupted by Winston riding up on Salve, followed closely by Starveling.
“Fancy a pub lunch?” Winston asked. “There’s a public house not far ahead that I happen to know has a nice plate of white fish, and the proprietor is a decent sort who won’t balk at our mechanized companions. Does it suit?”
“Aye,” exclaimed Alexander, glad of the interruption. “My stomach tells me the morning is over and it is time to be fed. Lead on!”
~*~*~*~*~
Winston proved an excellent host. A long table at the nearby Coach and Four public house was littered with the remains of many pints, white fish, shepherd’s pies, ploughman’s lunches, and bangers. The talk was loud and friendly, the spirits high.
At one end of the table, Winston rose to his feet, his third pint in his hand. “Gentlemen . . . and Miss Spiegel . . . I give you the queen!”
Cobweb chirped happily. “She says, ‘The Queens!’ ” supplied Snug.
“The Queens!” shouted Winston.
“The Queens!” answered the Musketeers.
“Miss Spiegel!” chided Winston, amid the happy babble. “You toast the queen’s health with mere lemonade?”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Not even a glass of small beer?”
“Very infrequently sir, on very special occasions.”
“But why?”
“I don’t drink, sir, because I wish to know when I am having a good time.”
Winston snorted. “And that is why it is such a good thing that there are no women in the army or politics! Imagine how many good meals and good times would be totally spoiled by disapproving women!”
“I happen to believe, Mr. Churchill, that we will very soon see universal suffrage, with every person, not just every Englishman, enjoying the right to vote. I believe my daughters will live to see a woman prime minister.”
Winston looked aghast. “Women in Parliament? I should think that would be like having a woman follow me into the lavatory.”
“Oh, Winston,” Pauline shot back, “you are not nearly handsome enough to have such fears.”
“Well played, my dear! Well played!” Winston laughed heartily and pounded the table. “To Miss Spiegel and to women in Parliament!” The Musketeers cheered and drank deep.
~*~*~*~*~
So distraught was Clementine at her encounter with Churchill on the bridge that she had allowed her mare to wander, heedless of any destination. The silent and dutiful Jenkins trailed behind. Alone on the paths of Hyde Park, with only the occasional passerby to turn her face from, she wept bitterly. This could not be! Were his protestations of undying love merely baseless canards? How could he allow the duke to rule him so? Had he no spine whatever?
By the time the mare crossed Bayswater Road and left the park, she had run out of tears, and rode on in a daze. Over and over, she pondered the gala of the evening before: the glittering couples, the lovely dancing, the secret smiles, the whispered endearments, Winston’s abrupt departure. Was there something she should have done differently? Something that would have changed the outcome?
Skirting Paddington Station, she found herself replaying every instant of the confrontation on the bridge. So lost was she in the welter of anger at Winston, anger at Marlborough, and anger at herself, that she did not notice that Jenkins had taken station alongside her, intently monitoring the working class comings and goings of the neighborhood, his riding crop ready in his hand.
It was not until the mare’s second circuit of the Crescent at the entrance to Regent’s Park that Jenkins cleared his throat repeatedly, at last breaking Clementine from her gloomy reverie. “Yes, Jenkins? What is it?”
“Beg pardon, Miss, but if you mean to go much further from home, we should get you another mount. That little mare ain’t accustomed to such hard use, if you’ll pardon me sayin’.”
Clementine came to herself with a jerk. “What? Where . . .?”
“Regent’s Park, Miss.”
“Regent’s Park! But that’s . . .”
“Two miles from home, Miss. Yes.”
“Oh, Jenkins! I am ever so . . . Yes, by all means, please point the way home. “
So it was that Clementine was a trifle surprised at the reception that greeted her when at last she reached the doors of her family’s stable. She drew her horse up sharply, slow to comprehend what she saw: six mechs lined up at parade rest, Winston standing beside the mounting block, awaiting her arrival. Her heart leaped. Surely he couldn’t be here to say that he had reconsidered?
Jenkins took the mare’s head and led her to the block, where Clementine allowed Winston to hand her down.
She withdrew her hand, smoothed her dark chignon, and re-pinned her fashionable riding hat. “Mr. Churchill, I did not think to see you again,” she said curtly.
“Clementine, I do hope we can always remain friends, despite everything.”
She felt hope freeze, and her heart turn to ice within her. “Friends, sir? I do not believe I am in need of a friend so perfidious.”
“Clemmie, I . . .”
“Why are you here, Winston? Speak quickly. It has been a long day already. My patience is very short.”
“I . . . that is . . . I am here . . . we are here . . . on an errand of some great importance.”
“We?”
“Pauline and I.” Until now, Clementine had not noticed Pauline and Alexander standing behind the row of mechs, all of whom were doing their best to pretend they were not hearing their young officer discomfited by this imposing young woman. Pauline hurried toward the mounting block.
Clementine held out a peremptory hand, stopping Pauline in her tracks.
“You said you were my friend.”
“I am your friend!”
“Then answer a simple question: are you and Winston betrothed?”
An instant’s hesitation from Pauline was all it took for Clementine’s simmering rage to boil over. “I knew it!” she barked. “You have betrayed me. Both of you!”
“Clemmie, honestly . . .”
“For shame! Is
it not enough that your fiancé has made such a fool of me? Now you have to come to my own home to mock me? Pauline, who was always the best at everything! Pauline, who always had her pick of the beaus. Pauline the betrayer!” Something deep inside her ached to see hot tears spill from Pauline’s eyes. But it was swamped in the tidal wave of her red rage.
Pauline made to speak, but Clementine continued, her voice dripping acid. “I have been such a fool! All the nights that I poured out my heart to you, confessed my love of this . . . this . . . fickle . . . fustilarian!”
“I?” protested Winston. “A . . . a what?”
“And fickle! You spoke words of love to me, despite being promised since childhood to my best friend. Not twelve hours since, you whisper words of love on the dance floor. And in the morning light, you betray and humiliate me!” Angry mockery filled her voice. “ ‘It is His Grace’s firm opinion that my betrothal to Miss Spiegel can in no wise be interrupted.’ Rank cowardice.”
“Clementine! I hoped you understood. I have no choice. Marlborough is my patron and my political sponsor, as well as the head of my family.”
“And your mother, of course. It is hard not to see her subtle hand in all of this.”
“Clemmie,” Pauline interjected, “you must know . . . you must believe that my heart belongs to another.” She turned and smiled at Alexander, who smiled back lovingly. “I have roundly rejected Winston, but he still claims to love me.”
“Indeed,” Alexander declared. “We are determined that we shall be together, no matter the obstacle. Pauline’s family, my family . . . none of them matter in the face of our love.”
Pauline continued emphatically. “I have absolutely no intention of marrying Mr. Churchill. I have made it clear to Papa that I abhor the prospect.”
“Nevertheless,” insisted Winston, “we are none of us free to follow our own desires. It was decided long ago that Pauline and I are to be wed, and wed we shall be. I will love her as is my duty.”
“Then why are you here?” asked Clementine. “To torture my foolish heart? I loved you! ‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind! That’s why they always paint Cupid blind,’ you said in one letter. Yes, you insensitive clod! I can quote your letters! I may be blind, but you needn’t torture me!”
A Midsummer Night's Steampunk Page 10