“Child,” her mother came a step closer. “You’ve always made such complicated things. Your art instructor quit because of your precision and aptitude, said he couldn’t teach you what you already know. We’ve allowed you freedom to explore that, but this,” she gestured to Ali’s outfit and to Clifford. “This is too much. Come along, you will remain home until your father returns in a week’s time. When he finds out what you have done, I doubt he’ll be so lenient.”
“Mama!” she protested. “We’re onto something here. I have to finish my work.”
Madam Trant shook her head. “No, this is not work for a proper lady.”
Clifford placed a hand gently in the middle of her back and pushed her forward. “Don’t worry Cari, I’ll get on the prototype, and you’ll get the credit for it. I’ll make sure of it.”
Her mother stared at him dumbfounded. “Why would you do that?”
“Because it was her idea, Madam Trant, and if this works, your daughter will be credited for saving hundreds of airmen.”
“And if it fails, she will be a disgrace. No, Mister Morris-Lowe, my daughter will have nothing more to do with this little experiment you and your grandfather have conducted on her. A lady’s place is not with the sciences.”
“Mama,” Carialis pleaded, but her mother ignored her and pulled her away from the table.
Ali bowed her head and refused to look at Delphine and Anastasia as her mother lead her from the library. She hadn’t noticed the crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop on the argument, but it quickly melted into the shadows as her mother strode forward with her head held high. Even the dean had the good grace not to say anything as they walked by, but Carialis did not miss his sympathetic look. Her mother did not say a word even when they reached the carriage. The silence stung worse than being scolded.
“Mama,” she began.
Madam Trant raised one hand to stop her. “I meant it, Cari. You will remain at home until your father returns next week. He will decide your punishment from there.”
Carialis stared at the mantle clock. As the war raged far from the capitol, the week had turned into several months. The fleet was finally supposed to return at any moment, and her mother had broken their isolation by inviting several other captains’ wives for tea and refreshment before they were to go to the official celebration. The carriages were already lined up out front to whisk them away when word came, but it was taking far too long. Ali knew she was being rude for ignoring their guests, but it wasn’t until her cap sleeve was tugged that she realized anyone was talking to her.
“Countess Ravina,” she bowed her head at the tall woman who had come to her side.
“Carialis,” the countess replied with a stiff incline of her head. She could do no more due to the high, tight collar of her dark dress.
Ali’s eyes widened as she took in the mourning clothes. “When?”
A thin-lipped smile greeted her impertinence. “Three days ago. The YellowStar took heavy fire near the coast as it was returning for fuel. The reports say that the ship was ringed in and had nowhere to go other than fall or surrender. You know my son would never surrender.”
Ali closed her eyes and grimaced. She and the countess’s son, Harris, had been very close until he had gone to military school. He had only been promoted to captain shortly before the fleet shipped out.
“I am so sorry. Harris would have weighed his choices carefully before making such a decision.”
“Enough of sad things, child. This should be a happy occasion. Your father is scheduled to return, as are a many other brave airmen. Perhaps your mother may relent and allow you a suitor.” The disgust was not lost on Ali. She knew that the countess had been trying to get her mother to consider Harris as a possible husband for her, but her mother had never thought it a good enough match.
Carialis allowed a soft laugh for the Countess’s benefit. “I doubt it. After the incident at the University, I doubt my mother will ever allow me out of this house.”
“Then the rumors are true? You were working on the evacuation sheets?”
She nodded.
Ravina’s eyes widened and, to Ali’s surprise, she enveloped her in a hug. “Thank you!”
“Pardon?”
Pulling back, so they could see each other’s eyes, the countess gasped. “You didn’t know?”
The sudden display had garnered attention from some of the other ladies, and her mother was quick to her side. “Know what?”
“The sheets work! They’re working on making them mandatory on all ships of the fleet.” The countess pulled her close once more. “The YellowStar only lost half its crew because of them.”
“But Harris . . .”
“A foolish boy to be sure.” The countess let her go and turned to Madam Trant. “But my youngest was serving as a cabin boy, and he survived because of your daughter.”
“My Lucas survived when his ship fell because of one of them,” piped up an older matron that Ali barely recognized.
Several other ladies added their support on how the evacuation chutes had saved their men. She was encircled by their praise while her mother stood dumbfounded. Madam Trant took it in stride and actually allowed herself to preen under the compliments of the other women.
It wasn’t until Winston rang the serving bell and announced that the ships had been sighted that Carialis was given peace.
Madam Trant shook her head in disbelief as they boarded the carriage. “You really did that?” she asked.
“I came up with the idea. I assume Clifford had more to do with its production.”
“Your father always said your mind was made differently. Perhaps, if he agrees, you can return to the University.”
Ali allowed herself to smile, but held little hope for it.
She was stuck at her table with her parents as penance for her deception at the school. She watched as her friends danced and flirted with different officers. Still, the atmosphere seemed different than the night the fleet had shipped out. Looking around the great ballroom, she realized just how few people were there. She saw where the YellowStar’s sunburst on blue was missing from the flags, along with other familiar airship banners.
She turned to her father and leaned close. “How many were lost?”
Captain Trant turned to her, and she realized how much older he had become in the last few months. He patted her hand on the table. “More than should have, but less than if you hadn’t done the unexpected.”
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
“I feel like a dance,” her father stated as he stood. “Get the feel of solid ground beneath my boots again. Cari?” He offered her his hand.
She looked to her mother for a moment, but did not wait for permission before taking the proffered invitation and walking to the dance floor. They stood on the edge of the floor among the onlookers, waiting for the current song to end and another to begin.
“I had an interesting correspondence cross my desk while away?”
“Oh?” she asked, biting her tongue to keep from laughing at Delphine, whose feet were being trampled upon by a young officer.
“Aye, a request to court you from an unlikely source.”
Carialis’s heartbeat sped up, and her breathing became shallower. “And who was that?”
Before her father could answer, the song changed, and they stepped onto the dance floor. She fumbled her curtsey as she waited for the answer, but her father did not speak again as they twirled across the floor. She allowed him his dance and refused to let her mind wander. With each spin, she searched the room, hoping for some glimpse of the StarStryker’s crew among the officers.
The music ended, and her father led her to one of the open archways that led out to a patio where lovers had snuck away. A few of the officers noticed the captain’s presence and were quick to leave the area, but Trant never stepped out beyond the threshold.
“Let them have their fun while they can,” he huffed.
“Father,” Carialis
leaned against him in a hug.
“That wasn’t fair of me, was it?” he laughed. “The request came from a Clifford Morris-Lowe.”
“Cliff?” she gasped and her heart felt heavy in her chest. “How did you respond?”
“I told him that a suitor had already come forward, and if he had an issue with that, he would need to speak with his cousin.”
“His cousin? You mean . . .?” she couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.
“Aye, Domaroc is a good man. He told me about your antics aboard his freighter, both times. He also told me he arranged for you to work with poor Clifford after he saw your sketchbook. I saw how many lives were saved by your idea.” He patted her head. “If that’s the only thing you ever event, it is enough, but if you want to do more, you can. A man like Dom can respect a woman with ideas.”
She stared at him dumbfounded.
“Don’t worry about the how and why of it, girl. If it is what you want, I’ll allow it. Your mother won’t approve, of course. And I suppose I can’t show that I do either.”
The crying from the bassinet beside her startled Carialis from her memories. Glancing toward the large windows that made up the western wall of her work studio, she saw the sun kissing the horizon and groaned. She had wasted most the afternoon due to exhaustion. Her mind could not focus on the task at hand. With a sigh, she turned to her daughter, Octavia, and picked her up, wondering where the nanny had gone.
“It’s alright, Tavi,” she cooed into the baby’s ear.
The door opened, and Domaroc came in with a tray of food and a bottle for the baby. “I told Lucy to have the night off. We should be able to take care of our own child for one night without getting into too much trouble.”
“I thought you and Cliff were working on that new boiler system.”
“Who do you think she has the night off with?” he asked with a wink.
She sat back a moment, surprised.
“Are you all right, love?” he asked, setting the tray on her desk and going to the cabinet in the corner to pour himself a drink.
“Yes. I just hadn’t realized they had become so close. When did that happen?”
“It’s been in the works for a while. It just took some convincing for her to allow it. We’re far away from the cities and still the class system is in play. She doesn’t feel worthy of a Morris-Lowe. If anything, Clifford isn’t worthy of her.”
Ali laughed, adjusted the infant to grabbing the bottle from the tray, and tried to get Octavia to take it. “I was just thinking of how we ended up here.”
“Grandfather?” he asked over his shoulder.
“No, I mean before Navarro’s betrayal and your captivity,” she replied. When the child refused the bottle, Ali untied the sash of her dress and freed herself to feed the child more naturally. “One thing is certain. This child has kept me from corsets.”
“Ah,” he chuckled. “Your wager.”
“Your scheme,” she countered.
He swallowed his drink, set the crystal glass on the table before coming to massage her shoulders. He reached around and cupped Octavia’s head, before kissing the top of Carialis’s. “Well, love, every bird needs to be pushed from the nest before it flies.”
“Still, we both won,” she replied, reaching her free hand up to caress the side of his face. The life she was living was a far cry from the one imagined by any high-borne lady, and it didn’t matter one bit. She had everything.
Chorus:
So fasten your guises and come sing with me
Unleash your aspect and set your beast free
With hearts made of brass, and with eyes of electrum
A thespian’s life spans the full of the spectrum (Chorus)
I renounced rural life for the ways of the dreamy
As I rise to the surface, the scene’s not so creamy
Every man in the audience wanting to free me
It’s less than romantic, but every scene’s steamy (Chorus)
It’s well for the farmer and all his bucolics
But give me the harness and high-rise hydraulics
A show business spell with theatrics and frolics
Feeds hearts of the hungry and sad workaholics (Chorus)
To the lonely and wounded, there’s certain appeal
Devotion and cheering, the blindness of zeal
With paints and with powders, I’m only too real
For the oil’s only splashed on the squeaky cogwheel (Chorus)
The spectators’ minds are so often programmable
A villainess’ role, and I’m suddenly damnable
Learning new dialogue, whenever crammable
Beware the gaslight! The costumes are flammable! (Chorus)
“Awww wat a purdy face,” the Dolly said as she rubbed her body up against mine. Her breasts strained at the cheap material of her dress and looked as if spillage would happen at any minute.
I flinched at her touch, hoping to avoid further contact. “Um, no. I’m okay.” I pushed the woman away as the scent of perfume and body odor assaulted my senses and caused my stomach to churn.
“Ahhh, it’s yurn birthday, ain’t it? I can show yer a right good time!” she said as she moved close again and gyrated against me.
Disgusted by the desire that flared alive in my body, I closed my eyes, attempting to shut out the greedy cravings that hounded me daily.
Opening my eyes again, I could see the others watching in amusement. I took a deep breath to steady myself and said, “Go!” I pushed her again and felt ashamed when she stumbled backward, looking surprised.
The prostitute regained her footing and anger flashed across her face. She straightened her dress and looked down at my pants with a smirk, and I quickly placed a hand in front of myself in a feeble attempt to hide my body’s betrayal.
She snorted and said, “Yer wouldn’t be no good anyway!” She spat out a glob of spit that landed near my shoe, glanced around our group with a lipstick-smeared sneer, and flounced out of the alleyway, careful not to let the bally see her.
“Awww yer such a meater. Just a wimp, Trouble!” Bae howled with laughter, slapping his thigh, which caused him to lean haphazardly on the pedal walker. “I knew he wouldn’t go through with it! I called it. Right, Gripper?”
I watched as my supposed best friends got a kick out of what they liked to call my “delicate condition.”
Gripper snorted and shook his head as he raised a tattooed hand to scratch his cheek with an uneven nail, and then continued counting red and gold Atholrus bills as he said, “Watcha waiting for, Trouble? Yer an aright looking mug, I s’ppose. I mean, not as purdy as me,” he chuckled, “but enough to get half dem Judys itching for a taste!” He shoved the wad of bills into his back pocket.
We rounded the corner after leaving the alley and followed the growing crowd down a dirt path. Lights beckoned us to the multiple red, yellow, and blue tents anchored in McGruyer’s Field. The chime and tinkle of carnival music filled the air, and from the tents, the scent of roasted meat and vegetables drifted to me on the evening breeze. My stomach grumbled, distracting me from thoughts of Fiona.
I shrugged, not sure how to explain that I wanted to wait for the right girl. That’s a lie. I’d found the right girl. Well, a woman—a married woman, Fiona Ramsey.
“Awww, guys, let it go! Will ya? It’s not a big deal!” I said, irritated with being called out.
Bae said, “Really? Nothing to be ashamed of? Think how it feels for us to be friends with the feller who’s still a virgin at nineteen. No, sumthin’s gotta be done. I know yer all hot for that…”
He paused when I gave him a pointed stare. “We don’t need to mention her.”
He smirked. “Yer needs to get over this. Yer can’t keep sniffing after some married woman as if she’s a heifer in heat. It’s not right. Yer shoulda let me set ya up wit that Ladybird. Betcha she’d make yer forget yer problems,” he hooted, and his voice echoed, causing many heads to turn our way.
We broke apart when it stopped in front of us.
“Please desist. Please desist! Quiet please. Please quiet!” it said before turning to head back to the entrance.
“Yes, sir!” Bae gave a mock salute to the bot.
“Shh, Bae, lower your voice. I ain’t going to the brink because of you tonight.” Anger tainted my words as I dusted off my leather pants and shirt.
Bae followed my example, but before he hopped back on the pedal walker, he reached down and picked up a stone, throwing it in the direction of the bot. The rock, thankfully, fell short, although the robot stopped and turned towards us. He gave a blank look in our direction and headed back towards the main entrance.
“Bae!” I hissed.
He ran a hand over his short, red buzz-cut hair, chuckling while he climbed back on the two-wheeler.
I shook my head and said, “Really? And as far as embarrassment goes, who are you guys to talk? At least I worked this summer. What have you done, huh? Bae, I’m surprised you have money to pay for me to get laid. But you should use it to fix that.” I pointed towards the pedal walker. “You’re so lazy. How many times have I said to fix the damn Penny? One of your front wheel spokes is bent, and there’s a dent in the steam pump, so it won’t work either.”
I watched as small thin streams of steam puffed sporadically through the brass pipe attached to the back of the bike. I’d been on him to get it fixed, but like with everything else, he never got around to it.
“If you’d fix the steam casing, then you wouldn’t have to pedal!” Aggravated, I tried keeping my voice low. I knew I shouldn’t let their jibes get under my skin.
Cogs in Time Volume Three (The Steamworks Series Book 3) Page 16