"Tell me about him." Evangeline cleared her throat.
"Almost eighteen years have passed but I still miss him terribly. Yes, twins but we were polar opposites, chalk and cheese as they say. He was so serious and calm, whereas I'm..." Augie smiled with sad eyes. "It happened a month before we were due to start at university. My family has a country house, and Horatio loved riding and hunting and all that fresh air business. Horses loved him back. Ordinarily. But one day, he was riding a new horse named Boreas. Boreas was frisky and unpredictable, but Horatio was convinced he could break him. But on this occasion, Horatio was wrong. A neighbour's low-flying dirigible spooked Boreas. He threw Horatio to the ground and trampled him, breaking his back. Horatio never woke up again."
Augie's brown eyes glistened. He took a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose with a refined honk.
"I was away in London at the time, I had a holiday job as an assistant stage manager. It was my first taste of the theatrical world and I was madly in love. I had time for nothing else and had not spoken to my brother in months. We had a terrible row at Christmas. Horatio was a staunch traditionalist and could not bear anything but cranberry sauce with his turkey, but being the modern sort I am, I swore chutney was the way to go. Too much brandy and it got quite out of hand, we never resolved our quarrel. It pains me to this day, our last words were silly and spiteful. I can't even bear to see cranberry sauce. If only I could tell my brother I am sorry and I miss him."
It was Evangeline's turn to comfort her not-real uncle, patting him on the arm.
"I do understand how you feel, my dear. But imagine if your father found out. He would explode like a firecracker."
"His arm might blow right off." Evangeline giggled. Augie laughed too.
"I'm sorry." Augie sighed. "Even if I thought it was a good idea. There's a set number at the table. Only eight people are invited.
"But..." Evangeline tried one more time.
Augie shook his head and Evangeline knew she was defeated. With a heavy heart, she left him to his letter-writing and paced up and down the hallway, thinking. There had to be another way to get an invitation to the séance.
"Ah ha. Got you!" The Professor's voice carried down the hallway from the parlour. "I knew it!"
She raced downstairs and found him pressed up against the front window, the lace curtains pushed aside.
"Father?"
"I was right. There's nothing." He turned, a brass telescope-like cylinder held to his eye. He had built another atervis detector to replace the one Evangeline lost. "No silver aura. Not even an iota of dark energy. She is a pure swindler. Just as I suspected."
"Can I look?"
The Professor handed Evangeline the detector. She peered through the lens across the cobbled street to Madame Zsoldas standing by Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe's front gate, talking with sweeping hand gestures to a frock-coated man, dressed from head to toe in her signature scarlet.
"This proves it. She has no special powers. Where's Augie? I'll show him I was right."
Her father was correct. There was no sign of the silver aura Evangeline had seen when tracking down Lady Breckenridge-Rice, the Alchemist.
"Miss Plockton?" The Professor called down the hallway. "Can you bring down Mr. Beauchamp?"
With a new atervis detector in her hand and her father momentarily distracted, Evangeline had a thought. She peered through the eyepiece at her own hand. The very hand which months earlier had crackled with a strange power, a power she could not reproduce.
Her heart nearly stopped as she looked down. A thin silvery glow emanated from her hand. It was subtle but it was undeniably there.
While Madame Zsoldas was not, Evangeline was exuding dark energy.
Chapter 10
Evangeline lay face down on her feather bed, tears drying tightly on her cheeks, her head foggy and muddled. Could it be true? What did this mean? Was she evil?
She had done many wicked things in her past, but there was always a well-founded reason. She stole and lied to eat, under duress with threats and beatings from her stepfather. But if she was honest with herself, even now when she had all she needed, she was far from perfect. Lies still fell so easily from her lips. Did this mean she was naturally bad?
If only she could speak to Mei. No one else would understand. Evangeline wiped her face and pulled the brass telegraph key from the hiding place under the floor, typing desperately to her estranged best friend across the laneway.
"Are you there?"
Nothing.
"I need to talk."
There was no reply.
The triangle sounded downstairs for tea. Evangeline cleaned away her tears with a splash of water and smoothed down her hair, her heart plummeting again as she touched the frayed burnt ends. But if she was riddled with evil, a bald patch was the least of her concerns.
She slumped downstairs and took her chair at the table.
"Good afternoon, Miss Evangeline," Miss Plockton said.
Evangeline grunted in reply and reached across the table, taking three large slices of seed cake.
"Manners," Miss Plockton tutted. Evangeline shrugged her shoulders and shoved a whole piece of cake into her mouth.
The Professor strode in with a whistle.
"I have asked Chief Inspector Pensnett to come and see me. We shall go across to Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe's house and unmask the charlatan Hungarian woman. Then it will be a matter for the police to deal with and everything will be back to normal."
Evangeline wolfed down three slices of caraway and citrus seed cake, before grabbing another piece.
"Rather hungry this afternoon?" her father remarked as he stirred his usual three sugar lumps into his tea.
Evangeline shrugged again and kept chewing.
"Please close your mouth as you chew," Miss Plockton said.
Evangeline screwed up her face.
"How I eat is none of your business," she said with a hard look in her eye and a mouthful of cake.
"Oh." Miss Plockton gasped, her hand fluttering to her heart.
"Evangeline!" her father retorted. "Apologise to Miss Plockton this instant. How dare you be so rude."
"Sorry," Evangeline said sarcastically, before cramming more cake into her mouth and washing it down with a loud slurp of tea.
"What has come over you? You are behaving like a pig at a trough," her father chided.
"Leave me alone," she grunted.
"What did you say, young lady?" her father bellowed. "To your room now. I will not tolerate such insolence in my own home."
"Fine." Evangeline grabbed a fistful of tea cakes and stomped upstairs to her room, slamming the door behind her.
She sat on the end of her bed, seething with self-loathing. She had been rude and ill-mannered but perhaps this was her true nature. She was not good enough for polite company and the genteel life at 56 Collins Street. Perhaps it would be better for everyone if she left and returned to her old life on the streets.
She pulled out her battered suitcase from under her bed. The only belongings she brought from London when she first came to live with the Caldicotts. A tear rolled down her cheek. She should have known this was too good to last. She was a fraud, she could never be the young lady her father wanted. She placed the tea cakes and a spare dress into the suitcase and snapped the locks closed. It had been nice for a while, but now it was time to leave.
Chapter 11
Evangeline had one foot poking out her bedroom window when there was a gentle knock on the door. The handle turned and the door opened a sliver.
"Miss Evangeline?" It was Miss Plockton. "May I come in?"
Evangeline hastily closed the window and kicked her suitcase under the bed.
"Come in," she said, once she was nonchalantly seated at her writing desk.
Miss Plockton entered tentatively, her grey eyes softer than usual.
"I wanted to check on you. I wondered if you were ill. You were acting out of character at tea. Not you
r usual self at all."
Evangeline pursed her lips but stayed quiet.
"May I sit?"
Miss Plockton placed herself lightly on the very end of Evangeline's bed.
"I know I am only your father's personal secretary. I am merely an employee and not part of the family. But, I do have your best interests at heart. Sometimes I may be strict and appear old-fashioned and rigid. But please believe me when I say, my words come from a place of affection."
A lump clogged Evangeline's throat.
"I wanted to tell you I am glad you came to this house. You have brightened up the place ever so much. I thank the Lord you came to stay with us. I know your father feels the same."
Evangeline said nothing, holding in her sobs.
"This may be a confusing time as you settle into your life with us. But we are all glad God brought you to us."
"I am sorry, Miss Plockton, but..." she said with a choke.
"No need to apologise, Miss Evangeline. I know you are good in your heart."
Without another word, Miss Plockton rose to her feet and left the room. Evangeline flung herself face down into her pillows and sobbed.
There was a clattering under the floorboard. Evangeline jumped up and uncovered the telegraph key.
"I'm here." Evangeline typed.
"What's wrong? Liwei said there was something rattling in my room."
"I'm evil."
"What have you done now?"
Evangeline could picture her friend rolling her eyes.
"No. Truthfully. I've got the silver aura."
"Ballocks."
"I saw it myself. Through the detector."
"You can be a bit of an eejit now and then but you're not evil."
She shook her head vigorously. "What about the time I got us out of the cages? The magic I can't explain? And I had another strange feeling yesterday."
"Would I be friends with you if you were evil?"
Evangeline chewed on her lip. "Only if you're evil too."
"Good point. I hadn't thought of that."
She threw her hands in the air.
"You're not helping. I’m going to run away."
“You’re hysterical. If I was there I’d give you a good hard slap.”
“But.”
“Come on, Miss Logic. Stop being such a featherbrain. Where are the facts?”
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of.” Evangeline blinked, and a single tear splashed onto the brass keys like a water bomb.
“Exactly. If you were actually evil, you wouldn’t care a bit. And I’m sure you’d have an evil laugh. Or a limp or something.”
Evangeline sighed with a chuckle. "Maybe you're right."
"Of course I am. I’m always right. But I've got to go. Mama is still awake. I promise we'll spar again soon. I'm playing Perfect Daughter No.1. She's almost forgotten all about the fuss with the Bunyip. Bye."
"I miss you." Evangeline tapped back and put away her telegraph key with a smile.
If Miss Plockton and Mei believed in her, could she be so bad? Maybe the detector was wrong.
The storm clouds clearing from her head, Evangeline returned to her original plan. Obtaining a place at Madame Zsoldas's séance table was more important than ever. Fraternising with spirits and the spiritualists would be the true test of whether the dark energy lived within her.
Chapter 12
The Professor was not as forgiving of Evangeline's beastly behaviour. But there were benefits of being banished to her room. It created the perfect alibi.
As soon as it grew dark and she heard Clarence the grandfather clock chime seven times, Evangeline shimmied down the drainpipe and dropped to the ground softly. This time, Evangeline was dressed practically, shedding her bulky skirts for a black Chinese jacket and trousers. A new sparring ensemble smuggled across the lane by Mei’s brother Liwei and perfect for any nocturnal adventure.
She squeezed through the narrow gap between the red brick house and the Nibthwaites' wall, past the camellia bushes and out the front gate. She had no new inventions tonight, but her lamp beam was squirrelled away in her pocket. The perfect accompaniment for any nocturnal investigations, it was compact, cast a penny-sized beam of light and was one of her first inventions under the Professor's tutelage.
She darted across the road, spooking a horse pulling a hansom cab, and vaulted over Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe's ornate iron fence. A squeak from the gate would announce her arrival and no one liked an uninvited guest.
She crouched in the rhododendrons and waited.
After a few minutes had passed and no one had come to investigate, she set off again, dodging the rose bushes and the bottlebrush before cautiously stepping onto the front verandah. She inched forward, pressed against the curtained windows and listened to the muffled voices inside.
Evangeline followed the verandah around the house, trying a window but the lock was firmly latched. She continued down three stone steps and through another gate into the back yard. She turned the corner of the house and noticed the back door was wide open, casting a rectangle of light onto the paving.
Crash!
Evangeline squashed herself flat against the wall.
"Bloody Nora!" exclaimed a woman. "You clumsy cow."
"I'm sorry," wailed a girlish voice.
"Brush the dirt off. Them lot won't notice."
A busy kitchen with an angry Cook was not the ideal entry point to the house, so Evangeline moved on. Ducking down low, she scuttled across the courtyard towards the conservatory.
Evangeline twisted the brass handle of the French doors but it was locked. Unperturbed, she pulled a pin from her damaged hair and fiddled with the lock until the door sprung open.
She tiptoed across the conservatory's wooden floors and paused by the door jam. Roasting meat and rosemary wafted up from the kitchen.
"Bagley?" called a familiar posh voice, followed by a swoosh of full skirts, grazing against the walls. It was Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe in another purple gown, this time a shade of iris. The lady of the house preoccupied with her preparations, passed by without noticing Evangeline hiding in the shadows.
Evangeline exhaled.
She heard the sound of little trotting feet scraping against wood and a small white terrier scampered down the hallway. The dog skidded to a halt outside the conservatory, bared her teeth and began to growl, her little body shaking and shuddering.
"Shh," Evangeline whispered. "Good dog."
The white terrier yapped, the shrill sound bouncing down the hallway.
"Petunia!" Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe called from down the hall. "What is it, dearie?"
Evangeline scuttled under the breakfast table and curled up into a tiny ball. The dog followed her, nipping at her toes and barking annoyingly.
"Shoo. Shoo. Go away." Evangeline hissed and waved her hands.
"Petunia." Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe called again. "Please be quiet. Bagley? Can you fetch Petunia? I hope she hasn't found another rat. Our guests will be here any moment."
Evangeline cowered under the table, as gaslight slowly illuminated the room and footsteps entered.
"Petunia. What's all this fuss about?" said an unfamiliar voice.
Petunia yipped and yapped.
Evangeline held her breath inside her chest, trying to think of a plausible explanation for why she was hiding under the table in Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe's conservatory.
Chapter 13
"Stop barking, you stupid little dog," said the voice again, this time in a hushed tone. "You better not have widdled on the carpet."
There was a scrape of claws and a yelp, as Bagley scooped Petunia from the floor and carried her away. Petunia's pathetic yapping fading away into the distance.
The grandfather clock in the hallway struck the half hour. The guests would be arriving soon. Taking advantage of the cover of the clock's carillon, Evangeline left her hiding place and ventured gingerly towards the front of the house. She scuttled into the grand foyer with the enormous
chandelier and the grumpy portraits on the wall, glancing at the closed ballroom doors. Evangeline wondered what had become of the objectionable mummy. He was probably packed up and en route to Singapore already.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Evangeline squeezed herself beside the clock as it pealed its last chime.
A flash of scarlet stood at the base of the staircase.
"Chale?" Madame Zsoldas called out before entering a room on the left. "Chale? May I see you for a moment?"
She came straight back out of the room and started up the stairs, mumbling to herself.
"Where is he?"
The room on the left must be the location for the séance. Evangeline sprinted from her hiding place, across the foyer and in through the open door. The thick red velvet curtains were drawn and the room was dimly lit by tiny gas lamps on intricate brass sconces set into the wallpapered walls. A circular table was set in the middle of the room with all the other furniture moved aside, the walls lined with mahogany arm chairs, settees and chaise lounges upholstered in pear-green damask. More dark and dour-faced portraits hung on the walls, suspended by brass chains, and a spicy rich scent wafted through the air.
Evangeline darted into the farthest, darkest corner of the room and wrapped the heavy velvet curtains around her body like a mummy.
Rustling fabric and footsteps entered the room. The door closed.
"Is everything prepared, Chale?"
From her spot within the drapery, Evangeline could see Madame Zsoldas in her scarlet flowing robes and one of her companions, a grey-faced man with a matching emotionless voice.
"Yes, Madame. Exactly as you instructed. The table is set for nine."
"All your equipment is in place?"
"All in place, Madame."
The man pointed behind the sideboard near the door. Evangeline craned her neck but she could not see what he was referring to. What equipment did Chale need? Was he part of the séance? Despite the exotic incense in the room, this was beginning to smell fishy.
"Excellent. Now, we have three people with dead mothers." Madame Zsoldas referred to a sheet of paper in her hand. "One dead twin brother..."
The Antics of Evangeline: Collection 1: Mystery and Mayhem in steampunk Melbourne Page 18