Chapter 2
"Hurry, man," the Professor exclaimed.
The three lights hurtled closer, flying in from the east. The size of oranges in the dark sky. The four wheeled carriage sped along Flinders Street, the murky Yarra River on one side, The Herald newspaper building, the Allied Steamworks Factory, and the sandstone wool stores along the other. The carriage turned up Exhibition Street, then Collins Street and stopped in front of the red-brick Caldicott residence at number 56.
The portly Professor leaped from the carriage, racing through the iron gate and in the front door. Evangeline scrambled along after him, not wanting to miss a moment.
"Come on, Uncle Edmund."
"Wait for me," panted Edmund, closely behind her skirts.
They ran downstairs into the Professor's laboratory-workshop, an underground cellar filled with neatly categorised supplies and equipment. Rows of trunks lined the bluestone walls and, in the farthest corner, the Professor's secret project, hidden under a locked beige tarpaulin. The secret project, which, on occasion, moved all by itself.
The Professor rushed over to a microscope in the corner of the room.
Evangeline frowned. "But..." She pointed into the air.
Mumbling to himself, her father twiddled a sequence of dials and knobs. "Blast. Can't see a thing."
Only then did Evangeline spy three brass pipes leading out of the instrument, up the stone wall and through the ceiling.
"Cursed birds nesting over my peephole. Remind me to get Miss Plockton to clean out the gutters tomorrow." Turning away, he hurried across the room, diving head first into the nearest trunk and started rummaging. "I only saw the infernal thing the other day. I knew it would come in handy."
"Is this it?" Evangeline held up a long brass tube.
"Ah ha." The Professor grabbed the telescope with his clockwork hand, charging it in the air triumphantly. "As fine as the Great Melbourne Telescope. Hurry along."
Evangeline, the Professor and Uncle Edmund scrambled back upstairs and onto Collins Street.
"Where are you, ruddy lights?" the Professor muttered, squinting into the telescope.
Evangeline scoured the sky with her naked eye. Looking east and then west, she spotted Scorpius, Centaurus and the Southern Cross, but her father was right. The strange blinking lights were gone.
"Give it here. You were always rubbish in the outdoors," Edmund said. "Remember the hedgehog."
"How many times do I have to tell you, it was ferocious." The Professor huffed, handing over the telescope to his little brother.
"Dang it. You're right, Monty," Edmund said, scouting about the sky. "They were moving at an awfully fast clip. Perhaps they've already flown over?"
"The back garden?" Evangeline suggested.
Her father and uncle barged through the house, pushing past a bemused Miss Plockton, knocking a silver calling-card holder to the floor with a clang.
Out the back kitchen door and into the courtyard, the three Caldicotts stopped, their necks craned upwards. Evangeline searched every corner of the sky but the three bright lights were well and truly gone.
"Knickers," Evangeline grumbled.
"We lost it," the Professor said, sighing. His shoulders drooping, the telescope swinging by his side.
"A dirigible couldn't move that fast?" Edmund continued to stare up into the sky. "We only lost sight of it for a few moments."
"Most unusual. A real brain-twirler. What could it have possibly been?" The Professor stroked his ample black moustache.
Taking the telescope from her father's hand, Evangeline peered up into the empty sky. "Look, Father," she said, pointing to a faint trail of smoke. "Pink vapour."
"Why yes." The Professor rubbed his chin. "How curious."
"Tea time, Professor," Miss Plockton called through the open kitchen door.
"Splendid. I'm parched." The Professor clapped his hands. "Ample stimulation for one day. Especially for a Sunday."
"What could it have been, Father?" Evangeline asked as they headed into the warm house.
"One of Miss Plockton's fine brews and a pipe will reveal the answer. Mark my words." The Professor pulled up a chair and held out his tea cup to be filled.
The room settled into a contemplative silence, the Caldicotts and Augie stirring and slurping their milky tea, each absorbed in their own little world. Evangeline traced her upper lip as her mind whirred. Bright lights, mysterious manoeuvres, pink smoke, strawberry ice-cream. A delicious new mystery unfolding, begging to be solved. But where should Evangeline begin? She tilted her head to the side. One thing she knew for certain, another ham and pickle sandwich would definitely aid her thinking process. She leaned across the table and grabbed another.
Chapter 3
The next day
"The Herald agrees they were dirigible lights," Edmund said with a crisp nod.
The air in the Conservatory rustled with newspapers and the scent of crispy bacon. The Professor grunted in agreement.
"Other people saw the lights too?" Evangeline said, taking a seat at the breakfast table and a generous serving of bacon. The news was a pleasant surprise, she was often disappointed by the lack of curiosity in other people.
"Half of Melbourne was staring into the sky last night. Those three peculiar lights have caused quite the stir." The Professor’s eyes gleaming like Christmas morning.
"But the dirigible companies claim there were no flights over the east last night." Edmund scratched his jaw.
"The Argus says it was a dirigible, escaped from its moorings," the Professor reported from his own copy.
"A runaway airship?" Evangeline said leaning in, her butter knife stopped in mid-air.
"Are we still talking about those lights? How tedious." Augie huffed as he swanned into the room.
"Cripes!" Edmund said, grabbing the sides of the breakfast table. "This fellow claims it was a French scouting party. We should all be preparing our defences for an invasion!"
Evangeline and Augie's eyes widened, as big as bread and butter plates. The Professor shook his head, chuckling.
"Come. Come, little brother. A little far fetched. Although..." the Professor said, smoothing down his voluminous black moustache. "That fool President Questembert does fancy himself as the new Napoleon."
"Even on the other side of the world, we cannot escape the power tussles of Europe." Augie sighed.
"Never fear, Augie. There is only one true Empire," the Professor said, thrusting out his chest.
Evangeline listened as she chewed, digesting all the abounding theories. Runaway airships? Corrupt companies? Warmongering Frenchmen? Where should she begin?
A knock on the front door interrupted Evangeline's thoughts. Miss Plockton appeared, handing a note to the Professor.
"Tell the man to send Chief Inspector Pensnett right over." The Professor folded up the note and grabbed another triangle of toast.
Chief Inspector Pensnett? Evangeline wriggled in her seat. Now something exciting was bound to happen.
"Miss Plockton? Set the Chief Inspector a place at the table. I imagine he's spent half the night running about after rogue lights. He's probably missed his breakfast."
Evangeline said nothing, sitting as still as she could manage. If she remained quiet, her father might forget she was there. She couldn't bear to miss out on another conversation with the police. On his last visit to 56 Collins Street, Chief Inspector Pensnett brought the mystery of the fake gold, eventually leading Evangeline to the Lady Alchemist. What excitement would Pensnett bring today?
"Must dash," said Edmund slurping down the rest of his tea. "Off to explain why I can't change my drawings to another half-wit Minister."
"I must be off too." Augie rose to his feet. "I have a little secret project of my own. An exciting new production coming to Melbourne. But I have all this beastly correspondence to complete before I can breathe a word. But believe me, it will be blood-curdling." He growled and clawed the air with his fingers before flouncing from the
room.
The best friends left Evangeline and the Professor alone in the Conservatory. Evangeline grimaced. There was nowhere to hide.
"Now Evangeline," the Professor said, clearing his throat. "I've been meaning to have a word with you."
Evangeline's shoulders flopped as she waited for her marching orders from the breakfast table. Didn't her father realise how helpful she could be?
"You have been with me for over six months now."
"Seven."
"Exactly. While there were a few bumps in the road. I'm willing to forget your early reckless acts." The Professor raised an eyebrow.
Evangeline longed to interrupt. The incident with the explosion in the outhouse was not her fault. But she kept her mouth closed and listened.
"New country, new family and all that. Such an upheaval in a young lady's life. A few rough moments are to be expected. But you have proven yourself to be extremely trustworthy over recent months."
Evangeline nodded, hiding her mouth with a sip of her tea. The Professor did not know the half of her adventures since arriving in Melbourne. But fathers didn't need to know everything about their daughters. Where was the fun in that?
"You've excelled in your studies. Quite a brain you've got there, my girl." The Professor grinned, rubbing his brass hand with his real one. "You're a real Caldicott. And you've proven yourself to be very handy in the workshop. You have talents which must be nurtured."
Evangeline's heart thumped, holding her breath.
"I've been thinking long and hard. About your future..."
Evangeline's face fell. She slumped further into her chair.
Only last week, a third girl from her watercolours class left Melbourne, heading for one of the new girls' boarding schools. Apparently, the education at St. Agnes was top-notch, providing instruction on everything a practical young lady needed to know; mathematics, physics, archery, the works. Was her father sending her away too?
She bit into her toast to hide her trembling lip, she did not want to go anywhere. She'd only just arrived.
Chapter 4
The Professor's eyes gleamed while Evangeline returned his gaze, holding back tears.
"Remember my old pal, Wilby? He put the idea in my head. Made me wonder if perhaps I was being too old-fashioned."
Wilby was her father's adventurer friend, who invited Evangeline to join his Bunyip-catching expedition. Although Wilby proved he was not quite the hero her father believed.
Evangeline's heart cantered. It was obvious. Her father was sending her away. Maybe all the way back to England.
"My plate is rather full, with all my research and experiments etcetera. And I could do with a hand." The Professor wiggled his brass fingers. "So I have a proposal for you. Would you like to become my assistant?"
Evangeline jumped in her chair, clasping her hands to her chest.
"You're not sending me away?"
"Of course not! Whatever gave you that idea?" the Professor chuckled. "So will you accept the position?"
"Yes, Father!" Evangeline grabbed her father's real hand. "It would be an honour."
"Excellent. You'll be a real help to me. Until you get married and start your own family, of course. Then I'll have to cope on my own."
Evangeline sneered at the mention of marriage. She was only seventeen, she planned to have a whole life of adventures before stuffy old husbands and noisy nurseries.
"We shall start with a probationary period. But remember, if you act out or go off on one of your little misadventures, the offer will be withdrawn tout suite."
"I understand." Evangeline nodded, her voice low and firm. Perhaps she should put aside her plans to investigate the lights, for the moment. Or be so remarkably clever, he would not find out.
"There'll be long hours in the laboratory-workshop, and I am not the easiest man to work with. Ask Miss Plockton. But I am confident you will bring a valuable contribution to my inventions."
"Thank you, Father." Evangeline leaped up and wrapped her arms around him, placing a kiss on his bristly cheek. In all the excitement, he must have forgotten to visit Cornelius the barber.
"That's settled."
"When do we start?"
The knocker on the front door pounded loudly.
"Bring the Chief Inspector straight in, Miss Plockton."
Heavy footsteps thumped down the hallway, and a man marched into the room, his plush greying beard flowing.
"Sorry to intrude so early on a Monday morning, Professor, but we have an emergency."
"Perfectly fine, Chief Inspector. Please sit. Toast? Eggs and bacon? Miss Plockton can rustle up some kippers if you're so inclined."
"You are very thoughtful, sir. I haven't had a chance to breakfast this morning," Pensnett said, grabbing a chair with swift determination.
"A man cannot think properly on an empty stomach, Chief Inspector. Miss Plockton, please arrange a full breakfast for our guest."
"You've already seen the papers," Pensnett said, gesturing to the mess of newspapers strewn over the table and spilling onto the floor. "I am here to talk to you about the very same topic. The mysterious lights."
"We saw them ourselves." The Professor nodded, plucking his self-combusting pipe from his waistcoat pocket. "On returning home from St. Kilda last night. Most peculiar."
Evangeline clutched her hands together. She knew Pensnett would bring excitement to the house.
"The Governor is very concerned. As are the police, of course," Pensnett said, waving his forkful of fried egg and toast.
"Indeed. I saw the outlandish theory about the French."
"Reckless reporting." Pensnett shook his head. "Frightening people with tales of invading forces. It could lead to absolute bedlam."
"Panic in the streets of Melbourne." The Professor nodded, lips pressed together tightly.
"We need to quash these stories and find an explanation post-haste. And this is my reason for troubling you, Professor. We'd be grateful for your professional advice, yet again."
"I do have a little experience with dirigibles," the Professor said, adjusting his tie.
"You are being modest, sir. I understand you developed the engine for the Tobermory Mark Three. The first clockwork engine ever to win the Towcester to Timbuktu Rally."
"Eons ago. But, yes," the Professor said, smoothing his waistcoat over his ample belly.
"I have a proposition for you, Professor. It's rather unorthodox. But you are the ideal man for the job," Pensnett said, mopping his whiskers with a napkin.
"Do tell."
Evangeline leaned forward in her chair, wondering whether a Professor's assistant should take notes. Pensnett stopped and narrowed his eyes, staring directly at Evangeline as if noticing her for the first time.
"This is quite sensitive, sir. Are you quite sure your daughter should be present?"
"Absolutely. I have just engaged Evangeline as my new assistant," the Professor said, drawing himself to his full height in his chair. Evangeline followed his lead, lifting her chin up high.
"Very well." The Inspector raised his eyebrows. "I have a particular favour to ask you."
"Anything for the Constabulary."
"Would you consider going, as we call it, 'undercover' for the police?"
"Undercover?"
"Yes. Basically act as our spy."
Evangeline's eyes widened, imagining clandestine meetings with secret code words, capes and sword fights. She wriggled in her seat.
"Visit the dirigible companies to find out the truth behind the lights. But don't tell them you are working for the police. They're close-lipped with us, but they may be more forthcoming with a reputable inventor like yourself."
"You mean lie?"
"A little white lie." The Inspector shrugged. "For the greater good."
The Professor stroked his handsome moustache with his brass fingers and pursed his lips.
"Now, Evangeline," he said. "These are unusual circumstances. Don't take this as my endorsement of
lies and fibbing. Sometimes, one needs to stretch the truth to help others."
Her father failed to remember she was rather worldly, perhaps more worldly than him. She knew a trick or three about bending the truth, but Evangeline nodded her head obediently.
"Miss Evangeline will be joining you? Do you think this is a good idea?"
"Absolutely. She's my assistant. Although it is her first day."
"Some of the dirigible folk can be a rough lot. Please do not be shocked by their language."
Evangeline hid a giggle, remembering the colourful language of the street and the circus troupes. She could curse in seven different languages at least.
"Thank you for your concern, Chief Inspector. I will be sure to look the other way," she said with her straightest face.
Pensnett raised an eyebrow at Evangeline before turning back to the Professor. "That's settled. When can you start, sir?"
"As soon as I am finished my tea. This is a matter of utmost importance."
Evangeline restrained herself from clapping her hands with glee. An invitation to help her father and investigate the night lights.
Grabbing another slice of toast, she twirled and twisted the knife around her fingers, before slapping on a thick layer of butter and marmalade. A lady needs a full stomach to think clearly and unravel the truth behind the mystery lights.
The day was turning out splendidly already, and it was barely nine o'clock.
Chapter 5
Dressed in her best coat, parasol and hat, Evangeline and the Professor marched up the path towards the Ingloss & Company depot, the first dirigible company on their list.
The Melbourne dirigible depots sat together on a flat expanse of green grass in Flemington. Arriving and departing dirigibles, of every size and model, dotted the fields like grazing cows. The late autumn air was crisp and bracing but Evangeline pinched her nose, warding off the earthy whiff of the nearby racetrack and cattle sale yards.
Ingloss & Company operated from a squat practical red brick building, with plain eaves and simple windows, decorated with hand painted signs advertising journeys to Bendigo, Sydney Town and Adelaide.
The Antics of Evangeline: Collection 1: Mystery and Mayhem in steampunk Melbourne Page 22