by White, Gwynn
“Remembered what?”
“That you love William.”
“I…I thought I was over him.”
Bess laughed. “You don’t just get over the love of your life.”
“He’s trying to get out. He has one last problem to solve, and then we can make a new future, all of us,” I told her. My words came out sounding more like an excuse than I meant them too.
Bess shrugged lightly. “Whatever needs to be done, that’s what will be done,” she said then picked up her brush once more.
A moment later, I felt something rub against my shin. I looked down expecting to find Dinah, but it was the clockwork cat looking up at me expectantly.
“Designed to beg for scraps, are you? No nuts, bolts, or oil here, I’m afraid,” I said, patting my Cheshire cat on his metal head.
The cat meowed then crossed the room. It jumped up onto my small cot, turning until it found a comfortable position, then lay down. It looked out at me with its wide aquamarine-colored eyes then smiled.
Bess laughed. “How’s the stew? I tried to keep it warm for you.”
“It’s perfect.”
“You know, I’ve missed William,” she said. “Tell him I want him to come by. I want to thank him for the tickets.”
I smiled at her. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
Bess raised an eyebrow at me. “Tomorrow? Very good. I hope it all goes as you wish.”
I smiled but didn’t reply.
That made two of us.
19
A Raven and a Writing Desk
The next morning, I rose early and got dressed while Bess slept. She coughed a few times in her sleep. Her breaths carried a sharp wheeze I didn’t like. I lifted the amber bottle of syrup on the counter to discover there was barely a dose left. I would need to go to the apothecary before I did anything else.
I slipped on a pair of tan trousers, a dark blue shirt, and a leather corset. I slid the White Queen into my boot, pulled on my coat, then headed outside.
The morning air was crisp. A steam-powered machine rolled down the cobblestone street, causing everyone to move aside. A massive cloud billowed around it.
The apothecary’s shop was at the end of the lane. Through the window, I could see Mister Arnold was already hard at work. I pushed the door open to the little shop. A tiny bell overhead jangled. The tangy scents of the medicines assailed my nose. The walls of the apothecary were lined with glass jars filled with a variety of herbs. White porcelain containers held powders and other oddities.
“Good morning, Alice,” Mister Arnold said. He was a slight man, the majority of his weight coming from the mass of curly white ringlets on his head. He was staring down at the table in front of him. The optics he wore magnified his vision. His eyes looked ten times their size.
“What are you looking at?” I asked.
“A dried extract of lemon. It’s proving useful in the treatment of scurvy,” he said then pulled off the optics. “How is Bess?”
“Cough is still rattling. She needs more syrup.”
Mister Arnold nodded then went to his cupboards. “I have something new I want your sister to try. It’s a salve. I met a very bright apothecary from Scotland a few weeks back. He told me it’s effective for patients like your sister. She should rub the salve on her chest at night. It should ease her breathing.”
I opened my coin purse and looked inside. An impromptu airship ride to Twickenham had pushed my weekly budget to its limit. When I looked inside, I saw that if Bess and I wanted to eat this week, an additional purchase of medicine was out of the question. “I’m afraid it will have to wait until my next payment.”
Mister Arnold nodded sympathetically. “Let’s do this. We’ll just try it this week, an experiment on my part, and if her condition improves, we’ll work out a payment schedule.”
Mister Arnold had always been very kind to Bess and me. There was something about Bess’ nature that always brought out the best in people. Even when we’d lived in the workhouse, Bess’s sweetness had earned her the affection of Mister Townsend who didn’t push her as hard as the others given her fragile condition. That sweetness lingered wherever my sister went.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Just let me know how it works. This time of year is terrible for people with hay fever and a rattle like your sister has.”
“I will. Thank you so much.”
Mister Arnold slipped the syrup and a small jar of salve into a bag. He jotted down some instructions on a piece of paper and added that as well. He handed the bag to me. “Not in uniform today?”
“No, my employer went to the countryside. I have the rest of the week off.”
“Get some rest then, my dear. You look tired. I believe you work too hard, Miss Lewis.”
“We all do what we must. Thank you again,” I said, motioning to the bag, then headed outside.
Bag in hand, I headed down the street in the direction of Henry’s millinery shop.
Despite the blessings bestowed upon us through the kindness of others, at times I hated how poor Bess and I had become. Of course, we’d been born into a poor life. Even when our parents were alive, our life had been that of paupers. I remembered very little now. The four of us had lived above a perfumer’s shop in South Hampton. I remembered watching the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen filing in and out of the boutique, purchasing single bottles that cost more than, I would guess, what my parents made in a month. When a fierce winter sickness had passed through one year when I was about seven, Bess six, both our parents had perished. Bess was left with a rattle that never left her chest. Only I had escaped the ailment unscathed. With no better recourse available to two orphans, we’d ended up at Mister Townsend’s workhouse. But fate had seen a different course for us. We were there barely two years before chance threw Mister Mock—Jabberwocky—into our path.
As I walked toward Henry’s shop, I realized that, in truth, my current poverty was entirely my own fault. I did have a life of comfort. Under Jabberwocky’s care, Bess and I had lived well. But we’d left that life of our own accord. My reasons for leaving were good. I was no killer. I could not live with the blood on my hands, and I never wanted to risk it again. But had I really needed to leave? Did I really have to banish Bess and me to a poor but honest life? I was unsure. I’d tried not to think about how it all had ended. But now, with William in my life once more, everything I had given up smacked me in the face. I had given up more than just a life of crime. Bess was right. I had given up my true love. The memory of our last day at Jabberwocky’s house, and my fight with William, was still fresh in my memory.
“Alice,” William said once more, “please reconsider.” He was standing in the doorway of my room in Jabberwocky’s house as I packed up the last of my clothes.
Everything had unfolded so quickly. William had stepped into Jabberwocky’s place without any obstacles. Once it was clear to the others I would not take over, it was only natural that William would do the job. Jabberwocky was dead. My hands were still stained with blood that only I could see. Every time I closed my eyes, the image of the banker’s face, mouth open wide, eyes bulging, came to mind. When I paired such images with the Queen of Hearts’s bloody bath, the endless array of naked tarts I had to look at every time I entered The Mushroom, the airship pirates and crooked dealers, I just didn’t want it. Just because a grown man had taught a little girl to steal, and because she’d been good at it, didn’t mean it was a life for which she’d been destined.
“Why don’t you reconsider,” I replied. “Leave with us. Let Jack or someone else do the job. We don’t have to live like this.”
“Alice, you’re being rash. This is your home. Even if you don’t want work, at least stay here. You wouldn’t have to do another job again. You can be done with it.”
“And do what to earn my keep?” I asked angrily as I shoved a pair of trousers into my bag.
“Nothing. Marry me, Alice. Stay here. Be my wife.”
I turned
and looked at him, my eyes wide. “I can’t quite tell, are you proposing to me or yelling at me?”
“Both,” he said, then smiled softly. He crossed the room and took my hands. “Don’t go. I love you.”
“I love you too. I just…I can’t get past what happened with the banker.”
“Nothing like that will ever touch you again. You won’t see it. Won’t be part of it.”
“But you will. And it will come home with you every day.”
“What would you have me do, become a groom, a tailor? Jabberwocky trained me for this life. I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“There are people who can help us.”
“Like the Countess? I understand she is looking for a position for you.”
“She can help you too.”
“Shall I go from being master of this house to being some rich man’s butler?”
“From a life as a thief and killer to that of an honest man.”
“I’ve never killed anyone.”
“Isn’t that convenient.”
“I don’t mean it like that.”
“This is not a life I ever wanted.”
“Then you are saying no.”
“To staying here? To staying in the life? I am saying no.”
“And what are you saying to me? What is your answer for me?” he whispered, then brushed my hair away from my face. “Alice Lewis, I’ve been in love with you from the moment I set eyes on you. Marry me.”
“Leave with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Then my answer has to be no.”
“But Alice—”
“I love you, William. I love you more than anything. I love you enough that I killed to protect you. You will never find anyone who cares for you as I do. But I can’t stay in this life. I made a promise to Bess long ago that when Jabberwocky was gone, we’d leave. She cannot handle all this darkness. We must get away. Please come with us. We could travel. See the world. Isn’t that something you have always wanted? You, not what Jabberwocky made you into, something you wanted? We could go somewhere warm where Bess’s health will improve. What about Barbados? Or maybe Tahiti? Let’s leave this place and start somewhere new.”
“People are depending on me now. I can’t just let everything Jabberwocky worked so hard for fall into pieces.”
“Then settle his affairs and join me. Settle his affairs and be done with it.”
“I…I don’t know.”
I closed the case and took it by the handle. “My carriage is downstairs. I’m going. If you choose this life, choose it all the way. I don’t want any part of it. Do you understand? If you choose this life, you choose it in total. Don’t bother me or mine until you have something worth saying.”
“‘I love you’ is not enough? ‘Be my wife’ is not enough?”
I looked him deeply in the eyes. “I love you too,” I whispered then leaned in and kissed him. I let my lips linger long on his. I caught his scent and the sweet taste of vanilla on his lips, and then I stepped back. “When you’re ready to choose me, and only me, you’ll be able to find me. Until then, I have to say goodbye.”
I turned and left William standing there.
And I didn’t look back.
I stopped in the middle of the street and wiped away the tear slipping down my cheek. I had been foolish and rash. At the time, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I could have helped William settle Jabberwocky’s affairs and gotten us both out. The banker’s death had split me down the middle. Followed by the scene with the Queen of Hearts and Jabberwocky’s death, and I hadn’t been thinking straight. The horrible realization racked me. I had been wrong. All this time, I was the one who was wrong. I’d left a man who’d loved me enough to marry me. And I still loved him. I had done wrong by him when I’d left. Now I had a chance to make it right. No matter what, I would get him out of this debt to the Queen of Hearts.
I slowed as I reached Henry’s shop. The front window boasted a beautiful display of hats. I paused a moment to gaze at them—after I managed to find a spot amongst the women already gathered there. There was a gorgeous pink and green silk top hat trimmed with flowers. What made the hat unique, however, was the clockwork butterfly whose copper wings wagged gently as it floated all around the hat, fluttering from flower to flower. If you looked hard enough, you could see it was attached to the hat with the thinnest piece of wire. Another top hat depicted a skyline view of London. A little metal airship, a replica of the famous airship Stargazer, piloted by the renowned airship racer Lily Stargazer, made its trek around the circumference of the hat over and over again. There was also a hat that featured a replica of the Tinker’s Tower. The face had a working clock. I looked beyond the clever creations and saw Henry at his workbench inside. I went in.
“Alice?” Henry said, standing. His brow furrowed with worry. “Is everything all right?”
I nodded. “I have an errand to run. I stopped by the apothecary. Would you mind taking this to Bess when you go for lunch?” I asked, holding out the bag.
“Of course. She’s out of medicine already?”
I nodded.
A troubled expression crossed Henry’s face, but he didn’t say anything. There was no need. Worrying about Bess was a state in which Henry and I both lived.
“So, were the tea service hats well received?” I asked, sitting down across from Henry.
He laughed. “Oh yes. And the chief conspirator, Mrs. Wolston, ordered something new in celebration of the Grand Exhibition,” he said then pulled a hat off a box sitting nearby.
I laughed out loud when I saw it. The base of the hat was made with white silk, but the top of the hat was made to resemble the same arched beams and glass of the Crystal Palace.
“I’m still working on the faux glass insets. We’ll use spun sugar for the glass.”
“It won’t melt?”
He shook his head. “I’ll just have to warn her not to get her hair too close. She won’t want it to stick.”
I laughed.
“Around the brim, I’m trimming it with the delights of the exhibition. Look,” he said, lifting a small wooden boat with a paper sail, an exact replica from the India display. Beside it, he set a miniature Colt, the pistol that had been on display in the American exhibit.
“Does it work?” I asked, picking up the tiny gun.
“Well, I’m no gunsmith, but I do appreciate realism,” he replied. He motioned toward a hatbox nearby.
Taking aim, I squeezed the tiny trigger with the tip of my fingernail. The little gun made a louder bang than I expected.
I laughed.
“I’m working on a clockwork cat today,” he said, pointing to a small box of metal bits sitting on the table. “Your Chess is my model. I’ll create his likeness with watch parts. Your miniature feline will be ticking in no time.
“Alice, I have something I must confess,” Henry said, his voice turning serious.
I was looking into the box from which Henry had pulled the hat. Inside I saw miniature versions of taxidermied elephants, samurai suits, a tiny Chinese vase—on which I saw Bess’s handiwork—a miniature velocipede, but then one item caught my eye. I reached into the box and pulled out an exact replica of the Koh-i-Noor. Steadying it on the palm of my hand, I studied it in the light of the lamp sitting on the table.
“Alice? Did you hear me?” Henry asked.
“Yes. Henry, where did you get this?”
“Did you see the real thing? Muddy hunk of diamond, wasn’t it?” Henry said as he fingered through the clockwork parts. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I spent the whole night trying to get the cut on the replica perfect,” he said, motioning to a pamphlet on the diamond he must have gotten from the exhibition. The pamphlet showed the exact proportions of the diamond. “I was going to use a crystal to give it more sparkle, but the real stone is too dim. So, I went with dim for the realism. My grandfather—did you know he was a jewelry maker?—had an old stone someone had given to him in payment. Not a di
amond, not a crystal, not even a topaz, just some odd gem attached to a hunk of limestone. My grandfather never did anything to it. Since neither my father nor I followed him into the trade, that old rock has just been sitting in a box all this time. Turns out, it was perfect. Large enough, and dull enough, to make a perfect replica. But Alice, I really must tell you—”
“Yes, I know. You told Bess. Henry,” I gasped. I wrapped my hand tightly around the gem and squeezed my eyes shut.
“Alice, what is it?”
I opened my eyes and stared at him. “Are you sure it’s a perfect match? You're absolutely certain?”
“Yes. Same weight. Same cut. Same lifeless sparkle.”
“Can I have it?”
“Have it? Why?”
I opened my mouth twice, trying to find a way to explain. Henry stared at me. The more at a loss for words I was, the more the blood began to drain from his face.
“Alice,” he whispered, aghast, “what have I gotten you into?”
I shook my head. “Not me. William. I need this stone. Are you sure it’s exact? Are you sure no one could tell the difference? A gem expert? A jeweler? Are you certain?”
Henry stared at me, his eyes wide. “Alice?”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, I’m certain. I apprenticed under my grandfather. I know everything there is to know about gems. I just didn’t like working with metals. Silk was always easier on the hands. It’s exact.”
Leaning across the table, I wrapped my arms around Henry and hugged him hard.
“Alice?”
“I’m sorry. I have to have it. I have to. And you must never tell anyone anything about it.”
“All right. But Alice—”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”