The Marriage Machine

by Patricia Simpson

  Chapter Four

  Elspeth was surprised at how cold it was when she jumped out of the Flying Horse and grabbed the tools Ramsay had procured for the job. It was what she supposed a winter night might have been like in the old days—without the snow. The air was crisp, ice covered the puddles in the alley, and frost crawled up the windows. She could see Ramsay’s breath when he told her to wait while he parked the vehicle around the corner and out of sight.

  Wrapped in a long coat that belonged to a member of the Ramsay family, Elspeth waited for him to return. The coat was warm, so she wasn’t cold, but she shuddered all the same. At ten o’clock on a December evening, the alley behind Boswellian Bower was dark and deserted. Even the rats had taken cover on this cold night. Elspeth glanced up at the sky and searched for the moon she had spotted earlier that morning. There it was again, like a big eye, watching her--even clearer this time. She wondered if the WeatherWizards were right—that the fog lying over Londo City would finally lift after its century-long stay.

  Ramsay trotted up, his winter coat flapping around his shins, his boats gleaming in the moonlight, and the many buttons of his coat glinting as he ran. His shirt, knotted at the throat, glowed above his vest and lit up his eyes.

  “Why must we break into the Bower?” she asked, following him to the back door. “Why not just tell someone that the machine has to be repaired?”

  “I can’t take the chance that my great-grandfather might discover his beloved contraption has been tampered with. Davies thinks everything is fine. I want to keep it that way.” He turned at the door and cupped his hands. “Come, Shutterhouse.”

  Elspeth glanced at his linked fingers. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m going to hoist you up to that transom.”

  Elspeth glanced up to the arched window at the top of the door.

  “I’ll wager the transom is not locked. I’ll lift you, you will open it, crawl through, jump down and then let me in the door.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “I am not.” He nodded his head toward his hands. “Come. Step into my hand.”

  “You think I can get through that window and jump seven feet to the ground?”

  “I’d do it myself if I thought you could lift me.” He cocked one of his expressive black brows.

  There was no argument to be made. She could no more lift the giant in front of her than she could fly to the now visible moon. She would do her best to sabotage the machine, but with Ramsay breathing down her neck, she probably wouldn’t have a second chance to disable it. Her best recourse would be to look for an opportunity to escape—but only after she and Ramsay got off the street and out of sight. For now, she had to cooperate.

  Elspeth deposited the satchel of tools on the pavement beside him, slipped out of her coat, and placed it on the bag. Then she lifted her foot. To steady herself, she was forced to plant her hand on Ramsay’s shoulder. The man was a rock of muscle. With a grunt, she shifted her weight onto her foot and propelled herself forward as he raised her upward. She braced herself against the wooden door as he straightened his legs and lifted her past the top of the door. When he grabbed her knees and lifted her higher, she wobbled but caught herself by clutching the sill of the transom. Then she pushed the stained glass with her right palm. The transom moved inward.

  “Is it unlocked?” His voice was muffled by her clothing.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you get it open?”

  As she struggled with the window, she felt him brace her feet on his shoulders. The cold soon took hold of her fingers, making her clumsy. But she managed to crack open the transom far enough to wiggle through. She looked down, worrying about how she was going to get through the window and position herself to jump without falling face first onto the floor below. But as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the corridor, she had an idea.

  “Hold my ankles,” she instructed.

  She felt Ramsay’s big hands wrap around her boots.

  Elspeth pushed through the opening and bent at the waist. Then, straining, she could just reach the inside handle of the door. As the blood raced to her head, and the transom sill cut into her midsection, she explored the latch with her nearly numb fingers. Then she found the locking mechanism. She shifted it open.

  “Got it?” Ramsay asked.

  “Try it.”

  Still holding one of her feet, Ramsay turned the latch and pushed the door, just enough to make sure it was unlocked. Then Elspeth wriggled out of the transom, crouched, and slid down Ramsay’s back. When her feet hit the ground, he turned and clutched her elbows.

  “Good work.” He gave her a brief survey. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just cold.”

  She broke away to grab the coat and tools, and they slipped into Boswellian Bower.

  Elspeth had been to a few weddings. Her acquaintances were slowly turning twenty-five, and the lucky ones received silver envelopes. Although Elspeth didn’t consider marriage the right choice for her, nonetheless she attended the nuptials of her friends to show moral support. But those weddings had been conducted in a much more modest bower. From what she could see in the shadows, Boswellian Bower was appointed in understated grandeur.

  She followed Ramsay down a corridor comprised of marble floors, embossed wallpaper, and ornate brass lamps. He seemed to know where he was going, and led her into a large room, much like an auditorium, with gilt and plush chairs, and a thick carpet that ran from the entry doors to the stage. Squatting on the platform behind velvet curtains and stage lamps, was the Marriage Machine.

  “There she is,” Ramsay remarked in a hushed tone beside her. “The Marriage Machine.”

  Elspeth’s heart beat a bit faster. This was the place Fate waited for her. Here would begin the life the Overseers had calculated to suit her and her groom. She frowned and stuffed down her panic. Not if she could help it.

  “Is there a watchman?” Elspeth asked.

  “I am not sure.” He motioned her toward the machine. “So try to be as quiet as possible.”

  “But surely, a watchman will see our light.”

  “Not if we keep the curtains well drawn.” Ramsay strode to the side of the stage and worked the ropes until the curtains swished closed. Elspeth stepped into the now-silent bower and pushed back the curtains that lined the interior, knowing that she must remove the carved walnut panels before she reached any machine parts.

  Ramsay lit the lamp they had brought, and set it down in the middle of the bower, just as Elspeth turned for the tools. They straightened at the same time, their noses inches apart. Ramsay gazed down at her, his firm mouth accentuated by the light below. She could see his chest rise and fall with each breath, and wanted to reach out and touch him just below the vee at the top of his vest, to feel what she was sure was the center of the furnace that fired him. He seemed as dazed by the moment as she was. But unlike her, he made a move.

  He caught her hands and pressed them between his blazing palms.

  “You’re frozen,” he remarked.

  “I’ll thaw,” she stuttered.

  “And much lighter than I imagined.”

  “My aunt says I’m scrawny.”

  “Scrawny?” His mouth slanted upward in the sardonic smile that was beginning to have a physical affect on her, especially when he stood so close to her. A flush blossomed deep inside her. “I wouldn’t say scrawny. Lithe comes to mind.”

  “Lithe?” She wondered if she had heard him correctly. She had always thought of herself as skinny. Unfeminine. Boyish, even. The word “lithe” cast her figure in an entirely new light. She blushed and hoped he couldn’t see her reaction in the darkness.

  “Like a mink,” he added.

  “What’s a mink?” She tried to pull away her hands, but he held fast.

  “An animal I’ve seen in the north. They are as slender as you are. With a pelt as soft and sleek as your hair. Quick, smart, and damnably difficult to catch.”
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br />   His comparison shocked her. No one had ever paid her a higher compliment. She pulled at his grip again.

  “Shouldn’t we be getting to work, Ramsay?”

  He sighed. “You’re right.” He released her. “Just tell me what to do.”

  Elspeth would have liked to tell him to lean down and kiss her, to wrap those big warm hands around her and pull her into his fiery chest. But she was positive such a command would backfire, and the only one to suffer would be her.

  “Give me uh,” she pointed at the satchel. She had to give herself a mental shake, to get her mind back on the job. “Get me a slotted screwdriver.” She walked to the nearest panel, knelt on the soft carpet, and held out her hand.

  Hours ticked by. As Elspeth worked her way toward the heart of the Marriage Machine, she handed each machine part to Ramsay. He in turn, arranged each piece on a sheet behind him, in the order she gave it to him. They worked swiftly, efficiently, and never spoke a word, until Elspeth arrived at the ornate brass frame that formerly held the ruby.

  “What were you going to do with the ruby anyway?” Ramsay asked, breaking the hours of silence.

  She shrugged. “I hadn’t decided. I just didn’t want to store it at my Aunt Fi’s house and get her in trouble. So I buried it.”

  “I see.”

  “I never could have sold it. A citizen with a stone like that?” she shook her head as she unfastened the large nuts behind the frame. “I would have been sent to the camps for sure.”

  “So you didn’t think further than burying the jewel?” Ramsay asked.

  “No. I didn’t think anyone would ever find out it had been taken.”

  “I see.” Ramsay sighed and took a gear housing out of her hands. “You should never let your guard down, Elspeth. You should always assume that you are being watched.”

  “I know that,” she replied. “Now.”

  After a half-hour, she lifted the front of the frame off and set it at her feet.

  “Ready?” Ramsay asked behind her.

  “If I must.” She sighed. “This goes against everything I believe in.”

  “Do it for my great-grandfather.”

  “I don’t give a fig for your great-grandfather.”

  “Then do it for me.”

  She pressed her lips together. There was no denying the regard she felt for Mark Ramsay was growing with every minute she spent in his company. But she could never let him know.

  “For you?” she forced a laugh. “That’s a real motivator, Ramsay.”

  He fell silent behind her, and she turned slightly to find his expression had changed from open to closed. Surprise and guilt washed over her. She had never guessed she possessed the power to hurt a man’s feelings.

  Without a retort for once, he pivoted and reached into the satchel for a bundle wrapped in wool. Elspeth watched him slip the ruby out of the cloth.

  She could not deny the allure of the jewel, no matter how she felt about the Marriage Machine. Even in the low light of the lamp, the ruby glowed as if it had a heartbeat of its own. Ramsay pushed it toward her outstretched hands.

  “Careful,” he warned. “And no tricks. One slip, and the jewel will shatter.”

  “I’ll be careful.” She took the jewel in both of her palms and lifted it toward the frame.

  They didn’t speak again until the Marriage Machine had been reassembled, cleaned, and polished to perfection.

  As dawn crept over the frozen city, Elspeth and Ramsay whisked back in silence to the Ramsay townhouse. Elspeth kept her eyes on the road and her hands in her lap, and wished she had some of the ice outside to place upon her newly skinned knuckles. They parked under the house again, and Ramsay told her to follow him, but held a finger to his lips.

  “My family is here,” he warned. “They must have arrived for the wedding while we were gone.”

  She remained standing by the Flying Horse. “I should go.”

  “Where will you go?” He mounted the stairs. “You can’t go to your aunt’s. The police may have questions about the ruby that you would be better off not answering.”

  “You promised me safe passage to the north.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Not today.”

  “When, then?”

  “You’ll have to have a pass. I’ll have to get one for you.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “A day or two.” He put his hand on the latch of the door. “Or you could wait and go back with my family. They would get you through the border without a problem.”

  “Would they agree to such a thing?”

  “They would do whatever I asked.”

  “I see.” She paused, wondering what it would be like to have such power and such loyalty as the Ramsay clan seemed to possess.

  “So you must come inside. You have only to wait a few days, whatever you decide to do. And then you shall be a free woman.”

  She took a step toward him. “What will I do in the meantime?”

  “Whatever you like.” He opened the door to the main level. “What do you normally do in your free time?”

  “Work.”

  He smiled down at her. “That you shall not do here.”

  “It’s all I know.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to change your spots, Shutterhouse, at least until after the wedding.”