The Perilous In-Between (The Chuzzlewit Chronicles Book 1)

by Cortney Pearson

“How can you have cousins and not remember them? Are they staying at your home?”

  “No,” Victoria said, finally reaching for a cup of tea and taking a sip. “Thank heavens, they’ve received an invitation from a family friend. I’m sorry, Roz. I’m just—I suppose I am at a loss this evening. I apologize.” She set down her teacup, the china shaking so badly it tinkled against the plate.

  Rosalind chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering how best to proceed. “Victoria, you know I would love to have you stay here. But running away won’t solve any of this. Don’t you think you should speak with your uncle about your feelings? You’re clearly upset. And from the sound of it, it isn’t one problem, but many.”

  “Tell my uncle?” Victoria said derisively. “Tell him and my mother I think they’re wrong, that I think they’re too restrictive, that we need to drastically change our tactics as a squad if we want any hope of actually doing what we’re supposed to? You should have been there on the beach, Roz. I’ve never been so frightened. What good does spouting it with flames do? What good do any of us do?”

  Victoria plummeted her head back into her hands.

  “Do you know that I never see the Kreak?” Rosalind said quietly. “I am always here, meeting with tutors, practicing my music. I occasionally take a stroll outside or read a book beneath an accommodating tree. I’ve heard that siren countless times, Victoria, and yet the Kreak never makes it this far inland. Why do you suppose that is?”

  Victoria sniffled again. Her moist, amber eyes captured Rosalind’s with a knowing realization. “Because of the squad.”

  “Because of you,” Rosalind confirmed. “I know you’ve had a horrible day. It sounds like many awful things happened, things that don’t normally happen, and you’re having a hard time dealing with it all. But what you do is effective, Victoria. Don’t lose heart. One lost battle does not mean the war is lost.”

  “Rosalind,” Victoria said softly, as though she didn’t know what else to say.

  “Feelings are heightened now, but I’m sure if you took the time to speak with your uncle, you could get him to listen to your demands. Perhaps you could hold a counsel with your Nauts and see if any of them agree. Perhaps, if you aren’t alone when you confront him, he may be willing to listen.”

  Victoria’s face brightened for the first time since she’d arrived. Her plum mouth spread into a smile. She scrubbed a hand across her cheek, wiping her tears.

  “Now that we’ve solved the world’s problems,” Rosalind said with a business-like tone. Victoria chuckled, wiping another tear. “Tell me about Charles Merek.”

  Victoria laughed again, clearly grateful for the lighthearted change of subject. Rosalind had supposed drifting from such daunting and heavy conversation was absolutely necessary, and she’d been right. Victoria retrieved a handkerchief from within her corset and wiped her eyes.

  “Are wedding bells to ring?” Rosalind prodded.

  “Not if I can help it. But oh—!” Victoria gasped. Realization bloomed on her face. She placed her teacup down and squeezed onto the settee beside Rosalind, crushing Rosalind’s hand in her own. “Oh, Roz, what about you? I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Oscar has returned! What a terrible friend I am. Have you heard a word from him since he’s been back? What about your wedding bells?”

  Rosalind’s pulse spiked. She worked to keep it in check. She blinked back the memory of her last night with Oscar Radley, of the promise he’d made to write to her.

  “As often as I can,” he’d said.

  “I expect he’s been very busy,” she said, failing to mask her own worry. “University is quite demanding, I hear.”

  Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not that demanding. It’s too bad I’ve been suspended. You could come on patrol with me tomorrow night. Get your mind off him for a while.”

  “Come with you?” Rosalind asked, shocked. She had to admit, she’d been curious about what it was like in a hovercraft, to get a break from her music. From her father. “Is that allowed? And didn’t you just finish telling me how frightened you were tonight?”

  “I’m not usually that scared. Normally, it’s quite exhilarating. And besides, you’ve helped me feel so much better,” Victoria said. “It truly is thrilling, to feel such freedom.”

  For a moment, Rosalind let herself get caught up in the excitement. What would it be like to ride in the craft, to fly above the town and look down on its citizens and buildings, to enjoy such a change in perspective? But the moment faded quickly.

  “Even if we could, I doubt Papa would approve,” she said. “I’ll be playing at the dance tomorrow evening as it is. He wants me to be prepared.”

  The dance was being held in the honor of Mr. Oscar Silas Radley, to celebrate his graduation and professional advancement. To celebrate his return. She would be playing, unable to speak to him or do more than glance at him while he enjoyed the company of other ladies. The thought hung on her heart, making it heavier than ever.

  “You practice more than anyone I know,” Victoria argued. “How can you not be prepared?”

  As if hearing the conversation, Lord Baxter’s voice carried from the landing above. “Rosalind!”

  Rosalind stood hastily, nearly spilling her tea. She lunged to the red chair and grabbed Victoria’s hat and goggles, handing them to her. The last thing she needed was for Papa to come down. Good heavens, had he heard the two of them just now?

  “Truly, I wish I could,” she said. Victoria had no idea how much.

  Rosalind smoothed her hands over her green corset before Victoria pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for listening. You have no idea what it meant to me just now.”

  Rosalind hugged her back, just as tightly. She basked in the warmth, in the knowledge that though time and veering interests had separated them, their friendship had not faded.

  Victoria pulled away, her face somber before her eyes alighted with a familiar mischievous gleam. She leaned in, gripping Rosalind’s elbow. “It will be all right. I’ll be at the dance. I’ll get you a chance to speak with him,” she said under her breath.

  Heat scalded Rosalind’s cheeks. The words made her want to cry. Oscar. What if he didn’t remember her? What if he no longer cared for her?

  “Thank you,” she said. “And I meant what I said, Victoria. Speak with your uncle. Tell him how you feel.”

  Victoria smiled, checking her brown curls in the mirror and wiping her cheeks. “I intend to.”

  Eight

  Victoria’s steps were lighter than they’d been when she’d left home half an hour before. Though it didn’t diminish her worry for Dahlia, or her sorrow for the woman who’d died, she now felt a sense of purpose. It was true, terrible things had happened that evening. But it only drove Victoria with more determination to ensure they didn’t continue happening.

  She returned home, scurried up the stairs and down to her bedroom. Hopefully her mother hadn’t heard and didn’t know she’d returned. She fumbled with the laces of her corset. Sharing a room with the other young ladies required going without ladies maids. She’d become quite adept at lacing and unlacing herself.

  The door crashed open and Mama peered around the decorative screen.

  “Victoria. It’s nearly dinnertime, and you aren’t half dressed!”

  “I’m not coming down, Mama.”

  “Oh, yes you are. We’ve waited all this time for our meal because I knew you’d be joining us. Everyone is hungry—including you, I’d imagine.”

  “Mama—”

  “Not another word. Stop thinking only of yourself and come down.” And she swept out as quickly as she’d come in.

  Victoria knew it was useless to argue. She sighed. The strain of the evening was beginning to wear on her. She longed to break from her corset and draw in a full, unhindered breath. But nothing about that day had been unhindered.


  The sirens rarely frightened her. Victoria knew the consequences of the Kreak’s breath, but tonight had been the first time she’d witnessed it firsthand. The screams, the child’s cries, the woman’s skin melting from her bones, all were plagues to her brain that refused to wipe away. She couldn’t shake the thought that her father had died the very same way.

  How had it happened? Had it hurt him?

  Victoria blinked away the wetness at her eyes and forced her mind to Rosalind’s encouraging words. Every other brush with the Kreak had been successful, as far as casualties were concerned. They’d managed to push the monster back into its depths.

  Even the time the Kreak had slashed through the old watcher’s shed hadn’t bothered her as much as this attack did. Something had to be done. She just didn’t know what.

  But she would figure it out.

  Victoria sat at the table, her teal corset digging into her sides. What was the point of eating when they insisted women wear these infernal things? What is the point of eating when a woman died tonight?

  Mama entered the room wearing a lavish green dress so wide she had to turn sideways slightly just to get through the door. She took her place across from Victoria and smiled up at Myer as he offered a tray of steaming potatoes. Victoria sighed. She’d get no help there.

  Uncle Jarvis entered next, wearing a fresh, gray, pinstriped suit and yellow cravat. His hair was wet, as though it had been recently washed, and he smelled strongly of the lavender soap Victoria’s mother had made at Black Lye Botanicals downtown.

  “Jarvis,” Mama crooned, “it is so wonderful that—”

  The bell gonged loudly, resonating over Mama’s words. Mama froze, dinner tongs in hand. Her gaze slowly slid to Uncle’s, and his eyes alighted with anger.

  “Of all the times they had to arrive,” he said, his coattails flapping as he made his way across the room and out into the main hall. Victoria blinked. How strange that she and her uncle could share sentiments.

  “They are here,” Mama said, rising as well and following him out.

  It took several ticks before Victoria could force herself to move. Her accursed cousins. Now more than ever she longed to retire to her bed chamber. Having to put on a social and pleasant expression after witnessing such a tragedy should be outlawed.

  Undoubtedly these cousins had heard what happened by now. They could have waited until the morning, at least.

  “They come during dinner?” Victoria asked her mother as they stood in the main entry, ready to greet their guests. Mama shushed her and plastered a smile on her face. Victoria attempted to do the same, but the smile only made her tenser.

  Myer entered the main hall in his black suit, followed by two ladies attired in tight-fitting corsets of bright magenta and soft mauve, nestling down over their hips where their black skirts bulged out in bulky ruffles. Gloves rose to cover the length of their arms, and one tucked a parasol beneath her arm.

  Victoria narrowed her eyes. These two were sisters? They looked nothing alike. One was tall with vibrant red hair and extremely pale skin smattered with freckles. The other was quite a bit shorter and curvier, with tanner skin and thick brown curls reaching down to her ears.

  Perhaps they had an unlucky past, Victoria thought, trying to list things in their favor. Maybe the older one’s mother died and their father remarried Victoria’s aunt before they had their second child. But if that had taken place, Victoria would have known about it, wouldn’t she?

  The same way she should have known she’d had an aunt in the first place.

  “If you please, ma’am,” Myer said, stepping forward and bowing. “This is Miss Cordelia Baldwin.”

  The redhead gave a gentle inclination of the head.

  “And Miss Jane Baldwin.”

  The short-haired girl performed an awkward bow, as though unaccustomed to moving in her skirts.

  Mama glided forward, gloved hand outstretched and generous smile in place. “I am your aunt, Lady Enid Digby. And this is my daughter, Miss Victoria Digby. You are most welcome in our home, ladies.”

  The redheaded sister blushed with delight, moving forward to make her introduction when Mayor Goshawk entered behind the newcomers. He was tall, his white hair slicked back. He wore a suit that looked worn, as though he’d been traveling.

  “Mayor Goshawk,” Mama said in surprised delight, offering her already extended hand to him as well. The mayor took it and bowed to her, breathing heavily.

  “Dreadful business, isn’t it, Lady Digby?”

  Mama paused, looking perplexed. “Oh—of course, we knew of the Baldwin sisters’ orphaned situation. It was no small matter. As you know, their mama was my beloved husband’s sister.” Her eyes darted to Cordelia and Jane. A soft flush climbed her cheeks.

  Goshawk dusted the top hat in his hand. “I was speaking of the attack, madam. The death of Mrs. Diana Powell is felt keenly. We are on the brink of stopping the creature, however. So you ladies mustn’t be alarmed.”

  Mama gave a relieved laugh. “The Kreak, of course! Yes, dreadful indeed. And of course we don’t want to disturb our new guests with the day’s events.”

  Victoria pursed her lips. As if her mother could mistake the mayor’s meaning. She wouldn’t if she pulled her nose out of societal affairs for ten seconds and paid attention to the happenings that truly mattered. Victoria was certain that if her mother had seen the death of that woman, or Dahlia’s attack, she wouldn’t be acting so flippantly now. Jarvis glared at the suit of armor near the door, and Victoria knew they were still sharing the same thoughts.

  “However, we have been blessed with good fortune,” Goshawk said with a smile, gesturing to the young ladies. “You have two long-lost nieces here. I wanted to escort these ladies and to see how you were holding up, Miss Victoria.”

  Victoria startled at having her name mentioned.

  “I’m fine,” she lied, elevating her nose and trying to ignore the sting of his attention.

  “Of course you are,” Goshawk said, his eyes twinkling. Victoria wasn’t sure, but there was the slightest hint of exhaustion behind the forced look. And it was no wonder. The evening’s events had a similar effect on her as well.

  “Indeed,” the redhead interjected. Victoria thought this was Cordelia, but she wasn’t certain. She hadn’t paid close enough attention to their introduction. “At last we know our long-lost cousin.” She spread a smile as if hoping to receive some attention.

  Well, really. If she were lost, she thought she would be aware of it. Victoria was in no humor to deal with this at the moment, especially not with the mayor’s unexpected arrival. Still, she bowed, despite her instant dislike of the girl.

  “Welcome to Gingham Range,” said Mama, cheerfully intervening. She shuffled forward and took one of each of their hands in hers. The lace of their black gloves didn’t extend to their fingers. Jane and Cordelia each smiled. “We are delighted to have you here at last. And we’re sorry you had to come to town during such dreadful circumstances. I trust you stayed indoors during the attack?”

  “We were fortunate,” said Cordelia, the redhead, in a high-pitched, sugary voice. “And sorry to hear of your loss.”

  “You must feel it deeply,” the shorter Jane added, more sincerely than her sister.

  “It is a shame,” Mama went on, looking back at Victoria as if hoping she would chime in. “We had hoped to enchant you with a dance tomorrow evening. But under the tragic circumstances, the dance has been put off until Friday, the day after the funeral.”

  Mama rambled on, asking whether the girls had a chance to eat or not yet, and instructing Myer to place two more settings at the table.

  “Mayor Goshawk, will you be joining us?”

  The mayor hadn’t moved from his place by the open door. He shook his head. “No, thank you, Lady Digby. I have a few other calls to make before I head out of town.”


  “You’re leaving?” Victoria asked.

  “To Wolverton. We must deal with this event as a community affair, unfortunately. This latest attack must be discussed in detail. The mayor of Wolverton is anxious to offer any assistance that he can.”

  “How thoughtful,” Mama said, while Victoria inwardly disagreed. She found it strange. None of the citizens of Wolverton had considered it their duty to step up in the past. Then again, the Kreak didn’t make it far enough to attack their town, thanks to Victoria and the other ladies of the Program.

  Mayor Goshawk placed his top hat back over his white hair and gave a farewell nod, when the last person Victoria wanted to see made his way up her front steps, saluting the mayor as he left a vacancy in her doorway.

  Nine

  lord Charles Merek strode up the walk wielding a bouquet in one hand and a smile that no doubt had shattered countless hearts. His hair was slicked to one side, his suit perfectly tailored, his shoes, smile, and cufflinks twinkling as though each were polished hourly with the greatest care.

  “Charles!” Mama said. “What a delight!”

  Victoria’s lids pressed down, as if the very act had the power to transport her elsewhere instantaneously. It was enough having to deal with her mother on a good day. Add distant cousins, worry for Dahlia, and getting removed from her squad into the mix, and that should have been enough, but now this? It was not to be borne.

  Mama chatted animatedly with the two new arrivals as she led them to the dining room, leaving Victoria alone with Charles. Of course Victoria shouldn’t have expected any kind of help there.

  Lord Merek bowed before Victoria. “Miss Digby. What a pleasure.”

  “Indeed,” Victoria said, unable to force a smile any longer.

  He stepped aside, making room for Myer to close the door behind him.

  “I hope you don’t mind my intrusion,” Charles said, handing his hat and coat to the butler, “but I heard of the night’s events and came to see how you were faring. How traumatic such an event must have been for you.”