by Vashti Hardy
Felicity wished them luck as they followed Queenie out of the room. Every stair creaked as they walked. Queenie led them to a door at the top of the stairs and meowed. Arthur paused, then knocked.
Maudie had become fixated on a lever imbedded in the wall. “Look at this, the chain goes all the way through the wall – possibly a signalling system to the kitchen,” she whispered.
Arthur wasn’t listening, he felt too nervous. Footsteps approached from the other side. His stomach churned.
The door creaked open and Welby surveyed them. “If you could refrain from touching anything,” he said. Maudie quickly took her hand away from the lever.
A bright, yet serious, voice came from deep in the room. “Welby, show them in.”
He stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. Arthur and Maudie tiptoed into the dimly lit room. Fringed lamps dotted the many tables lighting an explosion of paper, books and small machinery. A young woman sat at a large table at the far end of the great room, head down, scribbling with a feather pen. She dipped the nib in a pot and, without looking up, said, “Names?”
“Maudie.”
Arthur opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Maudie pushed his shoulder.
“Arty… Arthur,” he said.
The young woman behind the table looked up at him. She couldn’t have been much more than twenty-five, with short, ruffled hair that wanted to go in different directions and eyes that sparkled with life and fire as though fuelled by some sort of magic within. They reminded Arthur of Dad’s. Her gaze lingered on Arthur’s iron arm.
“Maudie and Arthur…?”
“Just Arthur.”
She nodded and scribbled some more. The sound of the pen scratching filled the room. Welby took a seat to the side of her.
“And why are you here?” she said.
“Well, we…” Arthur started but his throat jarred.
She nodded encouragingly.
Maudie continued. “We saw the advertisement in the Lontown Chronicle and…”
The young woman stood and walked around the table to lean against it. She wore baggy trousers tucked into knee-high leather boots, a loose shirt, and a curious belt with lots of dangling metal instruments. Arthur glanced at Maudie whose eyes had widened and fixed on the tools.
The woman shook Maudie’s right hand, then Arthur’s left. He caught sight of two small birds in flight tattooed on her wrist. They were explorer marks. Every notable explorer used their family symbol – Dad had the mark of the Brightstorm moth. Arthur had been fascinated with it as a child and had made Maudie draw one on his wrist in ink that washed away within days.
“Swallows are the bird of freedom,” she said, catching Arthur’s eye. “My name is Harriet, just Harriet, or Harrie to my most trusted friends, or Harriet Culpepper if you’d really like to know, or Harriet Mildred Audrey Culpepper if you’re from the bank, and here on official business.” She leant in teasingly and winked. “Which you’re not, are you?”
Welby coughed. “They’re very young.”
Harriet put her hands on her hips. “So was I on my first expedition – it didn’t stop me.” She cupped her hand to her mouth and stage-whispered, “Welby’s been with the family for ever – he’s my second in command. He’ll be the first to admit he’s no spring chicken, but he’s surprisingly nimble, and quick thinking in life-or-death situations.”
Nimble wasn’t the first word Arthur would have thought of.
“So tell me about yourselves,” Harriet said brightly.
“I work in the shipyards,” Maudie said.
Harriet tilted her head and nodded.
“Maudie can fix anything,” Arthur said.
“I’m an engineer, like our mother,” Maudie added.
“Interesting…” Harriet said, leaving it hanging for a moment, something clearly turning over in her brain. “And do you sing?”
“Do we what?” they said in unison. They used to sing all the time – Dad would play the banjo and they would sing old explorer songs together.
Harriet smiled. “Not to worry, Welby sings well enough for all of us – very important on an expedition, you know.” She paused, the curious look back in her eyes. The silence felt suffocating by the time she said, “So won’t your parents miss you?”
Maudie cleared her throat. “Mum died when we were born and Dad…” She looked at Arthur.
Harriet stared deep into his eyes, a quizzical bend to her brow. Then she nodded as though confirming something to herself.
“An expedition really is no place for children,” Welby persisted.
Harriet waved his comment away. “Expeditions are all a matter of motivation. My dream is to be the first to lay my feet where no human in this world has ever reached before – quite simply to see if I can.” Her eyes twinkled. “The sovereigns will, of course, be a bonus, but it isn’t everything. So my question to you is – why do you want to leave the life you have right now?”
Silence hung in the air.
Arthur cleared his throat. “We’ve always wanted to explore. We know we’re young, but—”
Harriet interrupted. “Honesty is the foundation of a good crew. I want you to tell me what is really motivating you.”
He felt as though she could see right inside – that she somehow knew. Maudie gave him a small nod.
“Our father was Ernest Brightstorm.”
To his surprise, Harriet didn’t look taken aback – she simply said, “I read the news with interest, of course. A terrible business.”
“He wouldn’t have stolen the fuel,” Maudie jumped in.
“I was going to say it was a terrible business being attacked like that, by beasts.” Harriet left a long gap. “The Geographical Society agreed there was no other explanation for the theft of fuel from the Victorious.”
“There was no real proof. What if it was local thieves?”
She tilted her head. “So your reason for wanting to come on my expedition?”
Arthur swallowed. “Our name has been dragged into shame. All we ask is for a chance to reclaim it by succeeding and reaching South Polaris.”
Maudie stepped forward. “We’re not afraid of getting dirty and pulling our weight – we’d work twice as hard as any other member of your crew.”
Arthur took over. “We’d do everything we can to help get you to South Polaris first.”
“Arthur might only have one arm but it’s strong as two, and he can problem-solve a way through almost anything because he’s always had to. You should see him tie a knot, and he’s great in the kitchen, and…”
Harriet let out a small laugh. “OK, I get it.” She considered them for several seconds more. “It was a pleasure to meet you both.” She shook their hands and returned to her desk and picked up her pen. “A very good day to you.”
Welby shuffled forward, ushering them towards the door. “We’ll be in touch if you are successful,” he said in an unconvincing tone.
The door closed.
So that was it. They’d failed. They hadn’t even been asked for their address. They slowly, dejectedly descended the stairs.
Felicity came out of the drawing room. “How did it go?”
Arthur shook his head.
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, dearies. I have a tingling in my toes and sure as anything that means the wind’s changing.”
“She couldn’t get rid of us fast enough,” Maudie said.
“Come now, you must remember … there’s always hope.” Felicity winked at Arthur.
“Unfortunately hope has developed the habit of abandoning us lately, but thank you for your kindness, Miss Wiggety. I hope you have better luck than we have,” Arthur said.
CHAPTER 9
AN OFFER
As the days passed, the tiny attic room of Beggins Hall seemed to shrink around them. It rained constantly, and they couldn’t keep up with mending the leaks in the roof. Parthena took shelter inside with them, but their few possessions were crammed into the corne
r, and with one mattress too soggy to sleep on, they squished together on the other and fought over the scratchy blankets.
“Let’s go. There’s no sense in just sitting around here for a message that won’t come. Come on,” Arthur said.
Maudie took a deep breath.
“What is it?”
“Maybe we should face the facts. We haven’t heard from Harriet Culpepper.”
“The official start is tomorrow morning, there’s still time. Let’s go down to the dockyard. Maybe we can stow away on her ship. Or someone else’s!”
“It’s getting too close. We need more time to plan.”
“We have to do something.”
Maudie looked down and twisted a ribbon in her hands. “Perhaps we have to come to terms with the idea that we may never know the truth about Dad.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying that!” Arthur couldn’t accept it – he never would. “We’ll find a way. Dad sent the locket back because it means something and we need to find out what.” He hated when they argued because it made him feel the threat of being left alone. She was the only one who truly understood him, especially with Dad gone.
“But I don’t see how—”
There was a tap on the window.
“Arty, it’s Queenie!” A great fluffy face pressed against the glass. Maudie opened up the window and the cat leapt inside. “There’s something around her neck.” She unclasped a silver tube from Queenie’s collar and carefully removed a rolled-up paper from inside.
The cat gave a satisfied “Prrrrwt.”
Parthena screeched angrily, but Queenie turned up her nose, jumped back up to the window and padded nonchalantly away across the rooftop.
Maudie opened the scroll and read:
Dear Arthur and Maudie,
I’m pleased to offer you both positions as crew-members on the Trans-Continental Expedition and Race to South Polaris – Arthur as cook’s help and Maudie as second engineer. The Geographical Society has set the challenge to start at 8 chimes, promptly, tomorrow. We will depart from No. 4 Archangel Street. Please take extra care until departure, there have been a series of curious incidents and accidents affecting other ships.
Yours with faith,
Miss Harriet Culpepper
Arthur’s heart raced. Harriet wanted them on her crew. They were really going! “This is it, Maudie.” He felt he could explode with happiness. He whooped and danced around the tiny attic room. Maudie giggled.
“Brightstorms!”
They froze.
“Get yourselves down here!”
Arthur stuffed the note in his pocket.
“Come on. At least we won’t have to put up with this much longer,” Maudie said.
“Not even she can spoil my mood.” Arthur smiled.
They ran down the stairs, and heard voices coming from the dining room.
A sickly sweet scent wafted towards them, some sort of botanical perfume, but it was unlike the scent of flowers in their old garden or the blossoms at Archangel Street. They slowly opened the door.
A woman, dressed from head to toe in pale pink, stood beside Mrs Beggins, a distinctive silver brooch on her jacket. Every inch of her seemed perfect: the cut of her skirt and jacket, the precision of her cheekbones, the small sweet nose, her silky braided hair and perfect rosebud lips. It was Eudora Vane.
“If you could let me speak with them alone, Mrs Beggins?” she said, her voice soft and slow, and as sugary as the scent carried on the draught.
Mrs Beggins flushed red, flustered to be in such company. “Of course. Madame, if I’d known you were coming I would’ve made the lazy blighters work twice as hard to get the house clean. Just let me know what you need the little miss to mend on your ship and we’ll arrange terms.” She gave a nod, sovereigns almost replacing her eyes.
After the door closed, Madame Vane indicated for them to sit. She sat herself opposite and neatly clasped her pink-lace-gloved hands. “My name is Madame Vane,” she paused and smiled, “but why don’t you call me Eudora.”
Arthur frowned at Maudie. What could she want?
Eudora Vane’s explorer tattoo showed on her wrist – a beautiful winged serpent clutching a ring. On the bottom a small flying creature, identical to her brooch, clasped a rose.
“Pardon me, Madame Vane. But what can we do for you?” Arthur said.
Eudora Vane smiled. “I told Mrs Beggins that I needed some work on my ship and was looking for young workers to help, smaller crew who can reach further into the holds. I said that I must speak to you confidentially, on account of the secrecy I require on all matters pertaining to my ship.” She winked.
“You want us to work for you?” Maudie said curiously.
Eudora Vane shook her head. “No, I’m not in the business of employing children to do my work, like some in the shipyards. Or those dreadful pitch mines! What happened to your father and his crew was terrible. Believe me when I say I understand how awful it must have been for you. When I discovered you had lost your home, I just had to find you.” Her eyes roamed around the dark room. “It took me a while to track you down. What a despicable act by your former housekeeper to abandon you in your hour of grief.” She leant forward. “And then I heard that you had responded to Miss Culpepper’s expedition advertisement.”
“How do you know about that?” Arthur said.
“Word gets around in explorer circles.”
“We…” Maudie started, but Arthur nudged her under the table.
“Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing to these dreadful people,” Eudora Vane whispered. “But do you really think your father would have wanted you to follow in his footsteps and risk your lives?” She paused. “I understand you wanting to get away from your situation, but I’ve been thinking, there must be more to it.”
Arthur thought for a moment. He couldn’t see the harm in telling her, maybe she could help. “Dad’s hawk, Parthena, flew all the way back, and she brought his locket, a locket he never took off.”
“A hawk! A sapient, then? Curious indeed. So you think there is more to what happened out there?”
Arthur shrugged. “Maybe.”
“We saw the prints of beasts in the snow; there were no survivors. I can assure you, we checked the area thoroughly,” Eudora Vane said with conviction.
“He couldn’t have sent it back in the middle of an attack.”
“So you think he somehow survived.”
“We know the chances are slim, but…”
Madame Vane leant back in her seat. “Conditions down there are harsh, Arthur. And as you say, his hawk never left his side, so by your own logic she wouldn’t have left him while he was alive.”
She was right, but it still didn’t fit.
“I know you both want to cling to some shred of hope – we all do – but perhaps the bird found this locket after the attack and somehow made her own way back.”
Arthur didn’t want to hear any more. “We should be getting on with our chores.”
“Please, I want to help you – I can pay the rental of a small house on the edge of Lontown. It would be all yours. I can find you both respectable work where people needn’t know your name or heritage and you won’t need to answer to anyone. Perhaps in the seam-master houses of Westside – they’re always in need of young apprentices. I’m very well connected down there.”
“Excuse me, Madame Vane. But why would you help us?” Maudie said.
“Because what happened isn’t your fault. And an expedition is no place for children.”
“We’re twelve and two moons,” Arthur said. While the idea of a warm place and security was an offer they might never see again, Arthur felt the weight of Dad’s locket against his chest. He looked at Maudie. He didn’t want to give up.
Maudie sighed. “Thank you, but we can’t accept your offer,” she said.
Eudora Vane gave a gentle nod of acceptance. “I understand. But at least think about it.”
She stood and walked to the door, then p
aused. “Oh, there is one more thing. Miss Culpepper’s attempt is rather naïve, I’m afraid. She may appear exciting, quite the young explorer, but she has no experience of the Third Continent. She doesn’t even have a worthy sky-ship. She’s hired quite a miserable thing, I’m afraid. If you don’t believe me, you should go see it for yourselves – the Sojourn, down in the docks. I’ve been preparing and adapting my ship for another attempt since I returned.”
Arthur and Maudie couldn’t help exchanging a panicked look.
“The Victorious is far better equipped for the journey than any sky-ship in the First Continent. I would say that with my recent modifications it is indeed the best sky-ship Lontown has ever seen. Perhaps I could show you one day, if you accepted my offer.”
Maudie’s eyes were bright with interest.
Eudora’s gaze settled on Maudie’s hair. “What a lovely ribbon – I should give you one from my own collection, something with a softer hue to it. I adore beautiful things and textures: fur, feathers, silk.” She sighed. “So you’ll think about my offer? It might be your ticket back to Lontown society.”
A warm bed in a non-leaky room in Westside sounded like luxury, but Arthur knew he could never be happy, no matter where he was in Lontown, not until he’d tried to find out what had really happened.
Eudora read the expressions on the twins’ faces and seemed resigned. “Independent spirits – I admire that.” She opened the door, and stepped out into the hall before turning back. “I felt it my duty to offer you a way out. You understand, don’t you?”
“We really do appreciate your offer,” Arthur said.
“I set off in the morning, so you’ll need to act quickly. Come to Vane Manor by seven chimes this evening if you want to accept; if not, I’ll assume you aren’t interested.” She smiled graciously, then left.
Her sweet perfume lingered in the room.
Arthur was quiet for a while before saying, “You weren’t thinking of taking her offer of help, were you?”
Maudie paused, then shook her head.
“I mean, trying to tell us Harriet’s not got a worthy ship!” he said.
They both let out a nervous laugh then fell silent.
