“By-blow I may be, madam, but not of your husband’s get. If he offered me any regard, it sprang from my own abilities as an engineer, not from a sense of obligation.”
“Are you so sure, girl? A woman of your mother’s proclivities would find it no great stretch to lie.”
My temper flared so hot, any open flames in the vicinity would have leapt in sympathy. Fortunately, no fire burned on the scrubbed hearth.
“I am quite certain.” Else, where would my phlogistological abilities have come from? Neither Maman nor Captain Rollins possessed the least alchemical talent. “If you believe my mother has such loose morals, why are you so insistent that Captain Rollins was my father? I could be the result of an encounter with any number of men.” The words felt disloyal, but I hoped to light some spark of logic in this bitter woman’s mind.
“Do not bring up the subject of your mother’s profession in this house! I suffer enough from the image of my husband, entangled in a courtesan’s filthy clutches.”
I started forward, not entirely sure what I would do when I reached the old toad, but fairly certain it would be unpleasant. “Filthy lucre is the only hold you had upon…”
Josiah caught hold of my waist and swung me behind him. “None of that, Everley.”
Mrs. Rollins pressed her doughy body back into the cushions, eyes wide, but the hint of an evil smile showed in the lines around her mouth and the wrinkle of her nose. “Did you see that, Josiah? She would attack me! A helpless woman!”
“I saw an attack upon a woman, but I cannot declare either participant helpless. Nor can I agree upon the identity of the victim.” He turned his back on his mother to address me. “My apologies, Miss Everley.”
I tried to calm my rapid breathing and with it, my temper. “She only wanted to injure someone as she believes she was injured.”
Mrs. Rollins’ shrill voice rose behind Josiah’s stiff shoulders. “I need no defense from the likes of you, girl! You will end up like your mother, depriving a proper wife of the love and respect due her from her lawful husband.”
“Mother, please be reasonable. Go ahead and tell Miss Everley what you feel you must so we may all get on with our lives.” He moved mere inches to the side as if taking care to keep two rowdy deckhands separated.
Mrs. Rollins gathered her dignity, straightening her spine. “I called you here to tell you that you shall not get away with it,” she announced.
I exchanged a startled look with Josiah. What on earth did the horrid woman mean?
Her genteel sneer returned. “Do not pretend you know nothing of the undue influence you and your mother” —she spat out the word as if offended her— “wielded over my husband.”
“Madam, any influence we may have had we attained through mutual respect and—”
She cut me off with a sharp gesture. “I would not have minded so much if Edmund had taken a series of mistresses. What else can one expect from a man? But to have one, for so many years! And now this.”
With hands folded precisely in her lap, she came to the crux of the matter at last. “Our solicitors found the second will. I shall not allow it to stand. Your mother shall not receive one guinea of the residue of my husband’s estate. Neither shall you.”
“What second will?” I asked, bewildered. I had not, of course, been present at the reading of Edmund Rollins’ will, but the papers, and Obadiah, had let me know that Josiah had inherited the bulk of his father’s estate. I had not been informed of any legacy for either Maman or myself. I had thought us both overlooked. Had I been wrong?
“Do not try that disingenuous act with me, girl. I know your sort, always ready to take advantage of a weak man’s pity. And my poor Edmund was always too ready to take care of others rather than his own family. You remember, Josiah,” she said, turning an imperious glance on her son. “That man who shot himself because he could not run his airship business as well as your father? Edmund took care of the man’s family for years, even sent the boy to school. I’m glad I talked him into cutting them off before he gave away your entire inheritance.”
Despicable old toad, cutting off some poor widow’s support. I hoped the boy had managed to find a way to replace the funds.
Mrs. Rollins’ eyes, hard and pale as an iceberg, darted back to me. “I will not allow another hanger-on to take any more of what is mine.”
I knew she referred not only to money.
“Mother, you cannot fight my father’s wishes without dragging all our names through the mud of common gossip.” Josiah made as if to go to his mother.
I stayed him with a hand at his sleeve. “What second will?” I demanded. “I have heard nothing of this.”
“My father left a small annuity for your mother and made a few provisions for you in an addendum to his main will. His executor found it two days ago amongst his papers.”
Mrs. Rollins threw up her hands. “Small annuity? It is almost as much as I, his lawful wife, receive! I put up with the man’s philandering ways for all these years. I deserve… my son deserves better.”
“Mother…”
“And what about the provisions for this guttersnipe, Josiah? If she is no blood relation, why would he insist you care for her as if she were your sister?”
“I am not Edmund Rollins’ daughter!” My hands shook, and I twisted them together in front of me. “He was my captain and my friend. And that is all.” I drew myself up to my full height. “You may keep your money, Mrs. Rollins. I want nothing from any Rollins, but what is freely given. Maman and I loved Captain Rollins for himself, not for what he could do for us. The same cannot be said of you, madam.”
Mrs. Rollins surged to her feet in a tsunami of black frills. “How dare you speak to me like that, you… you illegitimate daughter of a whore!”
The words, although strictly speaking true, stung like hailstones.
“Mother, sit down and shut up!” Josiah snapped.
Mrs. Rollins jerked back as if she’d been struck. “Josiah!”
Josiah dragged me from the room before she regained the use of language.
Even through my anger, I foolishly relished the warmth of his hand about my arm. For the sake of my sanity, I had to remove myself from his presence.
“Everley, you must forgive her. She is an unhappy and lonely woman,” Josiah began.
I wrenched away from him and started down the stairs. “I do not care to hear any more excuses, Mr. Rollins. She is cognizant of her actions and fully capable of controlling both herself and, it appears, everyone around her. Except me.”
He followed close on my heels. “She does not control me.”
“Oh? I warned you how this encounter would end, yet you insisted I go through with it because you could not deal with your mother yourself.” Johnstone appeared with my bonnet and gloves. I snatched them up and turned for the door. “I have done as you asked. May I please go now?”
“Not until we settle the question of the provisions my father made for you.”
“I have no need nor desire for your reluctant guardianship! I absolve you of any responsibility you may feel toward me. You may reassure your mother that she—and you—have seen the last of the Everleys.” I spun away from him, tugging on my gloves. “We are done, sir.”
“Wait, and I’ll call for the carriage.”
I shook my head, reaching for the knob. “I will not accept even that from you.”
I yanked the door open and rushed out to the street, tying my bonnet with unsteady hands. How could Josiah have sprung from such a poisonous old spider? How could he defend the woman?
Well, at least I knew whose side he was on.
And it was not mine.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I half-expected Josiah to come rushing out the door after me, assuring me he knew his mother was wrong in her hatred for me and mine, telling me he would… he would…
But even my active imagination failed to finish that thought. No, the Rollins family was finished with me, and I with them
.
Although, I admit my sorrow over Captain Rollins’ death had lessened—no, not lessened. Softened, perhaps. My sorrow had softened at the knowledge he had cared enough to include Maman and me in his will, in however small a measure, and regardless of the fact I had given up any claim to the inheritance. I am certain the amount was small. Captain Rollins would not have ceded me something more difficult to give up, such as the Mercury.
I hoped he had not; otherwise, I had made a grave error.
Nothing to do about it now. Mrs. Rollins would never have let such a legacy stand, in any event.
I strode down the street as fast as my skirts allowed, passing a knot of fashionable ladies returning home from taking tea with friends or, possibly, rivals. Carriages rolled by, wheels clattering on the cobbles, but none were for hire. I made for the corner, where I could obtain the services of a hansom, or catch a ride on the trolley.
If I were truly done with all things Rollins, did that mean I would have to abandon all hope, however vague, of discovering Captain Rollins’ killer? Could I turn my back on my friend, and my vow, so easily? I had made distressingly little progress. All I knew was that the killer was a fair-haired Englishman connected in some way to the airshipping business. A cast of literally thousands.
Could I trust Josiah to continue the investigation? I doubted Mrs. Rollins would countenance the waste of time and resources, and I imagined she would find a way to bring Josiah around to her way of thinking.
Even if the murderer was found and punished, it would not bring back Edmund Rollins. So what was the point?
The memory of Henry, dying in my arms, presented itself front and center. Poison, the slashed gasbag, the “broken” compass. It all could have been aimed at Josiah. Perhaps set in motion by the same hand responsible for Edmund Rollins’ death.
I wanted, briefly, to believe it all was Mrs. Rollins’ doing, in order to ruin the company so she could keep Josiah by her side. I wanted to think the very worst of the odious woman. However, I could see no possible means for Mrs. Rollins to accomplish any of the sabotage. She had no interest in her husband’s business, and no connections, that I knew of, to any airfield.
So Josiah remained in possible danger. Perhaps I should go back and warn him…
I turned, nearly treading on a small terrier being led on a string by a footman, trotting briskly on his daily outing.
“I beg your pardon,” I told the man. The terrier did not seem to need an apology, as he was occupied sniffing at my hem.
I skirted around the pair, preparing to return to the scene of my humiliation, but the small pause gave me time to reconsider. Josiah would not welcome my interference. Besides, I had told him all my suspicions before. He was already as forewarned as could be.
My subconscious mind was looking for excuses to see Josiah again.
I turned back around. I needed to leave this mystery behind and get on with my own life. Very likely I would never know what, exactly, had happened to Captain Rollins, or why. Or who was responsible. I had to find some way to reconcile myself to that fact.
As I must reconcile myself to working for Winged Goods’ rival.
* * *
Eventually, I found a trolley that took me within walking distance of Wormwood Airfield. No more sulking or delaying. I would present myself at the Falcon’s Flight offices right now and inquire whether Mr. Fairlane’s offer of employment was still valid.
The wrought iron airfield gates stood open, allowing supply wagons, crewmen, and the occasional wealthy and important passenger’s carriage to pass through unimpeded. A few of the crewmen nodded to me as I strode inside, skirts swishing. The familiar thump-hiss-thump of engines and airscrews filled the air, pressing against my body in an almost physical beat.
My steps and gaze shifted automatically toward the east, where the Mercury’s silver gas bags gleamed in the evening twilight, the green and blue lettering that picked out her name deepening to emerald and sapphire. She tugged at her mooring ropes as if eager to be on her way.
Figures moved about her deck. Benjamin swabbing the deck and Whitcomb, looking like an emaciated stork as he made his way to the bridge. Benjamin looked up and waved as I hesitated.
No Henry, ever again. No Captain Rollins—either Captain Rollins. No more Mercury. My steps stuttered as a wave of emotion squeezed my chest, worse than the tightest of corsets, so mixed I could not tell whether I felt sad, angry, disappointed, jealous, furious… Miserable, certainly.
The misery would pass. Logic insisted it would.
Logic seemed a poor comfort, at the moment.
Resolutely, I turned my steps and attention to the Falcon’s Flight hangar and the squat, square office by it.
Winged Goods had its three-story tower. Falcon’s Flight had a tiny hut with barely enough room for a cramped office.
A stylized falcon with hooked beak and outstretched talons was painted on a placard above the door. I shivered at the vaguely sinister image.
My imagination was working overtime. Guilt, I assume. After all, I was contemplating entering the employ of a competitor of the company to whom I had dedicated my entire adult life.
But Falcon’s Flight was not the enemy, simply another airshipping business. Captain Rollins had been friends with any number of officers from other shipping firms.
Too, Captain Rollins was dead. I had not left him. He had left me.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and pushed open the oxblood-red door.
A bell tinkled, and Silas Fairlane looked up from a pile of paperwork on a bulky oak desk that took up nearly the entire room. He rose with a warm smile. “Miss Everley! What a delightful surprise!”
Sighing with relief that the man was currently in town and not in flight over some foreign territory, I held out my hand and stepped up to the desk. “I hope I am not being presumptuous, Mr. Fairlane, to assume the chief engineer’s position is still open. I know I gave you little cause to think I would accept your offer. I understand completely if you have given the position to someone else—”
Fairlane’s expression warmed yet another notch. “Nonsense, Miss Everley! Any firm in Britain would be overjoyed to acquire an engineer of your quality.” He took my hand and gave it a friendly squeeze.
I took the compliment for polite nonsense, and yet could not prevent the soothing effect it had upon my feelings. Could it be I had finally found another person besides Captain Rollins, who could value me for my skills and intelligence? I pushed away the thought of Josiah, finally giving in and admitting my fuel calculations were correct; Josiah waiting for me before going to the Russian’s Cap to investigate; the look in Josiah’s eyes on Galata Bridge as he told me it was not merely my outer form that drew him to me.
I remembered all too clearly another look when he realized who I, and my maman, were.
No, thoughts of Josiah were no longer useful. Better to think of Reuben’s advice on changing companies. He experienced no guilt at switching alliances within the airshipping community. It was merely business, accepting employment with the company that suited him best. I should take a page from his book of life’s lessons.
“I am so pleased to hear you have kept a place for me, Mr. Fairlane. Or should I say, Captain Fairlane?” I took the chair he offered, rearranging my skirts and my dratted bustle. It was a new collapsible wire and linen model, but the design still seemed unnecessarily unwieldy. I supposed I could improve it, if I had the time. Or the desire.
Mr. Fairlane resumed his seat across the desk from me. “Captain, indeed, Chief Engineer Everley, as soon as you sign the contract.”
He rummaged in a drawer, and I took the papers and pen he retrieved. I scanned the document, noting that the remuneration mentioned was, indeed, greater than that I had received from Winged Goods. “You appear well prepared for my showing up here today,” I said, setting the final page on the scarred oak of the desk and lifting the pen to sign my name in the appropriate space.
“Hope springs eterna
l,” he replied, his eyes crinkling in a charming manner as he smiled at me.
I tried to return his smile, but my face felt stiff and I’m fairly certain I failed in the attempt. I stared down at the contract.
Fairlane must have noticed my hesitation. “Don’t let the austerity of this office deter you, Chief Everley. The Merlin, my flagship aboard which you’ll be serving, is where I have invested the firm’s resources. I’m sure you’ll find it’s ‘up to snuff,’ as it were.”
When I did not immediately set pen to paper—I could not bring myself to take that final step from working for Josiah to working against him in such haste—Fairlane rose and held out his hand to help me to my feet. “Come, Miss Everley. Let me show you the ship. Perhaps that will reassure you.”
I set the pen down with a feeling of relief. I had no need to feel guilty, I knew. And yet, I grabbed at any excuse to put off the ultimate moment for a few minutes more.
I accepted Fairlane’s help in coming to my feet and preceded him out of the cramped office.
“We are not starting from zero, Miss Everley,” Fairlane continued. “My father left me the hangar and its contents, along with his debts. Unfortunately, we recently lost one of our backers. But I am confident that, with your assistance, Falcon’s Flight will soon thrive.”
“You say funds are scarce, and yet you are willing to pay me quite generously.”
“I have great confidence in your abilities, Miss Everley. I have watched you for a long time.”
His declaration gave me a chilly twinge. Surely he didn’t mean to sound so… voyeuristic. “Have you, now?”
He laughed, apparently amused by my dry tone. “Well, I have kept abreast of your career, shall we say. I know who is responsible for Winged Goods’ success.”
The chilly twinge intensified. What was he implying? That he knew of my pyromancy? Surely not. No one outside my closest associates and Maman knew that secret, and they would never betray me. Still, Fairlane seemed to have far too intimate a knowledge of Winged Goods’ inner workings for my peace of mind. “You flatter me, sir.”
Fires of Hell: The Alchemystic Page 22
