“We can’t worry about that. He’ll get his new security, and maybe there won’t be any more threats.”
“Maybe.” Katya doubted it, but she hoped it was possible.
Chapter Three
Katya spread a thin layer of butter over the broken halves of her roll. As usual, she sat at the head of the large table despite being the newest arrival to the boarding house. The owner, the white-headed Mrs. Weeks, sat at the far end, paying as much attention to the evening newspaper as she did her supper. Her daughter Mary sat beside her, the frizzy curls of her hair drooping from the heat of helping her mother in the kitchen. Lizzie blathered on across from her about a play she had seen recently at the theater. Magdalene, trapped between Lizzie and Katya, munched quietly on sausages and a casserole of baked tomatoes. Katya waited impatiently for Lizzie to stop recounting every person she recognized in the theater crowd, setting her knife down with a sharp clink against the edge of her plate.
The metallic clang only seemed to refocus Lizzie’s busy mouth. She let her fork dangle from her hand, loosely pointed at Katya. “We finished your embroidery at the shop today. I was supposed to tell you to drop by and pick it up.”
The thought of an extra jacket to wear at the carnival preoccupied Katya for a moment. She liked the deep, rich blue of her regular jacket, where Lizzie and her employer had embroidered a large pale-blue and tan compass. She couldn’t wait to see the new jacket, a shiny baby-blue satin, embroidered across the back with a design of gears one of the carnival mechanics had drawn up for her. Thoughts of the carnival dragged Katya back to the question she wanted to ask. “Have you heard any recent gossip about Mr. Warden?”
Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “No. Should I?”
“I just wondered if he had done anything particularly rakish lately.”
Mrs. Weeks laid her copy of the News on the table. “Is he rakish, Katya?”
“Only when it pleases him.”
Magdalene spoke up with a more direct answer. “Not everybody likes Mr. Warden as much as others.”
Lizzie tittered. “I’m surprised Katya doesn’t like him more. He’s exactly what we’re looking for. He’s rich, not too old, and he could charm the bustle off anybody, even Mrs. Weeks.”
Katya took a delicate bite of her roll even though she was starving. “Mrs. Weeks wouldn’t be interested in a man like that.”
Lizzie looked Katya over and clucked her tongue. “He spurned you, didn’t he?”
Katya hunched behind her roll. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Mrs. Weeks lifted the News and turned the page. “Another article on Frances Cleveland. You know, of all the first ladies I’ve seen in my lifetime, she’s the youngest and the loveliest. I’m so glad President Cleveland’s moved on after all that scandal about the woman in Buffalo.”
“What scandal?” Lizzie asked, perking up.
“Don’t look at me to repeat it. It happened before your time, and they dug it up during the election.” Mrs. Weeks composed herself and tapped her newspaper. “Here’s an ad for another one of those cure-alls. Coughs, consumption, headaches, nausea.”
Mary stretched her neck up and peeked over the top of the paper.
Mrs. Weeks bent the page down so Mary could see it. “I swear by Ayer’s, but I don’t know about this one. How can it cure an ache up in your head and take out the swelling way down in your feet? What do you think, Mary? Is it worth a try?”
Mary spoke up in her smooth, gentle voice. “I don’t know. It could work.”
Lizzie jumped into the conversation. “How much is it?”
Mrs. Weeks consulted the paper. “A dollar twenty-five. You can get Ayer’s for a dollar a bottle.”
Lizzie threw a grin down the table at Katya. “I bet Mr. Warden could sell anything at any price.”
Katya finished her roll and wiped her fingertips on her napkin. “Have you ever met Mr. Warden?”
“No.” Lizzie leaned forward, her eyes eager at the thought.
Katya doubted Mr. Warden would give Lizzie the time of day. Despite his faults, he was a dapper gentleman, and Lizzie stayed as common as they came. Katya did not consider Lizzie fit to stand in the same room as Mr. Warden, and she expected he would quickly surmise the same. “Ride out to the carnival, and I’ll introduce you.”
Lizzie’s eyebrows scrunched up, and her shoulders sank forward. “To the carnival? It’s so loud there and hot. I much prefer the theater.”
“The theater’s just as hot, and there’s no breeze.”
“You don’t have to do any walking at the theater.”
“Don’t expect to meet Mr. Warden, then. He spends all his nights at the carnival.”
Lizzie narrowed smoldering eyes at Katya.
Katya finished her dinner and patted her napkin to her lips. She left it on the table as she stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to change for work.”
“In case your clothes weren’t gaudy enough,” Lizzie muttered.
Katya slipped her hands down the slim curves of her corseted waist. She liked her clothes bold and bright, and she did not care what Lizzie thought of a single piece of her wardrobe. “Coming, Mags?”
Magdalene took the last bite of her sausage. “Yes, in a minute.”
Lizzie straightened her back and squared her shoulders, balancing on the front edge of her chair to see Katya over Magdalene’s head. “As if you didn’t take longer to get ready than anybody else in the house.”
Katya smirked. “As if Mr. Warden didn’t want me looking my best.”
“You’re bluffing. Everybody knows he wants everything about the carnival to be perfect. There’s nothing special about you.”
Katya folded her hands on top of her chair back. “No? All the guests will see me at one time or another, probably more than once. Mr. Warden stands to gain from having a beautiful, well-dressed woman at the center of everything. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be paying you for such detailed embroidery.”
Lizzie laid her napkin on the table. The haughtiness drained from her rounded features. “I don’t know how you got your job, and I don’t care. Get your clothes altered somewhere else if you like. But don’t act like I’m nothing because I don’t work at the carnival. If it weren’t for the seamstresses, the builders, the sign makers, and even the farmers, you and Mr. Warden would have no carnival to speak of.”
Katya bent towards Lizzie over the back of her chair. “If it weren’t for Mr. Warden’s brilliant ideas, none of that business would’ve happened.”
Katya strolled out of the dining room into the long hall running through the middle of the house. She climbed the back stairs and let herself into her room, the second door on the left. Her carnival outfit stretched across the bed, the royal-blue jacket with bronze buttons shaped like gears, a black and white striped dress, and her cream-colored gloves embroidered with a compass on the back of each wrist.
Katya picked up the hat she had selected for the evening. It was completely covered in black velvet, the brim turned up at the sides and in the back. A bronze buckle adorned the band, and green ostrich feathers fanned out liberally over the crown. She set it on her head, arranging the tilt of it in the mirror. She did not care what Lizzie said. Katya was the most extravagant attraction at the carnival, and she aimed to remain that way.
A few light knocks on the door preceded Magdalene easing it open. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “If Lizzie doesn’t know anything about Mr. Warden’s death threats, nobody outside the carnival does.”
“That’s good for him and good for business, but it doesn’t help us escape any danger.”
“You said you believed him that we were safe.”
Katya selected a black-beaded hat pin from the white porcelain holder on top of her dresser and speared it carefully through her hat. “I believe he’ll do what he can, but anyone angry enough to send three letters might be willing to take out anyone who gets in their way.”
“Don’t you think the letters might be
empty threats?”
“I haven’t had time to think about that. I’ve been too busy worrying we’ll be murdered while we work.”
“You don’t think the added security will be enough?”
“I’m not sure.” Katya turned to look at Magdalene. Magdalene’s white and red striped day dress was cut more conservatively than Katya’s mint and hunter-green one. Not even the crimson dresses Magdalene wore at the carnival came close to matching the fine details of Katya’s costumes. She wondered what Magdalene did with all the money she saved.
Magdalene glanced at Katya’s elaborate clothes laid out between them. “I’ll get dressed, and we can meet the carriage.”
“I wish I had my own carriage. Then we wouldn’t have to ride with Irina.”
Magdalene tilted her head to one side. “You should be kind to her. She’s lost three children.”
“I save my kindness for Mrs. Weeks. She lost her husband.”
“You don’t think Irina suffers?”
Katya tested the placement of her hat pin, and the arrangement barely swayed. “I’m sure she does, but Mrs. Weeks is kinder to me on her worst days than Irina has ever been to anybody.”
Magdalene reached for the door handle.
Katya put her hand out to keep her from leaving. “What does she say about me when I’m not there?”
Magdalene clasped her hands in front of her lap. After a pause, she admitted, “She thinks you’re privileged.”
Katya’s mouth dropped open at such a judgmental word. “Privileged?”
“Yes. Spoiled by people like Mr. Warden.”
Katya closed her mouth. She could not argue with that. “I buy my privilege with charm. Irina should try it. The results would be much better than what she gets with that sour face.”
Magdalene popped the door open. “I won’t mention it.”
Chapter Four
Lizzie was right about one thing. The carnival made the loudest noises Katya had ever heard.
Outside the gates, the muffled buzz combined the excited chatter of children, the murmuring of adults, and the clacking horses’ hooves pulling carriages. Inside, past the ticket booth, two game stalls welcomed patrons with the crashes of baseballs knocking into bottles and the stall runners calling to anyone within their sight. Energetic shouts rang out from the spinning Kaleidoscope on one side while the oohs and ahhs from the rising Tower on the opposite side fell away even at a near distance.
Almost at the center of the carnival, the twenty-eight-piece band played compositions written specifically for it, most of which surged with the same grace and flair as Chambers’ “Trombone Section” or Sousa’s “Gladiator March.” Competing for the pounding eardrums of patrons and employees stood the Beast, the grandest coaster, an iron monstrosity at the hub of the racket. The loudest shrieks issued from its cars as they climbed to the highest peak and raced through the hollows, curves, and dips back to their starting place. Two smaller coasters contributed surprised to fearful screaming from either side, mixing with calls and applause from the judging of contests held in front of the eastern L-shaped coaster known simply as the El.
In the rear of the carnival, besides the roar of the Beast, the air was surprisingly calm. The third and final game stall rested in the great shadow behind it. The two food stalls flanked the impressive Warden wheel, giving a wide berth to the carnival’s most popular attraction. In one of twenty compartments, couples and children could sit and turn higher along the path of the wheel to look out over the southern neighborhoods of the city. The ride would only stop to let new passengers on or old passengers off, returning its riders safely to the ground in a usually awed hush. Except for Mr. Warden’s recent door-slamming, the two buildings hidden away behind the food stalls were the quietest, his office and the maintenance men’s storage building. Katya kept her distance from the water closets as much as possible, determined not to make herself an expert in their sounds as well. The imposing coaster behind them, the Cannon, served wonders to mask the sound and the smell.
Katya felt at ease striding the grounds, greeting patrons and offering her help. She looked smart in her new pale-blue jacket, and she smiled even wider whenever she caught children pointing excitedly at the painstakingly detailed embroidery. She escorted a family with six children to the western food stall for popcorn, licorice, and root beer. Before Katya could think about crossing the back of the grounds to visit Magdalene, a young couple stopped her to ask about the height of the sky-scraping Tower.
As instructed by Mr. Warden, Katya walked while she talked. “The Tower itself stands sixty feet, but the cars only rise to fifty.”
The young man spoke up for his wide-eyed companion. “Is it safe?”
“Perfectly. We’ve had no injuries since the opening of the carnival, unless you count stomach aches from the eating contests.”
“You host contests for eating?”
“Oh, yes. At least once a week. Have you stopped by the side stage? There’s pie judging tonight. You should try a piece. It’s always the tastiest in the city.”
“We might do that.”
“Try whatever you like. There’s plenty of time left in the evening.”
Katya stopped, and the couple looked up, having been led unknowingly to the waiting line for the Tower.
“Enjoy your stay,” Katya said and left them to decide if they wanted to ascend it or not.
Katya barely reached the nearest game stall when she saw a woman in faded green step past the ticket booth. She did not know her, but she knew she had seen her several times before. Many guests came to the carnival again and again over the course of its open season, but none of them frowned as much as this woman. In a sea of giggles and shining eyes, this woman was never happier than solemn. Katya kept her distance but trailed along behind her, anonymous in the ever-shifting crowd.
The woman was not in the trimmest shape despite her slender shoulders. Her mossy-green jacket hung bulkily on her frame, loose where it should hug tightly. More than anything else, her hat betrayed her poor economic station or at least her modest choice in fashion. Her bonnet slumped low against her head, its long ribbons tied beneath her chin. Her hair shone black in the light of the gas lamps distributed across the grounds. Aside from her frown, what intrigued Katya were her feet, moving quickly and much more surely than the leisurely pace of all the other patrons. Katya tailed her past the thundering Beast and watched her drift away from the crowd. The woman glanced around nervously before slipping away behind the food stall toward Mr. Warden’s office.
Her curiosity fully piqued, Katya swept toward the food stall, eager to tell Magdalene what she had seen. A tugging on her skirt brought her attention to a short, sweet-faced boy in search of his mother. Katya took him by one small, dirty hand and led him through the crowd from one attraction to another until they found his parents. She dotted beads of sweat off her forehead with the finger of her glove, inspecting the palms to find the boy had left a smudge of dirt across the right one. Mrs. Weeks could wash it out for her.
New customers floated through the gates, pointing at Katya, then at the Tower, then to the games and the band playing behind them. Katya beamed, still in love with the thrill of the carnival, knowing she could never be happy to be a patron. She had to work there, in the bustling center of the modern world.
A couple passed by several yards away, the woman piercing Katya from the corners of her eyes. Katya’s mouth dropped open as she recognized Lizzie smirking with self-congratulations. Lizzie tightened her elbow’s crook around the arm of a doctor Katya had ridden in the park with one afternoon some months before. Katya hardly cared if she lost him to Lizzie, but she gawked at Lizzie’s audacity to flaunt it in front of her.
Katya wove through the crowd, headed straight to the food stall where Magdalene would probably be too busy to talk. Sure enough, Magdalene was working with both hands at all times. She took money from patrons, counted out pieces of hard candy from a bowl on the counter, and passed fried dough dess
erts wrapped in paper from Irina to reaching hands of all sizes.
Katya stepped up to the side counter, standing apart from the line of customers. Magdalene did not slow her pace, pouring a small glass of lemonade and handing it down to a little girl. She glanced at Katya, and that was all Katya needed to know Magdalene was listening. “It’s a fine night Lizzie picked to come to the carnival.”
Magdalene gave no answer. She took a dollar from the girl’s father and passed him back a few quarters in change.
Katya continued. “She’s got Dr. Kirby on her arm.”
“I thought he was your Dr. Kirby.” Magdalene raised her eyebrows at the next customer in line.
“He was. He’s hers now.”
The young man ordered potato chips for himself and peanut brittle for the lady beside him.
Katya spoke up again. “Not that I mind. His mustache is always crooked. You’d think a doctor could afford a better razor and mirror.”
Magdalene cracked a smile. She wrapped a piece of peanut brittle in thin paper and handed it to the young woman.
Katya wiped at the dirt smeared across the palm of her glove. “It’s been so busy, I haven’t been able to ask you about something. There’s a woman who comes here – she’s here tonight – poking around Mr. Warden’s office. Have you noticed her?”
Magdalene took a paper cone full of fried, salted potato chips from the Englishman and passed it to the young man. “What does she look like?”
“Black hair. Not very tall. Awful, sad-looking bonnet. She’s too pretty for it and far too young.”
Magdalene paused. If she was thinking any condemning thoughts about Mr. Warden, she held them in. “Yes, I’ve seen her.”
“Do you think something’s going on? Do you think she might have something to do with the letters he got?”
Steampunk Carnival (Steam World Book 1) Page 2
