The Gaslight Girl: A Decisive Devices Novella (Decisive Devices Steampunk Series Book 1)

by Hargrove Perth

  Halloran was impatient as she waited yet held her tongue. There was no sense in starting an argument when they would be leaving in only a few days for their usual holiday to the countryside, then she could meet Jonathan and the White Chapel Boys to learn the truth about the death of her parents.

  She toiled away the next four hours altering the dresses of Geneve, Lora, and Janessa until they were finally satisfied. Tired and frustrated, she descended the stairs leading to the first level of the house, walked to the pantry and lit the gaslight lamp before searching for the tin of beeswax and linseed oil to wax the floors.

  Once the tin was located and an ample supply of rags and wool was in hand, Halloran began the arduous task of waxing the foyer and sitting room floors.

  She dipped the wool into the tin, applying an ample amount to the floor in front of her, and used the rags to buff the oak floor to a beautiful, high sheen. Sweat formed on her brow as she worked, something she knew none of the strumpets that now called her house their home had ever experienced a single day in their lives.

  Halloran thought about many things as she toiled, mostly her thoughts surrounded the friendship her mother once shared with Ellen, and how in her mind, the entire relationship had been nothing but a means to her father once her mother lay cold in the ground.

  Perhaps Jonathan is correct in his assumptions, she thought as she moved to the next section of the floor. Her mother had taken ill after the birth, Ellen had offered her assistance willingly, staying during the day with Allora, and tending to her during her illness. It was but a year later Halloran’s mother was dead. The doctors had said her blood had become poisoned after the still birth, yet now Halloran questioned it all with a propensity that boarded on madness.

  Anger built in her as she worked feverishly while her mind ran rampant with the many scenarios that could have occurred until Halloran looked up and discovered the entire floor was polished. She collected the wares of cleaning and returned them to their rightful place then began the laundry for the week.

  It was nightfall by the time the last of the bedlinens had been rinsed in lavender water and hung out to dry. Halloran walked to the summer kitchen, climbed the ladder to the tiny ledge that was her home, and fell asleep without even changing her clothes, knowing most of the servants in London led a life more comfortable than hers and were treated far better and perhaps even with kindness.

  She awoke and dressed before dawn, leaving without a breakfast, and walked to the Willoughby Frost Gas Company to wait for Jonathan and his boys to arrive to discuss the agenda for what would happen after the truth was learned regarding her parents. She was surprised as she gathered the tools of her trade when Jonathan arrived alone.

  “Morning love,” Jonathan said and leaned in to kiss Halloran on the cheek, which caused her face to flush.

  He plopped down in the chair by the desk, propped his feet up on the desk, and crossed his arms while looking at Halloran.

  “Father has made the arrangements for the exhumation to occur. We shan’t have too much time to accomplish the task at hand, but the boys know what to look for, so that should not be bothersome at all.”

  Halloran sat down across from Jonathan and put her head down on the desk.

  “You look a might tired, Halloran. Why won’t you just accept my proposal and marry me?”

  “I am exhausted,” she mumbled, ignoring his comment.

  “Frost, why are you avoiding the subject?”

  “You know why. We have this same conversation on at least a weekly basis. There is no way Ellen would allow our marriage and without her consent, I would lose all my holdings. I will not allow her to seize my father’s house as her own not to mention if she got that attorney brother of hers to attempt to seize the company. There is no one to arrange our marriage, Jonathan, no one at all.” Halloran lifted her head. “Could we please discuss something of less serious nature?”

  “Sure, when are you going to use that damned key hanging around your neck to open your father’s lockbox at the bank? You have carried that blasted key with you for a year now, stopped daily in front of the bank and peered in the windows yet you do nothing.”

  “I suppose I am not ready to know what lies inside that bank, not yet at least.”

  Jonathan leaned forward, reaching for her hand. “Just marry me, arrangement or not, what can they do about it, Halloran? Not a bloody thing. I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

  He stood unexpectedly, leaning over the desk and kissed Halloran, who did not fight his advance. Her lips lingered against his before pulling away. Love was not part of the equation for her at this point in her life, not until she knew the truth behind the death of her parents and could rid herself of Ellen and the uglies.

  “Your family would never stand for it, Jonathan. I am no one now,” she said then pushed the chair backward and pulled her hands away from him.

  “You know my father does not give a rat’s ass about society or standing. He would rather see me marry for love or not marry at all. He’s been trapped in his loveless marriage with mother all his life, and I know his heart still breaks for the one he did love.”

  “Which is precisely why we cannot marry, you know your mother would do everything within her power to ruin us both, not to mention collaborating with that evil strumpet living in my house. All that I have left of my father would be lost forever and all that would remain is this company, and that is only if fortune was kind enough to smile down upon me. What remains of my childhood, of every fond memory of my mother would be gone.”

  Jonathan stood and lifted Halloran’s cloak off the hook by the door and handed it to her. “Come along, we are going to the mortuary. The boys are waiting. It is time we knew the truth.”

  Halloran slipped her cloak over her shoulders and locked the door behind them, wanting to know the truth yet afraid to discover it.

  Chapter three

  Mortuary Bound

  Halloran stood alongside Jonathan before the thick oak doors of the inner confines of the mortuary, a private facility owned by a friend of the Willoughby family. It smelled distinctly of death.

  The doors slowly opened, with Harry Grigsby and Will Sherrington standing on either side, holding the doors for Halloran to enter.

  “Frost,” Harry said and bowed his head. “Good to see you, we boys sure have been lonely without you around. Jonathan can be a bore.”

  She smiled, knowing Harry was attempting to lighten the darkness of the mood and she placed her hand on his cheek. “I have missed you, Harry.”

  Halloran took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart as the light in the room softened when Harry turned down the gaslight. Before her lay the corpses of her mother and father, covered in black cloth. Her mother’s hand lay uncovered, showing the slight blue cast of her skin, and the dark blue color of her fingernails.

  “What does that mean, the color of her skin?” Frost asked, turning away from what she saw, as Will rushed to pull the cloth over Allora’s hand.

  “It is not uncommon for the body to take on discoloration after death, Halloran,” Harry offered, holding back the truth, fearful of what could become of Halloran. He, just as the other members of the White Chapel Gang, knew that Halloran would not leave the home that once belonged to her father no matter if the truth about her parents was revealed. “It is inconclusive at this point, Frost. Additional testing of tissue and hair would be needed to determine if poison is indeed present. I do not want to make an uneducated guess without having completed the proper tests.”

  “Then disturbing their eternal slumber was for nothing.”

  Halloran held back tears, not wanting them to see her break down in a moment of weakness.

  “Please see they are returned to the crypt before nightfall, so that I might place fresh flowers in the vase,” Halloran said and drew the hood of her cloak over her brilliant red hair. “Jonathan, on Monday we go to the bank.”

  She exited the mortuary without saying anything else, lea
ving the White Chapel Boys dumbfounded as she paused with tears in her eyes hidden from their view.

  “Come on now, out with it,” Jonathan said with a tinge of anger in his voice. He could tell when Harry was lying - he developed a slight tick, something not noticeable to those who didn’t know him the way Jonathan did. It caused his right eyebrow to flutter slightly.

  “Her mother exhibits the signs of poisoning, The dark blue striations of her nails is common with silver nitrate, thallium, and mercury poisoning. It is most often seen in the factory workers in the Downs.” Harry awaited an angry outburst, any reaction that would befit the news he shared with Jonathan, one that would be normal to anyone presented with such news, especially regarding Halloran, but Jonathan only stiffened in anger.

  “And what of her father?”

  “Mercury poisoning is my best assumption, but only due to the whites of his eyes and their opaque yet grey appearance. Mercury tends to settle in the viscus fluid of the eyes after death, but it is not detectable until several days have passed. Being her father has been dead nearly a year, and her mother going on four, the fact neither of them is in a rapid state of decay leads me to believe some other chemical is involved, but I cannot say for certain what it could be.”

  “Will you go to the Yard now with what you know?” Will asked.

  “I thought you would want to see them punished,” Harry said with confusion.

  “Halloran wants revenge, boys, and we are going to help her get it. Take care of her parents. I am going after her,” Jonathan announced before placing his hat back atop his head.

  “You best make haste Jonathan Willoughby and marry our Frost before her stepmother gets her hands on her. Frost will not be long for the grave if she keeps up residence in that house, of that you can be certain. We’ll take care of this. You get Halloran out of this damned bone orchard and someplace safe.”

  Jonathan took out running at a fast clip to catch Hallaron. She was walking slowly through the cemetery outside the mortuary, twirling a piece of her long red hair around her finger, deep in thought when Jonathan finally reached her.

  “What do you think, Jonny, was it poison?” Frost was not one to cry before anyone, especially Jonathan or the boys, but right now, she was broken, not only her heart but also in spirit. He knew her spirit was broken. Halloran Frost only called him Jonny when she was frightened.

  “I think we should go to the bank right now, open up that damned safe deposit and see what the blazes is in there, that’s what I think.”

  He was avoiding her question, that alone made Halloran uneasy as she knew he was hiding the truth to protect her.

  “Look, those ruffians were looking for something in particular. Doesn’t it strike you as a bit strange that in all the years you and your dad headed up the company, you never had a spot of trouble? Then, without warning, all the sudden you get rolled opening up for business that one day. Did it ever occur to you that hag might have been behind it? She might be after whatever is hidden in that box at the bank. No one can access it but you, Hally, maybe your dad wanted it that way for a reason.”

  Halloran pulled the key free from beneath the lace of her black blouse and twisted it between her forefinger and thumb as she stared at the stone Irish cross donning the grave ahead of them.

  “What if Sir Edwards and your father really did find something this time, Hally? What if that something cost your father his life?”

  Chapter Four

  A Plain Steel Box

  Jonathan offered his hand to Halloran as she stepped into the two-person carriage behind his silver steamhorse and grinned at the fact he had attached a mane, long, flowing and dyed vibrant blue to the steel contraption. With a billow of steam through the nostrils of the beast, Jonathan pulled on the lever and then the braided leather reins, and they were off.

  Carnaby Bank was one of the few banking institutions that held hours after brunch on Saturdays, mostly due to the fact their shareholders all had businesses that were heavy depositors on the weekend. It also did not hurt that the monarchy held holdings there either.

  Fog still clung to the streets as the clouds overhead were pasted steadfast to the sky, hardly moving since Halloran had risen from bed. Days like this weren’t uncommon in London, where the fog lingered into the late afternoon, and sometimes right on through to the next morning. It was all dependent on whether or not the sun could break through the thick cloud cover. As Halloran looked upward, she thought today it would be highly unlikely.

  Women were out and about, either with their arms entwined through that of their husband’s or walking with their betrothed. Halloran shook her head as she studied their dresses, wondering how anyone could survive in that many layers of clothing. She had seen her stepsisters dress on more than one occasion, the pantaloons, the thick woven stockings, layers of petticoats, wire bustles, it nearly made her shudder. All a woman needed was a good pair of gaspipes, a sturdy corset, and blouse in her mind, and that was quite enough.

  “Here we are,” Jonathan announced as Halloran peered over her shoulder to see Harry and Will lingering in the distance.

  “Am I going to have a personal guard until this is all sorted out?”

  “Every single day,” Jonathan said and offered Halloran his hand as she stepped from the carriage attached to his amazing steamhorse.

  She stopped at the bank window, watching the drones sort their daily paperwork just the same as she had done a hundred times before, but this time Halloran was determined to go through with it.

  Jonathan pressed the buzzer and waited for the head teller to approach the window. As the drone slid along the wire track, her mechanism glitched, causing her head to jerk several times before her torso moved forward.

  “Number please,” the drone said in a very strange sounding voice as it came through the small speaker in its chest.

  Halloran leaned forward, peering through the glass as the woman with the louderphone pressed to her lips as she spoke through the speaker to the drone.

  “I need access to box one-one-two-seven-three-nine.”

  The door buzzed and the locked popped, allowing Halloran and Jonathan entrance. The drone quickly moved down the track and pulled into its stall as the woman who had been speaking to them emerged from the rear of the bank.

  “We were wondering when someone would finally come to claim that box. It has been here for quite some time. Follow me, please.”

  She led them through a large double door guarded by two steampolice, monstrous men like machines - both holding large guns that were a bit intimidating as Halloran slipped past them, her eyes never left them until Jonathan took her hand and led her further into the corridor.

  A faint click in the darkened hall illuminated the gaslight torches, giving a better view of their surroundings. The teller stopped, pulled a ring of keys from the pocket of her full skirt, and inserted three keys into the door.

  “In order to enter the vault, all three keys must be turned in unison. Do you mind?” she asked while staring at Halloran.

  “Of course not.”

  With their hands firmly grasping the keys, Jonathan and Halloran waited for the signal to turn them. The woman slowly nodded her head and with the turn of the keys, the mechanisms of the steel door broke free as the old gears of the lock groaned against the weight of the work.

  The vault was cold and dim, lit by the same scant number of electric torches lining the walls opposite each other. Before them sat an old narrow, yet long oak table, its surface heavily scratched from countless storage boxes being slid over its surface across the years.

  “Wait here.”

  She disappeared into the dark recesses of the bank and was gone nearly five minutes before returning with the black box in her arms.

  “You have twenty minutes,” she said before leaving Halloran and Jonathan alone in the vault.

  Her hand trembled as she pulled the key free and inserted it into the lock, and freeing its age old secrets.

  Inside
was a leather journal, one Halloran recognized as belonging to her father, and several worn pieces of paper folded into perfect squares, and one single envelope addressed to Halloran.

  “I cannot open them. You have to do it, Jonny.”

  Jonathan nodded his head and pulled out the first piece of paper, using care to unfold it. “It’s a map of some sort,” he said before handing it off to her. Halloran studied the map as Jonathan opened the envelope and began to read the contents of the letter.

  “My dearest Frost,

  If you are reading this, it is certain I am deceased, no doubt at the hand of one close to us and that alone places you in grave danger, my beloved daughter. Should Sir Edwards be amongst the living, I implore you to seek his counsel and take care where you place your head at night. In the shadows are where we are most vulnerable, and those who use that knowledge place you in danger. The key is Egypt. She will protect you.

  Love, your father”

  Jonathan slipped the note inside the envelope and handed it to Halloran.

  “I think you should give it to Will and have him keep it safe along with everything else inside the box. Whatever my father and Sir Edwards discovered, it was worth enough to take his life. Keeping it with me would not be wise. Whoever ransacked the office that day was more than likely after this, although I must admit I have no idea what it means.”

  Jonathan slipped the contents into his coat pocket, all but the map and note which he placed in the breast pocket of suitcoat for further examination once they reached Sir Edwards’s estate.

  Halloran locked the box and left it sitting in the center of the table as they left, looking over her shoulder one last time, wishing her father had told her about whatever this sordid ordeal involved before it had taken his life.

  “We are going to need a distraction,” Jonathan offered. “I will have Harry create a diversion, Will can escort you to Sir Edwards’s and I will follow later. We cannot be too careful now, Frost. I am certain they know we were here.”