Adventures in Time

by Annie Seaton

  As the Professor opened his mouth to argue, Sofia stood and raised her hand

  “Enough, Ernst.” She kept her voice firm.”We have worked for this outcome for almost ten years and we will wait until we are sure our research is not in jeopardy. One month of rest will not hurt.”

  The professor had been unhappy with her decree and she had not heard from him for several days.

  Another soft tap on her door broke into Sofia’s’ reverie.

  “Enter.”

  Madam Lucienne de Voisy, the elegant salon manager stood in the doorway.

  “Madame, the dirigible has docked and the ladies have disembarked and are currently taking refreshment in the lounge. They will be ready for you in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, Lucienne, I am coming now.” Sofia stood and smoothed down her close fitting silver tunic.

  Following the taller woman into the narrow perambulator at the end of the hall, Sofia lightly touched the descent cog, and there was a quiet whoosh of steam as the machine slid noiselessly to the ground floor. As they descended, Sofia smiled at the memory of her introduction to the perambulator in Indigo’s ancient manor in Cornwall. The workings of that machine were so archaic, it was necessary to wear earmuffs to block the noise of the hissing steam and the clunking cogs.

  Stepping out of the perambulator, Sofia walked to the doorway of the Salon de Sofia and paused, taking in the scene before her. As always she took a great deal of pleasure in looking around the business; she had established the salon from her humble beginnings as a seamstress when she had moved to Vienna, after attending Indigo’s wedding in Cornwall just before her own twentieth birthday.

  The greeting salon was simple and understated in its decor. Sofia’s signature color—silver—was evident in the furnishings and the walls were draped with soft gray silk. The morning sunlight streamed through the long narrow windows at the eastern end of the long room and refracted from the crystals hanging from the ceiling. The rainbows provided the only color in the room. Two waiters with silver trays of champagne in crystal goblets circulated among the excited clients.

  Watching the dozen or so women chatter and laugh as they indulged in elegant pattiseries washed down with the finest of French champagne, Sofia knew this group would be easy to work with.

  I hope so. There is much to plan before the day is out.

  She caught Lucienne’s eye and the salon manager clapped her hands as Sofia stepped into the room.

  “Attention, Mesdames and Mademoiselles.” The women fell silent as Lucienne introduced Madam de Vargas, and Sofia smiled at them in welcome.

  “Welcome to my salon. I trust you had a pleasant journey in my dirigible?” Sofia spread her arms wide in welcome. “As you can see we have the latest in exquisite fabrics and accoutrements to prepare you for the upcoming season in New York.”

  Five assistants entered the room as she spoke, each carrying either a bolt of cloth or a box of adornments. Sofia reached for a bolt of silk, holding it high as it slipped sinuously to the ground, the sunlight catching the rainbow colors of the fabric. She smiled with satisfaction at the many oohs and aahs from the assembled women.

  She had paid a small fortune for that bolt of fabric from Turkey, and it was the most expensive item in her salon. As she lightly clapped her hands, another six assistant couturiers dressed in silver tunics stepped from the cubicles on each side of the salon and Lucienne introduced each client to their own personal assistant. Sofia would spend time with each group to ensure they had the attention of the couturier herself to meet their needs.

  Lucienne lightly touched Sofia’s arm and drew her aside as the women sat with their advisers. “Sofia, are you able to have a personal appointment this afternoon? A messenger has arrived from the Earl of Rothmore. He is in Vienna with his wife and they depart tomorrow. He begs your forgiveness for the short notice and has asked for an appointment for late this afternoon.”

  “The Earl of Rothmore?” Sofia frowned and tried to remember the name. “Has his wife been here before?”

  “His message seemed to indicate his wife has been here before. Perhaps before they married?” Lucienne replied.

  “No matter.” Sofia walked to the back of the room and slipped behind the velvet curtain, smiling to herself as she heard a young lady beseech her mother.

  “Oh, Mama, I must have the rainbow silk.”

  Tapping the alphabet keys in front of the analytical engine, she searched for Rothmore in her customer list. Her memory was excellent, and she had no recall of that name and her records confirmed this.

  “It is all right, Lucienne. I shall see the earl and his lady at four this afternoon.”

  “Very well, Madame. I shall send a messenger.”

  Sofia returned to her clients and was kept busy as many orders were placed. Salon de Vargas was becoming known across the globe and providing the dirigible service to the colonies had resulted in a tenfold increase in the number of clients who visited and spent their money each season. She smiled to herself. There would be no problem funding the upcoming trip to the Alps to collect the next shipment for the university.

  DOUGAL LEANED FORWARD in his seat and lifted the hood from his wife’s head and shoulders. The hum of the dirigible covered the sound as the hood folded down from the side of the airship and he secured the straps to the hooks on the wall. He smiled at the automaton and patted her hand gently. “I will wake you when we arrive, my dear.”

  Dawn was breaking, and Edward pointed to the ground as fingers of sunlight dappled the treetops of the forest below. They had left the English Channel behind and were moving swiftly over the French countryside as they made good time to their destination.

  “Have you had a reply from the messenger?” asked Edward.

  “Yes,” Dougal smiled. “Sweet Celestine and I have an appointment at four o’clock.” Dougal pointed to the quiet woman staring vacantly at the side of the dirigible.

  Edward reached over and flicked a lever on the control panel of the steam-powered air ship. “We had better make haste, then.”

  Dougal looked at the young man and decided to broach the subject that had been at the forefront of his mind since the meeting at Castle Dean. Their conversations to date had concerned their journey and collecting Dougal’s ‘wife’. Edward, surprisingly, was familiar with the steam propulsion system of this airship and explained to Dougal he had spent some time in France learning the intricacies of steam-powered travel.

  “Edward, may we speak?” The younger man looked up eagerly.

  “Don’t worry, Dougal, we shall arrive in Vienna before noon.”

  Dougal waved his hand dismissively.

  “Oh, I have no fear of that Dougal. I need to have a conversation with you regarding the purpose of our visit.”

  The young man’s eyes widened and Dougal watched with interest, as Edward swallowed nervously and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. The younger man adjusted the large cog on the side of the control panel and secured it with a brass chain, before turning to Dougal.

  “There. Our course is set.”

  Dougal leaned back in his set and steepled his fingers, looking at Edward and he realized the life of this eager young man was in his hands.

  “Edward, tell me about your vows.”

  “Well... I understand that I have committed to this task and my vows will ensure my loyalty to you and the completion of the task,” he replied. The young man’s reply was cryptic and Dougal sensed he was not being completely honest.

  “And your thoughts on the termination of Madam de Vargas?”Edward held Dougal’s gaze silently for a full minute, the only sound to be heard was the gentle whooshing of the steam from the cylinders and the soft rushing of the air past the side of the airship.

  “May I be frank, Dougal?”

  “You may.”

  “Your father was a very good friend to mine and they shared a common goal. I am unsure of your allegiance to your father’s philosophies or if you were indeed aware of his
goal before he died. At Castle Dean when our Leader asked for someone to join you in this task, I prayed to myself that you were privy to the thoughts of your father. That is why I volunteered and took the vows.”

  Douglas smiled. The expression in the young man’s voice as he mentioned the vows left him in no doubt that they were of the same mind.

  “Well then, Edward. We have an interesting task ahead.”

  He leaned back and closed his eyes.

  “Wake me when we are over Vienna.”

  Chapter 5

  At precisely four o’clock, a carriage drew to a halt in the Lindengasse across from the salon. Sofia sat on a velvet-lined love seat beneath the window sipping a cup of chamomile tea and glanced across at Lucienne who waited at the entrance to greet the Earl of Rothmore and his wife.

  “Ah...merveilleux,” Lucienne exclaimed.

  “What is it?” asked Sofia.

  “We have a very wealthy client by all appearances.” The petite salon manager peered through the spy hole on the main door. “He drives one of those new horseless carriages. There are only a few in the city and they are costly.”

  Sofia’s curiosity was aroused. She’d had no clients from Scotland before and would be interested to hear how a wealthy earl and his wife had come to hear of Salon de Vargas.

  “Ooh, la la,” chirped Lucienne. “And his wife is very drab. We will have some work to do here.”

  Sofia stood and patted her hand over her hair now coiled in braids around her forehead. A short rest after the departure of the ladies from the colonies had refreshed her and now she looked forward to meeting a new client...especially one with a wealthy husband. A substantial sale would be well received financially, with Johann and Genevieve’s trip to England looming and her own trip to the Alps in the preparation stage.

  The bell on the front door rang and Sofia stepped back into the shadows at the side of the room to observe her new customer. Lucienne ushered a short woman dressed from head to toe in black through the door and into the main salon. Her black dress was fashioned from Henrietta crepe, a bland fabric Sofia detested. A weeping veil of more black crepe covered her face and she wore no adornments. Her head was lowered and she didn’t speak.

  Sofia’s gaze moved to the man who had followed the drab woman into the salon. He was tall and broad...one of the tallest men she had ever seen and he was clad in full Scottish regalia. The dull colors of his wife’s attire accentuated the colors in his tartan kilt and cape. Bright magenta, umber brown and a deep sky-blue edged with a fine white line contrasted with her drab black dress. Thin brogues encased his feet, past a short colorful buskin tied above his calf with a striped pair of garters. Bare knees, a glimpse of muscular thighs, and a broad chest and shoulders flashed past her vision as she met his amused stare.

  Deep blue eyes crinkled as the Earl of Rothmore smiled at her. “You will not have seen much Scottish dress in Wien, Madame?” His voice was deep and full of laughter, and Sofia had to listen carefully to understand the words beneath his strong Scottish accent. She walked across the room to him and nodded to Lucienne.

  “Refreshments, please. I am sure our guests would like to partake of a cool drink?”

  Lucienne went to the rear of the salon and pulled the bell rope to summon the maid.

  “No, sir. I have not” Sofia extended her hand to the earl. “I apologise for staring but the magnificent colors in your kilt caught my attention.”

  “It is the Rothmore tartan, Madame. The blue is the glimmer of light on the sea around my island and the white is the sudden shaft of sunlight on the waves. The purple represents the heather.”

  “Fascinating and very beautiful,” she replied looking down at the strong hand still grasping hers. “Please forgive my rudeness. I am Sofia de Vargas and I welcome you and your wife to my establishment.”

  He raised her hand to his mouth and gently kissed the edge of her wrist and Sofia looked at him curiously.

  An unusual man, well spoken and confident. Not what she had been expecting at all.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Madame. This is my... er...Celestine. The small woman nodded and lowered her head before her husband led her to a seat in the corner. He tucked her shawl around her shoulders and patted her on the knee. “Are you comfortable, my dear?”

  The woman nodded without speaking and the earl crossed the room back to Sofia. He took her arm and led her across to the window and lowered his head. Sofia shivered when his warm breath touched her ear. “My wife is most unwell and has been in a decline since the sudden death of Queen Victoria. She is English and mourns her monarch deeply. I thought a visit to your salon may help her recover.” He took her hand again. “She hasn’t spoken since the news of the Queen’s death reached us.”

  Sofia looked down at her hand still in his grasp. He turned it over and looked at it with unusual interest before she pulled it back and spoke briskly.

  “I am very sorry to hear of your wife’s illness. The death of Queen Victoria was most unexpected. Now shall we begin?” She clapped her hands and two of her assistants came immediately into the salon. “Jeannie and Belle will take your wife’s measurements and I will show her some fabrics.” She looked up to find his gaze was fixed on her face. “Perhaps you would like to retire to the room we have set aside for gentlemen?”

  “No,” he replied. “I will choose the fabrics. My...wife is not in any state to make decisions.”

  “Very well.” Sofia walked to the end of the long salon and gestured to him to follow.

  Many bolts of fabric lay draped over the large tables at the back of the room and she watched with growing pleasure as he reached over to the Turkish silk.

  Yes, that would be a very nice purchase.

  “A wonderful fabric—suitable for an afternoon dress,” she commented as the sinuous silk slipped between his fingers.

  “Yes,” he replied. “We will order one of these for each day in seven different colors.”

  Sofia nodded. “And what else do you require?”

  “After we depart Wien, I am taking my wife into the Alps for a summer holiday, so some bright dresses and evening clothes will be required.”

  Sofia nodded. “The mountain air should help her recover. The Alps are wonderfully restorative.”

  “Can you recommend an establishment high in the mountains?” he asked.

  Sofia looked up and warmth filled her as his intent gaze fixed on her lips. She stared at him and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. A feeling such as she had never experienced before pooled in her chest and the warmth travelled down to her stomach and her legs trembled.

  He held her stare while she sought the words that would not come to her lips.

  “Ah...ah...there is an excellent inn at Schladming. I have stayed there myself on many occasions and the service and the accommodation are first class. It has been there for many years.” She gathered her thoughts together, despite the trembling of her limbs.” I believe the poet Wordsworth stayed there and is oft quoted as lauding the wild spaces of the mountains as sublime and a countervailing force to the corrupting influences of civilization.”

  She turned away from him and reached for a bolt of serviceable fabric, cross with herself for her response to his touch and look. “Now, if you are walking in the Alps, your wife will need some warmer dresses as the cool afternoons can bring on a chill.” She called for Lucienne before turning back to the earl and was dismayed to see his gaze still firmly fixed on her face. “Lucienne, would you please take the details for the—”

  “Dougal,” he interrupted. “Please call me Dougal.”

  “Very well. For Dougal.” She knew her voice was clipped. She needed to get away from his intense blue gaze. It was strange but it was as though he could see her innermost thoughts and no-one was allowed into her mind. Not even Ernst...the only person who she was open with was Indigo and they met very rarely.

  She nodded at the earl and turned back to look at his wife who was being measured by the one of the assista
nts. Celestine did not move and stared into the distance as though she was uninterested.

  “Very well...Dougal.” Sofia held out her hand, determined not to let his touch affect her this time. “My staff will take care of your needs. It has been a pleasure meeting you and—” she turned to the woman standing immobile in the corner “—your wife.” I hope the alpine air has the desired benefits for her health.”

  Dougal lowered his lips and kissed her hand once more and smiled down at her. “The pleasure has been mine...Madame.”

  She turned and left the salon without a backward glance although her legs were trembling and her heart was pounding. When she reached the safety of the perambulator, she drew a deep shaking breath and closed her eyes.

  Never before, had she been so enthralled by a man. And the earl had simply provoked those feelings with his intense blue stare and the touch of his hand on hers. Sofia raised her wrist and held it against her mouth, imagining she could still feel his lips pressing against her skin.

  DOUGAL WALKED ACROSS to the window and stared out, deep in thought. He reached down and fingered the glove in the small leather bag on his hip.

  She was the one.

  Not only would her tiny hand be perfect fit for the small glove, but her height and the way she moved were identical to the cloaked figure in the station. And she had mentioned visiting the Alps.

  He had no doubt it was her.

  For the time being, Sofia de Vargas was safe. He and Edward had been given the task of disposing of her and if the Grand Master could be trusted, no one else would be pursuing her just yet.

  He smiled grimly. Edward had shared his despair with the Charter of the lodge and his distrust of the Council of Five. They’d had a lengthy conversation before they had disembarked from the dirigible when it had touched down at the landing stage in the Prater, the former imperial hunting ground, one of the most modern landing areas on the continent.