A Matter of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 1)

by Ichabod Temperance

  I overhear snatches of rumour that some claim to have seen, momentarily, a monster of some kind. Two young boys claim to have seen a flying man, wearing goggles that “glowed like two, small, green lanterns.”

  When I arrive back at my hotel, I find it a sombre shambles. The front doors are smashed, the lobby is in disarray, and the dining room, along with the kitchens, are nearly destroyed. Yet it is grief over the death of their beloved, gentlemanly old doorman that has overcome the hotel staff. I am simultaneously relieved and ashamed, that no one realizes I am to blame.

  Chapter 13 – A Cup of Tea.

  Ichabod

  I fall back in exhaustion, disentangling myself from the hated legs of the creature. The unnatural glow of the worm subsides, and simultaneously, the shocked faces of those around me show recognition of the dead leech. It’s interesting that, although it was invisible in life, apparently, all can observe it in death.

  I remove my goggles, momentarily blind as my eyes adjust to the change in the light conditions, but there lies the horror. The monstrous beast is now visible, but gets noticed by only a few people as Birdcage Walk is a shambles. Every hat, purse, fan, and corsage that was present now blankets the street. The wreckage of smashed carriages and misused citizenry litters the scene. The horses are still trying to climb over one another to vacate the premises.

  A steam begins to rise from the worm. Cracks appear in its shell, and then widen. The foul crayfish is dissolving before my eyes. A thought strikes me. Once again, I find myself following my instincts before I have a chance to think about my actions. Spotting a miraculously unbroken bottle of champagne, I pour out its contents. Using the shattered remains of another bottle as a scoop, I quickly gather up some of the evaporating goo that was my former adversary, pouring him into the emptied bottle. This here discarded hanky will have to make do as an improvised cork.

  Then I remember the girl, the catalyst of the past few minutes’ events. I fly back to the park, but she is nowhere to be found.

  With my bottle of bug goop in hand, I retrieve my hat, revolver and knife. My trusty tinder box ignites my old clay pipe to resume my smoke. The girl, or should I say, young lady, was quite striking. And familiar, somehow... perhaps I have seen her in a photograph... Miss Persephone Plumtartt! Of course! Her newspaper image does not do her justice! Though I barely got a glimpse of her, I know it was she for this is an amazing woman to behold.

  Oh, gosh, I feel ashamed. I was amused at the ‘Ghost’ stories I had read. Now their reality is all too well proven to me. I deserve a double dose of shame for doubting the remarkable Plumtartt family.

  I reckon I have a tendency to quick reaction, sometimes. There have been many instances in my life where I have reacted to a situation with blinding speed. If I were being watched, a third party would have witnessed a couple of those episodes tonight.

  Some might refer to this as going off half cocked, or shooting from the hip, maybe acting without thinking.

  I tend to think it is a willingness to trust in my instincts.

  Not good versus bad, or smart as opposed to stupid, I tend to find my gut instinct leads me toward acting in a manner that deals in right and wrong.

  I sure did spoil the deal with Sir Henry Stanley tonight, though.

  Oh well, I really did not wanna give up my ‘Green Beauties’ anyhow.

  Miss Persephone Plumtartt. Wow. I barely got a look at her, but I could see straight away that she is as amazing in her beauty as she is in her character.

  It sure was a good thing that I didn’t sell my goggles, and happened to be there in the park, tonight. Miss Plumtartt would’ve been a goner for sure.

  I wonder if there is such a thing as ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’?

  I have a hunch that I am about to make a meaningful decision.

  I feel a stubborn tenacity coming on. A sensation is washing through me, as if I am a fragile teacup, balanced on the knife edge of a high mountain ridge, filled to the rim with a beverage of possibilities.

  Was it ‘fate’ that had me bop Sir Henry on the horn?

  ~ ‘Slish,’ slishes the tart tea of fate.~

  Could the hand of ‘destiny’ be at work?

  ~‘Slosh,’ sloshes the swirling sweetener of destiny.~

  “If that jumbo sized satanic shrimp was one of the ghosts that’s a running ‘round here, then maybe this gal ain’t outta the chipper yet.”

  ~Sloosh!~

  I think that last wave sent my teacup over the edge.

  “I shall rescue this damsel in distress!”

  - - -

  Let’s see: the initial disturbance seemed to arise from the South East end of St. James Park. I’ll search that area for a trail to follow. Well, looky there, the Queen’s Hotel front door is damaged, as if some kind of accident happened. I’ll take a look inside and see how things are.

  Golly, there sure is a lot of damage here and in the dining room. It looks like there has been a true ‘nough slobberknocker rolled through this fancy hotel. I’ll go check at the desk.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “Deliveries are in the rear, young man.”

  “Hunh? Oh, nossir, I ain’t here for work related inquiry. Could you tell me if Miss Persephone Plumtartt is staying with y’all?”

  “‘Y’all’, sir? One sees. I can confirm Miss Plumtartt’s residence with us; however, one would suggest returning once one has been made oneself more presentable. At that time, we will send for Miss Plumtartt, young man.”

  “Oh, yessir. It is kind of late. I reckon you’re right. I’ll be back first thing in the morning with enough hair grooming ointment to waterproof a canoe on my head.”

  “Charming.”

  - - -

  “Gee whiz, I didn’t hardly sleep a wink last night at ‘Uncle Bob’s Bug Free Bunks’, I was so excited about meeting Miss Plumtartt. Do I look all right? You don’t think I am too early, do you?”

  “One can only imagine what Miss Plumtartt will think at the sight of you, sir. I suggest writing a note to Miss Plumtartt. I will send it to her and she may decide whether or not to receive you.”

  Chapter 14 – The Morning Periodicals.

  Persephone

  I awaken somewhat recovered from the prior evening's traumatic events. Not wanting to see the damage done to the lovely Hotel, or face the saddened staff, I take my breakfast and papers in my rooms.

  There is an account of the strange occurrences in:

  The Morning Calamity

  HARRIED HORSES HEAP HEAVY HAVOC ON HAPLESS HEADS

  “For unknown reasons, scores of horses on Birdcage Walk went completely berserk, wrecking dozens of carriages. Many of our finer citizens were quite put out. Most witnesses were at a loss as to a cause for the frightened animals. There were a few who suspected that they had seen the mysterious ‘Ghost’ that is leaving gruesome corpses across the countryside. These witnesses and others describe the ‘Ghost’ as a just barely visible, flickering shadow. There were even a couple of young boys who insisted that they were witness to a flying man and a horrible monster.”

  The Gadfly Gazette

  QUEEN’S HOTEL IS SCENE OF ELDERLY TERROR

  “Beloved doorman of the Queen’s Hotel suffered a severe fit while on duty at the exquisite lodgings. During his departure from this World, the kind, gentle, dear old fellow managed to throw several colleagues about the premises in his compulsively violent death throes. ‘Ol’ Tom’ then proceeded to wreak havoc on the lobby, and to cause thousands of pounds in damage to the crystal enhanced dining room before expiring.”

  ‘He will be missed.’

  Ominously, there are accounts from around the country of horribly dessicated corpses and terrified citizens.

  Amazingly, there is one story that brings me a smile. It almost makes me laugh.

  NATIONAL HERO THE VICTIM OF COWARDLY ASSAULT

  “In an outrageous display, a crazed brute has assaulted famous explorer and reporter, Sir Henry Stanley. The noble countenance of thi
s worthy gentleman may be forever altered. The scoundrel responsible is thought to be from the United States. Citizens are urged to keep watch for this ‘Mad American’.”

  There is a knock at the door. A bellboy has a note:

  Dear Miss Plumtartt,

  I hope I was not presumptuous, interfering with your activities at St. James Park.

  May we meet?

  Respectfully yours,

  Ichabod Temperance.

  Good Heavens! Is this the marksman that came to my aid? Could that foolhardy soul have actually survived his encounter with the foul demon?

  I cannot recall an image of the brave man, for I was in such a shocked and beaten state that I had not the capacity to observe my hero. He must be a great and fearsome beast of a man. Only a man with a stout heart and valiant soul would or could have faced the challenge of that unnatural fiend. I am suddenly thrilled at the prospect of meeting this no doubt, robust and dynamic example of English Manhood.

  - - -

  “Eh hem, you are quite sure that is the man that sent the note?”

  “Yes, Madame.”

  What a disappointment. The fellow in question is a rather pitiful little creature. He stands staring at me from across the room with his mouth agape. Far from the muscular champion that I was expecting, he is just a thin chap, no taller than I. An abundance of pomade holds his hair rigidly in place. His jaw and face have an unfortunate slackness to them and his general expression is all agog. Dressed in plain, workman's clothing, his appearance is notable for large buckled boots and derby hat, yet otherwise, he remains nondescript.

  “Mr. Temperance?”

  “Uhb.”

  My word, the vacant expression on the young man’s face is such that I fear he is under a hypnotic spell. No, I think now he is merely under some sort of enchantment by my femininity. His place in the world, I think, has not been such that he would have encountered many young ladies.

  “I say, Mr. Temperance, are you quite all right, sir?”

  “Uhb, … uhb, oh, Ma’am! Yes, Ma’am, I beg your pardon. Gee, I sure am glad you’re okay, Miss Plumtartt, I mean, Ma’am.”

  He seems an innocent young man, and he is very shy and bashful in my presence. My first impression of the young man now changes. Though he is thin, I detect a wiry strength in the young tradesman. Topped with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes, as soon as he speaks, he betrays his American origins. He desperately, if not wholly successfully, attempts to conduct himself with exaggerated courtesies. His clumsy etiquette is poorly formed, but sincere in its intentions. His accent is of a soft melodious tone that I infer he developed in the Southern regions of our former colonies. Mr. Temperance is familiar with my sad story through the libelous newspaper account from recent editions, but I must know his!

  “How were you able to see what others could not? Until that time, it was my impression that these horrors were invisible to all but me. Your pistol shots were spot on the creature’s head.”

  “Oh! It was because of my ‘Green Beauties,’ Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am! These are a specialized set of goggles of my own design.”

  The young man is suddenly very excited and animated. He forgets his quaint exaggerated manners as he eagerly describes the inventions of which he is so proud.

  “I was having a stroll when I heard you call out. I reckon I just responded without really thinking. I used my ‘Beauties’ to find you. When I cranked ’em up, that big ol’ worm shone out like an emerald lantern. Last year I built a pair of goggles for your father, the ‘Elemental Protectors.’”

  “Indeed, so you are that Ichabod Temperance. How marvelous! The goggles you built for my father were quite extraordinary. How fortuitous for you to be at hand and that the ability to see these other worldly terrors was then realized in these, your latest fantastic invention, Mr. Temperance.”

  “Aw, shucks, it was quite by accident, actually, Ma’am.” He looks down, in a self-conscious, modest, manner. I detect his booted toe to be tracing circles under the table. “Gee whiz, I’m just happy you are okay, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am.”

  He flushes with a crimson blush! How sweet! I hope that I am not blushing as well, for now that he is becoming more relaxed, so too does he reveal himself as an attractive young gentleman, of sorts.

  Now is no time for indulgence in matters of the heart. Our lives - and perhaps the lives of countless others - are at risk.

  I fill in the chilling details of my story, beginning with father’s laboratory and the tragedies suffered there, the factory shutdowns, and the attacks upon my own person. We are in agreement that the danger is growing. Indeed, it is probably growing exponentially by the day. Mr. Temperance is determined to assist me, but I am loath to put this impetuous young man in danger.

  It is painfully evident to us both that the problem is bigger than just ourselves: England Herself is in peril.

  I reluctantly accept his help.

  The first order of business I think is to visit one of father’s closest confidantes. I require knowledgeable guidance.

  “Yes Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt Ma'am, seeking wise council and advice is always a good idea, but if you don’t mind, I've got a little errand I’d like to run first.”

  Chapter 15 - Chemysts.

  Ichabod

  An idea occurs to me. Remembering how my pistol and knife failed, I do not want to find myself in such a predicament again, for I have a feeling I am not done with the vile, unwelcome visitor varmints. I used a bit of the monster against itself to defeat it. I want to find a way of doing that again.

  The city of London is as heavily populated with those affected by the ‘Revelatory Comet’s’ passing as any other, if not more so. I possess a fantastic navigational sensibility, and though new to the city my innate abilities help us gain the assistance we seek. Perhaps I have just the tiniest fragment of magnetized iron in my nose, for my belief is that it grants me an uncanny sense of direction. Miss Plumtartt and I soon find ourselves in a neighbourhood of Apothycists, Chemysts, and Doctors of Alchemycal bent.

  A tangle of chimneys betrays the location of many individual furnaces of differing fumes. I find a union hall of sorts here, its sulphorous vapors filling the air. This appears to be a rather dirty place of production and I do not want Miss Plumtartt to soil her fine clothes and be subject to the strong scents of industrial enterprise.

  “Excuse me, Miss Plumtartt?” I ask of the beautiful young aristocrat, “I'd feel better if you did not leave the carriage, Ma'am. I’m gonna see if these fellas can be of any help to us. I shouldn’t be too long.”

  “I am not the delicate flower you seem to think I am, Mr Temperance,” she answers with a casual acceptance, “but if it will make you feel better, I acquiesce to your request.”

  Going down a flight of brick stairs, I enter to find a low-ceilinged, but far stretching, room lined with tables, laden with complicated chemycal apparatti and populated by men of studious intent.4

  Foul odors arise from both the workbenches and the workmen.

  “Howdy, y’all. I hate to interrupt you boys, but I was wondering if you all couldn’t help me out with a little problem?”

  “This is a union hall, you silly American tourist. Queen Victoria is in the next house down.”

  “You need to vacate these premises and go feed the pigeons in Piccadilly, squirt.”

  “You’re trespassing laddie. Get to stepping.”

  “Gee whiz, guys, I just wanted a little help.”

  “You’re gonna get it, too.”

  “Eh hem, I say, are you receiving the assistance you require, Mr. Temperance?”

  “Wot? This ugly little git is with you, Miss?”

  “Eh hem, if you are referencing my esteemed colleague as the aforementioned, ‘ugly little git’, then yes, he is indeed, with me.”

  “We didn’t realize there was a Lady involved.”

  “There is, and her name is Plumtartt.”

  “Miss Persephone Plumtartt! Wot can we do to assist you, Madame?�
�

  “Mr. Temperance?”

  “Miss Plumtartt was attacked by an invisible monster what couldn’t be stuck by steel. I popped one of his legs off and stabbed him to death with his own foot. He started to melt away so I saved some of the monster goo in this here champagne bottle. I was hoping to learn more of our enemy from it, or even better, to craft a weapon.”

  “We’ll need a few drops to examine. As the agent is reputed to be quick to evaporate, let us exercise speed and caution in opening the bottle.”

  “Keep the samples sealed!”

  “Do not expose it to light!”

  “It glows with its own, phosphorescent light!”

  “Is it alive?”

  “Chill it!” “Heat it!” “Put it under extreme pressure!” “Stick it in a vacuum!”

  Prr-gizzck! Poof.

  “Oh, Georgy, wot have you done?”

  “I thought it would be a good idea to hit it with a nice jolt of electricity.”

  “You silly old fool, you have exploded your sample!”

  “Blast you, Georgy!”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Hey, be careful, Terrence, you’re being careless with that marginalized solvent! You spilled some on my sample! I was trying to fibrillate its Terrarium levels to ascertain compatibility with the Corbomite figuration. The results are horribly compromised!”

  “Oopsie! Sorry, Gherry!”

  “My little drop of ecto-morpho-monster goop is now as hard as rock candy! You ruined it!”

  “I didn’t mean to!”

  “Look what you’ve done, Terrence, this little drop will not bend, chip, nor break. What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Hang on, y’all, I think we might be onto something...”

  Chapter 16 – Homecoming.

  Persephone

  There is some disagreement amongst the scientists. It would seem that one chemist has ruined the small, precious sample that Mr. Temperance shared with him. His fellow chemists voice their dismay with cruel ridicule.