by Beth Ciotta
His Clockwork Canary
( The Glorious Victorious Darcys - 2 )
Beth Ciotta
For ambitious engineer Simon Darcy, winning Queen Victoria’s competition to recover lost inventions of historical significance is a matter of pride—and redemption. After all, it was Simon’s failed monorail project that left his family destitute, and winning the tournament would surely restore the Darcys’ reputation.
Simon sets his sights high, targeting no less than the infamous time-travel device that forever changed the world by transporting scientists, engineers, and artists from the twentieth century. The Mod technology was banned and supposedly destroyed, but Simon is sure he can re-create it.
His daring plan draws the attention of Willie G., the Clockwork Canary, London’s sensationalist reporter. Simon soon discovers that Willie is a male guise for Wilhemina Goodenough, the love of his youth, who left him jilted and bitter. He questions her motives even as he falls prey to her unique charm. As the attraction between the two reignites, Simon realizes that this vixen from his past has secrets that could be the key to his future…as long as he can put their history behind him.
His Clockwork Canary
The Glorious Victorious Darcys 2
by
Beth Ciotta
Excerpt of Her Sky Cowboy
To my editor, Jhanteigh Kupihea, who gives my imagination free rein and champions my adventures with genuine and inspiring enthusiasm
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to share my heartfelt appreciation with everyone at Penguin for supporting this series and helping to bring the Glorious Victorious Darcys to life! Your creativity and expertise help to fuel my own imagination and enthusiasm.
I especially want to acknowledge my amazing editor, Jhanteigh Kupihea, as well as my dazzling copy editor, Michele Alpern. Thank you for helping me to make this story shine!
A special shout-out to my agent, Amy Moore-Benson—my champion, my friend. Thank you for keeping me sane.
A huge, sloppy thank-you to my critique partners, my sister and fellow author Elle J. Rossi and my cherished friend and fellow author Cynthia Valero. You ROCK!
My love and appreciation to my biggest supporter—my husband, my hero, Steve. Thank you for everything, always.
To my many wonderful and supportive friends and family members, loyal readers, and enthusiastic Facebook friends—thank you for brightening my days and enriching my life. To the hardworking bloggers and reviewers who help to spread the word—thank you for your thoughtful time and energy. And to all of the wondrous librarians and booksellers who live and breathe and promote literature—thank you for being.
Greetings, fellow romantics and daring adventurers,
I don’t know about you, but one of my most cherished possessions is my imagination. It’s taken me to some wondrous places, but none so personally thrilling as the alternate world I created for Her Sky Cowboy and the subsequent stories in the Glorious Victorious Darcys series.
Imagine the 1960s. Race riots. Vietnam. The Cuban Missile Crisis.
Imagine a group of fanatical peace activists happening upon a means of time travel and jumping back to the source of departure, the mid-1800s, in hopes of altering the future and avoiding specific global atrocities.
Imagine their good intentions going horribly wrong and, instead, the two centuries melding, setting the world on an unknown course.
I imagined and ended up with a spectacular and endearing alternate era—the Victorian Age meets the Age of Aquarius.
Every decade, every era, and every world has its own lingo. In kind, there is terminology specific to the GVD universe. I’ve included a glossary for easy reference should you desire clarification. Also for those who have not read Her Sky Cowboy, the first installment in the series, I’d like to offer some history on how this world came to be. If you prefer to discover while reading, then skip this part. But for those who prefer background, this is for you!
Spectacularly Astonishing Exclusive Peeks into Marvelous Historical Facts (sort of)
1851—Great Britain. The Great Exhibition is held at the Crystal Palace. Prince Albert encourages the celebration of inventions and technology.
Engineer/visionary Briscoe Darcy introduces his one-of-kind time machine, vowing to journey forward in time and to return with a futuristic marvel. He vanishes in front of thousands of people, never to be seen again. Historically, Darcy is known as the Time Voyager.
1856 (a leap year)—A caravan of twentieth-century time travelers arrives in the nineteenth century via a time vehicle dubbed the Briscoe Bus. Their mission: to alter history for the preservation of mankind. Known as the Peace Rebels, these Mods spread the message “Make love, not war.”
Hungry for knowledge regarding technological marvels of the future, Prince Albert embraces the PRs, causing a rift between him and his old-fashioned wife, Queen Victoria. The PRs’ loose morals and advanced knowledge threaten their original goal. Some PRs are corrupted, selling knowledge to power-hungry Vics. Soon society is divided into two main factions: Old Worlders and New Worlders.
1860—The Peace War breaks out, and when the dust settles . . . a hybrid of the 1860s and the 1960s is born.
—Beth Ciotta
ALTERNATE WORLD GLOSSARY
Terminology and definitions exclusive to the Glorious Victorious Darcys (and related spin-offs)
aero-hangar—a cavernous shelter used for housing and repairing airships.
aeropark—a public or private airfield.
ALE—acronym for Air Law Enforcement. A legion of law enforcers who police the skies in airships.
Aquarian Cosmology Compendium—an elusive journal compiled by the scientific faction of the time-traveling Peace Rebels. According to legend, the ACC features designs and scientific data pertaining to twentieth-century technological wonders, as well as engineering details of a functioning time machine.
automocab—a hired road conveyance powered by steam or petrol (e.g., taxicab).
automocoaches—road vehicles of various size and construction, powered by steam or petrol. Often a cross between late-1800s mechanics and mid-to-late-1960s designs (e.g., steam-powered Beetle Bug).
Book of Mods—an extensive compilation of sketches, essays, and cautionary tales pertaining to culture, politics, technology, and significant events of the twentieth century. Written by a faction of the original Peace Rebels, this published journal was once widely read, but is now banned.
clockwork propulsion engine—a unique engine, originally designed by Briscoe Darcy, enabling a vehicle to travel through time.
corneatacts—cosmetic optical lenses utilized by Freaks to disguise their kaleidoscope (rainbow) irises. Constructed to fit over the cornea, corneatacts create the illusion of normal, unicolor irises.
Disrupter 29—a modified derringer (pocket pistol) enhanced by twentieth-century technology. An advanced weapon available for purchase only on the black market.
Flatliner—someone who cares only about his/her future and not the future or welfare of mankind.
Freak—the offspring of a Vic and a Mod. Cross-century humans with varied supernatural gifts. Freaks are born with kaleidoscope eyes (irises that swirl with a rainbow of colors) and a unique blood type. A powerful and unpredictable minority, Freaks are regarded as a curiosity and/or a threat. As such, their civil rights are restricted by law.
Freak Fighters—any person belonging to the underground organization fighting for the emancipation of Freaks.
Freak Rebellion—a brewing revolution intent on winning equal rights for Freaks.
Her Majesty’s Mechanics—highly trained, highly covert agents who “fix” sensitive and controversial matters for the British governmen
t and its sovereign.
Houdinians—a secret “security” team.
Mod—any person born of parents from the twentieth century.
Mod Tracker—similar to a bounty hunter. Someone who tracks and locates Mods for monetary gain.
ModVic—a cross-century clothing trend; 1960s Bohemian meets 1880s Victorian.
New Worlder—liberals who embrace advanced knowledge and technology in hope of creating a better tomorrow.
o’blaster—a black market weapon similar to a shotgun. Instead of pellets, the cartridge is packed with razor-sharp metal shards and heated by a core-propulsion blast.
Old Worlder—conservatives who shun radical change and fear divergence, preferring to move forward with the natural march of time.
Peabody 382—an enhanced gentlemen’s pistol. Pretty but deadly.
Peace Rebels—twentieth-century peace fanatics from the fields of the arts and sciences who traveled back to the nineteenth century, intent on altering history and circumventing future chaos and destruction . . . and ultimately Armageddon. As time went on, also a moniker for any Vic who joined their cause.
Peace War (1860–1864)—a four-year transcontinental war stemming from advanced twentieth-century knowledge that led to corruption on both sides of the Atlantic, infecting Americans and Europeans, Vics and Mods, blurring politics, culture, and beliefs. As a result, society divided into two factions—Old Worlders and New Worlders.
Remington Blaster—a nineteenth-century revolver enhanced with twentieth-century technology.
skytown—floating pleasure meccas composed of three to five airships. “Above the law,” these traveling hippie circuses offer illegal and outlawed entertainment and welcome equal fraternizing amongst Mods, Vics, and Freaks . . . and assorted criminals.
stun cuff—a common weapon of defense. A highly charged metal bracelet that “zaps” the attacker with a jolt of electricity. Works through the same concept as a twentieth-century stun gun.
telecommunicator—a handheld communication device that transmits coded messages.
tele-talkie—similar to a twentieth-century walkie-talkie; a personal two-way radio device.
Thera-Steam-Atic Brace—a steam-powered prosthesis.
Time Voyager—Briscoe Darcy, nineteenth-century engineer/visionary who invented a time machine and traveled into the future, ultimately enabling the twentieth-century Peace Rebels to travel back to the 1800s.
time-trace—a supernatural skill. The ability to experience another person’s memories.
torchlight—a battery-powered tube of light similar to a twentieth-century flashlight.
Vic—any person born of parents from the nineteenth century.
CHAPTER 1
GREAT BRITAIN, 1887 KENT—THE ASHFORD ESTATE
Since the day he’d been born (three and a half minutes later than his twin brother), Simon Darcy had been waging war with time. He had either too much of it or not enough. Somehow his timing was always off. Bad timing had cost him much in his thirty-one years. Most recently, his father, Reginald Darcy, Lord of Ashford.
The proof was in his pocket.
Simon didn’t need to read the abominable article—he had it memorized—yet he couldn’t help unfolding the wretched newsprint and torturing himself once again. As if he deserved the misery. Which he did.
The London Informer
January 5, 1887
MAD INVENTOR DIES IN QUEST FOR GLORY
The Right Honorable Lord Ashford, lifelong resident of Kent, blew himself up yesterday whilst building a rocket ship destined for the moon. Ashford, a distant cousin of the infamous Time Voyager, Briscoe Darcy, was rumored to be obsessed with making his own mark on the world. Fortunately for the realm and unfortunately for his family, Ashford’s inventions paled to that of Darcy, earning him ridicule instead of respect, wealth, or fame.
Simon’s gut cramped as he obsessed on the article that had haunted him for days. For the billionth time, he cursed the Clockwork Canary, lead pressman for the Informer, as heartless. The insensitive print blurred before Simon’s eyes as his blood burned. Instead of tossing the infernal sensationalized reporting of his father’s death, he had ripped the article from the London scandal sheet, then folded and tucked the announcement into an inner pocket of his waistcoat, next to his tattered heart.
For all his guilt and grief upon learning of his beloved, albeit eccentric, father’s demise, Simon had stuffed his emotions. His mother and younger sister would be devastated. Especially his sister, Amelia, who shared their papa’s fascination with flying and who’d lived and worked alongside the old man on Ashford—the family’s country estate. For them, Simon would be a rock. As would his ever unflappable twin brother, Jules.
Simon had made the trip from his own home in London down to Kent posthaste. He’d remained stoic throughout the constable’s investigation of the catastrophic accident, as well as through the poorly attended funeral. He’d even managed a calm demeanor whilst listening to the solicitor’s reading of the will—unlike his dramatic and panic-stricken mother. Although upon this occasion, he could not blame her for the intensity of her outburst.
The Darcys were penniless.
Simon and Jules had their personal savings and fairly lucrative careers, but the family fortune was gone, and as such, Ashford itself was at stake.
Even after sleeping on the shocking revelation, Simon couldn’t shake the magnitude of his father’s folly. His mind and heart warred with the knowledge, with the implication, and with the outcome. Because of Simon’s ill timing and arrogance, his mother and sister were now destitute.
“Do not assume blame.”
Simon breathed deeply as his brother limped into the cramped confines of the family dining room. “Do not assume to know my mind.”
“Has grief struck you addle, brother?” Dark brow raised, Jules sat and reached for the coffeepot. Like their father, the Darcy twins had always preferred brewed coffee over blended teas.
Simon flashed back on one of his father’s quirky inventions—an electric bean-grinding percolator—which might have proved useful, except, as a staunch Old Worlder, their mother had refused to allow Ashford to utilize electricity.
Destitute and living in the Dark Ages.
Riddled with emotions, he pocketed the blasted scandal sheet and met his twin’s steady gaze. But of course Jules would know his mind. The older brother by mere minutes, he always seemed to have the jump on Simon. Even so far as guessing or knowing his thoughts. Simon was often privy to Jules’s notions as well, and sometimes they even had what their little sister referred to as “twin conversations.” Whether spurred by intuition or some bizarre version of telepathy, they often finished each other’s sentences. It drove Amelia mad.
“I could’ve been working alongside my mentor on Tower Bridge,” Simon said. “Instead I chose to pursue my own brilliant idea.”
“You doubt the merit of a public transportation system high above the congested streets of London?”
“No.” Simon’s monorail system inspired by the Book of Mods would have eased ground traffic and air pollution caused by the rising population and number of steam-belching and petrol-guzzling automocoaches. It would have provided an affordable mass transit alternative to London’s underground rail service.
It would have afforded Simon the recognition and respect he craved.
“I regret that I boasted prematurely about my project. Had I not bragged, Papa would not have invested the family fortune.” Sickened, Simon dragged his hands though his longish hair. “Bloody hell, Jules. What was the old fool thinking?”
“That he believed in you.”
“When the project failed, I Teletyped Papa immediately. Railed against the injustice of political corruption. Wallowed in self-pity. What was I thinking?”
“That he would damn the eyes of the narrow-minded and manipulative Old Worlders. That he’d side with you. Ease your misery.” Jules looked away. “He excelled at that. Building us up. Making us believe we
were capable of whatever our hearts and minds desired.”
For a moment, Simon set aside his own heavy remorse and focused on his brother, who had always been darker in coloring and nature than the more fair and frivolous Simon. Though presently residing in London, where he worked as an author of science fiction novels, Jules Darcy was retired military, a decorated war hero. Details revolving around the skirmish that had mangled his legs and left him with a permanent limp were classified. The period of rehabilitation had been extensive and also shrouded in secrecy. Even Simon was clueless as to those peculiar days of Jules’s mysterious life. Although he was often privy to his brother’s moods and inclinations, he’d never been able to read Jules’s mind regarding the covert nature of his service to the Crown.
“Coffee’s bitter,” Jules said, setting aside his cup and reaching for the sugar bowl.
Everything had tasted bitter to Simon for days, but he knew what his brother meant. “Eliza made the coffee. Be warned—she cooked as well.”
Frowning, Jules glanced toward the sideboard and the steaming porcelain tureens. Though an excellent housekeeper, Eliza was famously ill equipped in the kitchen. “What happened to Concetta?”
The skilled though crotchety cook had been in their mother’s employ for months. “Mother dismissed her this morning. Said we could no longer afford her services.”
“Did she not offer the woman a month’s notice?”
“She did. Along with excellent references. But Concetta’s prideful. She ranted in her native tongue, and though I’m not fluent in Italian, I understood the intention. She’s leaving today.”
“Damnation,” Jules said.
In this instance, Simon knew the man’s thoughts. Things were indeed dire if Anne Darcy, a conservative woman obsessed with old ways and upholding appearances, had resorted to dismissing servants. Another kick to Simon’s smarting conscience.
