Echoes of Aether

by Gail B Williams

  Echoes of Aether

  GAIL B WILLIAMS

  Published by HanWill Publishing

  This work is work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in this work are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Deranged Doctor Design

  Copyright © 2018 Gail B Williams

  ISBN 978-0-9573439-3-1

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter 1

  It was hard to breathe in the crush. It felt like the whole of London was attempting to get into Hyde Park - through this one gate. Being only five feet and two inches, Amethyst Forester couldn’t see over the shoulders of the crowd around her.

  Above the park, a ring of commercial airships circled at height, all here to celebrate the unveiling of the latest design for transatlantic airship travel. With no choice but to move with the crowd, Amethyst found herself pushed forward. The eagerness of such a large number of people knocked her favourite top hat from her head. She caught it, but not in time to save it from being crushed between herself and the crowd.

  A young man near the edge of the flow cried out as he tripped, and was pushed into the border plants as others sought to gain ground. Amethyst feared what would happen to him, but if she fell, here in the middle of the crowd, she would be trampled, so she dared not stop to help.

  An additional sourness of sweat seasoned the stench of humanity as they moved with a single-minded determination to see the hidden treasure in the centre of the park. Suddenly the crush lessened and there was air to breathe. They were through the gate and into the park.

  Unburdened by friend or family, Amethyst was free to move alone and flow through the throng without hindrance. At last, she spotted it, the point of convergence. A large sheet of material covered a heap of what must be the massive airship to be revealed.

  She saw a horseshoe of white-painted viewing stands for those who could afford the luxury, and who had had the sense to book in advance. The Royal Standard flew above one. As she made her way forward, Amethyst could hear distant fairground sounds; music, voices laughing and squealing, the call of street vendors.

  She was within the horseshoe now. The white-painted wooden structures were at least ten feet high, so there’d be no problem seeing over the crowd from them. There were no crowds taking advantage of the construction either; the sides were solid and sheer, so there was no possibility of climbing. Each platform had a set of stairs up the side, and each stairway was guarded by big burly men in smart suits who deterred anyone attempting to gain an advantage for which they hadn’t paid.

  Amethyst moved forward, struggling to get a view. The crowd was much lighter here than near the gates. Still, it wasn’t easy to spot any vantage point from which she’d be able to see much when that sheet fell. Then she stopped looking. Everyone here wanted to view an airship. All anyone had to do was look up.

  A hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped, turning to strike out, but the deep call of her name stopped her. The man she now faced was not familiar to her. The livery, however, she did recognise.

  “Miss Forester, Lady Garrington-Smythe wishes to extend her invitation for you to join her party on her viewing platform.”

  Since the man indicated the relevant platform, Amethyst looked up to see Lady Eugenie Garrington-Smythe and her group. At the great lady’s side stood Lady Roberta Davenport. Better known as Bobbie, the woman wore a morning suit and a short masculine haircut, so recognising her as a lady would be difficult unless you were in the know. Beaming at her friend, Amethyst told the man to lead on, all the time trying not to react to the others there.

  Lord and Lady Fotheringham. The two were bane and balm in her life, or more accurately, balm and bane. In the five weeks she’d been away, she had hoped she would overcome this weakness for Lord Fotheringham, but no. She had spent far too many hours with him and thinking of him and his emerald eyes to shake him off so quickly. He had helped her considerably when she had unexpectedly become an heiress. He had even helped her establish the business relationship which had kept her away. And he had done it all without expectation of repayment. His only reward seemed to be his wife’s scorn.

  Even as Amethyst held up the front hem of her dress to take the narrow steps of the platform, she was aware of Lady Violet Fotheringham’s disdain pouring over her. They had met some months ago, the higher born lady had taken an instant dislike to the merchant’s daughter. It was an enmity Amethyst had found impossible not to return, for all she tried to control it at the request of Lord Fotheringham.

  As she moved up, the stifling heat of the crowd eased, and breathing grew easier despite her tight corset. She hadn’t expected to be ‘seen’ today, but thankfully she’d picked a lightweight summer dress, which though a little informal was new and fashionable, so she wasn’t ashamed of wearing it.

  When she reached the platform, she counted a party of ten, with two liveried footmen, three including her escort. She recognised all of the people she could see, though several had their backs to her. She joined her host, standing by the front rail, the best viewing position, and offered a small curtsey.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Garrington-Smythe. Thank you so much for including me in your party.”

  “Had I known you would be back, I would have sent a formal invitation.”

  “Not that we need too much formality,” Bobbie added with a grin.

  Amethyst refocused on the woman between her and Lady Garrington-Smythe. “We may not need too much formality, but a little rarely hurts.” She turned back to Bobbie’s mother. “I appreciate the thought. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure when I’d be back. My train got in an hour ago and when I discovered the launch was today, I had to see it.”

  Lady Garrington-Smythe gave what Amethyst would call a girlish smile. “It’s very exciting, isn’t it?”

  Behind Lady Garrington-Smythe, Amethyst was aware she was under scrutiny by Lord and Lady Fotheringham. Her eyes flicked back to her hostess, her smile not dimming one watt. “I couldn’t agree more, Eugenie.”

  Lord Fotheringham’s carved emotionless features flinched for a beat and Lady Fotheringham’s face pinched. Violet was not allowed to address Lady Garrington-Smythe by her first name and though it was a childish point, it was about the only one on which Amethyst felt she could win against the woman.

  “And I am fortunate indeed to be able to enjoy it among so many friends.” This time Amethyst deliberately looked over the duchess’s shoulder. “Good day Maker, Lady Fotheringham.”

  Maker’s small nod shifted his top hat. Amethyst preferred it at the slight angle. The tiny imperfection humanised a man at great risk of being too perfect.

  His wife, however, was always picture perfect. Not very happy, but perfect looking all the same. Beautiful, blonde, slim, dressed in the best clothes, always elegant, never a hair out of place. Everything Amethyst wasn’t.

  “Lady Garrington-Smythe,” Lady Fotheringham said, “do you think we are quite safe with this… woman in the area.”

  The older woman looked directly at her immaculate guest. “Most of us.”

  Amethyst controlled her smirk as Lady Fotheringham’s lips pursed.

  “Perhaps you are not aware, Lady Garrington-Smythe, that Miss Forester has a history of physically attacking me!”

  Amethyst drew breath but Bobbie’s hand on her arm stopped her.

  Lady Garrington-Smythe took a sad seeming breath and spoke in a quiet yet authoritative tone. “I am aware, Lady Fotheringham, that when you went into Miss Forester’s home and abused her, Amethyst ably blocked your attack and returned you a slap.”

  Amethyst was glad the statement carried only to the five of t
hem.

  “Now, you have a choice, Lady Fotheringham, you can act with the dignity of your title in public as you clearly do not in private, or you can leave.”

  Amethyst watched Lady Fotheringham’s cold eyes send ice shards at her. The taller woman offered Lady Garrington-Smythe a small curtsey and moved a step away, pulling her husband with her.

  Lady Garrington-Smythe turned to face the waiting spectacle.

  “So how was the wild west?” Bobbie asked as they stood together.

  Amethyst laughed at the description. “I was in Swansea, not the Americas. It wasn’t terribly wild, just terribly busy. Still, we successfully scaled up the prismatic process, so the production is set up, and all is well.”

  “I received the launch invitation.”

  The smile seemed to spread without her intention. “I received your RSVP. So glad you are able to come.”

  “I’m not sure‒”

  Amethyst clenched her teeth at Lady Fotheringham’s tone.

  “‒that a lady should involve herself in common trade.”

  Several responses galloped through Amethyst’s head, but she decided discretion was the better option and held her tongue.

  “Commerce is certainly not for everyone,” Lady Garrington-Smythe mused. “Nor, Lady Fotheringham, is every woman capable of commerce.”

  Waves of hostility threatened to drown her, but Amethyst decided not to allow them to drag her down and faced forward to study the crowd and the waving sheets at the centre of the park. While she tried to appreciate the size and grandeur of the new airship, to anticipate its potential appearance, all she really knew was that she was standing at the end of a line that started with Lady Violet Fotheringham, Lady Eugenie Garrington-Smythe, Lady Roberta Davenport - then her, plain old Miss Amethyst Forester. More worryingly, she was aware that just behind Violet stood Lord Fotheringham.

  Lord Fotheringham, Fifth Earl of Umbria, never-to-be-used first name Benjamin, generally known simply as Maker.

  Maker.

  Her stomach should not clench just to think his name. Yet it did. He stood facing forward, his beautifully proportioned face as perfect as carved marble, showing no emotion. Most painfully, he’d barely shown any recognition of her. They had, she thought, been friends once. But perhaps no more.

  “After the launch, what will you do?”

  Lady Garrington-Smythe’s question surprised Amethyst.

  “Erm, I’m not sure. I…” She shrugged. “I suppose I don’t have anything more to do.”

  “Perhaps you should go to the Redland Academy.”

  Amethyst frowned and turned to Violet. Violet smiled at her. A bad sign. Amethyst looked to Bobbie, asking in an undertone, “Is that an insult?”

  Bobbie frowned as she turned from Violet to Amethyst. “I think an insult was intended, but it was oddly, rather complimentary.”

  “Oh well, in that case‒” Amethyst leaned forward to smile at the woman at the end of the line. “Thank you for the suggestion, Lady Fotheringham, I’ll look more into that. Though in all honesty, I’ve been considering travelling. If there are still tickets for the Sunriser’s maiden voyage, I may‒”

  “There aren’t,” Bobbie quickly assured her. Too quickly.

  “Whatever you decide to do, I hope you won’t go too soon,” Lady Garrington-Smythe said, commanding everyone’s attention. “You should join us at Lord Montgomery’s house party next month.”

  Amethyst had met the man once, and been impressed. She remembered Lord Montgomery; tall, broad-shouldered, dashing, blue eyes and auburn hair. The image of perfect manhood. “I am sure I should enjoy that,” she said with a sense of duty. Having no idea what a house party was like meant she had no idea if she would enjoy it or not. “If Lord Montgomery were happy to include me in the party.” Which seemed unlikely at such short notice.

  “I’d be more than happy to.” The blue eyed man now at her side said.

  Chapter 2

  The frantic wafting of fans wasn’t enough to cool anyone in the unexpected heat of the day. Amethyst looked around the crush of people and decided that this must surely be a sign of more than just curiosity. She as far from being alone in this venture and the management of William Sanderson Glass Company had done a wonderful job preparing this launch. Even now she could see the father and son team working the room separately, their head of sales was fully occupied taking the orders flooding in.

  When she’d invented prismatic glass, she’d had no idea that it would be of such interest to the world at large. What interested her now, was getting more air. Corsets and crowds did not make for a fine combination, and she refused to be one of those overly delicate young ladies who took to fainting. Instead, she moved to the edge of the room at the tall doors to the balcony.

  Thankfully, these were not locked, and she opened the set, carefully propping each narrow half open to allow for circulation of air. Stepping out, she became aware of another person on the narrow balcony. She breathed in deep and found the scent of coal smoke from the not far enough away factories, and the even closer horse deposits in the streets below warmed by the sun, weren’t quite as refreshing as she’d hoped.

  She looked over the busy streets and Georgian buildings. Even if everything was frenetic and the air thick and smelly, this was home. After all the frantic activity since she’d signed the deal with Sanderson, she finally felt free to breathe again.

  Ever curious, she glanced at the woman to her side. Amethyst guessed that she was in her thirties, possibly a widow from the nightly colour she wore and in great need of a good feed. Every tendon and bone stood out on the back of the hands on the stone balcony, her cheeks looked sunken and the way her hair had been dragged back from her face in a far too tight bun, it emphasised the tightness of her skin to her skull.

  “Hello,” Amethyst risked.

  The woman looked at her, eyes watery, yet dull, like a becalmed lake on a clear day, utterly lacking in sparkle. “Hello.”

  Self-introductions weren’t really the thing to do, but Amethyst wasn’t that worried about propriety. She introduced herself.

  “Edwina Russell,” the woman said, and they exchanged small curtsies.

  At first, the conversation was a little stilted as Amethyst tried to remember the guest list and guess how Mrs Russell fitted into things. Soon they found some common ground.

  “Stephen would have loved this,” Edwina said suddenly.

  “Sorry, who?”

  Edwina looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “Stephen is my husband.”

  Is? So, she wasn’t a widow after all. Amethyst wasn’t sure that the statement and the woman’s appearance worked together. “He didn’t attend with you?”

  The tight features looked away, hanging in expression and attitude. “He’s missing. Been gone eighteen months.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” She was, but sympathy wasn’t the strongest reaction. Curiosity was ever her downfall. “Excuse me for asking, but what happened?”

  “No one’s really sure. He went into his workroom, he had some experiments to run, then there was an explosion and he ‒ he…”

  Again, it was defying convention, but Amethyst reached out and put her hand on the other woman’s arm. She didn’t know what to say. Edwina’s hand went over hers, the grip told her she was helping even as the other woman looked away to compose herself.

  “So, Stephen was an inventor?”

  Edwina smiled now and nodded. “He was always so interested in machines and engines and how things worked. His interest really took off when he started working with aetherics. He saw so many possibilities, he made so many things. Light, the multicoloured lights that aetheric lamps emit were always something he felt should be brought together to give a single steady light, but he couldn’t work out how to invert the effect of a prism.” Edwina looked back through the balcony doors to the display of lampshades all allowing a steady white light to shine from aetheric lamps. “The exact thing you’ve managed.”

  �
��  

  Amethyst woke early the following morning. The conversation with Edwina had gone on, and the more she heard the more intrigued she was. Not only that. Something about the tale had caught her curiosity, not least of which was Stephen’s idea that he could send sound through aether. It nagged at her. After a leisurely breakfast, she decided that she had to look into the case of the missing presumed dead Stephen Russell, it was a puzzle and she liked solving puzzles. What was more, she knew just the person to help her.

  The walk to the station where she’d met Inspector Jenson before only told her that he’d moved on. To Scotland Yard. It wasn’t that far, and she enjoyed a good walk. A good walk that ended in disappointment. Inspector Jenson was not in the station, nor was he expected in that day.

  The direct route home would take half an hour, but somehow, Amethyst wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Instead she headed for the university. Her friend and mentor, her benefactor, Professor Richards had been a lecturer of Aetheric Studies in his time, but he wasn’t the only one, and with a bit of luck the interest Stephen Russell had in aetherics had recommended him to at least one of the faculty.

  Two hours later, she stormed from the building, annoyed and no wiser. How men, supposedly men of learning, could be so ignorant as to ignore her just because she was a woman was unbelievable. Or at least it should be. Roll on the day when suffrage was achieved. She bit down on her fury. Maybe then men would realise that ‘woman’ doesn’t mean ‘worthless’.

  Chapter 3

  Maker paced in his own bedroom. Every muscle tensed, each step seemed one step closer to madness.

  Violet had been on her best - or worst - form. Since she’d noticed Montgomery paying Amethyst attention, she’d been trying to separate the two. Lord Montgomery had been a friend of Maker’s at school, but Violet had known the family since childhood; he liked to think she acted out of kind intention, to protect Monty. He simply lacked any conviction that his wife’s actions could be that altruistic. He stopped by the window and looked out across Belgravia Square.