Echoes of Aether

by Gail B Williams

  They walked together over the threshold and Amethyst felt Jenson flinch at the array of decapitated animals stuffed and hung as trophies on the wall.

  “Lord Montgomery enjoys a spot of hunting then?”

  “Some of these are older than he is,” Great-Aunt Flora announced as another footman appeared and took their coats and muffs. As they each removed their outer wear, Lovesey could be heard booming into the house. The day suddenly felt less hopeful than it had when Amethyst had first seen Jenson. Then Great-Aunt Flora turned to Jenson in a rustle of black. She stepped closer and fixed him with a warning eye. Jenson didn’t flinch, just returned her gaze with a direct look of his own. She was small and formidable and with the two of them virtually nose to nose, Amethyst was unsure what was coming next.

  “These people can be mean.”

  Lovesey had just proved that.

  Jenson’s smile was small but relieved. “No. Gangsters, murderers, rapists, and prostitutes are mean. These people are just rich.”

  “Exactly.”

  Another rustling turn and Great-Aunt Flora pinned the footman with another beady eye. “Show Mr Jenson to his room to freshen up. We’ll be in the breakfast room when you’re ready.”

  This last was flung over her shoulder to Jenson as she started the inevitable thump-shuffle of walking with her cane.

  Amethyst caught his attention with the pat of her hand. “Second on the left.” Then she let go of his arm and hurried after the thump-shuffle of Great-Aunt Flora, as he followed the footman away.

  Smiling, she felt she actually had an ally in the house, though the feeling that she needed one hadn’t actually occurred to her before. Such odd thoughts were pushed out by one simple smell.

  Bacon…

  Following her twitching nose, she stepped into the breakfast room to see Monty at the head of the table, helping Great-Aunt Flora to a seat. Maker was on the opposite side, behind his paper, Amethyst wondered how long that would last. Thankfully, wherever Lovesey had announced his presence, it wasn’t here; she hoped that would last.

  Amethyst returned Monty’s smile and greeting. The edge of Maker’s paper crackled as his hand tightened. Monty returned to his seat as Amethyst asked what Great-Aunt Flora would like and went to the breakfast buffet set out on the sideboard. All manner of lovely scents rose with steam as she tested each and filled two plates. Bacon, two types of sausage, black pudding for Great-Aunt Flora, but not her. Mushrooms for her, but not Great-Aunt Flora. Toast for both.

  The thwap of the cane probably shouldn’t have surprised her, nor the tearing, followed by the crinkle of newspaper as what remained was folded carefully. Thankfully, there had been no sound of breaking crockery. As she turned, she saw Maker lay the paper down and look to Great-Aunt Flora as he picked up his own cup and saucer. “Coffee, Flora?”

  Maker was the only man she knew that got away with using her first name only. Everyone else either called her Great-Aunt Flora or Lady Gordon. He stood as she thanked him, so sweetly one would never know that she had just destroyed the newspaper he had been reading.

  As he stood and came over to the sideboard to fetch the coffees, Amethyst turned to the table, in passing she offered him an unreciprocated smile. There was a space beside her Great-Aunt, but instead she decided to move around the table to sit beside Maker, putting a space between her and Monty. She’d need the buffer, because Monty was looking at her as though she were breakfast, which was most unnerving. On her way to the seat she knelt to pick up a large scrap of paper that had drifted to the ground.

  She looked it over as she sat, placed it between her and Maker, and took up the cutlery on the table. The food tasted every bit as delicious as it smelt.

  When Maker returned, he warmed her not only with his presence at her side, but by providing her with her own coffee.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Those soft words had rather a warming effect too. There really was a fire in those emerald eyes if one cared to see it. The moment they faced one another was just a heartbeat too long, so she bowed her head and concentrated on the food, not her burning cheeks. As she ate, Great-Aunt Flora and Lord Montgomery chatted, while Maker sipped his coffee and seemed unaffected. Her eyes tended to the torn page and the story there. It didn’t make a jot of sense.

  “Why would anyone protest against the Queen here?”

  Something in the quality of the pause before anyone spoke made Amethyst sure there was a lot that was about to not be said.

  “Fly over,” Maker supplied before he sipped his coffee.

  She frowned at him. “Queen Victoria is going to fly over here?”

  He nodded. Just.

  “Why?”

  “Balmoral.”

  The urge to rattle him was a momentary spike. In the weeks she had been away, Amethyst had forgotten how difficult it could be to have a conversation with a man who rarely strung more than two words together.

  “She’s travelling to Balmoral, by airship I presume?”

  “Indeed,” he confirmed.

  She sighed. “Well, I would read the article myself rather than bother you with the inconvenience of actually talking to me, but it seems to be rather in tatters.” She looked to Great-Aunt Flora, who looked unashamedly back. “When is this fly past happening?”

  “Fortnight.”

  “‘Two weeks’ too long a sentence for you?”

  Hooded eyes slid sardonically towards her; that muscle twitched in his jaw.

  Jenson picked that moment to step into the room. His greatcoat was gone, the dust had been cleaned off his shoes, his hair brushed, though that determined kink in his hair where his bowler usually sat was clearly visible. The tweed city suit clearly marked him apart from the other gentlemen in their sombre day suits, but he was a man self-possessed enough not to be cowed by the teeth of unnecessary societal bites. Amethyst greeted him and made the introductions, and Lord Montgomery offered breakfast and a place at the table.

  Jenson was just sitting next to Great-Aunt Flora when the door opened and Lovesey stomped in. He looked hot and flustered, which was at odds with the fact that he had actually changed clothes. He was all noise and he virtually fell on the buffet.

  Despite Lovesey’s noise, Montgomery talked to Jenson about his intended investigation, and Jenson gently started to gather information from the lord. Amethyst ate and looked again at the newspaper article. She didn’t want to look up and see Lovesey eating, it sounded bad enough without illustration.

  “How can a protest be made against a woman who will be several hundreds, if not thousands of feet in the air? Nothing is going to touch her there.”

  “Sight.”

  She blinked and tried to translate. “Several hundred feet, and all she’d see is a group of people, assuming she’s looking at all.”

  Maker clearly couldn’t respond to that with a single word. He glanced to Montgomery instead. Amethyst, following suit, turned to their host as well.

  Monty shrugged and decided to spread marmalade on his toast.

  “It’s rather silly actually,” he dismissed. “A large sign on a hillside, more easily read from the air than the land. But it needed organisation, and someone said the wrong thing at the wrong time. The lead protestors have been arrested and it’s all just a little silliness that is already over and done with. Nothing that need spoil the lovely time I have planned for us here.”

  It was uncertain if he was shutting the conversation down because it was trivial, or if he was trivialising it on some purpose, but Amethyst couldn’t see why he would.

  “Is this related to the rumours of a New Jacobite Uprising?” Jenson asked.

  There was too much strain in Monty’s smile as he responded. “As I said, it won’t affect us.”

  Amethyst drew breath to ask, but the nudge of her foot surprised her. She looked up, and Maker’s eyes slid to hers. His head shake was a tiny thing, but it was warning enough. What she was being warned against she wasn’t sur
e, but she cared less about that than she did that Maker hadn’t moved his foot away from hers.

  They weren’t, strictly speaking, touching, their boots and the hem of her dress were between them, but the pressure of his presence close beside her was doing odd things to her stomach. The rest of the meal was taken slowly, and when the butler offered more coffee, they both accepted the excuse to linger.

  Chapter 10

  While Jenson and Amethyst finished their breakfast, Monty explained that Edwina was with Felix, that they habitually took their first meal together in the nursery. Jenson was keen to start the investigation, and wanted to speak to Edwina as soon as possible. Largesse was displayed as Monty promised introductions and to be with his sister throughout, the latter, Jenson assured him, wasn’t necessary. That sharpened Monty’s countenance and Amethyst feared a confrontation, so offered to perform said duties. Rebellion coloured Monty’s look, until Maker uttered one word, ‘Sport’. Lovesey added, around a mouthful of half-masticated pig parts, that sport was what he’d been promised. Monty relented.

  Jenson was told to await Edwina in the drawing room, and Amethyst had led the way. As she sat, she gave a surprised squeal that turned into an embarrassed laugh as Gladstone unexpectedly leapt on Amethyst’s lap.

  “You brought the cat with you?”

  She felt the blush rise from her toes to her cheeks, and concentrated on stroking the cat as she smiled up at Jenson. “Well I didn’t want her to be left alone while she’s still recovering, though I’m rather surprised to see her down stairs.” She had closed the animal in her room, or so she thought.

  With neither feeling any need for idle conversation, Amethyst took a moment to look around the beautifully appointed room; delicate mouldings enhanced an already high ceiling, showing off rich royal blue walls and intricate tapestries as wall hangings. The room was set off by the finest crafted furniture, and velvet and silk fabrics on the surprisingly comfortable sofas and cushions. There were life-sized paintings on the wall of fine ladies in fabulous satins and jewels, with impossibly tiny waists and podgy fingers. Amethyst felt quite inadequate in height and corset tightening - not to mention birth.

  Jenson waited patiently by the large stone hearth. Great-Aunt Flora swept in as though she owned the place, but then Amethyst had once been fortunate enough to visit her ancestral home and that much luxury could inure anyone to anything.

  “Amethyst,” Great-Aunt Flora grumbled after a moment. “Why are you looking at me that odd way?”

  “I just realised something.”

  Great-Aunt Flora shot her an enquiring look. “Yes, deary, what’s that?”

  “You are a very rich woman.”

  “You’re just realising that now?”

  “No.” Amethyst blushed again at the idea. “But I remember your home, and I see how comfortable you are in other grand houses. It all makes me wonder why you put up with living with me in London.”

  “Well, Glenarch is my home, has been for three quarters of my life. I’m used to that.”

  “That’s my point.”

  Great-Aunt Flora smiled. “Oh, sweet girl, you were seven when you visited with your father, small, young, lacking in experience of the world and easily impressed. I doubt you would be so impressed if you visited now. Especially with the way the roof leaks.” There was a distinct softness about Great-Aunt Flora’s eyes, and a sweetness to the curve of her lips when she spoke of her home. “As for your home, remember it is a mansion in Belgravia Square. Hardly ill appointed. Not even a middle-class house in Kew. Besides, I like spending time with my favourite niece.”

  Amethyst smiled and reached out to squeeze the older woman’s hand. “You like hitting young men with a stick too.”

  “I can’t say that lacks appeal, deary.”

  Both women looked up at Jenson’s light-hearted grumble.

  “Of course, I’ve had to stop your liberties and you’re not so young.”

  “Great-Aunt Flora!” Amethyst scowled. “That’s not very nice. Jenson’s not old!”

  Great-Aunt Flora raised her brows. “He is a little grey, deary.”

  As his salted hair was the first of his features she had struck upon, Amethyst was left uncomfortable. “Why did Father take me when he went to see you?”

  “You were always my favourite.”

  “That’s very complimentary, but not very illuminating.”

  “Is it not?”

  Not to her, but then she had only been seven. Amethyst turned to look at Jenson. The solid way he stood, the sense of authority, something clicked in her mind. Another solid, authoritative man, but this one not so nice. Her mother bundling her and her siblings into another room as she, Mother, started looking for her purse, the barely held tears when she found it empty. “How much did he borrow?”

  The older woman’s smile was wide. “Nothing he hasn’t paid back. With interest.” Old eyes moved beyond Amethyst. “And speaking of interest.”

  Turning, Amethyst saw Edwina had entered the room. She looked pale in her widow weeds, her hands held in front of her, almost demurely. Except that they were clamped tight, a sure sign of nerves. As was the fact that she stopped short of coming fully into the room. Placing Gladstone on the sofa, from where the cat moved straight to sitting on Flora, Amethyst stood and twisted. Thankfully, she realised she was standing on her hem before she fully straightened so she didn’t rip the skirt, but she probably looked like a fool with her misstep.

  It felt a little out of place for her to bring a woman into the group who was both older than her and in her own home. Amethyst made the introduction and was pleased to see that unlike many higher-class ladies, Edwina showed no hesitation in shaking the hand Jenson offered.

  Introductions made, Amethyst stepped away and sat back down with Flora. Jenson invited Edwina to sit, then moved over a footstool to sit in front of her, his head lower than hers. Amethyst tried not to show her surprise; her experience of authority was that usually a man would stand over a woman, dominating or badgering. She should have known better with Jenson. This wasn’t an interrogation, this was a relaxed conversation.

  To begin with, Edwina looked often at Amethyst, seeking support. Her voice was soft, uncertain, but as Jenson eased her through the events, and Edwina grew more comfortable with him, she became more certain of herself and her answers. Jenson listened attentively, nodded, gently encouraged until Edwina had revealed the whole story.

  “What will you do now?” Edwina asked once Jenson had thanked her for her time and honesty.

  He took a deep breath. “Well, I would like to start by examining Stephen’s workroom. I want to see if there is any physical evidence of what happened. Then I will start talking to people, anyone who witnessed the incident, Stephen’s friends, associates. See if I can build up a picture of what could have happened, what might have happened, and when we sift through it all, hopefully we’ll work out what actually happened.”

  With a sigh of relief, Edwina smiled and reached forward, covering Jenson’s hand with her own. “Thank you.”

  That moustache shifted. “Ma’am, it’s my job, you don’t need to thank me.”

    

  Monty had insisted that the men trundled out and take a look at his latest purchase.

  So much for sport.

  Maker took one look at the conveyance and had to rein in his annoyance. A British Lions Aetheric Conveyance, the new A-Class. Montgomery owed him a thousand pounds, yet here he was showing off the latest in luxury ground transportation, something that Maker had seen advertisements for, so he knew there was little change for £1200 for this model.

  The conveyance was a three-wheeled thing, two at the back, one at the front; the front wheel was under an aetheric engine and was similar to what he could see any day of the week on a London cab. Similar, but not the same. This was more conical front to back, matching the overall wedge shape of the A-Class. The engine was a polished brass box, with a great many pipes writhing tentacle-like away from it,
along the sleek imperial red bodywork and around the small half-moon doors. Two pipes even embraced the seats for added warmth.

  It struck him that the two passengers would be very familiar with one another after a journey in that.

  “Isn’t she a beauty?”

  “She certainly is.”

  Lovesey’s drooling agreement only made his blood run hotter. The fat man was odious at the best of times, but he looked at this conveyance as he looked at Edwina, something to own, to possess, something there to enhance him. Poor Edwina, she deserved so much better.

  “I’m going to get Miss Forester into her soon.”

  Lovesey’s lascivious laugh disgusted Maker.

  “Wouldn’t mind getting into that one myself.”

  As the others laughed, Maker imagined grabbing both heads and smashing them together. He said nothing, clenched fists firmly behind him. Bobbie had told him a thousand times that men were beasts and these two would almost make him believe it. Different parts of his life proved that some women were no better, and in a private conversation over cigars and wine and cards played for meaningless tokens, they had eventually had to agree that there were just too many humans who were beastly.

  “What about you, Maker?” Lovesey demanded. “Wouldn’t you like to taste the delights of that sweet treat.”

  Sneers were pointless against a man so thick-skinned.

  “Word is ‒” Monty revealed in a stage whisper. “‒ that he already has.”

  “Not so!” As much as he would like to, Amethyst was a forbidden delectable. A divine creature who could never be his bed-mate unless circumstances changed dramatically.

  “Oh good,” Monty declared once his chuckle died down. “Nothing better than deflowering a virgin.”

  Maker turned away.

  “Maybe, taking down a tom?” Lovesey guffawed. “That superior madam Davenport, her husband can’t have been much of a man for her to turn to other women so openly. I could teach her a thing or two.”

  Haunches down, Maker turned back to the odious creature. “Do you box, Lovesey?”