Echoes of Aether

by Gail B Williams

  The door opened and in came the Makers. There was something so picture perfect about the two of them that Amethyst felt cold hard iron tighten around her heart. Maker deserved to be in a perfect looking couple, but he didn’t deserve the darkness in the heart of the lady at his side. Their reputation was undeniable, his honour was worthy and well respected. As was her beauty. Society overlooked her flaws in favour of Maker’s dutiful soul. Were Violet married to any other man, her reputation would be more sullied than her bed, and Maker would be free. Were Maker any other man, he would be rid of her. Only he had made a vow to last until death, and he was so much a man of his word. How her heart could both love and hate him for that was beyond Amethyst’s comprehension, but that was what she found inside herself.

  The couple moved towards Montgomery and the Chalmers. Introductions were made, it was clear that both sides were acting on position rather than preference, societal norms must be maintained more than dislike. A footman offered Amethyst a pre-dinner drink, a light wine. She took a glass and thanked the man, then wished she could throw this and much more down her throat and just get drunk. It wasn’t something she’d done often, but she’d enjoyed the times she had. Of course, now was not going to be one of those times.

  As Great-Aunt Flora and Lady Garrington-Smythe chattered, Amethyst felt alone and uncertain. Looking around the wealthily appointed room she knew this was not where she belonged. Growing up, the cramped sitting room in her parents’ home was often filled to bursting when all six children were together, each with more energy than could be contained in four walls. Especially when Jasper and Jade decided it was time for a wrestling match. If she and Sapphire chose to match them, there was pandemonium.

  She missed those times. She missed her brothers and sisters, especially Jade.

  Sipping the wine, she looked around and caught Jenson’s eye. He also had a small glass of wine and tipped it to her with a smile. The change in him was notable, but in essentials he was the same and it was the essentials that she liked about him. Movement at the edge of her vision showed that Maker was moving over to greet Lady Garrington-Smythe, then Great-Aunt Flora. It was all very pleasant. Then he looked at her. She felt the warmth burn through her as their eyes met. If she managed a normal greeting she couldn’t remember it. Standing and just smiling at him like an idiot really wasn’t the done thing, but she was doing it anyway.

  He offered her a tiny bow and moved away, standing with and talking to Jenson. It didn’t stop either of them, indeed both of them, looking at her.

  A sharp elbow was felt through the layers of her skirts.

  She looked around and saw that she was also getting looks from the other men, and sharper ones from Violet. The elbow was definitely Great-Aunt Flora’s so she looked down at the old lady.

  “You don’t wear that dress again without my approval, understand?”

  Chapter 22

  There was strict order for seating arrangements, usually based on station and gender. It was one of the many, many societal restrictions that usually made Maker want to scream, but just occasionally, they came in handy.

  The head of the table was always the host. Lady Garrington-Smythe should be next, then himself and Violet, then Lady Gordon, not that Flora liked to be called that. After them would be the Chalmers’, then Lady Davenport, Edwina and Lovesey and last in the line would be Jenson and finally Amethyst. Tonight, the arrangements had changed, and for once it worked in his favour.

  Instead of sitting at the head, Montgomery had elected to sit in the middle of one side of the long table. That meant that Lady Garrington-Smythe sat on one side of him, Edwina next to her, opposite Lovesey. On the other side and to keep the male/female alternation where they could in a female-heavy grouping, Lady Violet was next to Monty, and he beside her. The Chalmers’ were on the other side of the table, the couple flanked by their daughters. He sat opposite Willemina. If she flashed that bloody ridiculous diamond one more time, he was tempted to ram it down her throat. More so for the total lack of class she was showing in every other respect. She didn’t speak to Great-Aunt Flora, though she sat at the woman’s side, nor would she even acknowledge Jenson.

  The favour though was that while he was still shackled to his wife, Amethyst sat at his right hand. Bobbie was supposed to be there, but with a wicked grin, Lady Davenport had guided her friend to swap seats. Great-Aunt Flora, on the opposite side of the table, had given a hard look that just made Bobbie grin more. While he really wasn’t in a position to risk too much conversation with Amethyst, he could risk one thing. Ensuring that the long tablecloth covered any giveaway, he moved his right leg closer to her. It took a moment and a casual readjustment of her skirts, but he felt her foot touch his. Hesitant at first, then bold enough to rub against him.

  He swallowed and had to concentrate on something else.

  “Oh, you’re too kind.” Willemina was batting her eyelashes at Monty.

  Maker had no idea what Monty had said, but it was difficult to imagine anything too good, the girl wasn’t deserving of great compliments.

  “Isn’t he?”

  Maker looked at his wife. As she was looking at Monty, he couldn’t see her expression, but the simpering tone and the way she put her hand on Monty’s arm said everything. Wasn’t it bad enough the Chalmers girls were flirting with the Duke? Did she have to compete? His hand around the stem of his wine glass tightened‒

  A shoeless foot, toes flexing, touched the skin beneath his trouser leg. The stroking was gentle and warm. His hand relaxed and the gentle laughter from his right side drew attention from the whole table and he too turned and looked. Great-Aunt Flora, Bobbie, Jenson and Amethyst were all laughing. With her attention on the quartet, no one could possibly imagine that as she laughed with others, her attention to the right, beneath the table her left foot had been slipped from her shoe and was even now caressing his lower calf.

  Though the laughter died, the smiles all around didn’t.

  “Do share what’s so funny!”

  The four looked over to the demanding Violet. Then as one, they all started laughing again. Jenson looked away, trying to control his mirth, Great-Aunt Flora was looking at Bobbie and Amethyst, and all of them were choking back the giggles; Amethyst and her aunt were wiping their eyes.

  “Well really!”

  “Don’t worry,” Lord Chalmers said. “It’s to be expected that the hoi polloi would be uncouth.”

  “Hoi polloi? Uncouth?” Great-Aunt Flora demanded, silencing all other chatter. “From a baronet to a duchess and a marchioness? And Duchess is only one of my titles, Lady Davenport would be a Lady even if she hadn’t married the Marquess, while you are newly elevated. Don’t think I don’t know where you come from.”

  “I, I…” Sir Chalmers was red-faced, caught out.

  “You, sir,” Lady Garrington-Smythe waded in. “Owe my daughter and my friend an apology. Not to mention the apology your entire family owes to Mr Jenson and Miss Forester.”

  Chalmers’ jaw worked, but he didn’t seem able to form a coherent word, let alone a sentence.

  “Oh, don’t tax yourself,” Amethyst laughed away his pathetic attempt to speak. Taking in a breath, she looked to Lord Montgomery. Maker was more interested in the way that her foot was curling around his ankle. “Monty,” she said, smiling, and blinked twice in succession. “Didn’t you say that you had something planned for us all to enjoy tomorrow?”

  Monty returned her smile. “Indeed, a shoot.”

  As Monty went on to extol the virtues of the event, Maker shifted both legs together, lightly squeezing her foot between his ankles as the only way he could thank her for diverting the conversation.

  He saw Bobbie lean in to speak only to Amethyst. “Not sure I’m ready to be armed around them.”

  “Personally, I’d rather miss the birds and shoot the guests.”

  Maker bit the inside of his cheeks to control his amusement. Bobbie couldn’t cover it even with her napkin.

  Sir Gil
es sat forward, deliberately looked at Jenson, the sneer not entirely hidden. “Do you shoot?”

  “Occasionally, Sir Giles,” Jenson answered evenly. “Though usually when I see men with shotguns, I’m arresting them.”

  Chalmers went white. “Arresting?”

  Jenson offered an easy shrug. “Well, yes. I am a police inspector, after all. It’s part of my job.”

  With a straight back, Sir Giles stiffly turned to Monty. “You have a police inspector as a guest?”

  The nonchalance was unstudied, or perhaps Monty was just oblivious to implications. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d misunderstood what was going on around him.

  “Inspector Jenson is just looking into Stephen’s disappearance. He’s going to settle the matter once and for all.”

  If Monty thought a man like Jenson wouldn’t also discover other facts, he had to be delusional. Maker sighed, good thing he pretty much never expected Monty to repay the thousand pounds he’d lent him.

  “The man’s dead,” Lovesey grouched. “What more to you need?”

  “Certainty.” Edwina’s snap surprised everyone. Maker felt an unexpected surge of pride, and Edwina sat far forward to catch an eye. “Amethyst, if you’ll load for Jenson, I’ll load for Lady Davenport.”

  “Oh.”

  Maker could almost see Amethyst looking for ways to excuse herself from the party. He squeezed her foot, her eyes flicked to him only long enough to see the tiny headshake he hoped she would get the right message from. Her attention returned to Edwina.

  “Erm, I’ve never had any experience with guns. Never even held one. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  “I’m more than happy to teach you on the field.” Edwina smiled broadly, doubtless knowing this was her way of securing a place away from Lovesey. “Perhaps you might also like to look at Stephen’s A-Gun while we’re out, it’s an interesting aetheric contraption. It might be something that appeals to you.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  She didn’t sound entirely convinced about that, but while she was leaning forward displaying just the right amount of nature’s generosity, he wasn’t that worried.

  “Flora,” Lady Garrington-Smythe said. “Would you enjoy an excursion to ‒”

  “No, I’ll be shooting,” Flora declared. “Far too long since I last fired a gun.”

  “Oh dear Lord,” Amethyst said, only just controlling her laugh. “I’ve changed my mind, I think I’ll hide tomorrow. Preferably behind something bulletproof.”

  Judging by the way she moved sharply thereafter, she felt the bite of the cane.

  Chapter 23

  The shooting party travelled to the moor in two open carriages, the guns, or men, up front, which did not do much to impress any woman, especially Bobbie or Flora, who both intended to shoot. Jenson looked behind at the second carriage, Bobbie rode with the loaders, the other women, he had no idea what happened to Flora. The other women hadn’t looked that impressed when Bobbie came down in trousers, and even less so when Amethyst did too. It had to be said that just about everyone else, including Bobbie, had seemed more than happy with the result. The brown leather trousers lovingly caressed the young woman’s narrow waist and rounded hips, the curve of her thighs, and there wasn’t a man who wasn’t thinking about how it would feel to do that caressing himself. Jenson found the calculation in Sir Giles’ eyes disgusting, and the avaricious drool from Lovesey sickening.

  Amethyst and Bobbie jumped easily down from the cart to the ground while the others needed assistance. Edwina passed Amethyst a box with a wide leather handle that Amethyst put on her shoulder and across her torso, the box hanging at her hip. Finally, they were all on their feet and all the beaters were confirmed in place, the guns and the ammunition distributed. Once the partners had been identified, not happily in all cases, all they had to do was tramp up the moor to the shooting spot.

  It turned out to be a long walk. The uneven ground was patches of rock hard earth and ankle-deep marsh, and not much in the way of visual clues as to which was which. The grass and heather were beautiful to look at, and traitorous to walk through. Thankfully, Arthur had found Jenson some high boots. He was starting to see the benefits of having a valet, though it was definitely a luxury he couldn’t carry forward, but one he’d enjoy for now.

  Another enjoyment was watching Amethyst as she strode ahead with Edwina, the two of them deep in conversation, dealing with the rough conditions as easily as they were on the Promenade in Regent’s Park.

  “I understand why this is so easy for Edwina,” Bobbie gasped as she and Jenson trailed behind. “She walks around these moors a fair amount. How’s Amethyst keeping up?”

  “Youth.”

  “She’s not that much younger than me!”

  Jenson looked at Bobbie – there was at least a decade between the two.

  “Stop it.” Bobbie slapped him lightly on the arm. “Don’t think I don’t know why you’re so happy to be behind right now.”

  “Tell me you’re not enjoying the view.”

  She openly looked up at the peachy view part hidden by the box. Bobbie grinned. “You know she has no idea, don’t you?”

  “I know, that’s part of what’s so attractive about her. And don’t wish away that innocence, it’ll disappear soon enough.”

  It was another fifteen minutes before they reached the shooting spot. There was no great surprise that they were at the far end of the line. It wasn’t a problem as far as Jenson was concerned, this would allow him to talk freely with Edwina and that was a definite bonus. As honest and open as he believed she had been with him during their initial discussion, there would be things that she hadn’t thought to say, and those were things he hoped to find out about today.

  Jenson was perfectly capable of loading his own gun, and absolutely willing to do so too, but there was a way to do things in the upper classes that while tedious, was apparently necessary. As Edwina showed Amethyst how to load a gun safely, he looked across the moor. The party was spread out across the landscape in a single line, of which they were at the extreme east end. A thought that made Jenson smile. About thirty yards away Monty and Sir Chalmers were with Willemina and Charlotte, who looked way more comfortable handling guns than girls that age should. Another thirty yards beyond them were the Makers. The body language down there was stiff. Whatever was going on between those two, it wasn’t good. Why Maker would agree to something that would trap him with his wife longer than necessary, Jenson really didn’t know, but the man’s personal affairs were none of his business. His eyes slid back to Amethyst. If Maker ever hurt her, that was one personal affair Jenson would make his business.

  Amethyst smiled as she turned and offered the gun to him. “Edwina says I did this right, so you should be safe.”

  He took the gun. “I’ve seen you do much trickier things, so I’m sure this is fine.”

  Her attention was caught by something behind him before he’d finished speaking. There was a dark looking mass moving over the moor towards them. Stepping up to his shoulder, Amethyst was so close, he could feel the warmth of her body despite the steady breeze that was chilling the air.

  “Is that Great-Aunt Flora?” Shielding her eyes, she looked, and the others looked with them.

  It was Great-Aunt Flora, on the strangest conveyance Jenson had ever seen. “What on earth is that?”

  “That is the Bathhurst Chair,” Edwina explained.

  “Is that meant to mean something to me?” Jenson asked.

  “Edward Bathhurst was an explorer,” Amethyst said. “And a bit of an oddball. He wanted to go to various places, but he wanted to go alone. However, he was also very aware of his social standing, and he liked his creature comforts. So, he designed what he called his Octulator, an eight-legged perambulator, to carry his packs over pretty much any ground. The story goes that he had an accident, broke both ankles, and was never able to walk again. But because he was alone in, I think it was the Gobi?”

  Edwina
nodded confirmation.

  “Desert at the time, he took the packed belongings off the perambulator and strapped a chair on so he could ride it, allegedly strapped the rest on behind him, though at this point I’m thinking the story is losing some credibility as that sounds like a lot of work to do with two broken ankles in a desert. Still, that’s the story and there are eyewitness accounts of him appearing out of the desert with the Octulator, his belongings and the broken joints. After that, because he couldn’t walk, it became his way of getting around, and became known as the Bathhurst Chair.”

  Now the thing was closer, he could see that Great-Aunt Flora was sitting in the chair, which seemed to be moving over the ground of its own volition. In her black dress she was rather regal, the image of when he’d seen Queen Victoria from a distance. The chair moved on various, well he supposed he had to call them ‘legs,’ so she looked like the black body of a giant spider creeping over the hillocks and marsh, the grass and heather. Two men in black walked with her, to tend the machine he supposed. A chuff of smoke spread like a web behind her, caught by the wind in the way that tiny spiders could be when they hatched and ballooned away from the egg sack. Jenson felt itchy all over just thinking of it.

  As those odd arthropod appendages reached out, like feelers inspecting the ground to find solid footing, gears and scissor ratchets adjusted the seat, raising or lowering the corners of the seat to ensure Great-Aunt Flora had the most stable and comfortable position possible. Creepy spider-feel aside, as she approached, Great-Aunt Flora looked like the driest and most comfortable member of the party. It had to be better than the walk that had nearly left him and Bobbie breathless.